Taken by surprise, he could only stammer through the introduction which her father made. The girl was quick to see his distress and said: “Daddy, you show Mr. Mason to his room while mother and I see about supper.” “You must be about famished,” she added, turning to Mason with an arch smile. He had recovered his composure to some extent by this time, saying, “I am somewhat hungry, Miss Walters, and accept your invitation to supper with pleasure.” The girl hastily withdrew to help her mother in the kitchen. “She’s a thoroughbred,” declared her father, gazing after her fondly. While being conducted to his room, Mason attempted to show Mr. Walters the letter of introduction which his father had given him, but the ranch owner wouldn’t consider it. “Guess I know your father well enough to recognize his son.” After a wash and a change of clothes, Mason felt refreshed. Making his way downstairs he was presented to Mrs. Walters. It was a merry party that gathered around the supper table. Red, having been invited, told some stories with such droll wit that he kept Mason laughing throughout the meal. The girl was an interested listener and occasionally put in a word. She appeared anxious to make the Easterner feel at home. After supper the party sat on the porch while the ranch owner entertained his guest with tales of life on the range. A little later the ranch owner excused himself, saying he was getting old and must retire early to bed. The girl coaxed her mother to remain up a little longer and soon the three were talking on general subjects. The open-hearted hospitality of these Western people was pleasing to Mason, and that night after retiring to his room, he confessed to himself that he was beginning to look upon his new career with growing favor. The next morning he awoke to find the sun streaming in his window, and hearing sounds of activity below, he dressed hastily. Going downstairs he was greeted with a cheery good morning from Mrs. Walters who was busily preparing the morning meal. “Breakfast will be ready in about half an hour, and you can look around a bit if you wish,” she announced. “Josephine is outdoors somewhere,” she added. Mason nodded pleasantly and started for a walk to the corral. As he turned the corner of the house he came across a sight that filled him with amusement. It was the girl; she was romping with a great St. Bernard dog. Quickening his pace, he soon came up to her. “Good morning, Miss Walters,” he said, his eyes twinkling. The girl looked up quickly, exclaiming, “Oh, it’s you, Sir New Yorker. Well, I wish to make a bargain with you. You may call me Josephine and I’ll call you Jack.” “That goes,” he agreed, falling in with her humor. The girl was fondling her dog again and Mason murmured softly, “Love me, love my dog.” “What did you say?” the girl asked, looking up brightly. He smiled and shook his head. “Well, it was something about a dog,” she declared.