After that first telegraphic shock of warning he stabbed his fork into a partridge breast, flopped it over, chuckled loudly--and then with a lightning movement was facing the door, his forty-four Colt leveled waist-high at the intruder.
Almost in the same movement his gun-arm dropped limply to his side.
"Well, I'll be--" He stared.

And the face in the doorway stared back at him.
"Nada!" he gasped.

"Good Lord, I thought--I thought--" He swallowed as he tried to lie.

"I thought--it might be a bear!" He did not, at first, see that the slim, calico-dressed little figure of Jed Hawkins' foster-girl was almost dripping wet.

Her blue eyes were shining at him, wide and startled.