"Come along, then; I'm your man," said Lance, gayly, extending his hand.
She would not accept it, eying it, however, furtively, like a horse about to shy.

"Hand me your pistol first," she said.
He handed it to her with an assumption of gayety.

She received it on her part with unfeigned seriousness, and threw it over her shoulder like a gun.

This combined action of the child and heroine, it is quite unnecessary to say, afforded Lance undiluted joy.
"You go first," she said.
Lance stepped promptly out, with a broad grin.

"Looks kinder as if I was a pris'ner, don't it ?" he suggested.
"Go on, and don't fool," she replied.
The two fared onward through the wood.