“I should like to see your authority for making this arrest,” demanded Diamond, firing up. “You say you are a game warden, but how do we know it? You won’t believe us, why should we believe you?”
Merriwell was intending to make this point, though in a milder way.
Parker merely smiled and drew another paper out of his pocket, which he handed to Diamond to inspect. It was a legal certificate of his official position.
“What is the penalty for violation of this Maine game law?” Hodge asked, as Diamond passed back the paper.
“One hundred dollars for each animal shot,” answered Parker.
“And an informer gets half of that for his information leading to the arrest?” said Diamond, with a keen look out of his dark eyes. “But you haven’t proved us guilty yet.”
“Pretty good proof,” declared one of the deputies, kicking the moose head. “Here’s the bullet hole, too!”
“I want you to take notice,” requested Merry, speaking to Parker, “that that hole was evidently made by a bullet much larger than anything our guns carry.”
“Not larger, than the gun shot by your guide,” was Parker’s reply.
“What do you know about him?” Diamond quickly asked.