“Decidedly,” said he, his manner becoming stern and official. “I am the game warden, and this is the middle of July. The law went on on July 1st. I can arrest you.”
There seemed to be something cockily pompous about this man, who was not above five feet high, but whose erectness of bearing and awesome manner made him seem (to himself) at least six feet two in his stocking feet.
So when he said “I can arrest you,” I said, “And will you?” and felt quite Shakespearean as I said it. It recalled the scene between Arthur and Hubert de Burgh.
“Well,” said he, seeing that I stirred not, “Perhaps it can be settled out of court. As game warden I can sell you the right to have caught those fish.”
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said I, “Bribery and corruption. And in Massachusetts. Well, I don’t believe I care to buy the right. I went out fishing this morning not knowing of the law. Ignorance of the law is no excuse, I know that, but the point is, that if I have got to pay out money I prefer to pay it in a fine than to pay it to you for a right you can’t give me. The law makes no distinction, if I know anything about laws” (and I know precious little) “and if I mustn’t catch trout out of season, I mustn’t catch ’em, that’s all. Lead me to prison.”
I said this in mock heroics and he in his turn said,
“Well, of course, I didn’t mean to take a bribe. You misunderstood me. As game warden I own the fish. I represent the state and the state owns the fish, therefore I own them. Now you have caught some of my fish. I can’t sell you the right to catch them, very true, but I can sell you the fish now that they are caught.”
Minerva’s hands had fallen to her sides and he now took the string from her, while she was off her guard, and said:
“There are six of them. This season of the year they are worth fifty cents apiece for the males and a dollar for the females.”
I laughed in his face.