“I think I’d like to be the game warden,” said I, “if people generally are innocent of the law. But he was afraid of my bribery talk.”
It may have been five minutes later that Bert drove over to the house on his way to town. He had with him another dish of brains.
“Bert,” said I, “When does the law on trout go on?”
“First of July,” said he.
“What’s the name of the game warden?”
“Why, father. Been fishin’?” said he, with a laugh.
“Yes, but that wasn’t your father that you must have just passed.”
“No,” said he. “That’s Cy Holden.” He laughed reminiscently. “Cy’s a great boy.”
“How is he great?”
“Oh, he’s always playing practical jokes,” said he.