“It is a community of interest, a sort of freemasonry that exists between these lumbermen and all who thrive upon their labors and hardships. Now this McGuire has preyed upon them for years, a notorious example of dive-keeper, gambler, smuggler, and pot-hunter. He is now in hiding somewhere in this wilderness, or, maybe, creeping up some stream with a canoe load of liquor bought in some Canadian town. He will meet and be welcomed by any lumber-cutting party just making camp next fall, sell them liquor at exorbitant prices, shoot and sell them venison, and when the snow is deep enough, he will follow and find moose yards, and do a wholesale slaughter act, and not satisfied with this, will absorb any and all money these lumbermen have left by card games. And yet the moment I enter the woods to arrest him, their camps are closed to me, and word of my coming is passed along to others. The guides even, who are at the beck and call of you sportsmen, are, many of them, in secret sympathy with such as McGuire; or if not, dare not give any clews, and many a wild-goose chase has resulted from following their supposed information. Some of the wisest among them are beginning to realize that they must cooperate with us in the protection of fish and game, or their occupation will be gone. But even those sensible fellows–and they are increasing–hate to become informer, fearing consequences.
“There is still another side to this game situation,” continued Hersey, filling and lighting his pipe, “and this is our laws, or rather, the selfishness of our lawmakers. We have plenty of laws–and good ones. We impose a license tax upon all non-residents for the privilege of shooting or fishing. We limit the season and number of moose, deer, or trout which may be taken. This license, which is all right, produces an annual fund sufficient to employ ten wardens, where the State only employs one. The result is that this vast wilderness is so poorly patrolled that a game warden is as much of a rarity as a white deer. Now and then one may be seen canoeing up or down some main stream, or loafing a week or two at some backwoods farm and having a good time. One may certainly be found at all points of egress; but a portion of the wilderness–the greater way-back region–is rarely visited by wardens.
“There is still one more point, and that is the pay which wardens receive. It is so small that capable, honest men cannot be obtained for what the State allows; and considering the large sums raised from this license tax, it is a mere pittance. The result is, we have to employ a class of men, many of whom are no respecters of the law themselves, or who may be bribed.”
It was a full and complete explanation of the conditions then existing in the wilderness, and as Martin glanced at “Old Faithful” Levi lounging on his elbow, he understood why that astute guide had always avoided all possible reference to McGuire.
“This half-breed, Bolduc, is another sample of his class,” continued Hersey, “and while we have no criminal charge, we can prove we know he is a pot-hunter, and I’ll be glad to nab him, for an example. I judge he is lurking about your camp, watching a chance to abduct this girl, and while it’s an unusual case, it may serve our purpose nicely–a sort of bait, useful in alluring him into our hands. How we can catch him, however, is not an easy problem. He knows the forest far better than we do; every stream, lake, defile, or cave is familiar to him, and, cunning as a fox, all pursuit would be useless. Our only hope is to patrol the woods about your camp as hunters, or watch for another night visit, and halt him, at the muzzle of a rifle.”
And now Martin turned the conversation to a more interesting subject–Chip herself.
“I saw the girl at Tim’s Place,” Hersey said, “and knowing her ancestry, felt curious to observe her. She appeared bright as a new dollar and a willing worker for Tim. Of course, it seemed unfortunate that she should be left to grow up there without education; and while her natural guardian being an outlaw gave the State an ample right to interfere, the proper officer has never seen fit to do so. It has been a case of ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ I presume, and while we have a law obliging parents to send their children to public schools so many months a year until a certain age, this is a case where no one has seen fit to enforce it.”
“But what about her parents?” queried Martin, curious on this point. “Do you know whether they were legally married?”
“Why, no-o, only by hearsay,” Hersey responded. “I’ve been told her mother was a Nova Scotia girl, a mill worker in one of our larger cities, and as no one ever hinted otherwise, I think it safe to assume that they were married. If not, there would surely have been some one to spread the sinister fact. It’s the way of the world. I presume Tim knows the girl’s history, but he is such a surly Irishman that I never questioned him. In fact, his surroundings, as you may have noticed, do not invite long visits.”
But no visit or even halt at Tim’s Place was now considered advisable. In fact, as Levi said, it was best to pass that spot at midnight. This suggestion was carried out, and in five days from leaving the settlement, Martin and the officers made their last camp at the lake where he had once seen a spectral canoeist.