"We may have been shooting, but not at game," explained Tad. "Professor, are we on a government reservation?"
"I was not aware of the fact," was the reply, made in a half sarcastic tone. "I'll look at the map. Go and bring it, Tad."
"Stay where you are!" commanded the officer.
"My, but he's touchy, isn't he?" wondered the fat boy. "Guess we'll have to serve him the same way we did Chops last night, rope and sit on him."
"What is your name?" asked Professor Zepplin, regarding the man shrewdly.
"Never you mind about my name. Uncle Sam is a good enough name."
"Depending upon who wears it," scoffed Ned Rector.
"See here, I don't want to hear any more of your talk, not from any of you. You're an impudent lot of youngsters, though you're old enough to know better."
"You will kindly direct your conversation to me, my man," broke in the Professor. "I am in charge of this party and wholly responsible for anything they may do. In the first place, I deny that any of us has shot any game on the Ridge. In the second place, I know of no law that will prevent our passing over a government preserve, though there are preserves where firearms are not permitted."
"This is one of them," interrupted the man.