"Prospecting's allowed, isn't it?" Fred blurted out.
"Prospect all ye want to, but ye can't stake no claims."
"Where's the limit of this reserve?" asked Mac.
"Ten miles down the river from here. Ye'll have to be down below there by to-morrow night. Or, if ye want to stay, ye'll have to give up your guns. No guns allowed here."
"I suppose you've got papers to show your authority?" Mac inquired.
"'Course I have. They 're back at camp. Oh, ye'll get all ye want. Why," pointing to the fresh hide, "ye killed that there deer out of season. Ye've got the law agin ye for that."
"It was for our own food. You can kill deer for necessary supplies."
"Not on this ground. Now ye can do as ye like—give up your guns till ye 're ready to leave, or get out right away. I've warned ye."
The "ranger" got up and glanced round threateningly.
"If you can show us that you're really a Government ranger, we'll go," Horace said. "But I know the Commissioner of Crown Lands; I saw him before we started, and I didn't hear of any new reserve being made. I don't believe in you or your reserve, and we'll stay where we are till you show us the proof of your authority."