When he had eaten rather more than his share of them, his tongue became loosened, and he asked if it were possible for him to reach the Beach in time to take the stage for Bellville.
Joe said it was, provided he did not waste too much time in making a start, and then he began railing at Brierly for the mean trick he had served him.
"I wish I could prosecute him and compel him to give up my money," said he, "but I don't see that I can make out a case against him. More than that, I can't wait to go through a law-suit, and neither do I want to give Mr. Warren a chance at me. He might take a notion to have a hand in the business."
"Very likely he would," said Joe, dryly. "You knew well enough that these grounds are posted, and you ought to have cleared out when you saw the first notice."
"You will guide me to the Beach, of course?" said Mr. Brown, who did not appear anxious to discuss this point.
"I will put you on the road, but I can't promise to go all the way with you," was Joe's reply. "I am paid to stay here."
Mr. Brown was not quite satisfied with this arrangement—he was very much afraid that he might get lost again—but he was obliged to put up with it.
An hour later, Joe stood by his father's wood-pile, taking a last look at his departing guest, who was hurrying down the dim wagon-road toward the valley below. All he had received in return for his services was a slight farewell bow.
"I have seen a good many sportsmen first and last," thought the young game-warden, as he shouldered his rifle and retraced his steps down the mountain, "but Mr. Brown beats me. If he ever spends another night in my house, he will take off his boots before he goes to bed, and pay me in advance for his meals and lodging."