“What creek is this?” inquired Saxon.
“Wild Water. It empties into Sonoma Creek half a mile down.”
“Trout?”—this from Billy.
“If you know how to catch 'em,” grinned the boy.
“Deer up the mountain?”
“It ain't open season,” the boy evaded.
“I guess you never shot a deer,” Billy slyly baited, and was rewarded with:
“I got the horns to show.”
“Deer shed their horns,” Billy teased on. “Anybody can find 'em.”
“I got the meat on mine. It ain't dry yet—”