"Reckon you're all right so far as licenses is concarned, but ye can't carry guns up here till the season—the game season's open," said the game warden, handing back the licenses.
"It's always an open season for the kind of game we are going to hunt," Hippy informed him.
"Eh? What kind's that?"
"Your kind," retorted Hippy sharply.
"That's all I've got to do with ye. I'd make ye give up the guns, but these gents have something to say to you folks. They'll take care of yer rifles and such."
The game warden backed his horse away. His two companions, taking their cue from his move, rode to the fore.
Hippy surveyed them narrowly.
"Here comes the rub," Miss Briggs confided to Grace.
"We're deputy sheriffs," announced one.
"Charmed, I'm sure," greeted Hippy, bowing with much dignity. "Making early calls seems to be the way of the Big Woods. What do you want? Let me see. So far to-day we have had two wardens and two deputy sheriffs. Speak your piece, but remember that you are covered. It's just as well while talking to me to keep your muzzles pointed towards the ground."