Perch flushed angrily and opened his mouth as if to make a retort. Then he drew a blank book from his pocket, and to calm himself ran his eye over the report he was making for the game commissioner of the State.
"Left Nexter 10.55 A. M. March 1, for Bluefield. March 2 at Bearville 11.30 A. M. Jim Greene's camp Lake Clear at 4.35 P. M. March 3 left camp at 7 A. M. Bill Emerson's camp 9.47 A. M. Reached moose yard on back side Fern Brook Ridge 1.47 P. M. 3 moose in yard—Henry," he said, lifting his head and abruptly addressing his companion, "some of those poachers have mighty cute tricks."
Henry nodded assent.
"Those fellows at Hacmactac Station tried hard to fool us last week,—cut the legs off the deer, then got a couple of bears' feet and had the bone of the bear's leg slipped up under the skin on the leg of the deer. Then they put them up so sly in three layers of bagging with nothing but bears' feet sticking out, but I caught on to those bears' legs, and said the feet weren't big enough. So I had it opened and took the deer and the fellows to Mattawamkeag, and I guess they think forty dollars apiece was just about enough for a fine."
Lucas and his sons burst out laughing, and 'Tilda Jane shrewdly suspected by their amused faces and knowing glances that they had heard the story before. There was no love lost between these newcomers and her preservers, and Lucas and his sons would be glad when their callers left the cabin. But what was all this talk about deer? Surely they did not kill the pretty creatures whom without having seen she loved.
She cleared her throat and in a weak little voice addressed the game warden. "Sir, I've got pictures in my joggafry of deer with branching horns. Does bad men kill them?"
Warden Perch gave her another alert glance. Here was no confederate of poachers. "Yes," he said, severely, "bad men do kill them, and dogs chase them, but mind this, young girl—poachers get nabbed in the long run. They slide for a time, but there's a trip-up at the end. And their dogs, too—I've shot three hounds this week for dogging deer."
"You have shot dogs!" repeated 'Tilda Jane, in a horrified tone, and pressing Gippie closer to her.
"If I didn't shoot them, they'd kill the deer," said the man, irritably.