“Yer left the gun thar, youngster?”
“Yes, I did,” said Westy angrily, “and I know where it is all right.” Then the true Westy Martin got in a few words. “The only reason I came here first,” he said, “was because I didn’t want to seem sneaky. I didn’t want you to think that I had to go and get the—the constables or sheriffs—I didn’t want you to think I was afraid to face you alone. I didn’t want to go and tell on you till I saw you first, that’s all.”
“Waal, naow yer see me,” drawled Meadows.
“And I’m going to do what I ought to do, no matter what,” Westy flared up.
“S’posin’ yer run an’ play,” said Meadows to the little girl. Then, as she moved away. “An’ what might yer ought ter do?” he asked quietly.
“You admit you shot that deer?” Westy asked. “Jiminies, you can’t deny it,” he added boyishly.
“Waal?” said Meadows.
“Do you see this badge?” said Westy, pulling the sleeve of his scout shirt around so as to display the several merit badges that were sewn there. “That top one,” he said in a boyish tone of mingled pride and anger, “is a conservation badge; it’s a scout badge.”
“Yer one of them scaouts, huh?”
“Yes, I am and I won that badge. It means if I know of anybody breaking the game laws, I’ve got to report it, that’s what it means. I’ve got to do it even if it seems mean——”