“What was he doing—building deadfalls?”
“Seven, sir. He had three muskrats, a mink, and a string of steel traps when I caught him—”
“Rolfe, you go to Abe Storm and tell him I give him leave to take muskrat and mink along Spirit Creek, and that I’ll allow him a quarter bounty on every unmarked pelt, and he may keep the pelts, too.”
The keeper looked blankly at the master: “Why—why, Mr. Burleson, he’s the dirtiest, meanest market hunter in the lot!”
“You do as I say, Rolfe,” said the master, amiably.
“Yes, sir—but—”
“Did you deliver my note to the fire-warden?”
“Yes, sir. The old man’s abed with miseries. He said he’d send his deputy at noon.”
Burleson laid his gloved hand on his horse’s saddle, looking sharply at the keeper.
“They tell me that Mr. Elliott has seen better fortune, Rolfe.”