"
"Who is the other?" asked Bert.
"Lester Brigham."
Don whistled again, and then looked angry.
"When did you see him, and what did he have to say about it?" he
asked. "Has he any reason to hold a grudge against you?"
"I didn't know that he had until I met him in the road this morning.
He says he won't have me trapping quails and sending them off North,
because it will make them scarce here. He says he is going to get up
a Sportsman's Club among the fellows, and then he will keep
pot-hunters like me where we belong."
"Oho!" exclaimed Bert. "It seems to me that he is taking a good deal
upon himself."
"That is what he has done ever since he has been here, and that's why
there are so many boys in the settlement who don't like him," said
Don. "But he mustn't meddle with this business. He can't come down
here into a country that is almost a wilderness and manage matters as
they do up North. Father told me the other day that in some states
they have laws to protect game, and it is right that they should
have, for there are so many hunters that if they were not restrained
they would kill all the birds and animals in a single season. The
most of the hunters live in the city, and when they get out with
their guns they crack away at everything they see; and if they happen
to kill a doe with a fawn at her side, or a quail with a brood of
chicks, it makes no difference to them.
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