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Castlemon, Harry, [pseud.], 1842-1915

"The Boy Trapper"


I'll leave more in the fields, too, than you can bag in six months,"
added Don, and Bert saw the point he was trying to make, if Lester
did not. "Besides, what right have I to tell Dave what he shall do
and what he shall not do? He'd laugh at me."
"Well, he wouldn't do it more than once. A few days in the calaboose
would bring him to his senses."
"Who would put him there?"
"The club would."
"Where's the club's authority for such a proceeding?"
Lester lifted the constitution and tapped it with his forefinger by
way of reply.
"I think I had better have nothing to do with it," said Don, who
could scarcely refrain from laughing outright.
"We intend to make you our president," said Lester.
"I am obliged to you," replied Don, but still he did not take any
more interest in the Sportsman's Club than he had done before. He did
not snap up the bait thus thrown out, as Lester hoped he would. He
was not to be bought, even by the promise of office. Lester saw that,
and arose to take his leave.
"Well, think it over," said he. "Sleep on it for a few nights, and if
at any time you decide to go in with us, just let me know. Good
evening!"
"I'll do so," answered Don. "Good evening!"
Lester bowed himself out of the room and Bert accompanied him to the
door.


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