"I don't know what answer to make you, boys. I have no desire to interfere with your pleasures, and I think you have always found me ready to listen to any reasonable proposition; but this latest scheme of yours looks to me to be a little—you know. I don't believe that Bob's father will consent to it."

"Suppose you give your consent, and then we will see what we can do with Bob's father. If we can say that you are willing, he'll come to terms without any coaxing."

"I don't see what objection there can be to it. We can't get into mischief up there in the mountains, and we'll promise to study hard every spare minute we get. There!"

"And be fully prepared to go on with our class when the spring term begins. Now!"

The first speaker was Mr. Hallet, who leaned back in his easy-chair and twirled his eye-glasses around his finger, while he looked at the two uneasy, mischief-loving boys who stood before him.

Tom Hallet was his nephew and ward, and Bob Emerson was the son of an old school-friend who lived in Bellville, ten miles away.

Bob, who was a fine, manly fellow, was a great favorite with both uncle and nephew, and had a standing invitation to spend all his vacations with them at their comfortable home among the Summerdale hills.

To quote from Bob, Mr. Hallet's house was eminently a place for a tired school-boy to get away to. The fishing in the lake, and in the clear, dancing streams that emptied into it, was fine; young squirrels were always abundant after the first of August; and when September came, the law was "off" on grouse, wild turkeys and deer. Hares and 'coons were plenty, and Tom's little beagle knew right where to go to find them. Better than all, according to the boys' way of thinking, Mr. Hallet was a jolly old bachelor, who thoroughly enjoyed life in a quiet way, and who meant that every one around him should do the same.

Taking all these things into consideration, it was little wonder that Bob Emerson looked forward to his yearly "outings" with the liveliest anticipations of pleasure.

The Summerdale hills, in days gone by, had been a hunter's paradise; but, sad to relate, their glory was fast passing away, like that of many another place which had once been noted for the abundance of its game and fish.

Mr. Warren, to use his own language, had been foolish enough to build a hotel at the Beach, and to connect it with Bellville by a stage route. This brought an influx of strangers, some of whom called themselves sportsmen, who did more to depopulate the woods and streams than Silas Morgan, Hobson, and a few others of that ilk, could have accomplished in a year's steady shooting and angling.

Their advent gave rise to a class of men who had never before been known in that region—to wit, guides. There were some good and honest ones among them, of course; but, as a rule, they were a shiftless, lawless class—men who lived from hand to mouth, and who looked upon game laws as so many infringements of their rights, which were to be defied and resisted in any way they could think of.

Up to the time the hotel was built, these men lived in utter ignorance of the fact that there were laws in force which prohibited hunting and fishing at certain seasons of the year; but one year the District Game Protector came up on the stage to look into things, and when he went back to Bellville he took with him a guide and his employer, whom he had caught in the act of shooting deer, when the law said that they should not be molested.

This unexpected interference with their bread and butter astonished and enraged the rest of the guides, who at once held an indignation meeting, and resolved that they would not submit to any such outrageous things as game laws, in the making of which their opinions and desires had not been consulted.

They boldly declared that they would continue to hunt and fish whenever they felt like it, and any officer who came to the hills to stop them would be likely to get himself into business.

A few of the residents, including Mr. Warren and Mr. Hallet, had tried hard to bring about a better state of things.

They had gone to the expense of restocking their almost tenantless woods, and had been untiring in their efforts to have every poacher and law-breaker arrested and punished for his misdeeds; but all they had succeeded in doing thus far was to call down upon their heads the hearty maledictions of the whole ruffianly crew, who owed them a grudge and only awaited a favorable opportunity to pay it.

This was the way things stood on the morning that Tom Hallet, accompanied by his friend Bob, presented himself before his uncle, with the request that he would permit them to keep an eye on his English partridges and quails during the ensuing winter—in other words, that he would empower them to act as his game-wardens.

Mr. Hallet was not at all surprised, for the boys had sprung so many "hare-brained schemes" on him, that he was ready for anything; but still he took a few minutes in which to consider the proposition before he made them any reply.

"What in the world put that notion into your heads, anyway?" said Mr. Hallet, continuing the conversation which we have so unceremoniously interrupted. "Is it simply an excuse to get out of school for the winter?"

The boys indignantly denied that they had any idea of such a thing. They liked their school and everything connected with it; but they thought it would be fun to spend a few months in the woods. And since Uncle Hallet would have to employ somebody to act as game-warden, or run the risk of having all his costly birds killed by trespassers, why couldn't he employ them as well as any one else?

"Well, you two do think up the queerest ways for having fun that I even heard of," said Mr. Hallet. "I know something about camp-life, and you don't; and I tell you—"

"Why, Uncle," exclaimed Tom, "haven't we already spent a whole week in camp since Bob came up here?"

"A whole week!" repeated Mr. Hallet. "Yes, and it tired you out, and you were glad enough to get home. I know that 'camping out' looks very well on paper, but I tell you that it is the hardest kind of work, even for a lazy person, to say nothing of a couple of uneasy youngsters, who can't keep still for five minutes at a time to save their lives. Besides, how do I know that you wouldn't shoot some of my blue-headed birds, as Morgan calls them?"

"Don't you suppose that we know a ruffed grouse from an English partridge or quail?" demanded Tom. "We are not so liable to make mistakes in that regard as others might be. Who is Mr. Warren going to hire for his warden?"

"I believe he has gone up to Morgan's to-day to speak to Joe about it."

"I don't know how that will work," said Bob, reflectively. "Joe is all right, but his father and brother are not, and I am afraid they will make trouble for him."

"I thought of that, and so did Warren," answered Mr. Hallet, "and it is a point that you two would do well to consider before you insist on going into the mountains this winter. I am told that Hobson is furious over the opening of the new road, and that he and a few of his friends have threatened to burn the houses Warren and I built up there in the woods, and to drive out anybody we may put there to act as game-wardens."

When Tom and Bob heard this, they exchanged glances that were full of meaning.

Uncle Hallet's words showed them that there was a prospect for excitement during the coming winter, and the knowledge of this fact made them all the more determined to carry their point.

"Oh, you needn't look at each other in that way," said Mr. Hallet, with a laugh. "I know what you are thinking about, and I have no notion of allowing you to do something to get these poachers and law-breakers down on you. However I am going to the village directly, and perhaps I'll drop in and see what Bob's father thinks about it."

"Don't forget to tell him that we have your full and free consent," began Tom.

"But I haven't given it," interrupted Mr. Hallet, adjusting his eye-glasses across the bridge of his nose and reaching for his paper.

"And that we shall go along with all our lessons just as fast as the boys in school will," chimed in Bob.

"I'll not forget it; but I shall be much surprised at your father if he believes it."

Uncle Hallet resumed his reading, and the boys, taking this as a hint that he had said all he had to say on the subject, put on their hats and left the room.

"It's all right, Bob," said Tom, gleefully.

"I am sure of it," replied Bob. "We've got Uncle Hallet on our side, and it will be no trouble for him to talk father over. Now let's finish that letter to Mr. Morgan, and then go up and put it in his wood-pile."

So saying, Bob went up the stairs three at a jump, Tom following close at his heels.