Joe Morgan stood in front of the cabin, watching his employer as long as he remained in sight, and then he went in and picked up the rifle.

"My first official act is going to be one that I would rather leave for some one else to perform," said he, to himself. "I must hunt up father and Dan, and tell them to make themselves scarce about here. I could be as happy and contented as I want to be during the next eight months, if they would only let me alone. With a business I like, to keep me occupied while daylight lasts, plenty of books and papers to help me pass the evening hours pleasantly, and a fair prospect of earning money enough to make mother comfortable during the coming winter—what more could a boy ask for? If father and Dan get into serious trouble by trying to upset my arrangements, they must not blame me for it."

While Joe communed with himself in this way, he filled the magazine with cartridges, which he took from a box he found on the table, and went out, locking the door behind him.

But where should he go? That was the question. Mr. Warren's wood-lot covered a good deal of ground, and the birds he was employed to protect might be at the farthest end of it.

If that was the case, Silas and Dan with the aid of the three dogs they had brought with them, could easily find some of the flocks, and create great havoc among them with their heavy guns, before Joe could put a stop to their murderous work.

"When snow comes I shall not have any of this trouble," soliloquized the young game-warden. "I shall feed the birds near the cabin twice each day, and that will get them in the habit of staying around so that I can keep an eye on them; and I shall know in a minute if there are any pot-hunters about, for I can see their tracks."

For an hour Joe worked hard and faithfully to find the two hunters, who as he believed, had come up there to kill off Mr. Warren's imported game, but he could neither see nor hear anything of them.

Finally he told himself that he did not think his father and Dan had come to those woods, because the birds he put up did not act as though they had been frightened before. If they had been shot at, Joe would have heard the report of the gun.

"I'd give something to know what it was that took those two off in such haste this morning," thought he. "They're up to some mischief or other, or else the face that Dan brought to the table belied him. Well, it's none of my business what they do, so long as they let my birds alone. Hallo, here! I'm afraid that I am going to have more to do than I thought for. Go back where you came from!"

As Joe said this he bent over quickly, caught up a stick, raised it threateningly in the air, whereupon a brace of pointers, which had just emerged from a thicket a short distance away, turned and beat a hasty retreat, giving tongue vociferously as they went.

A moment later, suppressed exclamations of surprise arose from a couple of men who were following the dogs, and who forthwith set themselves to work to find out what it was that had sent the pointers back to them in such a hurry.

Joe heard them making their way through the bushes in his direction, but he did not say anything until he became aware that the invisible hunters were stalking him with the same caution they would have exhibited if he had been some dangerous beast of prey.

Fearing that in their excitement one or the other of them might send a charge of bird-shot at his head without taking the trouble to ascertain who or what he was, Joe called out:

"Go easy, there! There's nothing around here for you to shoot at."

The reply that came to his ears was the heaviest kind of an oath, and the man who uttered it came through the thicket with such energy that one would have thought he meant to do something desperate as soon as he reached the other side of it. When he came into view, Joe recognized him as a guide who had more than once been arrested and fined for hounding deer and shooting game during the close season.

"What air you doing here, Joe Morgan?" he demanded, in savage tones. "You thought to steal them p'inters, I reckon, didn't you? Get out o' this, and be quick a doing of it, too!"

"Get out yourself," answered the game-warden. "I've more right here than you have, and I'm going to stay; but if you know when you are well off, you will lose no time in putting yourself on the other side of Mr. Warren's fence. This land is posted, and you are liable for trespass."

The guide was both angry and astonished; but before he could make a suitable rejoinder to what he regarded as Joe's insolence, the bushes parted again, and the second hunter came out. He was the guide's employer; Joe saw that at a glance.

"What's the trouble here?" were the first words he uttered.

"It's a pretty state of affairs, I do think," answered the guide. "Here's this Joe Morgan, who takes it upon himself to say that we shan't stay in these woods."

"Why not, I'd like to know?"

Brierly—that was the guide's name—turned toward Joe, and intimated that, if he could, he had better explain the situation.

"I am Mr. Warren's game-warden," said the boy, taking the hint. "I have been put here to watch his birds, and warn off all trespassers. This land is posted, and you must know it. There's a notice on that tree over there," he added, indicating the exact spot with his finger. "I can see it from here; and when you saw it, you ought to have turned back."

"How is this, Brierly?" exclaimed the guide's employer. "I paid you handsomely for a good day's shooting, and you assured me that you knew right where I could get it, without interference from any one."

"And you shall get it in these very woods, Mr. Brown," was the guide's reply. "You told me that you didn't care how much them English birds cost, or how bad old man Warren wanted to keep 'em for his own shooting, you would just as soon have them as any other game; and seeing that there ain't no law to pertect 'em, what's to hender you from getting 'em? Send out the p'inters and come on. This fool of a boy ain't got no power to make an arrest, and I'll slap him over if he gives us a word of sass."

"I know that I have no authority to take you into custody, but I can report you to one who has, and I'll do it before you are two hours older, if you don't get out of these woods at once," said Joe, resolutely.

"You will, eh?" Brierly almost shouted. "Then why don't you report them fellers?"

When the guide began speaking, it was with the intention of abusing Joe roundly for his interference with their day's sport, but just then there came an unexpected interruption.

It was a regular fusilade—four shots, which were fired as rapidly as the men who handled the guns could draw the triggers.

Joe's heart sank within him. His father and Dan were slaughtering Mr. Warren's blue-headed birds at an alarming rate in a distant part of the wood-lot, and he was not there to stop them.

The guide must have been able to read the thoughts that were in Joe's mind, for he repeated, with a ring of triumph in his tones:

"Why don't you report them fellers, and have them arrested?"

"Four shots," said Mr. Brown, admiringly. "They got in their work pretty lively, didn't they? I have heard that these English partridges and quails are the nicest birds in the world to shoot, and I'd give twenty dollars if we could get a chance to empty four barrels at them in that fashion. I wonder if they are good shots, and how many birds they got."

When Mr. Brown said that he had given Brierly a handsome sum of money to lead him to a place where he could have a good day's shooting among Mr. Warren's imported game, he had given Joe a pretty good insight into his character; but now, the boy was quite disgusted with him.

Could it be expected that ignorant fellows like Brierly would yield willing obedience to the laws, when intelligent men deliberately violated them because they wanted to brag over the size of the bags they had made?

"They are good shots, Mr. Brown," said Brierly, with a grin. "I could tell the noise them guns make among a million, and I know the names of the man and boy who were behind them when they were fired. They were Silas and Dan Morgan—this chap's father and brother."

"Well, he's a pretty specimen for a game-warden, I must say!" exclaimed Mr. Brown. "No doubt he wants to keep all the fine shooting for his own family. I don't believe a word he has said to us, and I think we can go on with our sport without wasting any more time with him."

"I don't care whether you believe me or not," answered Joe, the hot blood mantling his face as he spoke. "If you shoot over these grounds, you will find out before night that I have told you nothing but the truth."

"Look a-here, Joe," said Brierly, shaking his fist in the boy's face. "It was your father and Dan who fired them guns a bit ago, wasn't it?"

"I don't know—I have no proof of it, and neither have you."

"You do know it," replied the guide. "I've got all the proof I want that it was them, 'cause I know them guns of their'n when I hear 'em go off. Now let me tell you what's a fact, Joe Morgan. If you say a word to anybody about seeing me and Mr. Brown up here, I'll report Silas and Dan for trespass and shooting out of season; and if I do, they'll have to go to jail, and salt won't save 'em. There ain't nary one of 'em worth five cents a piece, and where be they going to get the money to pay their fines? Answer me that. Now, will you hold your tongue, or not?"

"No, I won't," answered Joe, without the least hesitation. "If I can find any evidence against them, I will report them myself as quick as I will report you if you don't get off these grounds."

"I hardly think you will," replied Mr. Brown, with something like a sneer.

"It ain't no ways likely, for it don't stand to reason that he would be willing to say the words that would put some of his own kin into the lock-up," assented Brierly. "But I'll do the work for him as soon as we go home, and what's more, I'll report him, too, for—for—"

"Neglect of duty," prompted Mr. Brown.

"Perzactly. Them's the words I was trying to think of. Then, old man Warren, he'll say to him that he ain't got no use for such a trifling game-warden as he is—that is, if he is one, which I don't believe. Now, Joe, will you hold your jaw?"

Joe replied very decidedly that he would not. He knew what his duty was better than they could tell him, and Brierly might as well hold his own jaw, and stop making threats, because he couldn't scare him into saying anything else.

"I don't want to get into any trouble with the officers, for it is absolutely necessary that I should start for home bright and early to-morrow morning," said Mr. Brown, who could not help admiring Joe's courage, although he would have been glad to see his guide thrash him soundly for his obstinacy. "It is very provoking to have this boy show up just in time to spoil all our fun. Let's go over to Hallet's woods, and see if we can scare up another so-called game-warden."

"Well, you can," said Joe, who wanted to laugh when he saw the look of surprise that settled on the guide's face. "You'll scare up two over there, and, Brierly, one of them is a chap that you will not care to fool with. When you find him, it will be very easy for you to ascertain whether or not I have told you the truth; that is, if you care enough about it to ask him a few questions."

"Who is he?" asked Brierly.

"Tom Hallet," answered Joe; and, without waiting to listen to the expressions of anger and disgust that came from the lips of the guide, he shouldered his rifle and hurried off.

"I wonder what they will conclude to do about it?" thought Joe, as he threaded his way through the thick woods in the direction from which the poachers' guns sounded. "Brierly agreed to give his employer a good day's sport, and now that he can't keep his promise, will he hand back the money that Mr. Brown paid him? I don't think he will."

He didn't either, and Joe afterward learned how he got out of it.