Having told his story, and set all his mother's fears at rest, Joe thought it time to speak of his own affairs, and asked for his father's watch; whereupon, that ancient relic and heirloom was duly fished out of a dark corner in one of the bureau drawers, set in motion, and handed over to him, after being regulated by the not altogether reliable clock that ticked loudly on the mantel.

The young game-warden went away from home with a very light heart beating under his patched jacket. By some fortunate combination of circumstances, which he did not pretend to understand, he had been relieved of a heavy responsibility. The two market-shooters of whom he stood the most in fear had been most effectually disposed of, for a while at least. It would be a long time, Joe told himself, before his father and Dan could muster up courage enough to come into the woods of which he had charge. If Silas was afraid to draw the wood which was to keep him warm during the winter, it was not at all probable that he would be reckless enough to hunt through Mr. Warren's covers.

When Joe reached his cabin, there was barely enough daylight left to aid him in his search for the lamp which he knew was stowed away somewhere among the things that were scattered over the floor. While he was groping about in the gloom, he wondered how much money it would take to induce Dan or his father to come up there and stay alone in that cabin all night. It would not have been at all strange, in view of the harrowing story to which he had listened a few hours before, if his own nerves had been a trifle "trembly;" but they were not. The sighing of the evening breeze through the thick branches of the evergreens that surrounded the cabin on three sides, and the mournful song of a distant whip-poor-will, were sounds that some people do not like to hear, because they make one feel lonely; but they were company for Joe, and he delighted in listening to them.

He found the lamp after a protracted search, filled it outside the door just as the last ray of daylight gave way to the increasing darkness, and when he touched a match to the wick and put on the chimney, his surroundings began to assume a more cheerful aspect.

It was the work of but a few moments to start a blaze in the fireplace, and while he was waiting for it to gather headway, so that he could pile on the hard wood which was to furnish the coals for the broiling of his bacon, he busied himself in setting things to rights.

He didn't bother with the carpet—that would have to wait until to-morrow; but he put up his cot, laid the mattress upon it, and was about to spread the bed-clothes over that, when he heard the snapping of twigs and heavy, lumbering footfalls outside the door, and looked up to see a white, scared face pressed close against one of the window-panes.

Joe was startled, and during the instant of time that he stood motionless by his cot, he felt the hot blood rushing to his heart, and knew that his own face must be as white as the one at the window.

His first emotion was one of fear, but it speedily gave place to anger and excitement. He wondered if the man who was hiding in the gorge labored under the delusion that he could drive him away with the same ease that he had driven off Dan and Silas.

"This thing might as well be settled now as a week from now," thought Joe. "I am here on legitimate business, and I'll ride rough-shod over anybody who attempts to interfere with me."

With one bound, Joe sprang clear across the cabin, and when he turned about he held his cocked rifle in his hands. He was ready to shoot, too.

But the man at the window had seen the movement, and lost no time in drawing his head out of sight.

"Hold on there!" said a frightened voice.

Instead of "holding on," Joe jumped for the door, jerked it open, and in an instant more the muzzle of his heavy weapon was covering a crouching figure under the window.

"Speak quick," said he. "Who are you?"

"Mr. Brown! Mr. Brown!" came the answer, in tones that Joe recognized at once. "What are you pointing that gun at me for? I'm lost, and want help to find my way out of the woods."

"Then why didn't you come to the door and say so like a man, instead of trying to scare me by looking in at the window? You ought to know that you put yourself in danger by doing that."

"I didn't mean to frighten you," replied Mr. Brown.

And Joe could easily believe it. His visitor had risen to an upright position by this time, and Joe saw at a glance that he was too badly frightened himself to think of playing tricks upon others.

"Why did you not answer my calls for help?" demanded Mr. Brown, who, now that he was safe, seemed to grow indignant when he remembered how near he had come to spending the night alone on the mountain, with no cheering camp-fire to illumine the darkness.

"Because I didn't hear any calls for help," answered Joe, shortly.

"Well, I did call, and called again, until I was too hoarse to speak above a whisper," said Mr. Brown, walking into the cabin, and placing a camp-chair in front of the fire.

Just then the pointers came into view and went in also, stretching themselves out on the hearth with long-drawn sighs of relief, and the three took up about all the spare room there was in the game-warden's little domicile.

"I don't know who has the most impudence, the man or his dogs," thought Joe, as he closed and fastened the door. "They have come here to run things, judging by the way they shut me off from the fire."

"This is glorious," continued Mr. Brown, depositing his double-barrel in the chimney-corner, and spreading his benumbed hands out in front of the genial blaze. "The air begins to get cold up here on the mountain just as soon as the sun sinks out of sight, and I am chilled through. Now, how am I to get to the Beach? That's the question."

"You will have to answer it for yourself, for I can't," Joe replied. "You had a guide the last time I saw you."

These innocent words seemed to irritate the man to whom they were addressed, for he turned upon Joe almost fiercely.

"Yes, I did have one," said he. "But where is he now?"

"I don't know," answered Joe.

And he might have added that he did not care.

"You heard me remind him that I had given him a handsome sum of money to put me in the way of a good day's shooting, did you not? I knew him to be perfectly familiar with these woods, and I supposed he could do it. Of course, I was aware that I couldn't take home a bag of grouse; but I knew there was no law protecting the English birds that have just been turned down in these covers, and I looked for jolly good sport, and for twenty-five or thirty brace of birds to distribute among my friends."

"Don't you think it was kind of Mr. Warren to pay six dollars a pair for those birds, just to give you the fun of shooting them?" asked Joe. "You ought to thank him for it."

Mr. Brown stared hard at the bold speaker, shrugged his shoulders, and turned around on his camp-chair to bring the heat of the fire to bear upon the back of his shooting-jacket.

"Well," said he, slowly, "if any man is foolish enough to squander his money in that way, I don't know that it is any business of mine, or yours, either; and neither do I consider it my duty to refrain from shooting birds that are not protected by law, as often as my dogs flush them. Now, let me go on with my story."

"But first suppose that you send the dogs under the table, and move back out of my way, so that I can cook supper," suggested Joe.

But Mr. Brown and his four-footed companions were very comfortable there in front of the fire, and not until Joe, losing all patience, jerked the door wide open and caught up a broom, could any of them muster up energy sufficient to move out of his way.

Then the pointers, which were really well trained and obedient, were easily induced to get under the table, while Mr. Brown retreated into the chimney-corner.

"Now I am ready to listen," said Joe, after he had piled an armful of hard wood upon the fire. "Where is your guide, and why didn't he show you the way to the Beach?"

"He is at home, I suppose," said Mr. Brown, growing spiteful again. "When I learned that these birds were protected, and that Brierly, instead of giving me a day's shooting had rendered both himself and me liable to trespass, I told him that he had better hand back the twenty-five dollars I had given him—"

"Twenty-five dollars for a single day's shooting!" exclaimed Joe.

"That is what I paid him," said Mr. Brown. "But do you imagine that he gave it back, even when he knew that he could not fulfil his promise? No, sir! He got out of it by leading me away off into the woods and losing me there. I had a fearful time working my way out, and it was only by the merest accident that I blundered within sight of the light that streamed from your window."

"Good for Brierly!" was Joe's mental comment. "I wish he would serve every law-breaking pot-hunter who takes him for a guide in the same way." Then, aloud, he asked, "Did it frighten you to think that you had a fair prospect of lying out all night?"

"It was by no means a pleasant reflection, but that wasn't what frightened me. I ran across a couple of men up there," said Mr. Brown, giving his head a backward jerk. "Their stealthy actions seemed to indicate that they were abroad for no good purpose, and I was not sorry to see the last of them."

"Did they say anything to you?" asked Joe.

"Not a word. They made all haste to lose themselves among the thickets, and so did I. It was the prospect of passing the night alone on the mountain while there were prowlers around that tested my nerves, and I was glad indeed to come within sight of your light."

This piece of news was not at all quieting to the feelings of the young game-warden. It aroused in his mind the suspicion that there was more than one man hiding in the gorge, and that they made a business of roaming around after dark to see what they could find that was worth picking up.

If this suspicion was correct, Mr. Warren's woods might prove a very unpleasant place for him to live for eight long months, Joe told himself. He could not remain on guard duty at the cabin all the time, for the work he came there to do would take him to the remotest nooks and corners of the wood-lot; and how easy it would be for those men to slip up during his absence and carry away everything he possessed!

"If they are outlaws, and I really believe they are," thought Joe, as he poked up the fire, which had by this time almost burned itself down to a glowing bed of coals, "they ought to be hunted out of that gorge without loss of time. I will find Tom and Bob the first thing in the morning, and ask them what they think of it."