Part 4 (2/2)
”Howdy?” he said.
”How are you?” we answered.
He sort of lazily dismounted, and yawned--but his sharp eyes were taking us and our camp all in.
”Out fis.h.i.+ng?” he asked.
”No, sir. Pa.s.sing through,” said General Ashley.
”Going far?”
”Over to Green Valley.”
”Walking?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Good place for beaver, isn't it?”
”A bad place.”
”That so? Used to be some about here. Couldn't catch any, eh?”
”We aren't trying. But it seems a bad place for beaver because the only one we have seen is a dead one in a trap.”
The man waked up. ”Whose trap?”
”We don't know.” And the general went on to explain.
The man nodded. ”I'm a deputy game warden,” he said at last. ”Somebody's been trapping beaver in here, and it's got to stop. Haven't seen any one pa.s.s through?”
We had. The general reported.
”Smallish man?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Roan hoss branded quarter circle D on the left hip? Bra.s.s-bound stirrups?”
”We didn't see the horse; but we think the man was left-handed,” said the general.
”Why?”
”He was left-footed, because there was a hole in the sole of the left shoe, and that would look as though he used his left foot more than his right. So we think he may be left-handed, too.” (Note 21.)
The game warden grunted. He eyed our flag.
”You kids must be regular Boy Scouts.”
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