"I'll risk that. You may trap two hundred dozen if you want to, and send them out of the county, and when you have done it, I will go out any morning with my pointer and shoot birds enough for breakfast.

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 const.i.tution 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. The first question the latter asked when he came back was:--

"Is there a beast or a bird in the world whose Latin name is canis-lupus?"

Don threw himself back upon the sofa and laughed until the room rang again. "Is there a beast or a bird in the world whose English name is dog-wolf?" he asked, as soon as he could speak. "I did give Lester credit for a little common sense and a little knowledge, but I declare he possesses neither. It beats the world how he has got things mixed. Just listen to this," added Don, consulting his note-book. "He speaks of a pheasant and calls it _T. Scolopax_. Now _Scolopax_ is a snipe. He probably meant ruffed grouse, and should have called it _Tetrao Umbellus_. He speaks of a partridge when he means quail, or more properly Bob White, there being no quails on this side the Atlantic----"

"Why do people call them quails then?" asked Bert.

"The name was given to them by our forefathers, because they resembled the European quail. There is no pheasant in America either; but our grouse looked like one, and so they gave it that name, Lester calls a quail _Pious Imperialis_. Now that's an imperial woodp.e.c.k.e.r--that big black fellow with a red topknot that we sometimes see when we are hunting. He used to be called c.o.c.k-of-the-woods, but the name was twisted around until it became woodc.o.c.k, and some people believe that he is the gamey little bird we so much delight to shoot and eat. But they belong to different orders, one being a climber and the other a wader. Lester speaks of a rabbit, not knowing that there is no such thing as a wild rabbit in our country, and calls it _Ortyx Virgiana_, when he should have called it _Lepus Virginia.n.u.s_, the name he uses being the one by which our quail is known to ornithologists. A deer, which he calls a dog-wolf, is _Cervus Virginia.n.u.s_. O, he's a naturalist as well as a sportsman," shouted Don, as he laid back upon the sofa and laughed until his sides ached.

"Then he didn't get one of the names right?"

"Not a single one. After all, his ignorance on these points is not so astonishing, for everybody is liable to make mistakes; but that any boy living in this day and age should imagine that, by simply getting up a club and adopting a const.i.tution, he could imprison or fine another boy because he didn't do just to suit him, is too ridiculous to be believed. That particular paragraph was probably copied after some old game law Lester read years ago; but he ought to know that before a sportsman's club, or any other organization, can have authority to prosecute persons for trapping birds and sending them away, there must first be a law pa.s.sed prohibiting such trapping and sending away; and there's no such law in this state. It doesn't seem possible that he could have been in earnest."

But Lester was in earnest for all that--so very much in earnest that he was willing to run a great risk in order to punish Don for refusing to join his society. Of course he was angry. He and Bob had felt sure of obtaining the contract, had laid many plans for the spending of the money after it was earned, and it was very provoking to find that their scheme had been defeated, and that they were to be pushed aside for the sake of such a fellow as David Evans. Lester was sorry now that he had not given David a good thrashing when he met him in the road that morning, and told himself that he would do it the very next time he put eyes on him and risk the consequences. The thought had scarcely pa.s.sed through his mind when the opportunity was presented. He met David coming along the road in company with his brother Dan. David did not seem to remember that any sharp words had pa.s.sed between Lester and himself, for he looked as cheerful and smiling as usual, and, following the custom of the country, bowed to the horseman as he rode past. Lester did not return the bow, and neither did he dismount to give David the promised thrashing. He was afraid to attempt it; but, coward-like, he had to take vengeance upon something, and so he hit his horse a savage cut with his riding-whip.

"Dave can afford to be polite and good-natured," thought Lester, as he went flying down the road. "He is rejoicing over his success and my failure; but if he only knew it, this thing isn't settled yet.

I'll write to that man to-night, telling him, that the parties to whom he gave the contract can't catch the birds, and then Bob and I will go to work and make it true. If we don't earn that money, n.o.body shall. As for those stuck-up Gordons--I'll show them how I'll get even with them."

The spirited animal on which he was mounted made short work of the two miles that lay between Don's home and Bob's, and in a few minutes Lester dismounted in front of the wagon-shed, where his crony was waiting for him.

"I've had no luck at all," said he, in reply to Bob's inquiring look.

"I might as well have stayed at home. Don says he can't join a club of this kind, because, having got David the job of trapping the quails, he can't go back on him. He says he's a poacher and pot-hunter himself; and what surprised me was, he did not seem to be at all ashamed of it."

"Of course he wasn't ashamed," said Bob. "He thinks that everything he and his pale-faced brother do is just right. Did he say anything about what pa.s.sed between Bert and myself at the post-office?"

"Not a word."

"I was afraid he would," said Bob, drawing a long breath of relief, "for he knows that you and I are friends."

Yes, Don knew that, but there were two good reasons why he had not spoken to Lester about Bob's threat of slapping Bert over. In the first place, he was not aware that Bob had made any such threat. Bert was one of the few boys we have met, who did not believe in telling everything he knew. Do you know such a boy among your companions? If you do, you know one whom n.o.body is afraid to trust. Bert wanted to live in peace, and thought it a good plan to quell disturbances, instead of helping them along. He knew that if he told his brother what had happened in the post-office, there would be a fight, the very first time Don and Bob met, and Bert didn't believe in fighting.

But even if Don had known all about it, he would not have said anything to Lester. He would have waited until he met Bob, and then he would have used some pretty strong arguments, and driven them home by the aid of his fist. How much trouble might be avoided, if there were a few more boys like Bert Gordon in the world!

"I am not sorry I went down there," continued Lester, "for I had the satisfaction of showing those conceited fellows that there are some boys in the settlement besides themselves who know a thing or two. I read the const.i.tution to them, and it would have made you laugh to see them open their eyes. Bert was so astonished that he couldn't say a word, and Don never took his gaze off my face while I was reading.

When I got through he asked me to read that clause with the Latin and Greek in it over again, so that he could copy the names in his note-book. He'll learn them by heart, and use them some time in conversation and so get the reputation of being a very smart and a very learned boy. If he does it in your presence, I want you to let folks know that he is showing off on the strength of _my_ brains. I don't suppose the ignoramus ever knew before----"

"Well, who cares whether he did or not?" exclaimed Bob, impatiently.

"That's a matter that doesn't interest me. Is Dave Evans going to make that hundred and fifty dollars and cheat me out of a new shot-gun? That's what I want to know!"

"Of course he isn't," replied Lester. "We can't stop him by the aid of the Sportsman's Club, and so we will stop him ourselves without the aid of anybody. Let him go to work and set his traps, and we'll see how many birds he will take out of them. We'll rob every one we can find and keep the quail ourselves. In that way we may be able to make up the fifty dozen without setting any of our own traps. We'll write to that man, as you suggested, and when Dave finds he can't catch any birds, he'll get discouraged and leave us a clear field.

But first I want to touch up Don and Bert Gordon a little to pay them for the way they treated me this evening. That shooting-box shall be laid in ashes this very night. I expected an invitation to shoot there last spring, but I didn't get it, and now I am determined that they shall never ask anybody there. What do you say?"

"I say, I'm your man," replied Bob.

And so the thing was settled. Lester put his horse in the barn, went in to supper, which was announced in a few minutes (Bob found opportunity before he sat down to the table to purloin a box of matches, which he put carefully away in his pocket), and when the meal was over, the two boys went back to the wagon-shed, where they sat and talked until it began to grow dark. Then Bob brought a couple of paddles out of the corner of the wagon-shed, handed one to his companion, and the two walked slowly down the road. When they were out of sight of the house they climbed the fence, and directed their course across the fields toward the head of the lake. Then they quickened their pace. They had much to do, and they wanted to finish their work and return to the house before their absence was discovered.

Half an hour's rapid walking brought them to the road just below General Gordon's barn. The next thing was to make their way along the foot of the garden until they reached the jetty, and that was an undertaking that was not wholly free from danger. Don Gordon's hounds were noted watch-dogs, and any prowlers they discovered were pretty certain to be severely treated. But there was no flinching on the part of the two boys. Bob led the way almost on his hands and knees, stopping now and then to listen, and finally brought his companion to the place where the boats were moored. There was only one of them available, however, for the canoe, which they had intended to take, was secured to a tree by a heavy padlock.

"Did you ever hear of such luck?" whispered Bob.

"Couldn't we paddle the other up there?" asked Lester, feeling of the chain with which the sail-boat was fastened to the wharf, to make sure that it was not locked.

"O, yes; but why is this canoe locked up? That's what bothers me.

Perhaps Don suspects something and is on the watch."

"Who cares if he is?" exclaimed Lester. "I've come too far to back out now. I wouldn't do it if Don and all his friends stood in my way."

"All right. If you are not afraid, I am not. Be careful when you cast off that chain. You know that sound travels a long way on a still night like this."

Lester was careful, and the boat was pushed off and got under way so noiselessly that a person standing on the bank would not have known that there was anything going on. Bob, who knew just where the shooting-box was located, sat in the stern and did the steering, at the same time a.s.sisting Lester in paddling. The heavy boat moved easily through the water, and before another half hour had pa.s.sed they were at their journey's end.

"Hold up now," whispered Bob, "and let's make sure that everything is all right before we touch the sh.o.r.e."

Lester drew in his paddle and listened. He heard a whistling in the air, as a solitary duck flew swiftly up the lake, and that was the only sound that broke the stillness. The trees on the sh.o.r.e loomed up darkly against the sky, and presented the appearance of a solid wall of ebony. Lester could not see anything that looked like a shooting-box, but Bob knew it was there, and when he had listened long enough to satisfy himself that there was n.o.body in it or about it, he brought the bow of the boat around and paddled toward the sh.o.r.e.

"Which way is it from here?" asked Lester, when the two had disembarked. "I can't see anything."

"Hold fast to my coat-tail," replied Bob, "and I'll show it to you in a minute."

Lester being thus taken in tow was safely conducted up the bank.

Presently he heard a door unlatched and opened, a match was struck and he found himself inside the shooting-box. He could scarcely have been more surprised if he had found himself inside a little palace.

The shooting-box was not a shanty, as he expected to find it, but a conveniently-arranged and neatly-constructed house. He borrowed a few matches of Bob and proceeded to take a thorough survey of it. "Don must have spent a good deal of time in fixing this up," said he.

"He certainly has," replied Bob, "and he handles tools like a born carpenter, too. I suppose this is a nice place to get away to when the fellows are here shooting over their decoys. Joe Packard says so, at any rate. They have mattresses and bed clothes in the bunks, a carpet and rugs on the floor, camp chairs and stools enough for the whole party, and they sit here of evenings and crack hickory-nuts and tell stories and have boss times."

"It's almost a pity to break up their fun."