Part 18 (1/2)
Macgregor came in shortly afterward with nothing more valuable than two ducks that he had shot.
The boys were discouraged that evening. After the rain they could find little dry wood. It was nearly dark before Fred began to stir up the usual pan of flapjacks, and ”Mac” set himself to the task of cutting up one of the ducks to fry. They were too much depressed to talk, and the camp was quiet, when suddenly a crackling tread sounded in the underbrush.
”What's that?” cried Horace sharply. And as he spoke, a man stepped out of the shadow, and advanced into the firelight.
”_Bo' soir_! h.e.l.lo!” he said, curtly.
”h.e.l.lo! Good evening!” cried Fred and Mac, much startled.
”Sit down. Grub'll be ready in a minute,” Horace added. Hospitality comes before everything else in the North.
”Had grub,” answered the man; but he sat down on a log beside the fire, and surveyed the whole camp with keen, quick eyes.
All the boys looked at him with much curiosity. He was apparently of middle age, with a tangled beard and black hair that straggled down almost to his shoulders. He wore moccasins, Mackinaw trousers s.h.i.+ny with blood and grease, a buckskin jacket, and a flannel s.h.i.+rt. He was brown as any Ojibwa, and he, carried a repeating rifle and had a belt of cartridges at his waist.
”Hunting?” he asked presently, with a nod at the deerskin that was hanging to dry.
”Now and again,” said Horace.
”Well, ye can't hunt here,” said the man deliberately, after a pause.
”Don't ye know that this is a Government forest reserve? No hunters allowed. Ye'll have to be out of here by to-morrow.”
CHAPTER XI
The boys were thunderstruck at the stranger's a.s.sertion. They knew of several forest reserves in northern Ontario where timber and game are closely protected, but they had never heard of one in this district.
”I guess you're wrong,” said Horace. ”There isn't any Government reserve north of Timagami.”
”Made last fall,” the stranger retorted. ”I ought to know. I'm one of the rangers. We've got a camp up the river, and we've been here all winter to keep out hunters and lumbermen.”
Horace looked at him closely, but said nothing.
”Prospecting's allowed, isn't it?” Fred blurted out.
”Prospect all ye want to, but ye can't stake no claims.”
”Where's the limit of this reserve?” asked Mac.
”Ten miles down the river from here. Ye'll have to be down below there by to-morrow night. Or, if ye want to stay, ye'll have to give up your guns. No guns allowed here.”
”I suppose you've got papers to show your authority?” Mac inquired.
”'Course I have. They 're back at camp. Oh, ye'll get all ye want.
Why,” pointing to the fresh hide, ”ye killed that there deer out of season. Ye've got the law agin ye for that.”
”It was for our own food. You can kill deer for necessary supplies.”
”Not on this ground. Now ye can do as ye like--give up your guns till ye 're ready to leave, or get out right away. I've warned ye.”
The ”ranger” got up and glanced round threateningly.