A POT-HUNTER'S DEFIANCE 47 



game a welcome relief from the corn-bread and 

 miserable hog-meat which formed the staple diet 

 of the district. Yet the visit of the game warden 

 stuck in his remembrance, and, one day, while he 

 was busily plucking and cleaning a couple of Mal- 

 lards which his uncle had brought home before 

 daylight, the lad said, 



^'Bull, aren't ducks out of season?" 



A growl was the only answer. 



Shan continued plucking, silently, knowing from 

 experience that nothing would make the old man 

 talk, unless he happened to be in the humor. The 

 subject had been broached, however, and, after a 

 while, the pot-hunter asked, 



'■ '■ Has that game warden feller been 'round here 

 again?" 



"Not so far as I know," replied Shan; ''I was 

 just wondering, that was all." 



''Who told yo' 'bout open an' close seasons?" 

 queried the old man, suspiciously. 



*'You did," the lad answered, "one night you 

 were grumbling about the game laws. You said 

 that shooting duck after February the first is 

 against the law." 



"So 'tis," snorted Bull Adam, and relapsed into 

 silence. But the subject was a sore one with him. 



