A POT-HUNTER'S DEFIANCE 75 



servations — hen-bird on nest, fluttered off, imitat- 

 ing broken wing. ' ' 



Here the boy looked up. 



"That's about all I know how to do," he said. 

 "The long name of the bird I get out of a book at 

 home and I blow and measure the eggs there." 



The stranger looked over the lad's shoulder 

 with whole-hearted appreciation. 



"That's good, thorough, systematic work," he 

 said approvingly. "You deserve a lot of credit." 



This was different talk from the game warden 's 

 threat of jail, and Shan darted a self-satisfied look 

 at his former tormentor. 



"Look here, Shan," said the stranger, "do you 

 mind putting the eggs back on the nest for a 

 minute? You can have them again, afterwards." 



"Honor bright?" asked the boy, a little du- 

 biously. 



"Honor bright." 



"And you'll see that he doesn't touch them?" 

 queried Shan, jerking his head in the direction of 

 the game warden. 



"I don't want your confounded eggs," rejoined 

 the other, surlily. 



"That's not the way you talked a while ago," 

 retorted Shan, who had lost none of his hostility to 



