THE PLUME PIRATES 337 



regard of every decent feeling for tlie sake of a 

 game bird which may be good to eat or a plumage 

 bird whose feathers may be worn on a hat." 



*'You spoke of an Audubon Society agent being 

 killed on a Florida bird rookery, sir," said the 

 boy; "who was that?" 



"A bird warden, by name Guy Bradley," the 

 Feather Man replied, "lies buried on a lonely sand 

 key near the Cuthbert Egret Rookery. Plume- 

 hunters knew that the Egrets were nesting, and 

 they knew, too, that an Audubon Society agent was 

 there to protect the birds from marauders. But, 

 to offset this, they knew also that in every town 

 and village of the United States there was a woman 

 saying, *I have the price!' and urging them on to 

 murder. So, to please the women, and line their 

 own pockets, they shot the warden at his post of 

 duty and massacred the birds." 



He caught a significant gesture on the boy's 

 part. 



' * Yes, ' ' he said, ' ' I feel the same way. It makes 

 your fingers itch for the trigger of a gun. ' ' 



"Did they never find out who did it?" 



The Feather Man shook his head. 



"Your friend Ned Thompson had been seen 

 down in the neighborhood," he said, "but there 



