FROM BEND TO BURNS 63 



tightening game laws, for which the warden was 

 largely responsible. Enthusiastic, and decidedly 

 enlightened too, it seemed to me, by the time it 

 closed, and the warden had had a chance to ex- 

 plain the meaning of the relations between the 

 sportsman, the game, and the State, and to en- 

 force his points with that great load of young fish 

 coming yonder over the desert. 



"Finley," said I, after the meeting, "it's a long 

 haul for fish." 



"So it is," he replied. 



" Suppose they don't arrive in good shape ? " 



" I was thinking of that ; the long stop at The 

 Dalles, to begin with; then this desert! They 

 were shipped from the hatchery Friday. To-mor- 

 row 's Sunday. They '11 never make it ! " 



We said no more. There was a good deal at 

 stake for the game warden in this little town of 

 Burns, the center of influence over a wider and a 

 richer game country than can be found, I believe, 

 anywhere else in the United States, fed as it is 

 by the great Malheur Lake Reservation at the 

 mouth of the Silvies, a few miles below. 



At twelve o'clock that night I looked out into 

 the sky. The stars were shining in the clear dark, 



