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 {ew miles below. 



At twelve o'clock that night I looked out into 

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



