That fear of consequences might influence them, was possible, and yet all the more reason for assisting the law in ridding the forest of two such criminals. But Martin, thorough sportsman that he was, and keen to all the world's affairs, understood but little of the conditions existent in the wilderness, or about the lives and morals of those who find a living thus. He knew, as all do, that a few thousand lumbermen entered each autumn, and, much to his regret, made steady inroads toward its despoilment. He knew, also, that these men included many of excellent habits--sober, industrious workers with families which they cheerfully supported, and that there were also many among them whose sole ambition was to earn a few hundred dollars in a season of hard work, that they might spend it in a few weeks, or even days, of drunken debauchery. He was well aware that a few wandering hunters and trappers plied their calling here, and many of a mixed occupation, guiding sportsmen like himself in season, were engaged in lumbering or farming between times. This mixed and transient population, he knew, were neither better nor worse than the average of such pioneers--good-natured and good-hearted, though somewhat lax in speech and morals. What he did not know, however, was that a few unscrupulous and disreputable men, half gamblers, half dive-keepers, followed these lumbermen into camp as ostensible hunters and trappers, but really gamblers, ready to turn a trick at cards, convoy a keg of whiskey in, or follow a moose on snow-shoes, kill and sell him, as occasion offered. Or that, when spring opened the streams, these same itinerant purveyors of vice spotted their possible victims, as a bunco man does a rural "good thing" visiting the metropolis, and when they reached town or city, steered them where harpies waited to share the spoil. A brief explanation of these facts were furnished to Martin by Warden Hersey, when, after overhauling him, the parties joined about one camp-fire.