“Do you know what you made me do?” he added, becoming vehement as his anger gave him courage. “You made me kill a deer, that’s what you made me do! You made me kill a deer after I promised I’d never shoot at anything but a target—that’s what you made me do,” he shouted in boyish anger. “You didn’t even kill it, you didn’t! Now you see what you did, sneaking and shooting game out of season! Now you see what you made me do!” There was something so naïve and boyish in putting the injury on personal grounds that even Meadows could not repress a smile. “I made a promise to my father, that’s what I did,” said Westy indignantly. The man neither confessed nor denied his guilt. It seemed strange to Westy that he did not deny it since criminals always protest their innocence. At the moment the man’s chief concern seemed to be a certain interest in Westy. He just stood listening, the while holding the little girl close to him and playfully ruffling her hair. Perhaps his dubious standing with the authorities made him lukewarm about protestations of innocence. “Waal?” was all he said. “And you’re not going to get away with it either,” said Westy. Meadows drew a tinfoil package from his trousers pocket, took some tobacco from it and replaced the package in his pocket. Westy saw that the package was a new one and that it bore the MECHANICS DELIGHT label. “You left the other package in the woods,” Westy said triumphantly, “and that’s how I happened to find your gun.” “Yer left the gun thar, youngster?” “Yes, I did,” said Westy angrily, “and I know where it is all right.” Then the true Westy Martin got in a few words. “The only reason I came here first,” he said, “was because I didn’t want to seem sneaky. I didn’t want you to think that I had to go and get the—the constables or sheriffs—I didn’t want you to think I was afraid to face you alone. I didn’t want to go and tell on you till I saw you first, that’s all.” “Waal, naow yer see me,” drawled Meadows. “And I’m going to do what I ought to do, no matter what,” Westy flared up. “S’posin’ yer run an’ play,” said Meadows to the little girl. Then, as she moved away. “An’ what might yer ought ter do?” he asked quietly. “You admit you shot that deer?” Westy asked. “Jiminies, you can’t deny it,” he added boyishly. “Waal?” said Meadows. “Do you see this badge?” said Westy, pulling the sleeve of his scout shirt around so as to display the several merit badges that were sewn there. “That top one,” he said in a boyish tone of mingled pride and anger, “is a conservation badge; it’s a scout badge.” “Yer one of them scaouts, huh?” “Yes, I am and I won that badge. It means if I know of anybody breaking the game laws, I’ve got to report it, that’s what it means. I’ve got to do it even if it seems mean——” “Seems mean, huh?”