ty paces above the low
mound which marked the main beaver house. They had a number of stakes
with them; and they were cutting a series of holes in a circle. From
what Jabe had told him of the Indian methods, he saw at once that
these were not regular trappers, but poachers, who were violating the
game laws and planning to annihilate the whole beaver colony by
fencing in its brush pile.

The Boy realized now that the situation was a delicate if not a
dangerous one. For an instant he thought of going back to camp for
help; but one of the men was on his knees, fixing the stakes, and the
other was already chopping what appeared to be the last hole. Delay
might mean the death of several of his precious beavers. Indignation
and compassion together urged him on, and his young face hardened in
unaccustomed lines.

Walking out upon the snow a little way, he halted, at a distance of
perhaps thirty paces from the poachers. At the sound of his snowshoes
the two men looked up scowling and apprehensive; and the kneeling one
sprang to his feet. They wanted no witnesses of their illegal work.

"Good morning," said the Boy politely.

At the sound of his soft young voice, the sight of his slender figure
and youthful face, their apprehensions vanished; but not their anger
at being discovered.

"Mornin'!" growled one, in a surly voice; while the other never opened
his mouth. Then they looked at each other with meaning question in
their eyes. How were they going to keep this unwelcome visitor from
betraying them?

"I'm going to ask you," said the Boy sweetly, "to be so kind as to
stop trapping on this pond. Of course you didn't know it, but this is
my pond, and there is no trapping allowed on it. It is reserved, you
know; and I don't want a single one of my beavers killed."

The man with the axe scowled fiercely and said nothing. But the other,
the one who had been driving the stakes, laughed in harsh derision.

"You don't, hey, sonny?" he answered. "Well, you just wait an' watch
us. We'll show ye whose beaver they be!" And turning his back in scorn
of his interlocutor's youth, he knelt down again to drive another
stake. The man who had not spoken, however, stood leaning on his axe,
eying the Boy with an ugly expression of menace.

The Boy's usually quiet blood was now pounding and tingling with
anger. His alert eyes had measured the whole situation, and noted that
the men had no firearms but their rifles, which were leaning agai