"Stop _right_ there!" he ordered curtly. "An' up with your hands,
too! Mebbe youse kin fling a knife slick ez ye kin an axe."

The half-breeds stood like stones. One held up both hands; but the
other only held up his left, his right being helpless. They knew there
was nothing to say. They were fairly caught. They were poaching. The
tall lumberman had seen the axe flung. Their case was a black one; and
any attempt to explain could do no less than make it worse. They did
not even dare to look at each other, but kept their narrow, beady eyes
fixed on Jabe's face.

The Boy came swiftly to Jabe's side.

"Neat shot!" said the woodsman; but the note of astonished admiration
in his tone was the most thrilling compliment the Boy had ever
received.

"What are you going to do with them, Jabe?" he inquired, mildly.

"That's fer you to say! They're yourn!" answered Jabe, keeping his
eyes on the prisoners.

The Boy looked the two culprits over carefully, with his calm, boyish
gaze. He was overwhelmingly elated, but would have died rather than
show it. His air was that of one who is quite used to capturing two
outlaws,--and having axes hurled at his head,--and putting bullets
through men's shoulders. He could not help feeling sorry for the man
with the bullet through his shoulder.

"Well, Jabe," he said presently, "we can't let them go with their
guns, because they're such sneaking brutes, they'd shoot us from
behind a tree. And we can't let them go without their guns, because we
can't be sure they wouldn't starve before they got to their own homes.
And we don't want to take them into camp, for the fellows would
probably treat them as they deserve,--and I don't want them to get
anything so bad as that!"

"Maybe it _might_ be better not to let the hands git hold of 'em!"
agreed Jabe. "They'd be rough!"

A gleam of hope came into the prisoners' eyes. The unwounded one
spoke. And he had the perspicacity to address himself to the Boy
rather than to Jabe, thereby conciliating the Boy appreciably.

"Let us go!" he petitioned, choking down his rage. "We'll swear to
quit, right now an' fer good; an' not to try to git back at yez!"

"Ye'll have to leave yer guns!" said Jabe sternly.

"They're the only guns we got; an' they're our livin', fer the
winter!" protested the half-breed, still looking at the Boy.

"If we take away their guns, what's the good of making them swear?"
demanded the Boy, stepping up and gazing into their eye