p to Matlack,
who was on his way to the little tent in which the camp cooking was done.

"Did Mrs. Archibald tell you," said she, "that we have invited Mr. Clyde
and Mr. Raybold to supper to-night?"

The guide stopped and smiled. "She told me," said he, "but I don't know
that it was altogether necessary."

"I suppose you mean," said Margery, "that they are here so much; but I
don't wonder; they must do awfully poor cooking for themselves. I don't
suppose they will bring anything back that is good to eat."

"Not at this time of year," said he, "but I shall be satisfied if they
bring themselves home."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Margery, quickly.

"Well," said Matlack, "I don't doubt the bicycle fellow will always come
back all right, but I'm afeard about the other one. That bicycle chap
don't know no more about a gun than he does about makin' bread, and I
wouldn't go out huntin' with him for a hundred dollars. He's just as
likely to take a crack at his pardner's head as at anything else that's
movin' in the woods."

"That is dreadful!" exclaimed Margery.

"Yes, it is," returned the guide; "and if I had charge of their camp he
wouldn't go out with a gun again. But it will be all right in a day or
two. Peter will settle that."

"Mr. Sadler, do you mean?" asked Margery. "What's he got to do with it?"

"He's got everything to do with it," said Matlack. "He's got everything to
do with everything in this part of the country. He's got his laws, and he
sees to it that people stand by them. One of his rules is that people who
don't know how to use guns sha'n't shoot in his camps."

"But how can he know about the people out here in the woods?" asked
Margery.

"I tell you, miss," said Matlack, speaking slowly and decisively, "Peter
Sadler's ways of knowing things is like gas--the kind you burn, I mean. I
was a-visitin' once in a city house, and slept in a room on the top floor,
and there was a leak in the pipe in the cellar, and that gas just went
over the whole house, into every room and closet, and even under the beds,
and I've often thought that that was just like Peter's way of doin' things
and knowin' things. You take my word for it, that bicycle-man won't go out
huntin' many more days, even if he don't shoot his pardner fust."

"He won't go to-morrow," thought Margery; and then she said to Matlack: "I
think we ought to know Mr. Sadler's rules. Has he any more of them?"

"Oh, they ain't very many," said