CHAPTER 13AT HOME
He climbed the bank leading to Poley Harris’ house, and rapped on the door. When the door opened a few inches, the fat face of Warren Harris was framed in it.
“Where’s Poley?” John demanded.
“Poley hain’t here,” the fat man said. “He’s gone b’ar huntin’.”
“Where did he go?”
“Why, I dunno’s Poley’d like hit hif I tol’ ya. He never wa’r one to want his huntin’ grounds pried intuh.”
“Tell me where he went!” John blazed. “If you don’t, I’ll have every game warden in the country on his trail!”
“Why—why Poley’s went down to Mud Bottom. But don’t ya let him know I tol’ ya or he’ll have it in fer me.”
John turned on his heel, and walked away from the door. He whistled as he strode back down to Ranger headquarters. Now, at last, the long-standing feud could be settled. He
