“You pick ‘em big, don’t you?”
John rose, and whirled, knife in hand. Not forty feet away, standing behind him, was a solidly built man dressed in a stag shirt, breeches, and leather shoes with rubber bottoms. His face was hard, but kindly.
“I never heard you come,” John said.
The man smiled, and took off his hat to scratch a shock of red hair.
“I don’t think I’d hear or see anything else either, if I was on the track of a fellow that size. But I’ve been watching you from the other hill since you started. My name’s Lambertson, Harvey Lambertson. I’m the State Game Warden in this county.”
John extended his hand. “One of the first things I intended to do was come down to Jack Run and get acquainted with you. But somehow I just didn’t have time. I’m John Belden, the Ranger from Pine Hill
