Too astonished to move, Tom just stood and stared. The self-effacing little man with the horn-rimmed glasses and the high-pitched voice was a game warden! Chalmers Garsoney, the fumbling, would-be naturalist, had replaced Buck Brunt as the chief warden for the Hilldale District!
“You!” Tom gasped.
“Yes, Mr. Rainse. I understand your surprise, and I admit that I appear to lack the physical capacity to cope with a great deal of roughness. However, I shall do my best to be a good warden.”
“Well—uh, come in,” Tom stammered.
“Thank you, thank you kindly,” the little man said gratefully.
He walked into the cabin. Tom followed in a daze. Smoky, who had long ago catalogued the scent of this man, sniffed at him briefly, then padded to his own corner and lay down. Chalmers Garsoney removed his
