a row in that quarter, I tell you."

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Lester.

"O, I was just joking, of course. But what's to be done about this
business? Don got the contract for Dave Evans, and I want to know if
we are to be kicked out of the way to make room for him."

Lester did not reply at once. He did not feel very highly flattered
by the low estimate Bob seemed to put upon him as a "backer" in case
of trouble with Don Gordon, and while he was trying to make up his
mind whether he ought to let it pass or get sulky over it, he was
unfolding and smoothing out the letter he held in his hand. When he
had made himself master of its contents, he said:--

"You come over and stay with me to-night, and we'll put our heads
together and see what we can make of this. I must go down to the
store now, and I'll meet you here in half an hour. That will give
you time enough to go home and speak to your folks."

Bob spent the night at Lester's house, and it was during the long
conversation they had before they went to sleep, that they made up
their minds that it was a mean piece of business to trap quails, and
that nobody but a miserable pot-hunter would do it. They adopted the
dog-in-the-manger policy at once. If they could not trap the birds,
nobody should; and that was about all they could decide on just then.

The next morning after breakfast they mounted their horses and rode
in company, until they came to the lane that led to Bob's home and
there they parted, Lester directing his course down the main road
toward the cabin in which David Evans lived. He met David in the
road, as we know, and laid down the law to him in pretty strong
language; but strange enough the latter could not be coaxed or
frightened into promising that he would give up his chance of
earning a hundred and fifty dollars.

Lester was in a towering passion when he rode away after his
conversation with David. Lashing his horse into a run, he turned into
the first road he came to, and after a two-mile gallop, drew rein in
front of the double log-house in which Bob Owens lived. There was an
empty wagon-shed on the opposite side of the road, and there he found
Bob, standing with his hands in his pockets, and gazing ruefully
at the pile of traps upon which he and Lester had worked so
industriously, and which he had hoped would bring them in a nice
little sum of spending money.

"Well, did you see him?" asked Bob, as his friend rode up to the shed