ee men were bending over the dead deer, and all of them carried
rifles. They were a rough-looking set, all told; and any one would know
at a glance that they could not be city sportsmen, up here in the Maine
woods on a hunt; but must belong to the native class of guides, loggers,
or possibly something worse.

One of them was in truth a giant; and as soon as Thad set eyes on this
individual he knew that his worst fears were about to be realized. This
could be no other than the big poacher, Old Cale Martin, the man whom
the game wardens seemed to dread like poison, and had never yet dared
arrest, though his breaking of the laws had become notorious all through
that section where he roamed.

Despite his sensation of acute alarm, Thad surveyed the man with more or
less interest and curiosity. He had heard so much about his doings that
he would have actually felt a certain degree of disappointment had he
gone away from Maine and never met Cale Martin.

Then, what Jim Hasty had told him, added to his desire to look upon the
face of Little Lina's awful father.

No doubt Step Hen must also have jumped at some sort of right conclusion
with regard to the identity of the three men. The unusual size of the
leader was quite enough in itself to tell who they must be.

Thad did not halt long upon sighting the others, but walked forward.
Even though poachers, this did not mean that the three men were
desperate outlaws by any means. No doubt they walked in and out of the
villages in this extreme northern section of the State, and were greeted
by those who knew them as fellow guides, though seldom were any of them
employed in such a capacity nowadays.

Step Hen tagged at the heels of his chum. He did not know what Thad
might be going to do; but although white of face just then, with a
sudden fear of trouble, at least Step Hen showed no sign of running
away.

The three men looked up as the boys approached. All of them seemed to be
grinning, as though amused. But while the big man really looked somewhat
as a mastiff might appear to a little terrier, his two companions had a
sneer on their dark, evil faces that gave Thad more or less uneasiness.

He knew that while Step Hen was entitled to that fine buck, the chances
were his claim would never be considered for a single minute. Might made
right in the Maine woods, with men of this stamp.

"Hullo! younkers, lookin' arter yer deer, hey?" remarked the giant, as
the boys boldly approa