for sport?"

"Hardly. Oh, well, I suppose it's sport for Jack, in a way. He's always
piking around in the woods with a gun or a fishing rod," Benton
returned. "But we kill 'em to eat mostly. It's good meat and cheap. I
get one myself now and then. However, you want to keep that under your
hat--about us fellows hunting--or we'll have game wardens nosing around
here."

"Are you not allowed to hunt them?" she asked.

"Not in close season. Hunting season's from September to December."

"If it's unlawful, why break the law?" she ventured hesitatingly. "Isn't
that rather--er--"

"Oh, bosh," Charlie derided. "A man in the woods is entitled to venison,
if he's hunter enough to get it. The woods are full of deer, and a few
more or less don't matter. We can't run forty miles to town and back and
pay famine prices for beef every two or three days, when we can get it
at home in the woods."

Stella digested this in silence, but it occurred to her that this mild
sample of lawlessness was quite in keeping with the men and the
environment. There was no policeman on the corner, no mechanism of law
and order visible anywhere. The characteristic attitude of these
woodsmen was of intolerance for restraint, of complete self-sufficiency.
It had colored her brother's point of view. She perceived that whereas
all her instinct was to know the rules of the game and abide by them,
he, taking his cue from his environment, inclined to break rules that