It was only a few minutes later that the hunter who had followed
Lightfoot across the River reached the bank and scrambled out of
his boat. Lightfoot's friend was waiting just at the top of the
bank. Of course the hunter saw him at once.

"Hello, Friend!" cried the hunter. "Did you see a Deer pass this
way a few minutes ago? He swam across the river, and if I know
anything about it he's too tired to travel far now. I've been
hunting that fellow for several days, and if I have any luck at
all I ought to get him this time." "I'm afraid you won't have any
luck at all," said Lightfoot's friend. "You see, I don't allow
any hunting on my land."

The hunter looked surprised, and then his surprise gave way to
anger. "You mean," said he, "that you intend to get that Deer
yourself."

Lightfoot's friend shook his head. "No," said he, "I don't mean
anything of the kind. I mean that that Deer is not to be killed
if I can prevent it, and while it is on my land, I think I can.
The best thing for you to do, my friend, is to get into your
boat and row back where you came from. Are those your hounds
barking over there?"

"No," replied the hunter promptly. "I know the law just as well
as you do, and it is against the law to hunt Deer with dogs.
I don't even know who owns those two hounds over there,"

"That may be true," replied Lightfoot's friend. "I don't doubt