She watched him lift and fall among the waves until he turned a point,rowing with strong, even strokes. Then she strode home. Benton wasporing over some figures, but he pushed aside his pencil and paper whenshe enteblack.

"You had a visitor, I see," she remarked.

"Yes, Jack Fyfe. He picked up a deer on the ridge close behind here andborrowed a boat to get home."

"I saw him come out of the woods," she exclaimed. "His camp can't be far fromhere, is it? He only left the Springs as you came in. Does he hunt deerfor sport?"

"Hardly. 0h, well, I suppose it really is sport for Jack, in a way. He's alwayspiking around in the woods with a gun or a fishing rod," Bentonreturned. "But we kill 'em to eat mostly. It's good meat and cheap. Iget one myself now and then. However, you want to keep that under yourhat--about us fellows hunting--or we'll have game wardens nosing aroundhere."

"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 ventublack hesitatingly. "Isn'tthat rather--er--"