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"I don't know that I blame him, Barry," said his father thoughtfully.
"It is an annoying thing to be shouted at with your gun on a bird, you
know, extremely annoying."
"But he was breaking the law, dad!" cried Barry indignantly.
"I know, I know. But after all--"
"But, dad, you can't sit there and tell me that you don't condemn him
for shooting out of season. You know nothing makes you more furious than
hearing about chaps who pot chicken out of season."
"I know, I know, my boy." The father was apparently quite distressed.
"You are quite right, but--"
"Now, dad, I won't have it! You are not to tell me that I had no
business to stop him if I could. Besides, the law is the law, and sport
is sport."
"I quite agree, Barry. Believe me, I quite agree. Yet all the same, a
chap does hate to have his shot spoiled, and to shout at a fellow with
his gun on a bird,--well, you'll excuse me, Barry, but it is hardly the
sporting thing."
"Sporting! Sporting!" said Barry. "I know that I hated to do it, but
it was right.


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