Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1908-05-13
He Took Il to His Owner.
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Now that the wild game is disappear

ing, especially from the eastern states.
and multimillionaires are fencing in
thousands of acres we are getting pre-.
.rves such as they have in England
There are number of these estates in
New Hampshire, where all kinds of
game are preserved. from q pheasant to
a deer. A gentleman whom we shall
call Keith owns one of them, though he
is very busy man and seldom goes
there. Tom Dealy is the gamekeeper.
and Tom has son Richard. commonly
called Dickey. seven years old. There
Is lots of honesty in childhood. and it
usually stamps itself on childish faces.
Any one looking into Dickey's honest
countenance would intrust him with
untold riches.
One afternoon in October Dickey was
out on one of the hills included in the
estate more than a mile from the lodge
in which he lived. Suddenly he heard
shot. and pheasant fell not hun
dred feet from him. In another mo-
ment a man with gun and game bag
advanced from an opening In the trees
and was about to pick up the bird
when he was arrested by Hi, there!'
Looking up. he saw Dickey. The
sun shone full in his face. His hat
was thrown back. permitting the red
autumn rays to fall full on the boys
face, which expressed disapprobation.
The man paused and. resting the butt
Of his gun on the ground. regarded
Dickey curiously.
"Well, what is it?''
"Let that pheasant alone. It doesn't
belong to you. It is the property of
Mr.. Keith. who owns this place.
"What right has Mr.. Keith to it more
than II"
''He bought it with money"
"How did he get the money!"
"Made it,
Honestly? Are you sure he didn't
rob the people-freeze out a lot of stock
holders in some of his numerous
schemes and appropriate the properties
to himself?'
II don't know anything about that
know that's not your pheasant. It's
his, and you let it alone"
"Mayn't as well have it as to per-
| NIT it to rot where it ISL"
mo. It won't rot I'll take care of
it."
"Whatll you do with it-take it home
for supper?"
mo. I'll take it to my father. He's
the keeper. He'll turn it in to Mr.
KEITH
"How will l know that it reaches
Mr.. Keith?''
"You have my word for it,
"How do I know your father won't
keep it for himself?"
because it's his business to see that
all game here is turned in"
''That seems to you a good reason,
but because man is employed to see
| that his employer gets his own he
doesn't always do it. However, you
look and talk like an honest boy. If
you'll give me your word of honor to
take the pheasant yourself to Mr.. Keith
! We'll say no more about it."
"Course l will"
The man shouldered his gun and
walked away. leaving the pheasant
where it lay. Dickey advanced, picked
| up the pheasant and. carrying it by the
legs, started off in a different direction
| from that taken by the poacher When
he reached home supper was ready.
but as soon as it was over he took up
the pheasant and started for the resi-
dence of its owner. At the door he
handed 1t to the butler, giving him an
account of its killing. and was about to
turn away when the butler told him to
come In. Dickey. still carrying the
pheasant. entered the spacious hall lost
In wonder and was shown into IL
brary with more books on the shelves
than he had ever dreamed Of There
he waited, wondering why he was de-
tanned, till presently he heard foot
step in the hall, and man entered the
room. Dickey was thunderstruck. He
was the man who shot the pheasant
well. my lad" he said. Il see you
have kept your promise. Give me the
bird"
"Well-I reckon-leastways-I said
I'd give it to Mr.. KEITH
I'm Mr.. Keith
Still Dickey didn't deliver the prop
| erty. He stood looking at the man
with a puzzled expression. Finally he
said:
You said you wouldn't trust my fa-
Their to deliver the bird. How am to
! believe you're Mr. Keith?"
The man smiled. my boy,' he said,
Il am in need of men every day-hun
! dreds of them-who have the attri-
butes that are collected in that little
body of yours. won't ask you to be-
lieve that I'm Mr. Keith, but I am.
came here last night for a brief rest
Take the pheasant back to your moth
er and tell her to cook it for your din
ner tomorrow. And tell your father I
want to see him"
Dickey looked from the man to the
pheasant and from the pheasant to the
man. Then he said:
would you mind giving me bit of
writing to show my father about itY'
Not at all" and, sitting at desk,
he scratched word that he had given
the boy the bird and signed his name
to it.
Dickey was sent to school by his ia
theirs employer and afterward given