Читать книгу The Young Game-Warden онлайн

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"That there is just the p'int," observed Dan, sagely. "The way you run it may suit you, but it don't by no means suit the public. That's the reason they want a bridge here."

"But there ain't no good road."

"No, odds; they're going to build one out of the old log road, and make the distance from Bellville to the Beach shorter by five good long miles than it is now. They're going to tear t'other bridge down, and make all the travel come this way."

"Why, that will shut Hobson out in the cold entirely," exclaimed the ferryman. "He'll have to quit keeping hotel."

"That's just what old man Warren and them fellers down to the Beach wan't to do," said Dan. "I heared 'em say so. He always keeps a crowd of loafers around him, Hobson does, and there's so many shooting-matches going on in the grove behind his hotel, that it ain't safe for folks to drive past there with skittish horses. There's been five or six runaways along that road already."

"That's only an excuse for shutting him up, Dannie," said the ferryman, with a knowing wink at his hopeful son. "Hobson keeps the Halfway House, and it's natural for folks who are going to and from the Beach to stop there to water their horses and get a bite of lunch. They spend money with Hobson that they would otherwise spend at the Beach, and that's why old man Warren wants that hotel closed. It's about time for poor people to rise up and pertect themselves, seeing that the law won't do nothing for them. I don't wonder Hobson looks mad."