“Why do people call them quails then?” asked Bert.

“The name was given to them by our forefathers, because they resembled the European quail.  There is no pheasant in America either; but our grouse looked like one, and so they gave it that name, Lester calls a quail Pious Imperialis.  Now that’s an imperial woodpecker—­that big black fellow with a red topknot that we sometimes see when we are hunting.  He used to be called cock-of-the-woods, but the name was twisted around until it became woodcock, and some people believe that he is the gamey little bird we so much delight to shoot and eat.  But they belong to different orders, one being a climber and the other a wader.  Lester speaks of a rabbit, not knowing that there is no such thing as a wild rabbit in our country, and calls it Ortyx Virgiana, when he should have called it Lepus Virginianus, the name he uses being the one by which our quail is known to ornithologists.  A deer, which he calls a dog-wolf, is Cervus Virginianus.  O, he’s a naturalist as well as a sportsman,” shouted Don, as he laid back upon the sofa and laughed until his sides ached.

“Then he didn’t get one of the names right?”

“Not a single one.  After all, his ignorance on these points is not so astonishing, for everybody is liable to make mistakes; but that any boy living in this day and age should imagine that, by simply getting up a club and adopting a constitution, he could imprison or fine another boy because he didn’t do just to suit him, is too ridiculous to be believed.  That particular paragraph was probably copied after some old game law Lester read years ago; but he ought to know that before a sportsman’s club, or any other organization, can have authority to prosecute persons for trapping birds and sending them away, there must first be a law passed prohibiting such trapping and sending away; and there’s no such law in this state.  It doesn’t seem possible that he could have been in earnest.”

But Lester was in earnest for all that—­so very much in earnest that he was willing to run a great risk in order to punish Don for refusing to join his society.  Of course he was angry.  He and Bob had felt sure of obtaining the contract, had laid many plans for the spending of the money after it was earned, and it was very provoking to find that their scheme had been defeated, and that they were to be pushed aside for the sake of such a fellow as David Evans.  Lester was sorry now that he had not given David a good thrashing when he met him in the road that morning, and told himself that he would do it the very next time he put eyes on him and risk the consequences.  The thought had scarcely passed through his mind when the opportunity was presented.  He met David coming along the road in company with his brother Dan.  David did not seem to remember that any sharp words had passed between Lester and himself, for he looked as cheerful and smiling as usual, and, following the custom of the country, bowed to the horseman as he rode past.  Lester did not return the bow, and neither did he dismount to give David the promised thrashing.  He was afraid to attempt it; but, coward-like, he had to take vengeance upon something, and so he hit his horse a savage cut with his riding-whip.