I have a license.
We all have licenses and we propose to do some hunting when the season opens, though that is not the main purpose of our journey up here." "Show me." Hippy handed his license to the warden, which that officer read with frowning attention.

Handing it back he demanded to see the licenses of the others, which Lieutenant Wingate had had the foresight to procure before the Overland Riders came west.
"Reckon you're all right so far as licenses is concarned, but ye can't carry guns up here till the season--the game season's open," said the game warden, handing back the licenses.
"It's always an open season for the kind of game we are going to hunt," Hippy informed him.
"Eh?
What kind's that ?" "Your kind," retorted Hippy sharply.
"That's all I've got to do with ye.

I'd make ye give up the guns, but these gents have something to say to you folks.

They'll take care of yer rifles and such." The game warden backed his horse away.

His two companions, taking their cue from his move, rode to the fore.
Hippy surveyed them narrowly.
"Here comes the rub," Miss Briggs confided to Grace.
"We're deputy sheriffs," announced one.
"Charmed, I'm sure," greeted Hippy, bowing with much dignity.