WTJlt 
 
 'won 
 
He worked desperately. The heat of the flames began to 
 scorch his face and hands 
 
THE 
 
 RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 BY 
 STEWART EDWARD WHITE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY LEJAREN A. HILLER 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
ALl. RIGHTS RESERVED. INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION 
 INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1909 1C) 10, BY JAMES HORSBURGH, JB 
 
 COPYRIGHT, IQIO, BY DOfBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPAQ' 
 PUBLISHED, OCTOBER, IQI3 
 
 THE COUNTRY LITE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 The geography in this novel may easily be recognized by 
 one familiar with tlie country. For that reason it is necessary 
 to state that the characters therein are in no manner to be 
 confused with the people actually inhabiting and developing 
 that locality. TIte Power Company promoted by Baker lias 
 absolutely nothing to do with any Power Company utilizing 
 any streams : the delectable Plant never exercised his talents 
 in Sierra North. The author must decline to acknowledge 
 any identifications of the sort. Plant and Baker and all the 
 rest are, however, only to a limited extent fictitious characters. 
 What they did and what they stood for is absolutely true. 
 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 He worked desperately. The heat of the flames 
 
 began to scorch his face and hands . . Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 The men calmly withdrew the long ribbon of steel 
 
 and stood to one side 206 
 
 "I beg pardon," said he. The girl turned . . 332 
 Bob found it two hours' journey down . . .568 
 
PART ONE 
 
I 
 
 LATE one fall afternoon, in the year 1898, a train 
 paused for a moment before crossing a bridge over 
 a river. From it descended a heavy-set, elderly 
 man. The train immediately proceeded on its way. 
 
 The heavy-set man looked about him, The river and the 
 bottom-land growths of willow and hardwood were hemmed 
 in, as far as he could see, by low-wooded hills. Only the 
 railroad bridge, the steep embankment of the right-of-way, 
 and a small, painted, windowless structure next the water 
 met his eye as the handiwork of man. The windowless struc- 
 ture was bleak, deserted and obviously locked by a strong 
 padlock and hasp. Nevertheless, the man, throwing on his 
 shoulder a canvas duffle-bag with handles, made his way 
 down the steep railway embankment, across a plank over 
 the ditch, and to the edge of the water. Here he dropped 
 his bag heavily, and looked about him with an air of com- 
 ical dismay. 
 
 The man was probably close to sixty years of age, but florid 
 and vigorous. His body was heavy and round; but so were 
 his arms and legs. An otherwise absolutely unprepossessing 
 face was rendered most attractive by a pair of twinkling, 
 humorous blue eyes, set far apart. Iron-gray hair, with a 
 tendency to curl upward at the ends, escaped from under his 
 hat. His movements were slow and large and purposeful. 
 
 He rattled the padlock on the boathouse, looked at his 
 watch, and sat down on his duffle-bag. The wind blew 
 strong up the river; the baring branches of the willows 
 whipped loose their yellow leaves. A dull, leaden light stole 
 up from the east as the afternoon sun lost its strength. 
 
4 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 By the- end of ten- mijiutes, however, the wind carried 
 with it the' creak of rowlocks. A moment later a light, 
 flat duck-boat. shot areund, -.the -bend and drew up at the 
 float. 
 
 "Well, Orde, you confounded old scallywattamus," 
 remarked the man on the duffle-bag, without moving, "is 
 this your notion of meeting a train?" 
 
 The oarsman moored his frail craft and stepped to the 
 float. He was about ten years the other's junior, big of 
 frame, tanned of skin, clear of eye, and also purposeful of 
 movement. 
 
 "This boathouse," he remarked incisively, "is the 
 property of the Maple County Duck Club. Trespassers 
 will be prosecuted. Get off this float." 
 
 Then they clasped hands and looked at each other. 
 
 "It's surely like old times to see you again, Welton," 
 Orde broke the momentary silence. "It's been let's see 
 fifteen years, hasn't it? How's Minnesota?" 
 
 "Full of ducks," stated Welton emphatically, "and if you 
 haven't anything but mud hens and hell divers here, I'm 
 going to sue you for getting me here under false pretences. 
 I want ducks." 
 
 "Well, I'll get the keeper to shoot you some," replied Orde, 
 soothingly, "or you can come out and see me kill 'em if you'll 
 sit quiet and not rock the boat. Climb aboard. It's getting 
 late." 
 
 Welton threw aboard his duffle-bag, and, with a dexter- 
 ity marvellous in one apparently so unwieldy, stepped in 
 astern. Orde grinned. 
 
 "Haven't forgotten how to ride a log, I reckon?" he com- 
 mented. 
 
 Welton exploded. 
 
 "Look here, you little squirt!" he cried, "I'd have you 
 know I'm riding logs yet. I don't suppose you'd know a 
 log if you'd see one, you soft-handed, degenerate, old river- 
 hog, you ! A golf ball's about your size ! " 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 5 
 
 "No," said Orde; "a fat old hippopotamus named Wei- 
 ton is about my size as I'll show you when we land at the 
 Marsh!" 
 
 Welton grinned. 
 
 " How's Mrs. Orde and the little boy?" he inquired. 
 
 "Mrs. Orde is fine and dandy, and the 'little boy,' as you 
 call him, graduated from college last June," Orde replied. 
 
 "You don't say!" cried Welton, genuinely astounded. 
 "Why, of course, he must have! Can he lick his dad?" 
 
 "You bet he can or could if his dad would give him a 
 chance. Why, he's been captain of the football team for 
 two years." 
 
 "And football's the only game I'd come out of the woods 
 to see," said Welton. "I must nave seen him up at Minne- 
 apolis when his team licked the stuffing out of our boys; 
 and I remember his name. But I never thought of him 
 as little Bobby because well, because I always did 
 remember him as little Bobby." 
 
 "He's big Bobby, now, all right," said Orde, "and that's 
 one reason I wanted to see you; why I asked you to run over 
 from Chicago next time you came down. Of course, there 
 are ducks, too." 
 
 "There'd better be!" said Welton grimly. 
 
 "I want Bob to go into the lumber business, same as his 
 dad was. This congressman game is all right, and I don't 
 see how I can very well get out of it, even if I wanted to. 
 But, Welton, I'm a Riverman, and I always will be. Irs 
 in my bones. I want Bob to grow up in the smell of the 
 woods same as his dad. I've always had that ambition 
 for him. It was the one thing that made me hesitate long- 
 est about going to Washington. I looked forward to Orde 
 & Son." 
 
 He was resting on his oars, and the duck-boat drifted 
 silently by the swaying brown reeds. 
 
 Welton nodded. 
 
 "I want you to take him and break him in. I'd rather 
 
6 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 have you than any one I know. You're the only one of the 
 outsiders who stayed by the Big Jam," Orde continued. 
 "Don't try to favour him that's no favour. If he doesn't 
 make good, fire him. Don't tell any of your people that 
 he's the son of a friend. Let him stand on his own feet. 
 If he's any good we'll work him into the old game. Just 
 give him a job, and keep an eye on him for me, to see how 
 well he does." 
 
 "Jack, the job's his," said Welton. "But it won't do 
 him much good, because it won't last long. We're cleaned up 
 in Minnesota; and have only an odd two years on some odds 
 and ends we picked up in Wisconsin just to keep us busy." 
 
 "What are you going to do then?" asked Orde, quietly 
 dipping his oars again. 
 
 "I'm going to retire and enjoy life." 
 
 Orde laughed quietly. 
 
 "Yes, you are!" said he. "You'd have a high old time 
 for a calendar month. Then you'd get uneasy. You'd 
 build you a big house, which would keep you mad for six 
 months more. Then you'd degenerate to buying subscrip- 
 tion books, and wheezing around a club and going by the 
 cocktail route. You'd look sweet retiring, now, wouldn't 
 you?" 
 
 Welton grinned back, a trifle ruefully. 
 
 "You can no more retire than I can," Orde went on. 
 " And as for enjoying life, I'll trade jobs with you in a min- 
 ute, you ungrateful old idiot." 
 
 "I know it, Jack," confessed Welton; "but what can I 
 do? I can't pick up any more timber at any price. I tell 
 you, the game is played out. We're old mossbacks; and our 
 job is done." 
 
 "I have five hundred million feet of sugar pine in Califor- 
 nia. What do you say to going in with me to manufacture ? " 
 
 "The hell you have!" cried Welton, his jaw dropping. 
 "I didn't know that!" 
 
 "Neither does anybody else. I bought it twenty years 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 7 
 
 ago, under a corporation name. I was the whole corpora- 
 tion. Called myself the Wolverine Company." 
 
 " You own the Wolverine property, do you ? " 
 
 "Yes; ever hear of it?" 
 
 "I know where it is. I've been out there trying to get 
 hold of something, but you have the heart of it." 
 
 "Thought you were going to retire," Orde pointed out. 
 
 "The property's all right, but I've some sort of notion the 
 title is clouded." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Can't seem to remember; but I must have come against 
 some record somewhere. Didn't pay extra much attention, 
 because I wasn't interested in that piece. Something to 
 do with fraudulent homesteading, wasn't it?" 
 
 Orde dropped his oars across his lap to fill and light a pipe. 
 
 "That title was deliberately clouded by an enemy to 
 prevent my raising money at the time of the Big Jam, when 
 I was pinched," said he. "Frank Taylor straightened it 
 out for me. You can see him. As a matter of fact, most 
 of that land I bought outright from the original homesteaders, 
 and the rest from a bank. I was very particular. There's 
 one 1 60 I wouldn't take on that account." 
 
 "Well, that's all right," said Welton, his jolly eyes twink- 
 ling. "Why the secrecy?" 
 
 "I wanted a business for Bob when he should grow up," 
 explained Orde; "but I didn't want any of this 'rich man's 
 son' business. Nothing's worse for a boy than to feel that 
 everything's cut and dried for him. He is to understand 
 that he must go to work for somebody else, and stand strictly 
 on his own feet, and make good on his own efforts. That's 
 why I want you to break him in." 
 
 "All right. And about this partnership?" 
 
 "I want you to take charge. I can't leave Washington. 
 We'll get down to details later. Bob can work for you there 
 the same as here. By and by, we'll see whether to tell 
 him or not." 
 
8 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 The twilight had fallen, and the shores of the river were 
 lost in dusk. The surface of the water itself shone with an 
 added luminosity, reflecting the sky. In the middle distance 
 twinkled a light, beyond which in long stretches lay the som- 
 bre marshes. 
 
 ''That's the club," said Orde. "Now, if you disgrace 
 me, you old duffer, I'll use you as a decoy!" 
 
 A few moments later the two men, opening the door of 
 the shooting-box, plunged into a murk of blue tobacco 
 smoke. A half-dozen men greeted them boisterously. 
 These were just about to draw lots for choice of blinds on 
 the morrow. A savoury smell of roasting ducks came from 
 the tiny kitchen where Weber punter, keeper, duck-caller 
 and cook exercised the last-named function. Welton 
 drew last choice, and was commiserated on his bad for- 
 tune. No one offered to give way to the guest, however. 
 On this point the rules of the Club were inflexible. 
 
 Luckily the weather changed. It turned cold; the wind 
 blew a gale. Squalls of light snow swept the marshes. 
 Men chattered and shivered, and blew on their wet fingers, 
 but in from the great open lake came myriads of water- 
 fowl, seeking shelter, and the sport was grand. 
 
 "Well, old stick-in-the-mud," said Orde as, a* the end 
 of two days, the men thawed out in a smoking car, "ducks 
 enough for you ? " 
 
 "Jack," said Welton solemnly, "there are no ducks in 
 Minnesota. They've all come over here. I've had the time 
 of my life. And about that other thing: as soon as our 
 woods work is under way, I'll run out to California and 
 look over the ground see how easy it is to log that coun- 
 try. Then we can talk business. In the meantime, send 
 Bob over to the Chicago office. I'll let Harvey break him 
 in a little on the office work until I get back. When will 
 he show up?" 
 
 Orde grinned apologetically. 
 
 "The kid has set his heart on coaching the team this 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 9 
 
 fall, and he don't want to go to work until after the season," 
 said he. "I'm just an old fool enough to tell him he could 
 wait. I know he ought to be at it now you and I were, 
 long before his age; but 
 
 "Oh, shut up!" interrupted Welton, his big body shak- 
 ing all over with mirth. "You talk like a copy-book. I'm 
 not a constituent, and you needn't run any bluffs on me. 
 You're tickled to death with that boy, and you are hoping 
 that team will lick the everlasting daylights out of Chicago, 
 Thanksgiving; and you wouldn't miss the game or have 
 Bob out of the coaching for the whole of California; and 
 you know it. Send him along when you get ready." 
 
II 
 
 BOB ORDE, armed with a card of introduction to Fox, 
 Walton's office partner, left home directly after 
 Thanksgiving. He had heard much of Welton & Fox 
 in the past, both from his father and his father's associates. 
 The firm name meant to him big things in the past history 
 of Michigan's industries, and big things in the vague, large 
 life of the Northwest. Therefore, he was considerably sur- 
 prised, on finding the firm's Adams Street offices, to observe 
 their comparative insignificance. 
 
 He made his way into a narrow entry, containing merely 
 a high desk, a safe, some letter files, and two bookkeepers. 
 Then, without challenge, he walked directly into a large 
 apartment, furnished as simply, with another safe, a type- 
 writer, several chairs, and a large roll-top desk. At the 
 latter a man sprawled, reading a newspaper. Bob looked 
 about for a further door closed on an inner private office, 
 where the weighty business must be transacted. There 
 was none. The tall, broad, lean young man hesitated, 
 looking about him with a puzzled expression in his earnest 
 young eyes. Could this be the heart and centre of those 
 vast and far-reaching activities he had heard so much 
 about ? 
 
 After a moment the man in the revolving chair looked up 
 shrewdly over his paper. Bob felt himself the object of an 
 instant's searching scrutiny from a pair of elderly steel- 
 gray eyes. ' 
 
 "Well?" said the man, briefly. 
 
 "I am looking for Mr. Fox," explained Bob. 
 
 "I am Fox." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 11 
 
 The young man moved forward his great frame with 
 the easy, loose- jointed grace of the trained athlete. With- 
 out comment he handed his card of introduction to the 
 seated man. The latter glanced at it, then back to the 
 young fellow before him. 
 
 "Glad to see you, Mr. Orde," he unbent slightly. "I've 
 been expecting you. If you're as good a man as your 
 father, you'll succeed. If you're not as good a man as 
 your father, you may get on well enough. But you've 
 got to be some good on your own account. We'll see." 
 He raised his voice slightly. "Jim!" he called. 
 
 One of the two bookkeepers appeared in the door- 
 way. 
 
 "This is young Mr. Orde," Fox told him. "You knew 
 his father at Monrovia and Redding." 
 
 The bookkeeper examined Bob dispassionately. 
 
 "Harvey is our head man here," went on Fox. "He'll 
 take charge of you." 
 
 He swung his leg over the arm of his chair and resumed 
 his newspaper. After a few moments he thrust the crumpled 
 sheet into a huge waste basket and turned to his desk, 
 where he speedily lost himself in a mass of letters and 
 papers. 
 
 Harvey disappeared. Bob stood for a moment, then took 
 a seat by the window, where he could look out over the 
 smoky city and catch a glimpse of the wintry lake beyond. 
 As nothing further occurred for some time, he removed his 
 overcoat, and gazed about him with interest on the framed 
 photographs of logging scenes and camps that covered the 
 walls. At the end of ten minutes Harvey returned from 
 the small outer office. Harvey was, perhaps, fifty-five years 
 of age, exceeding methodical, very competent. 
 
 "Can you run a typewriter?" he inquired. 
 
 "A little," said Bob. 
 
 "Well, copy this, with a carbon duplicate." 
 
 Bob took the paper Harvey extended to him. He found 
 
12 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 it to be a list, including hundreds of items. The first few 
 lines were like this: 
 
 Sec. 4 T, 6 N. R., 26 W S. W. J of N. W. J 
 
 4 6 26 N. W. 1 of N. W. J 
 
 4 6 26 S. W. } of S. W. J 
 
 5 6 26 S. W. j of N. W. J 
 5 6 26 S. E. i of N. W. J 
 
 After an interminable sequence, another of the figures 
 would change, or a single letter of the alphabet would shift. 
 And so on, column after column. Bob had not the remotest 
 notion of what it all meant, but he copied it and handed the 
 result to Harvey. In a few moments Harvey returned. 
 
 "Did you verify this?" he asked. 
 
 "What? "Bob inquired. . 
 
 "Verify it, check it over, compare it," snapped Harvey, 
 impatiently. 
 
 Bob took the list, and with infinite pains which, nevertheless, 
 could not prevent him from occasionally losing the place 
 in the bewilderment of so many similar figures, he managed 
 to discover that he had omitted three and miscopied two. 
 He corrected these mistakes with ink and returned the list 
 to Harvey. Harvey looked sourly at the ink marks, and 
 gave the boy another list to copy. 
 
 Bob found this task, which lasted until noon, fully as 
 exhilarating as the other. When he returned his copies he 
 ventured an inquiry. 
 
 "What are these?" he asked. 
 
 "Descriptions," snapped Harvey. 
 
 In time he managed to reason out the fact that they 
 were descriptions of land; that each item of the many hun- 
 dreds meant a separate tract. Thus the first line of his 
 first copy, translated, would have read as follows: 
 
 "The southwest quarter of the northwest quarter of sec- 
 tion number four, township number six, north, range num- 
 ber twenty-six, west." 
 
 And that it represented forty acres of timber land. The 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 13 
 
 stupendous nature of such holdings made him gasp, and he 
 gasped again when he realized that each of his mistakes 
 meant the misplacement on the map of enough for a good- 
 sized farm. Nevertheless, as day succeeded day, and the 
 lists had no end, the mistakes became more difficult to avoid. 
 The S, W, E, and N keys on the typewriter bothered him, 
 hypnotized him, forced him to strike fantastic combinations 
 of their own. Once Harvey entered to point out to him an 
 impossible N. S. 
 
 Over his lists Harvey, the second bookkeeper, and Fox 
 held long consultations. Then Bob leaned back in his 
 office chair to examine for the hundredth time the framed 
 photographs of logging crews, winter scenes in the forest, 
 record loads of logs; and to speculate again on the maps, deer 
 heads, and hunting trophies. At first they had appealed to 
 his imagination. Now they had become too familiar. Out 
 the window were the palls of smoke, gigantic buildings, 
 crevasse-like streets, and swirling winds of Chicago. 
 
 Occasionally men would drift in, inquiring for the heads 
 of the firm. Then Fox would hang one leg over the arm of 
 his swinging chair, light a cigar, and enter into desultory 
 conversation. To Bob a great deal of time seemed thus to 
 be wasted. He did not know that big deals were decided in 
 apparently casual references to business. 
 
 Other lists varied the monotony. After he had finished 
 the tax lists he had to copy over every description a second 
 time, with additional statistics opposite each, like this: 
 
 S. W. 1 of N. W. }, T. 4 N. R., 17, W. Sec. 32, 
 W. P. 68, N. 16, H. 5. 
 
 The last characters translated into : "White pine, 68,000 
 feet; Norway pine, 16,000 feet; hemlock, 5,000 feet," and 
 that inventoried the standing timber on the special forty 
 acres. 
 
 And occasionally he tabulated for reference long statistics 
 on how Camp 14 fed its men for 32 cents a day apiece, while 
 Camp 22 got it down to 27 cents. 
 
14 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 That was all, absolutely all, except that occasionally they 
 sent him out to do an errand, or let him copy a wordy con- 
 tract with a great many wher eases and wherefores. 
 
 Bob little realized that nine-tenths of this timber all 
 that wherein S P (sugar pine) took the place of W P 
 was in California, belonged to his own father, and would 
 one day be his. For just at this time the principal labour 
 of the office was in checking over the estimates on the West- 
 ern tract. 
 
 Bob did his best because he was a true sportsman, and he 
 had entered the game, but he did not like it, and the slow, 
 sleepy monotony of the office, with its trivial tasks which 
 he did not understand, filled him with an immense and 
 cloying languor. The firm seemed to be dying of the sleep- 
 ing sickness. Nothing ever happened. They filed their 
 interminable statistics, and consulted their interminable 
 books, and marked squares off their interminable maps, and 
 droned along their monotonous, unimportant life in the 
 same manner day after day. Bob was used to out-of-doors, 
 used to exercise, used to the animation of free human inter- 
 course. He watched the clock in spite of himself. He made 
 mistakes out of sheer weariness of spirit, and in the footing 
 of the long columns of figures he could not summon to his 
 assistance the slow, painstaking enthusiasm for accuracy 
 which is the sole salvation of those who would get the answer. 
 He was not that sort of chap. 
 
 But he was not a quitter, either. This was life. He 
 tried conscientiously to do his best in it. Other men did; 
 so could he. 
 
 The winter moved on somnolently. He knew he was not 
 making a success. Harvey was inscrutable, taciturn, not to 
 be approached. Fox seemed to have forgotten his official 
 existence, although he was hearty enough in his morning 
 greetings to the young man. The young bookkeeper, Archie, 
 was more friendly, but even he was a being apart, alien, one 
 of the strangely accurate machines for the putting down and 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 15 
 
 docketing of these innumerable and unimportant figures. 
 He would have liked to know and understand Bob, just as 
 the latter would have liked to know and understand him, 
 but they were separated by a wide gulf in which whirled 
 the nothingnesses of training and temperament. However, 
 Archie often pointed out mistakes to Bob before the sar- 
 donic Harvey discovered them. Harvey never said any- 
 thing. He merely made a blue pencil mark in the margin, 
 and handed the document back. But the weariness of his 
 smile ! 
 
 One day Bob was sent to the bank. His business there 
 was that of an errand boy. Discovering it to be sleeting, 
 he returned for his overcoat. Harvey was standing rigid in 
 the door of the inner office, talking to Fox. 
 
 "He has an ingrained inaccuracy. He will never do 
 for business," Bob caught. 
 
 Archie looked at him pityingly. 
 
HI 
 
 THE winter wore away. Bob dragged himself out of 
 bed every morning at half-past six, hurried through 
 a breakfast, caught a car and hoped that the bridge 
 would be closed. Otherwise he would be late at the office, 
 which would earn him Harvey's marked disapproval. Bob 
 could not see that it mattered much whether he was late or not. 
 Generally he had nothing whatever to do for an hour or so. 
 At noon he ate disconsolately at a cheap saloon restaurant. 
 At five he was free to go out among his own kind with 
 always the thought before him of the alarm clock the follow- 
 ing morning. 
 
 One day he sat by the window, his clean, square chin in 
 his hand, his eyes lost in abstraction. As he looked, the 
 winter murk parted noiselessly, as though the effect were 
 prearranged; a blue sky shone through on a glint of bluer 
 water; and, wonder of wonders, there through the grimy 
 dirty roar of Adams Street a single, joyful robin note flew up 
 to him. 
 
 At once a great homesickness overpowered him. He 
 could see plainly the half-sodden grass of the campus, the 
 budding trees, the red "gym" building, and the crowd 
 knocking up flies. In a little while the shot putters and 
 jumpers would be out in their sweaters. Out at Regents' 
 Field the runners were getting into shape. Bob could 
 almost hear the creak of the rollers smoothing out the tennis 
 courts; he could almost recognize the voices of the fellows 
 perching about, smell the fragrant reek of their pipes, savour 
 the sweet spring breeze. The library clock boomed four 
 times, then clanged the hour. A rush of feet from all the 
 
 16 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 17 
 
 recitation rooms followed as a sequence, the opening of 
 doors, the murmur of voices, occasionally a shout. Over 
 it sounded the sharp, half-petulant advice of the coaches 
 and the little trainer to the athletes. It was getting dusk. 
 The campus was emptying. Through the trees shone lights. 
 And Bob looked up, as he had so often done before, to see 
 the wonder of the great dome against the afterglow of sunset 
 
 Harvey was examining him with some curiosity. 
 
 "Copied those camp reports?" he inquired. 
 
 Bob glanced hastily at the clock. He had been dreaming 
 over an hour. 
 
 A little later Fox came in; and a little after that Harvey 
 returned bringing in his hand the copies of the camp reports, 
 but instead of taking them directly to Bob for correction, 
 as had been his habit, he laid them before Fox. The latter 
 picked them up and examined them. In a moment he, 
 dropped them on his desk. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me," he demanded of Harvey, " that 
 seventeen only ran ten thousand? Why, it's preposterous I 
 Saw it myself. It has a half-million on it, if there's a stick. 
 Let's see Parsons's letter." 
 
 While Harvey was gone, Fox read further in the copy. 
 
 "See here, Harvey," he cried, "something's dead wrong, 
 We never cut all this hemlock. Why, hemlock's 'way 
 down." 
 
 Harvey laid the original on the desk. After a second 
 Fox's face cleared. 
 
 "Why, this is all right. There were 480,000 on seventeen* 
 And that hemlock seems to have got in the wrong column. 
 You want to be a little more careful, Jim. Never knew 
 that to happen before. Weren't out with the boys last 
 night, were you?" 
 
 But Harvey refused to respond to frivolity. 
 
 "It's never happened before because I never let it happen 
 before," he replied stiffly. "There have been mistakes like 
 that, and worse, in almost every report we've filed. I've 
 
1 8 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 cut them out. Now, Mr. Fox, I don't have much to say, 
 but I'd rather do a thing myself than do it over after some- 
 body else. We've got a good deal to keep track of in this 
 office, as you know, without having to go over everybody 
 else's work too." 
 
 "H'm," said Fox, thoughtfully. Then after a moment, 
 "HI see about it." 
 
 Harvey went back to the outer office, and Fox turned at 
 once to Bob. 
 
 " Well, how is it ?" he asked. " How did it happen ? " 
 
 "I don't know," replied Bob. "I'm trying, Mr. Fox. 
 Don't think it isn't that. But it's new to me, and I can't 
 seem to get the hang of it right away." 
 
 " I see. How long you been here ? " 
 
 "A little over four months." 
 
 Fox swung back in his chair leisurely. 
 
 "You must see you're not fair to Harvey," he announced. 
 "That man carries the details of four businesses in his head, 
 he practically does the clerical work for them all, and he 
 never seems to hurry. Also, he can put his hand without 
 hesitation on any one of these documents," he waved his 
 hand about the room. "I can't." 
 
 He stopped to light the stub of a long-extinct cigar. 
 
 "I can't make it hard for that sort of man. So I guess 
 we'll have to take you out of the office. Still, I promised 
 Welton to give you a good try-out. Then, too, I'm not satis- 
 fied in my own mind. I can see you are trying. Either 
 you're a damn fool or this college education racket has had 
 the same effect on you as on most other young cubs. If you're 
 the son of your father, you can't be entirely a damn fool. If 
 it's the college education, that will probably wear off in time. 
 Anyhow, I think I'll take you up to the mill. You can try 
 the office there. Collins is easy to get on with, and of course 
 there isn't the same responsibility there." 
 
 In the buffeting of humiliation Bob could not avoid a 
 fleeting inner smile over this last remark. Responsibility! 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 19 
 
 In this sleepy, quiet backwater of a tenth-floor office, full of 
 infinite little statistics that led nowhere, that came to no 
 conclusion except to be engulfed in dark files with hundreds 
 of their own kind, aimless, useless, annoying as so many 
 gadflies! Then he set his face for the further remarks. 
 
 " Navigation will open this week," Fox's incisive tones 
 went on, "and our hold-overs will be moved now. It will 
 be busy there. We shall take the eight o'clock train 
 to-night." He glanced sharply at Bob's lean, set face. "I 
 assume you'll go?" 
 
 Bob was remembering certain trying afternoons on the 
 field when as captain, and later as coach, he had told some 
 very high-spirited boys what he considered some wholesome 
 truths. He was remembering the various ways in which 
 they had taken his remarks. 
 
 "Yes, sir," he replied. 
 
 "Well, you can go home now and pack up," said Fox. 
 "Jim!" he' shot out in his penetrating voice; then to Harvey, 
 "Make out Orde's check." 
 
 Bob closed his desk, and went into the outer office to 
 receive his check. Harvey handed it to him without com- 
 ment, and at once turned back to his books. Bob stood 
 irresolute a moment, then turned away without farewell. 
 
 But Archie followed him into the hall. 
 
 "I'm mighty sorry, old man," he whispered, furtively. 
 "Did you get'the G. B.?" 
 
 "I'm going up to the mill office," replied Bob. 
 
 "Oh!" the other commiserated him. Then with an 
 effort to see the best side, "Still you could hardly expect 
 to jump right into the head office at first. I didn't much 
 think you could hold down a job here. You see there's too 
 much doing here. Well, good-bye. Good luck to you, 
 old man." 
 
 There it was again, the insistence on the responsibility, 
 the activity, the importance of that sleepy, stuffy little office 
 with its two men at work, its leisure, its aimlessness. On 
 
20 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 his way to the car-line Bob stopped to look in at an open 
 door. A dozen men were jumping truck loads of boxes 
 here and there. Another man in a peaked cap and a silesia 
 coat, with a pencil behind his ear and a manifold book stick- 
 ing out of his pocket shouted orders, consulted a long list, 
 marked boxes and scribbled in a shipping book. Dim in the 
 background huge freight elevators rose and fell, burdened 
 with the mass of indeterminate things. Truck horses, 
 great as elephants, magnificently harnessed with brass 
 ornaments, drew drays, big enough to carry a small house, 
 to the loading platform where they were quickly laden and 
 sent away. From an opened upper window came the busy 
 click of many typewriters. Order in apparent confusion, 
 immense activity at a white heat, great movement, the 
 clanging of the wheels of commerce, the apparition and 
 embodiment of restless industry these appeared and 
 vanished, darted in and out, were plain to be seen and were 
 vague through the murk and gloom. Bob glanced up at the 
 emblazoned sign. He read the firm's name of well-known 
 wholesale grocers. As he crossed the bridge and proceeded 
 out Lincoln Park Boulevard two figures rose to him and 
 stood side by side. One was the shipping clerk in his peaked 
 cap and silesia coat, hurried, busy, commanding, full of 
 responsibility; the other was Harvey, with his round, black 
 skull cap, his great, gold-bowed spectacles, entering minutely, 
 painstakingly, deliberately, his neat little figures in a neat, 
 large book. 
 
IV 
 
 THE train stopped about noon at a small board town. 
 Fox and Bob descended. The latter drew his lungs 
 full of the sparkling clear air and felt inclined to shout. 
 The thing that claimed his attention most strongly was 
 the dull green band of the forest, thick and impenetrable to 
 the south, fringing into ragged tamaracks on the east, opening 
 into a charming vista of a narrowing bay to the west. North- 
 ward the land ran down to sandpits and beyond them 
 tossed the vivid white and blue of the Lake. Then when 
 his interest had detached itself from the predominant note 
 of the imminent wilderness, predominant less from its physical 
 size for it lay in remote perspective than from a certain 
 indefinable and psychological right of priority, Bob's eye was 
 at once drawn to the huge red-painted sawmill, with its 
 very tall smokestacks, its row of water barrels along the 
 ridge, its uncouth and separate conical sawdust burner, and 
 its long lines of elevated tramways leading out into the 
 lumber yard where was piled the white pine held over from 
 the season before. As Bob looked, a great, black horse 
 appeared on one of these aerial tramways, silhouetted against 
 the sky. The beast moved accurately, his head held low 
 against his chest, his feet lifted and planted with care. 
 Behind him rumbled a whole train of little cars each laden 
 with planks. On the foremost sat a man, his shoulders 
 bowed, driving the horse. They proceeded slowly, leisurely, 
 without haste, against the brightness of the sky. The 
 spider supports below them seemed strangely inadequate 
 to their mass, so that they appeared in an occult manner 
 to maintain their elevation by some buoyancy of their own, 
 
 21 
 
22 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 some quality that sustained them not only in their distance 
 above the earth but in a curious, decorative, extra-human 
 world of their own. After a moment they disappeared 
 behind the tall piles of lumber. 
 
 Against the sky, now, the place of the elephantine black 
 horse and the little tram cars and the man was taken by the 
 masts of ships lying beyond. They rose straight and tali, 
 their cordage like spider webs, in a succession of regular 
 spaces until they were lost behind the mill. From the 
 exhaust of the mill's engine a jet of white steam shot up 
 sparkling. Close on its apparition sounded the exultant, 
 high-keyed shriek of the saw. It ceased abruptly. Then 
 Bob became conscious of a heavy rud, thud of mill machinery. 
 
 All this time he and Fox were walking along a narrow 
 board walk, elevated two or three feet above the sawdust- 
 strewn street. They passed the mill and entered the cool 
 shade of the big lumber piles. Along their base lay half- 
 melted snow. Soggy pools soaked the ground in the exposed 
 places. Bob breathed deep of the clear air, keenly conscious 
 of the freshness of it after the murky city. A sweet and 
 delicate odour was abroad, an odour elusive yet pungent, 
 an aroma of the open. The young man sniffed it eagerly, 
 this essence of fresh sawdust, of new-cut pine, of sawlogs 
 dripping from the water, of faint old reminiscence of cured 
 lumber standing in the piles of the year before, and more 
 fancifully of the balsam and spruce, the hemlock and pine 
 of the distant forest. 
 
 "Great!" he cried aloud, "I never knew anything like 
 it! What a country to train in!" 
 
 "All this lumber here is going to be sold within the next 
 two months," said Fox with the first approach to enthusiasm 
 Bob had ever observed in him. "All of it. It's got to be 
 carried down to the docks, and tallied there, and loaded in 
 those vessels. The mill isn't much too old-fashioned. 
 We saw with ' circulars' instead of band-saws. Not like our 
 Minnesota mills. We bought the plant as it stands. Still 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 23 
 
 we turn out a pretty good cut every day, and it has to be 
 run out and piled." 
 
 They stepped abruptly, without transition, into the town. 
 A double row of unpainted board shanties led straight to 
 the water's edge. This row was punctuated by four build- 
 ings different from the rest a huge rambling structure 
 with a wide porch over which was suspended a large bell; 
 a neatly painted smaller building labelled "Office"; a trim 
 house surrounded by what would later be a garden; and a 
 square-fronted store. The street between was soft and 
 springy with sawdust and finely broken shingles. Various 
 side streets started out bravely enough, but soon petered 
 out into stump land. Along one of them were extensive 
 stables. 
 
 Bob followed his conductor in silence. After an interval 
 they mounted short steps and entered the office. 
 
 Here Bob found himself at once in a small entry railed 
 off from the main room by a breast-high line of pickets strong 
 enough to resist a battering-ram. A man he had seen walk- 
 ing across from the mill was talking rapidly through a. tiny 
 wicket, emphasizing some point on a soiled memorandum 
 by the indication of a stubby forefinger. He was a short, 
 active, blue-eyed man, very tanned. Bob looked at him with 
 interest, for there was something about him the young man 
 did not recognize, something he liked a certain inde- 
 pendent carriage of the head, a certain self-reliance in the 
 set of his shoulders, a certain purposeful directness of his 
 whole personality. When he caught sight of Fox he turned 
 briskly, extending his hand. 
 
 "How are you, Mr. Fox?" he greeted. " Just in?" 
 
 "Hullo, Johnny," replied Fox, "how are things? I see 
 you're busy." 
 
 "Yes, we're busy," replied the man, "and we'll keep 
 busy." 
 
 "Everything going all right?" 
 
 "Pretty good. Poor lot of men this year. A good many 
 
24 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 of the old men haven't showed up this year some sort of 
 pull-out to Oregon and California. I'm having a little 
 trouble with them off and on." 
 
 "I'll bet on you to stay on top," replied Fox easily. "I'll 
 be over to see you pretty soon." 
 
 The man nodded to the bookkeeper with whom he had 
 been talking, and turned to go out. As he passed Bob, that 
 young man was conscious of a keen, gimlet scrutiny from the 
 blue eyes, a scrutiny instantaneous, but which seemed to 
 penetrate his very flesh to the soul of him. He experienced 
 a distinct physical shock as at the encountering of an ele- 
 mental force. 
 
 He came to himself to hear Fox saying: 
 
 "That's Johnny Mason, our mill foreman. He has charge 
 of all the sawing, and is a mighty good man. You'll see more 
 of him." 
 
 The speaker opened a gate in the picket railing and stepped 
 inside. 
 
 A long shelf desk, at which were high stools, backed up 
 against the pickets ; a big round stove occupied the centre ; a 
 safe crowded one corner. Blue print maps decorated the 
 walls. Coarse rope matting edged with tin strips protected 
 the floor. A single step down through a door led into a 
 painted private office where could be seen a flat table desk. 
 In the air hung a mingled odour of fresh pine, stale tobacco, 
 and the closeness of books. 
 
 Fox turned at once sharply to the left and entered into 
 earnest conversation with a pale, hatchet-faced man of 
 thirty-five, whom he addressed as "Collins." In a moment 
 he turned, beckoning Bob forward. 
 
 "Here's a youngster for you, Collins," said he, evidently 
 continuing former remarks. "Young Mr. Orde. He's 
 been in our home office awhile, but I brought him up to 
 help you out. He can get busy on your tally sheets and 
 time checks and tally boards, and sort of ease up the strain 
 a little." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 25 
 
 " I can use him r right now/' said Collins, nervously smooth- 
 ing back a strand of his pale hair. "Glad to meet you, Mr. 
 Orde. These 'jumpers' . . . and that confounded 
 mixed stuff from seventeen . . . "he trailed off, his eye 
 glazing in the abstraction of some inner calculation, his long, 
 nervous fingers reaching unconsciously toward the soiled 
 memoranda left by Mason. 
 
 "Well, I'll set you to work/' he roused himself, when he 
 perceived that the two were about to leave him. And almost 
 before they had time to turn away he was busy at the papers, 
 his pencil, beautifully pointed, running like lightning down 
 the long columns, pausing at certain places as though by 
 instinct, hovering the brief instant necessary to calcu- 
 lation, then racing on as though in pursuit of something 
 elusive. 
 
 As they turned away a slow, cool voice addressed then? 
 from behind the stove. 
 
 " Hullo, bub! "it drawled. 
 
 Fox's face lighted and he extended both hands. 
 
 "Well, Tally!" he cried. "You old snoozer!" 
 
 The man was upward of sixty years of age, but straight 
 and active. His features were tanned a deep mahogany,, 
 and carved by the years and exposure into lines of capability 
 and good humour. In contrast to this brown his sweeping 
 white moustache and bushy eyebrows, blenched flaxen by 
 the sun, showed strongly. His little blue eyes twinkled, 
 and fine wrinkles at their corners helped the twinkles. His 
 long figure was so heavily clothed as to be concealed from any 
 surmise, except that it was gaunt and wiry. Hands gnarled, 
 twisted, veined, brown, seemed less like flesh than like some 
 skilful Japanese carving. On his head he wore a visored 
 cap with an extraordinary high crown; on his back a rather 
 dingy coat cut from a Mackinaw blanket ; on his legs trousers 
 that had been "stagged" off just below the knees, heavy 
 German socks, and shoes nailed with sharp spikes at least 
 three-quarters of an inch in length. 
 
26 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Thought you were up in the woods!" Fox was 
 exclaiming. " Where's Fagan?" 
 
 "He's walkin' white water," replied the old man. 
 
 "Things going well?" 
 
 "Damn poor," admitted Tally frankly. "That is to say, 
 the Whitefish branch is off. There's trouble with the men. 
 They're a mixed lot. Then there's old Meadows. He's 
 assertin' his heaven-born rights some more. It's all right. 
 We're on their backs. Other branches just about down." 
 
 There followed a rapid exchange of which Bob could make 
 little talk of flood water, of "plugging" and "pulling," of 
 " winging out," of " white water." It made no sense, and yet 
 somehow it thrilled him, as at times the mere roll of Greek 
 names used to arouse in his breast vague emotions of 
 grandeur and the struggle of mighty forces. 
 
 Still talking, the two men began slowly to move toward the 
 inner office. Suddenly Fox seemed to remember his com- 
 panion's existence. 
 
 "By the way, Jim," he said, "I want you to know one of 
 our new men, young Mr. Orde. You've worked for his 
 father. This is Jim Tally, and he's one of the best rivermen, 
 the best woodsman, the best boss of men old Michigan ever 
 turned out. He walked logs before I was born." 
 
 " Glad to know you, Mr. Orde," said Tally, quite unmoved. 
 
THE two left Bob to his own devices. The old riverman 
 and the astonishingly thawed and rejuvenated Mr. 
 Fox disappeared in the private office. Bob proffered 
 a question to the busy Collins, discovered himself free until 
 afternoon, and so went out through the office and into the 
 clear open air. 
 
 He headed at once across the wide sawdust area toward 
 the mill and the lake. A great curiosity, a great interest 
 filled him. After a moment he found himself walking 
 between tall, leaning stacks of lumber, piled crosswise in 
 such a manner that the sweet currents of air eddied through 
 the interstices between the boards and in the narrow, alley- 
 like spaces between the square and separate stacks. A 
 coolness filled these streets, a coolness born of the shade in 
 which they were cast, the freshness of still unmelted snow 
 lying in patches, the quality of pine with its faint aromatic 
 pitch smell and its suggestion of the forest. Bob wandered 
 on slowly, his hands in his pockets. For the time being 
 his more active interest was in abeyance, lulled by the sub- 
 tle, elusive phantom of grandeur suggested in the aloof- 
 ness of this narrow street fronted by its square, skeleton, 
 windowless houses through which the wind rattled. After 
 a little he glimpsed blue through the alleys between. Then 
 a side street offered, full of sun. He turned down it a few 
 feet, and found himself standing over an inlet of the lake. 
 
 Then for the first time he realized that he had been walk- 
 ing on "made ground." The water chugged restlessly 
 against the uneven ends of the lath-like slabs, thousands 
 of them laid, side by side, down to and below the water's 
 
 27 
 
28 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 surface. They formed a substructure on which the saw- 
 dust had been heaped. Deep shadows darted from their 
 shelter and withdrew, following the play of the little waves. 
 The lower slabs were black with the wet, and from them, too, 
 crept a spicy odour set free by the moisture. On a pile head 
 sat an urchin fishing, with a long bamboo pole many sizes 
 too large for him. As Bob watched, he jerked forth 
 diminutive flat sunfish. 
 
 "Good work!" called Bob in congratulation. 
 
 The urchin looked up at the large, good-humoured man 
 and grinned. 
 
 Bob retraced his steps to the street on which he had 
 started out. There he discovered a steep stairway, and by 
 it mounted to the tramway above. Along this he wandered 
 for what seemed to him an interminable distance, lost as 
 in a maze among the streets and byways of this tenantless 
 city. Once he stepped aside to give passage to the great 
 horse, or one like him, and his train of little cars. The 
 man driving nodded to him. Again he happened on two 
 men unloading similar cars, and passing the boards down 
 to other men below, who piled them skilfully, two end 
 planks one way, and then the next tier the other, in regular 
 alternation. They wore thick leather aprons, and square 
 leather pieces strapped across the insides of their hands as 
 a protection against splinters. These, like all other especial 
 accoutrements, seemed to Bob somehow romantic, to be 
 desired, infinitely picturesque. He passed on with the clear, 
 yellow-white of the pine boards lingering back of his retina. 
 
 But now suddenly his sauntering brought him to the 
 water front. The tramway ended in a long platform run- 
 ning parallel to the edge of the docks below. There were 
 many little cars, both in the process of unloading and await- 
 ing their turn. The place swarmed with men, all busily 
 engaged in handing the boards from one to another as 
 buckets are passed at a fire. At each point where an unend- 
 ing stream of them passed over the side of each ship, stood 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 29 
 
 a young man with a long, flexible rule. This he laid rap- 
 idly along the width of each board, and then as rapidly 
 entered a mark in a note-book. The boards seemed to 
 move fairly of their own volition, like a scutcllate monster 
 of many joints, crawling from the cars, across the dock, 
 over the side of the ship and into the black hold where pre- 
 sumably it coiled. There were six ships; six, many-jointed 
 monsters creeping to their appointed places under the urg- 
 ing of these their masters; six young men absorbed and busy 
 at the tallying; six crews panoplied in leather guiding the 
 monsters to their lairs. Here, too, the sun- warmed air arose 
 sluggish with the aroma of pitch, of lumber, of tar from the 
 ships' cordage, of the wetness of unpainted wood. Aloft 
 in the rigging, clear against the sky, were sailors in con- 
 trast of peaceful, leisurely industry to those who toiled and 
 hurried below. The masts swayed gently, describing an 
 arc against the heavens. The sailors swung easily to the 
 motion. From below came the quick dull sounds of planks 
 thrown down, the grind of ear wheels, the movement of 
 feet, the varied, complex sound of men working together, 
 the clapping of waters against the structure. It was con- 
 fusing, confusing as the noise of many hammers. Yet 
 two things seemed to steady it, to confine it, keep it in the 
 bounds of order, to prevent it from usurping more than its 
 meet and proper proportion. One was the tingling lake 
 breeze singing through the rigging of the ship; the other 
 was the idle and intermittent whistling of one of the sailors 
 aloft. And suddenly, as though it had but just commenced, 
 Bob again became aware of the saw shrieking in ecstasy as 
 it plunged into a pine log. 
 
 The sound came from the left, where at once he per- 
 ceived the tall stacks showing above the lumber piles, and 
 the plume of white steam glittering in the sun. In a moment 
 the steam fell, and the shriek of the saw fell with it. He 
 turned to follow the tramway, and in so doing almost 
 bumped into Mason, the mill foreman. 
 
30 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 " They're hustling it in," said the latter. "That's right. 
 Can't give me yard room any too soon. The drive'll be 
 down next month. Plenty doing then. Damn those Dutch- 
 men!" 
 
 He spoke abstractedly, as though voicing his inner thoughts 
 to himself, unconscious of his companion. Then he roused 
 himself. 
 
 " Going to the mill ? " he asked. " Come on." 
 
 They walked along the high, narrow platform overlook- 
 ing the water front and the lading of the ships. Soon the 
 trestles widened, the tracks diverging like the fingers of a 
 hand on the broad front to the second story of the mill. 
 Mason said something about seeing the whole of it, and led 
 the way along a narrow, railed outside passage to the other 
 end of the structure. 
 
 There Bob's attention was at once caught by a great 
 water enclosure of logs, lying still and sluggish in the man- 
 ner of beasts resting. Rank after rank, tier after tier, in 
 strange patterns they lay, brown and round, with the little 
 strips of blue water showing between like a fantastic pat- 
 tern. While Bob looked, a man ran out over them. He 
 was dressed in short trousers, heavy socks, and spiked boots, 
 and a faded blue shirt. The young man watched with 
 interest, old memories of his early boyhood thronging back 
 on him, before his people had moved from Monrovia and 
 the "booms." The man ran erratically, but with an acu- 
 rate purpose. Behind him the big logs bent in dignified 
 reminiscence of his tread, and slowly rolled over; the little 
 logs bobbed frantically in a turmoil of white water, disap- 
 pearing and reappearing again and again, sleek and wet as 
 seals. To these the man paid no attention, but leaped 
 easily on, pausing on the timbers heavy enough to support 
 him, barely spurning those too small to sustain his weight. 
 In a moment he stopped abruptly without the transitorial 
 balancing Bob would have believed necessary, and went 
 calmly to pushing mightily with a long pike-pole. The log 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 31 
 
 on which he stood rolled under the pressure; the man quite 
 mechanically kept pace with its rolling, treading it in cor- 
 respondence now one way, now the other. In a few 
 moments thus he had forced the mass of logs before him 
 toward an inclined plane leading to the second story of 
 the mill. 
 
 Up this ran an endless chain armed with teeth. The 
 man pushed one of the logs against the chain; the teeth 
 bit; at once, shaking itself free of the water, without appar- 
 ent effort, without haste, calmly and leisurely as befitted 
 the dignity of its bulk, the great timber arose. The water 
 dripped from it, the surface streamed, a cheerful patter, 
 patter of the falling drops made itself heard beneath the 
 mill noises. In a moment the log disappeared beneath 
 projecting eaves. Another was just behind it, and behind 
 that yet another, and another, like great patient beasts 
 rising from the coolness of a stream to follow a leader through 
 the narrowness of pasture bars. And in the booms, up the 
 river, as far as the eye could see, were other logs awaiting 
 their turn. And beyond them the forest trees, straight 
 and tall and green, dreaming of the time when they should 
 follow their brothers to the ships and go out into the world. 
 
 Mason was looking up the river. 
 
 "I've seen the time when she was piled thirty feet high 
 there, and the freshet behind her. That was ten year 
 back." 
 
 "What?" asked Bob. 
 
 "A jam!" explained Mason. 
 
 He ducked his head below his shoulders and disappeared 
 beneath the eaves of the mill. Bob followed. 
 
 First it was dusky; then he saw the strip of bright yellow 
 sunlight and the blue bay in the opening below the eaves; 
 then he caught the glitter and whirr of the two huge saws, 
 moving silently but with the deadly menace of great speed 
 on their axes. Against the light in irregular succession, 
 alternately blotting and clearing the foreground at the end 
 
32 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 of the mill, appeared the ends of the logs coming up the 
 incline. For a moment they poised on the slant, then fell 
 to the level, and glided forward to a broad platform where 
 they were ravished from the chain and rolled into line. 
 
 Bob's eyes were becoming accustomed to the gloom. 
 He made out pulleys, belts, machinery, men. While he 
 watched a black, crooked arm shot vigorously up from 
 the floor, hurried a log to the embrace of two clamps, rolled 
 it a little this way, a little that, hovered over it as though 
 in doubt as to whether it was satisfactorily placed, then 
 plunged to unknown depths as swiftly and silently as it 
 had come. So abrupt and purposeful were its movements, 
 so detached did it seem from control, that, just as when he 
 was a youngster, Bob could not rid his mind of the notion 
 that it was possessed of volition, that it led a mysterious life 
 of its own down there in the shadows, that it was in the 
 nature of an intelligent and agile beast trained to apply its 
 powers independently. 
 
 Bob remembered it as the "nigger, 57 and looked about 
 for the man standing by a lever. 
 
 A momentary delay seemed to have occurred, owing to 
 some obscure difficulty. The man at the lever straightened 
 his back. Suddenly all that part of the floor seemed to 
 start forward with extraordinary swiftness. The log rushed 
 down on the circular saw. Instantly the wild, exultant 
 shriek arose. The car went on, burying the saw, all but 
 the very top, from which a stream of sawdust flew up and 
 back. A long, clean slab fell to a succession of revolving 
 rollers which carried it, passing it from one to the other, 
 far into the body of the mill. The car shot back to its origi- 
 nal position in front of the saw. The saw hummed an 
 undersong of strong vibration. Again it ploughed its way 
 the length of the timber. This time a plank with bark 
 edges dropped on the rollers. And when the car had flown 
 back to its starting point the " nigger " rose from obscurity 
 to turn the log half way around. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 33 
 
 They picked their way gingerly on. Bob looked back. 
 Against the light the two graceful, erect figures, immobile, 
 but carried back and forth over thirty feet with lightning 
 rapidity; the brute masses of the logs; the swift decisive 
 forays of the "nigger," the unobtrusive figures of the other 
 men handling the logs far in the background; and the 
 bright, smooth, glittering, dangerous saws, clear-cut in 
 outline by their very speed, humming in anticipation, or 
 shrieking like demons as they bit these seemed to him 
 to swell in the dim light to the proportions of something 
 gigantic, primeval to become forces beyond the experi- 
 ence of to-day, typical of the tremendous power that must 
 be invoked to subdue the equally tremendous power of the 
 wilderness. 
 
 He and Mason together examined the industriously 
 working gang-saws, long steel blades with the up-and-down 
 motion of cutting cord-wood. They passed the small 
 trimming saws y where men push the boards between little 
 round saws to trim their edges. Bob noticed how the sawdust 
 was carried away automatically, and where the waste slabs 
 went. They turned through a small side room, strangely 
 silent by contrast to the rest, where the filer did his minute 
 work. He was an old man, the filer, with steel-rimmed, 
 round spectacles, and he held Bob some time explaining 
 how important his position was. 
 
 They emerged filially to the broad, open platform with 
 the radiating tram-car tracks. Here Bob saw the finished 
 boards trundled out on the moving rollers to be transferred 
 to the cars. 
 
 Mason left him. He made his way slowly back toward 
 the office, noticing on the way the curious pairs of huge 
 wheels beneath which were slung the heavy timbers or piles 
 of boards for transportation at the level of the ground. 
 
 At the edge of the lumber piles Bob looked back. The 
 noises or industry were in his ears; the blur of industry 
 before his eyes; the clean, sweet smell of pine in his nostrils. 
 
$4 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 He saw clearly the row of ships and the many-jointed serpent 
 of boards making its way to the hold, the sailors swinging 
 aloft; the miles of ruminating brown logs, and the alert 
 little man zigzagging across them; the shadow of the mill 
 darkening the water, and the brown leviathan timbers rising 
 dripping in regular succession from them; the whirr of the 
 deadly circular saws, and the calm, erect men dominating 
 the cars that darted back and forth; and finally the spark- 
 ling white steam spraying suddenly against the intense blue 
 of the sky. Here was activity, business, industry, the clash 
 of forces. He admired the quick, compact alertness of 
 Johnny Mason; he joyed in the absorbed, interested acti- 
 vity of the brown young men with the sealer's rules; he 
 envied a trifle the muscle-stretching, physical labour of the 
 men with the leather aprons and hand-guards, piling the 
 lumber. It was good to draw in deep breaths of this air, 
 to smell deeply of he aromatic odours of the north. 
 
 Suddenly the mill whistle began to blow. Beneath the 
 noise he could hear the machinery beginning to run down. 
 From all directions men came. They converged in the 
 central alley, hundreds of them. In a moment Bob was 
 caught up in their stream, and borne with them toward 
 the weather-stained shanty town. 
 
VI 
 
 BOB followed this streaming multitude to the large 
 structure that had earlier been pointed out to him as 
 the boarding house. It was a commodious affair 
 with a narrow verandah to which led steps picked out by the 
 sharp caulks of the rivermen's boots. A round stove held 
 the place of honour in the first room. Benches flanked the 
 walls. At one end was a table-sink, and tin wa^sh-basins, 
 and roller towels. The men were splashing and blowing 
 in the plunge-in-all-over fashion of their class. They 
 emerged slicked down and fresh, their hair plastered wet 
 to their foreheads. After a moment a fat and motherly 
 woman made an announcement from a rear room. All 
 trooped out. 
 
 The dining room was precisely like those Bob remembered 
 from recollections of the river camps of his childhood. There 
 were the same long tables covered with red oilcloth, the 
 same pine benches worn smooth and shiny, the same thick 
 crockery, and the same huge receptacles steaming with 
 hearty and well-cooked food. Nowhere does the man 
 who labours with his hands fare better than in the average 
 lumber camp. Forest operations have a largeness in con- 
 ception and execution that leads away from the habit of 
 the mean, small and foolish economics. At one side, and 
 near the windows, stood a smaller table. The covering of 
 this was turkey-red cloth v/ith white pattern; it boasted 
 a white-metal "caster"; and possessed real chairs. Here 
 Bob took his seat, in company with Fox, Collins, Mason, 
 Tally and the half-doz^n active young fellows he had seen 
 handling the scaling rules near the ships. 
 
 35 
 
36 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 At the men's tables the meal was consumed in a silence 
 which Bob learned later came nearer being obligatory than 
 a matter of choice. Conversation was discouraged by the 
 good-natured fat woman, Mrs. Hallowell. Talk delayed; 
 and when one had dishes to wash 
 
 The " boss's table" was more leisurely. Bob was intro- 
 duced to the sealers. They proved to be, with one excep- 
 tion, young fellows of twenty-one or two, keen-eyed, brown- 
 faced, alert and active. They impressed Bob as belonging 
 to the clerk class, with something added by the outdoor, 
 varied life. Indeed, later he discovered them to be sons of 
 carpenters, mechanics and other higher-class, intelligent 
 workingmen; boys who had gone through high school, 
 and perhaps a little way into the business college; ambi- 
 tious youngsters, each with a different idea in the back of 
 his head. They had in common an air of capability, of 
 complete adequacy for the task in life they had selected. 
 The sixth sealer was much older and of the riverman type. 
 He had evidently come up from the ranks. 
 
 There was no general conversation. Talk confined 
 itself strictly to shop. Bob, his imagination already stirred 
 by the incidents of his stroll, listened eagerly. Fox was 
 getting in touch with the whole situation. 
 
 "The main drive is down," Tally told him, "but the 
 Cedar Branch hasn't got to the river yet. What in blazes 
 did you want to buy that little strip this late in the day for ? " 
 
 "Had to take it on a deal," said Fox briefly. "Why? 
 Is it hard driving? I've never been up there. Welton 
 saw to all that" 
 
 "It's hell. The pine's way up at the headwaters. You 
 have to drive her the whole length of the stream, through 
 a mixed hardwood and farm country. Lots of patridges 
 and mossbacks, but no improvements. Not a dam the whole 
 length of her. Case of hit the freshet water or get hung." 
 
 "Well, we've done that kind of a job before." 
 
 "Yes, before!" Tally retorted. "If I had a half -crew of 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 37 
 
 good, oH-fashioned white- water birlers, I'd rest easy. But 
 we don't have no crews like we used to. The old bully 
 boys have all moved out west or died." 
 
 "Getting old like us," bantered Fox. "Why haven't 
 you died off too, Jim?" 
 
 "I'm never going to die," stated the old man, "I'm going 
 to live to turn into a grindstone and wear out. But it's a 
 fact. There's plenty left can ride a log all right, but they'i 
 a tough lot. It's too close here to Marion." 
 
 "That is too bad, " condoled Fox, "especially as I remem- 
 ber so well what a soft-spoken, lamb-like little tin angel 
 you used to be, Jim." 
 
 Fox, who had quite dropped his old office self, winked at 
 Bob. The latter felt encouraged to say: 
 
 " I had a course in college on archaeology. Don't remem- 
 ber much about it, but one thing. When they managed to 
 decipher the oldest known piece of hieroglyphics on an 
 Assyrian brick, what do you suppose it turned out to be?" 
 
 "Give it up, Brudder Bones," said Tally, dryly, "what 
 was it?" 
 
 Bob flushed at the old rivennan's tone, but went on. 
 
 "It was a letter from a man to his son away at school. 
 In it he lamented the good old times when he was young, 
 and gave it as his opinion that the world was going to the 
 dogs." 
 
 Tally grinned slowly; and the others burst into a shout 
 of laughter. 
 
 "All right, bub," said the riverman good-humouredly. 
 "But that doesn't get me a new foreman." He turned to 
 Fox. "Smith broke his leg; and I can't find a man to take 
 charge. I can't go. The main drive's got to be sorted." 
 
 "There ought to be plenty of good men," said Fox. 
 
 "There are, but they're at work." 
 
 "Dicky Darrell is over at Marion," spoke up one of the 
 sealers. 
 
 "Roaring Dick," said Tally sarcastically, " but there's 
 
38 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 no denying he's a good man in the woods. But if he's at 
 Marion, he's drunk; and if he's drunk, you can't do noth- 
 ing with him." 
 
 "I heard it three days ago," said the sealer. 
 
 Tally ruminated. "Well," he concluded, " maybe he's 
 about over with his bust. I'll run over this afternoon and 
 see what I can do with him. If Tom Welton would only 
 tear himself apart from California, we'd get on all right." 
 
 A scraping back of benches and a tramp of feet announced 
 the nearly simultaneous finishing of feeding at the men's 
 tables. At the boss's table everyone seized an unabashed 
 toothpick. Collins addressed Bob. 
 
 "Mr. Fox and I have so much to go over this afternoon," 
 said he, "that I don't believe I'll have time to show you. 
 Just look around a little." 
 
 On the porch outside Bob paused. After a moment he 
 became aware of a figure at his elbow. He turned to see 
 old Jim Tally bent over to light his pipe behind the mahog- 
 any of his curved hard. 
 
 "Want to take in Marion, bub?" he enquired. 
 
 "Sure!" cried Bob heartily, surprised at this mark of 
 favour. 
 
 "Come on then," said the old riverman, "the lightning 
 express is gettin' anxious for us." 
 
VII 
 
 THEY tramped to the station and boarded the single 
 passenger car of the accommodation. There they 
 selected a forward seat and waited patiently for the 
 freight-handling to finish and for the leisurely puffing little 
 engine to move on. An hour later they descended at Marion. 
 The journey had been made in an almost absolute silence. 
 Tally stared straight ahead, and sucked at his little pipe. 
 To him, apparently, the journey was merely something to 
 be endured; and he relapsed into that patient absent-mind- 
 edness developed among those who have to wait on forces 
 that will not be hurried. Bob's remarks he answered in 
 monosyllables. When the train pulled into the station, 
 Tally immediately arose, as though released by a spring. 
 
 Bob's impressions of Marion were of great mills and saw- 
 dust-burners along a wide river; of broad, sawdust-covered 
 streets; of a single block of good, brick stores on a main 
 thoroughfare which almost immediately petered out into the 
 vilest and most ramshackle frame "joints"; of wide side 
 streets flanked by small, painted houses in yards, some very 
 neat indeed. Tally walked rapidly by the respectable busi- 
 ness blocks, but pushed into the first of the unkempt frame 
 saloons beyond. Bob followed close at his heels. He 
 found himself in a cheap bar-room, its paint and varnish 
 scarred and marred, its floor sawdust-covered, its centre 
 occupied by a huge stove, its walls decorated by several 
 pictures of the nude. 
 
 Four men were playing cards at an old round table, hacked 
 and bruised and blackened by time. One of them was the 
 barkeeper, a burly individual with black hair plastered in 
 
 39 
 
40 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 a "lick" across his forehead. He pushed back his chair 
 and ducked behind the bar, whence he greeted the new- 
 comers. Tally proffered a question. The barkeeper 
 relaxed from his professional attitude, and leaned both 
 elbows on the bar. The two conversed for a moment; then 
 Tally nodded briefly and went out. Bob followed. 
 
 This performance was repeated down the length of the 
 street. The stage-settings varied little; same oblong, 
 painted rooms; same varnished bars down one side; same 
 mirrors and bottles behind them; same sawdust-strewn 
 floors; same pictures on the walls; same obscure, back 
 rooms; same sleepy card games by the same burly but sod- 
 den type of men. This was the off season. Profits were now 
 as slight as later they would be heavy. Tim talked with 
 the barkeepers low-voiced, nodded and went out. Only 
 when he had systematically worked both sides of the street 
 did he say anything to his companion. 
 
 "He's in town," said Tally; "but they don't know where," 
 
 "Whither away?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Across the river." 
 
 They walked together down a side street to a long wooden 
 bridge. This rested on wooden piers shaped upstream like 
 the prow of a ram in order to withstand the battering of the 
 logs. It was a very long bridge. Beneath it the swift current 
 of the river slipped smoothly. The breadth of the stream 
 was divided into many channels and pockets by means of 
 brown poles. Some of these were partially filled with logs. 
 A clear channel had been preserved up the middle. Men 
 armed with long pike-poles were moving here and there over 
 the booms and the logs themselves, pushing, pulling, shoving 
 a big log into this pocket, another into that, gradually segre- 
 gating the different brands belonging to the different owners 
 of the mills below. From the quite considerable height of the 
 bridge all this lay spread out mapwise up and down the 
 perspective of the stream. The smooth, oily current of the 
 river, leaden-hued and cold in the light of the early spring, 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 41 
 
 hurried by on its way to the lake, swiftly, yet without the 
 turmoil and fuss of lesser power. Downstream, as far as 
 Bob could see, were the huge mills with their flanking lum- 
 ber yards, the masts of their lading ships, their black sawdust- 
 burners, and above all the pure-white, triumphant banners 
 of steam that shot straight up against the gray of the sky. 
 
 Tally followed the direction of his gaze. 
 
 "Modern work," he commented. "Rand saws. No cir- 
 culars there. Two hundred thousand a day"; with which 
 cryptic utterance he resumed his walk. 
 
 The opposite side of the river proved to be a smaller edi- 
 tion of the other. Into the first saloon Tally pushed. 
 
 It resembled the others, except that no card game was in 
 progress. The barkeeper, his feet elevated, read a pink 
 paper behind the bar. A figure slept at the round table, its 
 head in its arms. Tally walked over to shake this man by 
 the shoulder. 
 
 In a moment the sleeper raised his head. Bob saw a 
 little, middle-aged man, not over five feet six in height, slen- 
 derly built, yet with broad, hanging shoulders. His head 
 was an almost exact inverted pyramid, the base formed by a 
 mop of red-brown hair, and the apex represented by i very 
 pointed chin. Two level, oblong patches of hair made 
 eyebrows. His face was white and nervous. A strong, 
 hooked nose separated a pair of red-brown eyes, small and 
 twinkling, like a chipmunk's. Just now they were blood- 
 shot and vague. 
 
 "Hullo, Dicky Darrell," said Tally. 
 
 The man struggled to his feet, knocking over the chair, 
 and laid both hands effusively on Tally's shoulders. 
 
 "Jim!" he cried thickly. "Good ole Jim! Glad to see 
 you! Rav 1 drinki " 
 
 Tally nodded, and, to Bob's surprise, took his place at 
 the bar. 
 
 "Hav' Another!" cried Darrell. "God! I'm glad to see 
 you! Nobody in town." 
 
42 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "All right," agreed Tally pacifically; "but let's go across 
 the river to Dugan's and get it." 
 
 To this Darrell readily agreed. They left the saloon. 
 Bob, following, noticed the peculiar truculence imparted to 
 DarrelFs appearance by the fact that in walking he always 
 held his hands open and palms to the front. Suddenly Dar- 
 rell became for the first time aware of his presence. The 
 riverman whirled on him, and Bob became conscious of 
 something as distinct as a physical shock as he met the 
 impact of an electrical nervous energy. It passed, and he 
 found himself half smiling down on this little, white-faced 
 man with the matted hair and the bloodshot, chipmunk eyes. 
 
 "Who'n hell's this!" demanded Darrell savagely. 
 
 " Friend of mine," said Tally. " Come on." 
 
 Darrell stared a moment longer. "All right," he said at 
 last. 
 
 All the way across the bridge Tally argued with his com- 
 panion. 
 
 " We've got to have a foreman on the Cedar Branch, Dick," 
 he began, "and you're the fellow." 
 
 To this Darrell offered a profane, emphatic and contemp- 
 tuous negative. With consummate diplomacy Tally led his 
 mind from sullen obstinacy to mere reluctance. At the cor- 
 ner of Main Street the three stopped. 
 
 " But I don't want to go yet, Jim," pleaded Darrell, almost 
 tearfully. " I ain't had all my ' time ' yet." 
 
 "Well," said Tally, "you've been polishing up the flames 
 of hell for four days pretty steady. What more do you 
 want?" 
 
 "I ain't smashed no rig yet," objected Darrell. 
 
 Tally looked puzzled. 
 
 "Well, go ahead and smash your rig and get done with it," 
 he said. 
 
 "A' right," said Darrell cheerfully. 
 
 He started off briskly, the others following. Down a side 
 street his rather uncertain gait led them, to the wide-open 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 43 
 
 door of a frame livery stable. The usual loungers in the 
 usual tipped-back chairs greeted him. 
 
 "Want m' rig," he demanded. 
 
 A large and leisurely man in shirt sleeves lounged out from 
 the office and looked him over dispassionately. 
 
 "You've been drunk four days," said he, "have you the 
 price?" 
 
 "Bet y 3 ," said Dick, cheerfully. He seated himself on 
 the ground and pulled off his boot from which he extracted 
 a pulpy mass of greenbacks. "Can't fool me!" he said 
 cunningly. "Always save 'nuff for my rig!" 
 
 He shoved the bills into the liveryman's hands. The 
 latter straightened them out, counted them, thrust a porx 
 tion into his pocket, and handed the rest back to Darrell. 
 
 "There you are," said he. He shouted an order into tb* 
 darkness of the stable. 
 
 An interval ensued. The stableman and Tally waited 
 imperturbably, without the faintest expression of interest 
 in anything evident on their immobile countenances. Dicky 
 Darrell rocked back and forth on his heels, a pleased smile 
 on his face. 
 
 After a few moments the stable boy led out a horse hitched 
 to the most ramshackle and patched-up old side-bar buggy 
 Bob had ever beheld. Darrell, after several vain attempts, 
 managed to clamber aboard. He gathered up the reins, and, 
 with exaggerated care, drove into the middle of the street. 
 
 Then suddenly he rose to his feet, uttered an ear-piercing 
 exultant yell, hurled the reins at the horse's head and began 
 to beat the animal with his whip. The horse, startled, 
 bounded forward. The buggy jerked. Darrell sat down 
 violently, but was at once on his feet, plying the whip. The 
 crazed man and the crazed horse disappeared up the street, 
 the buggy careening from side to side, Darrell yelling at the 
 top of his lungs. The stableman watched him out of 
 sight. 
 
 "Roaring Dick of the Woods!" said he thoughtfully at 
 
44 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 last. He thrust his hand in his pocket and took out the 
 wad of greenbacks, contemplated them for a moment, and 
 thrust them back. He caught Tally's eye. "Funny what 
 different ideas men have of a time," said he, 
 
 "Do this regular ?" inquired Tally dryly. 
 
 "Every year." 
 
 Bob got his breath at last. 
 
 "Why!" he cried. "What'll happen to him! He'll be 
 killed sure!" 
 
 "Not him!" stated the stableman emphatically. "Not 
 Dicky Darrell! He'll smash up good, and will crawl out of 
 the wreck > and he'll limp back here in just about one half- 
 hour." 
 
 "How about the horse and buggy?" 
 
 " Oh, we'll catch the horse in a day or two it's a spoiled 
 colt, anyway and we'll patch up the buggy if she's patch- 
 able. If not, we'll leave it. Usual programme." 
 
 The stableman and Tally lit their pipes. Nobody seemed 
 much interested now that the amusement was over. Bob 
 owned a boyish desire to follow the wake of the cyclone, but 
 in the presence of this imperturbability, he repressed his 
 inclination. 
 
 "Some day the damn fool will bust his head open," said 
 the liveryman, after a ruminative pause. 
 
 "I shouldn't think you'd rent him a horse," said Bob. 
 
 "He pays," yawned the other. 
 
 At the end of the half-hour the liveryman dove into his 
 office for a coat, which he put on. This indicated that he 
 contemplated exercising in the sun instead of sitting still in 
 the shade. 
 
 "Well, let's look him up," said he. "'This may be the 
 time he busts his fool head." 
 
 "Hope not," was Tally's comment; "can't afford ta lose 
 a foreman." 
 
 But near the outskirts of town they met Roaring Dick 
 limping painfully down the middle of the road. His hat was 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 45 
 
 gone and he was liberally plastered with the soft mud of 
 early spring. 
 
 Not one word would he vouchsafe, but looked at them all 
 malevolently. His intoxication seemed to have evaporated 
 with his good spirits. As answer to the liveryman's ques- 
 tion as to the whereabouts of the smashed rig, he waved a 
 comprehensive hand toward the suburbs. At insistence, 
 he snapped back like an ugly dog. 
 
 "Out there somewhere," he snarled. "Go find iti What 
 the hell do I care where it is? It's mine, isn't it? I paid 
 you for it, didn' 1 1 ? Well, go find it ! You can have it ! " 
 
 He tramped vigorously back toward the main street, a 
 grotesque figure with his red-brown hair tumbled over his 
 white, nervous countenance of the pointed chin, with his 
 hooked nose, and his twinkling chipmunk eyes. 
 
 "He'll hit the fust saloon, if you don't watch out," Bob 
 managed to whisper to Tally. 
 
 But the latter shook his head. From long experience he 
 knew the type. 
 
 His reasoning was correct. Roaring Dick tramped dog- 
 gedly down the length of the street to the little frame depot. 
 There he slumped into one of the hard seats in the waiting- 
 room, where he promptly slept. Tally sat down beside him 
 and withdrew into himself. The twilight fell. After an 
 apparently interminable interval a train rumbled in.. Tally 
 shook his companion. The latter awakened just long enough 
 to stumble aboard the smoking car, where, his knees propped 
 up, his chin on his breast, he relapsed into deep slumber. 
 
 They arrived at the boarding house late in the evening. 
 Mrs. Hallowell set out a cold supper, to which Bob was 
 ready to do full justice. Ten minutes later he found him- 
 self in a tiny box of a bedroom, furnished barely. He 
 pushed open the window and propped it up with a piece of 
 kindling. The earth had fallen into a very narrow sil- 
 houette, and the star-filled heavens usurped all space, crowd- 
 ing the world down. Against the sky the outlines stood sig- 
 
46 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 nificant in what they suggested and concealed slumbering 
 roof-tops, the satiated mill glowing vaguely somewhere from 
 her banked fires, the blackness and mass of silent lumber 
 yards, the mysterious, hushing fingers of the ships' masts, 
 and then low and vague, like a narrow strip of velvet divid- 
 ing these men's affairs from the star-strewn infinite, the 
 wilderness. As Bob leaned from the window the bigness 
 of these things rushed into his office-starved spirit as air into 
 a vacuum. The cold of the lake breeze entered his lungs. 
 He drew a deep breath of it. For the first time in his short 
 business experience he looked forward eagerly to the morrow. 
 
VIII 
 
 BOB was awakened before daylight by the unholy shriek 
 of a great whistle. He then realized that for some 
 time he had been vaguely aware of kindling and stove 
 sounds. The bare little room had become bitterly cold. A 
 gray-blackness represented the world outside. He lighted 
 his glass lamp and took a hasty, shivering sponge bath in the 
 crockery basin. Then he felt better in the answering glow 
 of his healthy, straight young body; and a few moments 
 later was prepared to enjoy a fragrant, new-lit, somewhat 
 smoky fire in the big stove outside his door. The bell rang. 
 Men knocked ashes from their pipes and arose; other men 
 stamped in from outside. The dining room was filled. 
 
 Bob took his seat, nodding to the men. A slightly grumpy 
 silence reigned. Collins and Fox had not yet appeared. 
 Bob saw Roaring Dick at the other table, rather whiter than 
 the day before, but carrying himself boldly in spite of his 
 poor head. As he looked, Roaring Dick caught his eye. 
 The riverman evidently did not recognize having seen the 
 young stranger the day before; but Bob was again con- 
 scious of the quick impact of the man's personality, quite 
 out of proportion to his diminutive height and siender build. 
 At the end of ten minutes the men trooped out noisily. Shortly 
 a second whistle blew. At the signal the mill awoke. The 
 clang of machinery, beginning slowly, increased in tempo. 
 The exultant shriek of the saws rose to heaven. Bob, peer- 
 ing forth into the young daylight, caught the silhouette of the 
 elephantine tram horse, high in the air, bending his great 
 shoulders to the starting of his little train of cars. 
 
 Not knowing what else to do, Bob sauntered to the office. 
 
 47 
 
48 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 It was locked and dark. He returned to the boarding house, 
 and sat down in the main room. The lamps became dimmer. 
 Finally the chore boy put them out. Then at last Collins 
 appeared, followed closely by Fox. 
 
 " You didn't get up to eat with the men?" the bookkeeper 
 asked Bob a trifle curiously. "You don't need to do that. 
 We eat with Mrs. Hallowell at seven." 
 
 At eight o'clock the little bookkeeper opened the office 
 door and ushered Bob in to the scene of his duties. 
 
 "You're to help me," said Collins concisely. "I have 
 the books. Our other duties are to make out time checks 
 for the men, to answer the correspondence in our province, to 
 keep track of carnp supplies, and to keep tab on shipments 
 and the stock on hand and sawed each day. There's your 
 desk. You'll find time blanks and everything there. The 
 copying press is in the corner. Over here is the tally board," 
 He led the way to a pine bulletin, perhaps four feet square, 
 into which were screwed a hundred or more small brass 
 screw hooks. From each depended a small pine tablet or 
 tag inscribed with many figures. "Do you understand a 
 tally board?" Collms asked. 
 
 "No," replied Bob. 
 
 "Well, these screw hooks are arranged just like a map of 
 the lumber yards. Each hook represents one of the lumber 
 piles or rather the location of a lumber pile. The tags 
 hanging from them represent the lumber piles themselves; 
 see?" 
 
 "Sure," said Bob. Now that he understood he could 
 follow out on this strange map the blocks, streets and alleys 
 of that silent, tenantless city. 
 
 "On these tags," pursued Collins, "are figures. These 
 figures show how much lumber is in each pile, and what 
 kind it is, and of what quality. In that way we know just 
 what we have and where it is. The sealers report to us every 
 day just what has been shipped out, and what has been 
 piled from the mill. From their reports we change the 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 49 
 
 figures on the tags. Fm going to let you take care of 
 that." 
 
 Bob bestowed his losag figure at the desk assigned him, 
 and went to work. He was interested, for it was all new to 
 him. Men were constantly in and out on all sorts of errands. 
 Fox came to shake hands and wish him well; he was off on 
 the ten o'clock train. Bob checked over a long invoice of 
 camp supplies; manipulated the copying press; and, under 
 Collins's instructions, made out time checks against the next 
 pay day. The insistence of details kept him at the stretch 
 until noon surprised him. 
 
 After dinner and a breath of fresh air, he plunged again 
 into his tasks. Now he had the sealers' noon reports to 
 transfer to the tally board. He was intensely interested by 
 the novelty of it all; but even this early he encountered his 
 old difficulties in the matter of figures. He made no mistakes, 
 but in order to correlate, remember and transfer correctly 
 he was forced to an utterly disproportionate intensity of 
 application. To the tally board he brought more absolute 
 concentration and will-power than did Collins to all his 
 manifold tasks. So evidently painstaking was he, that the 
 little bookkeeper glanced at him sharply once or twice. 
 However, he said nothing. 
 
 When darkness approached the bookkeeper closed his 
 ledger and came over to Bob's desk. In ten minutes he 
 ran deftly over Bob's afternoon work; re-checking the supply 
 invoices, verifying the time checks, comparing the tallies 
 with the sealers' reports. So swiftly and accurately did 
 he accomplish this, with so little hesitation and so assured 
 a belief in his own correctness that the really taxing job seemed 
 merely a bit of light mental gymnastics after the day's work. 
 
 "Good!" he complimented Bob; "everything's correct" 
 
 Bob nodded, a little gloomily. It might be correct; but 
 he was very tired from the strain of it. 
 
 "It'll come easier with practice," said Collins; "always 
 difficult to do a new thing." 
 
50 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 The whistle blew. Bob went directly to his room and 
 sat down on the edge of his bed. In spite of Collins's kindly 
 meant reassurances, the iron of doubt had entered his soul. 
 He had tried for four months, and was no nearer facility 
 than when he started. 
 
 "If a man hadn't learned better than that, I'd have called 
 him a dub and told him to get off the squad," he said to him- 
 self, a little bitterly. He thought a moment. "I guess 
 I'm tired. I must buck up. If Collins and Archie can do 
 it, I can. It's all in the game. Of course, it takes time and 
 training. Get in the game!" 
 
IX 
 
 THIS was on Tuesday. During the rest of the week 
 Bob worked hard. Even a skilled man would have 
 been kept busy by the multitude of details that 
 poured in on the little office. Poor Bob was far from skilled. 
 He felt as awkward amid all these swift and accurate activities 
 as he had when at sixteen it became necessary to force his 
 overgrown frame into a crowded drawing room. He tried 
 very hard, as he always did with everything. When Collins 
 succinctly called his attention to a discrepancy in his figur- 
 ings, he smiled his slow, winning, troubled smile, thrust 
 the hair back from his clear eyes, and bent his lean athlete's 
 frame again to the labour. He soon discovered that this 
 work demanded speed as well as accuracy. "And I need 
 a ten-acre lot to turn around in," he told himself half hum- 
 orously. "I'm a regular ice-wagon." 
 
 He now came to look back on his college triumphs with an 
 exaggerated but wholesome reaction. His athletic prowess 
 had given him great prominence in college circles. Girls 
 had been flattered at his attention; his classmates had deferred 
 to his skill and experience; his juniors had, in the manner of 
 college boys, looked up to him as to a demi-god. Then for 
 the few months of the football season the newspapers had 
 made of him a national character. His picture appeared 
 at least once a week; his opinions were recorded; his physical 
 measurements carefully detailed. When he appeared on 
 the streets and in hotel lobbies, people were apt to recog- 
 nize him and whisper furtively to one another. Bob was 
 naturally the most modest youth in the world, and he hated 
 a "fuss" after the delightfully normal fashion of normal 
 
 5 1 
 
52 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 boys, but all this could not fail to have its subtle effect. He 
 went out into the world without conceit, but confident of 
 his ability to take his place with the best of them. 
 
 His first experience showed him wholly second in natural 
 qualifications, in ability to learn, and in training to men sub- 
 ordinate in the business world. 
 
 "I'm just plain dub," he told himself. " I thought myself 
 some pumpkins and got all swelled up inside because good 
 food and leisure and heredity gave me a husky build 1 Foot- 
 ball! What good does that do me here? Four out of five 
 of these rivermen are huskier than I am. Me a business 
 man! Why I can't seem even to learn the first principles of 
 the first job of the whole lot! I've got to!" he admonished 
 himself grimly. "I hate a fellow who doesn't make good!" 
 and with a very determined set to his handsome chin he hurled 
 the whole force of his young energies at those elusive figures 
 that somehow would lie. 
 
 The week slipped by in this struggle. It was much worse 
 than in the Chicago office. There Bob was allowed all the 
 time he thought he needed. Here one task followed close 
 on the heels of another, without chance for a breathing space 
 or room to take bearings. Bob had to do the best he cold r 
 commit the result to a merciful providence, and seize the 
 next job by the throat. 
 
 One morning he awoke with a jump to find it was seven 
 o'clock. He had heard neither whistle, and must have 
 overslept! Hastily he leaped into his clothes, and rushed 
 out into the dining room. There he found the chore-boy 
 leisurely feeding a just-lighted kitchen fire. To Bob's 
 exclamation of astonishment he looked up. 
 
 "Sunday," he grinned; "breakfus' at eight." 
 
 The week had gone without Bob's having realized the 
 fact. 
 
 Mrs. Hallowell came in a moment later, smiling at the 
 winning, handsome young man in her fat and good-humoured 
 manner. Bob was seized with an inspiration. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 53 
 
 "Mrs. Hallowell," he said persuasively, "just let me 
 rummage around for five minutes, will you?" 
 
 "You that hungry?" she chuckled. "Law! I'll have 
 breakfast in an hour." 
 
 ''It isn't that," said Bob; "but I want to get some air 
 to-day. I'm not used to being in an office. I want to 
 steal a hunk of bread, and a few of your good doughnuts and 
 a slice of cheese for breakfast and lunch." 
 
 "A cup of hot coffee would do you more good," objected 
 Mrs. Halloweil. 
 
 "Please," begged Bob, "and I won't disturb a thing." 
 
 "Oh, land I Don't worry about that," said Mrs. Hallo- 
 well, " there's teamsters and such in here all times of the day 
 and night. Help yourself." 
 
 Five minutes later, Bob, swinging a riverman's canvas 
 lunch bag, was walking rapidly up the River Trail. He 
 did not know whither he was bound; but here at last was a 
 travelled way. It was a brilliant blue and gold morning, 
 the air crisp, the sun warm. The trail led him first across 
 a stretch of stump-dotted wet land with pools and rounded 
 rises, green new grass, and trickling streamlets of recently 
 melted snow. Then came a fringe of scrub growth woven 
 into an almost impenetrable tangle oaks, poplars, willows, 
 cedar, tamarack and through it all an abattis of old 
 slashing with its rotting, fallen stumps, its network of 
 tops, its soggy root-holes, its fallen, uprooted trees. Along 
 one of these strutted a partridge. It clucked at Bob, but 
 refused to move faster, lifting its feet deliberately and spread- 
 ing its fanlike tail. The River Trail here took to poles 
 laid on rough horses. The poles were old and slippery, and 
 none too large. Bob had to walk circumspectly to stay on 
 them at all. Shortly, however, he stepped of! into the 
 higher country of the hardwoods. Here the spring had 
 passed, scattering her fresh green. The tops of the trees 
 were already in half-leaf; the lower branches just budding, 
 so that it seemed the sowing must have been from above. 
 
54 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Last year's leaves, softened and packed by the snow, covered 
 the ground with an indescribably beautiful and noiseless 
 carpet. Through it pushed the early blossoms of the hepa- 
 tica. Grackles whistled clearly. Distant redwings gave 
 their celebrated imitation of a great multitude. Bluebirds 
 warbled on the wing. The busier chickadees and creepers 
 searched the twigs and trunks, interpolating occasional 
 remarks. The sun slanted through the forest. 
 
 Bob strode on vigorously. His consciousness received 
 these things gratefully, and yet he was more occupied with 
 a sense of physical joy and harmony with the world of out- 
 of-doors than with an analysis of its components. At one 
 point, however, he paused. The hardwoods had risen over 
 a low hill. Now they opened to show a framed picture of 
 the river, distant and below. In contrast to the modulated 
 browns of the tree-trunks, the new green and lilac of the 
 undergrowth and the far-off hills across the way, it showed 
 like a patch of burnished blue steel. Logs floated across 
 the vista, singly, in scattered groups, in masses. Again, 
 the river was clear. While Bob watched, a man floated into 
 view. He was standing bolt upright and at ease on a log 
 so small that the water lapped over its top. From this dis- 
 tance Bob could but just make it out. The man leaned 
 carelessly on his peavy. Across the vista he floated, grace- 
 ful and motionless, on his way from the driving camp to the 
 mill. 
 
 Bob gave a whistle of admiration, and walked on. 
 
 "I wish some of our oarsmen could see that," he said to 
 himself. "They're always guying the fellows that tip over 
 their cranky little shells." 
 
 He stopped short. 
 
 s: I couldn't do it," he cried aloud; "nor I couldn't learn 
 tP do it. I sure am a dub ! ' ' 
 
 He trudged on, his spirits again at the ebb. The bright- 
 ness of the day had dimmed. Indeed, physically, a change 
 had taken place. Over the sun banked clouds had drawn. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 55 
 
 With the disappearance of the sunlight a little breeze, before 
 but a pleasant and wandering companion to the birds, became 
 cold and draughty. The leaf carpet proved to be soggy; 
 and as for the birds themselves, their whistles suddenly grew 
 plaintive as though with the portent of late autumn. 
 
 This sudden transformation, usual enough with every pass- 
 ing cloud in the childhood of the spring, reacted still further 
 on Bob's spirits. He trudged doggedly on. After a time 
 a gleam of water caught his attention to the left. He deserted 
 the River Trail, descended a slope, pushed his way through 
 a thicket of tamaracks growing out from wire grass and pud- 
 dles, and found himself on the shores of a round lake. 
 
 It was a small body of water, completely surrounded by 
 tall, dead brown grasses. These were in turn fringed by 
 melancholy tamaracks. The water was dark slate colour, and 
 ruffled angrily by the breeze which here in the open devel- 
 oped some slight strength. It reminded Bob of a " bottom- 
 less" lake pointed out many years before to his childish 
 credulity. A lonesome hell diver flipped down out of sight 
 as Bob appeared. 
 
 The wet ground swayed and bent alarmingly under his 
 tread. A stub attracted him. He perched on the end of it, 
 his feet suspended above the wet, and abandoned himself to 
 reflection. The lonesome diver reappeared. The breeze 
 rustled the dead grasses and the tamaracks until they seemed 
 to be shivering in the cold. 
 
 Bob was facing himself squarely. This was his first grapple 
 with the world outside. To his direct American mind the 
 problem was simplicity in the extreme. An idler is a con- 
 temptible being. A rich idler is almost beneath contempt. 
 A man's life lies in activity. Activity, outside the artistic 
 and professional, means the world of business. All teaching 
 at home and through the homiletic magazines, fashionable 
 at that period, pointed out but one road to success in this 
 world the beginning at the bottom, as Bob was doing; 
 close application; accuracy; frugality; honesty; fair dealing. 
 
56 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 The homiletic magazines omitted idealism and imagination; 
 but perhaps those qualities are so common in what some 
 people are pleased to call our humdrum modern business life 
 that they were taken for granted. If a young man could not 
 succeed in this world, something was wrong with him. Can 
 Bob be blamed that in this baffling and unsuspected incapa- 
 city he found a great humility of spirit? In his fashion he 
 began to remember trifling significances which at the time 
 had meant little to him. Thus, a girl had once told him, 
 half seriously: 
 
 " Yes, you're a nice boy, just as everybody tells you; a nice, 
 big, blundering, stupid, Newfoundland-dog boy." 
 
 He had laughed good-humouredly, and had forgotten. 
 Now he caught at one word of it. That might explain it; 
 he was just plain stupid I And stupid boys either played 
 polo or drove fancy horses or ran yachts or occupied orna- 
 mental too ornamental desks for an hour or so a day. 
 Bob remembered how, as a small boy,, he used to hold the 
 ends of the reins under the delighted belief that he was 
 driving his father's spirited pair. 
 
 "I've outgrown holding the reins, thank you," he said 
 aloud in disgust. At the sound of his voice the diver dis- 
 appeared. Bob laughed and felt a trifle better. 
 
 He reviewed himself dispassionately. He could not but 
 admit that he had tried hard enough, and that he had cour- 
 age. It was just a case of limitation. Bob, for the first 
 tiime r bumped against the stone wall that hems us in on all 
 sidles save toward the sky. 
 
 He fell into a profound discouragement; a discouragement 
 that somehow found its prototype in the mournful little 
 lake with its kaden water, its cold breeze, its whispering,dried 
 marsh grasses, its funereal tamaracks, and its lonesome diver. 
 
X 
 
 BUT Bob was no quitter. The next morning he tramped 
 down to the office, animated by a new courage. Even 
 stupid boys learn, he remembered. It takes longer, 
 of course, and requires more application. But he was strong 
 and determined. He remembered Fatty Hayes, who took 
 four years to make the team Fatty, who couldn't get a 
 signal through his head until about time for the next play, 
 and whose great body moved appreciable seconds after his 
 brain had commanded it; Fatty Hayes, the "scrub's" chop- 
 ping block for trying out new men on! And yet he did 
 make the team in his senior year. Bob acknowledged him 
 a very good centre, not brilliant, but utterly sure and 
 safe. 
 
 Full of this dogged spirit, he tackled the day's work. It 
 was a heavy day's work. The mill was just hitting its 
 stride, the tall ships were being laden and sent away to the 
 four winds, buyers the country over were finishing their 
 contracts. Collins, his coat off, his sleeve protectors strapped 
 closely about his thin arms, worked at an intense white heat. 
 He wasted no second of time, nor did he permit discursive 
 interruption. His manner to those who entered the office 
 was civil but curt. Time was now the essence of the con- 
 tract these men had with life. 
 
 About ten o'clock he turned from a swift contemplation 
 of the tally board. 
 
 "Orde!" said he sharply. 
 
 Bob disentangled himself from his chair. 
 
 "Look there," said the bookkeeper, pointing a long and 
 nervous finger at three of the tags he held in his hand. 
 
 57 
 
58 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "There's three errors." He held out for inspection the 
 original sealers' report which he had dug out of the files. 
 
 Bob looked at the discrepant figures with amazement. 
 He had checked the tags over twice, and both times the 
 error had escaped his notice. His mind, self-hypnotized, 
 had passed them over in the same old fashion. Yet he had 
 taken especial pains with that list. 
 
 "I happened, just happened, to check these back myself," 
 Collins was saying rapidly. "If I hadn't, we'd have made 
 that contract with Robinson on the basis of what these 
 tags show. We haven't got that much seasoned uppers, 
 nor anything like it. If you've made many more breaks like 
 this, if we'd contracted with Robinson for what we haven't 
 got or couldn't get, we'd be in a nice mess and so would 
 Robinson!" 
 
 "I'm sorry," murmured Bob. "I'll try to do better." 
 
 "Won't do," said Collins briefly. "You aren't big 
 enough for the job. I can't get behind, checking over 
 your work. This office is too rushed as it is. Can't fool 
 with blundering stupidity." 
 
 Bob flushed at the word. 
 
 "I guess you'd better take your time," went on Collins. 
 "You may be all right, for all I know, but I haven't got time 
 to find out." 
 
 He rang a bell twice, and snatched down the telephone 
 receiver. 
 
 "Hullo, yards, send up Tommy Gould to the office. I 
 want him to help me. I don't give a damn for the scaling. 
 You'll have to get along somehow. The five of you ought 
 to hold that down. Send up Gould, anyhow." He slammed 
 up the receiver, muttering something about incompetence. 
 Bob for a moment had a strong impulse to retort, but his 
 anger died. He saw that Collins was not for the moment 
 thinking of him at all as a human being, as a personality - 
 only as a piece of this great, swiftly moving machine, that 
 would not run smoothly. The fact that he had come under 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 59 
 
 Fox's convoy evidently meant nothing to the little book- 
 keeper, at least for the moment. Collins was entirely accus- 
 tomed to hiring and discharging men. When transplanted 
 to the frontier industries, even such automatic jobs as book- 
 keeping take on new duties and responsibilities. 
 
 Bob, after a moment of irresolution, reached for his hat. 
 
 "That will be all, then?" he asked. 
 
 Collins came out of the abstraction into which he had 
 fallen. 
 
 "Oh yes," he said. "Sorry, but of course we can't 
 take chances on these things being right." 
 
 "Of course not," said Bob steadily. 
 
 "You just need more training," went on Collins with 
 some vague idea of being kind to this helpless, attractive 
 young fellow. "I learned under Harry Thorpe that results 
 is all a man looks at in this business." 
 
 "I guess that's right," said Bob. "Good-bye." 
 
 "Good-bye," said Collins over his shoulder. Already he 
 was lost in the rapid computations and calculations that 
 filled his hours. 
 
XI 
 
 BOB left the office and tramped blindly out of town. His 
 feet naturally led him to the River Trail. Where the 
 path finally came out on the banks of the river, he sat 
 down and delivered himself over to the gloomiest of reflections. 
 
 He was aroused finally by a hearty greeting from behind 
 him. He turned without haste, surprise or pleasure to 
 examine the new comer. 
 
 Bob saw surveying him a man well above sixty, heavy- 
 bodied, burly, big, with a square face, heavy- jowled and 
 homely, with deep blue eyes set far apart, and iron gray hair 
 that curled at the ends. With the quick, instinctive sizing-up 
 developed on the athletic field, Bob thought him coarse- 
 fibred, jolly, a little obtuse, but strong very strong with 
 the strength of competent effectiveness. He was dressed in 
 a slouch hat, a flannel shirt, a wrinkled old business suit and 
 mud-splashed, laced half-boots. 
 
 "Well, bub," said this man, " enjoying the scenery?" 
 
 "Yes," said Bob with reserve. He was in no mood for 
 casual conversation, but the stranger went on cheerfully. 
 
 "Like it pretty well myself, hereabouts." He filled and 
 lighted a pipe. "This is a good time of year for the woods; 
 no mosquitos, pretty warm, mighty nice overhead. Can't 
 say so much for underfoot." He lifted and surveyed one 
 foot comically, and Bob noticed that his shoes were not 
 armed with the riverman's long, sharpened spikes. "Pretty 
 good hunting here in the fall, and fishing later. Not much 
 now. Up here to look around a little ? " 
 
 "No, not quite," said Bob vaguely. 
 
 "This ain't much of a pleasure resort, and a stranger's a 
 
 60 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 61 
 
 pretty unusual thing," said the big man by way of half- 
 apology for his curiosity. "Up buying, I suppose or 
 maybe selling?" 
 
 Bob looked up with a beginning of resentment against 
 this apparent intrusion on his private affairs. He met the 
 good-humoured, jolly eyes. In spite of himself he half 
 smiled. 
 
 "Not that either," said he. 
 
 "You aren't in the company's employ?" persisted the 
 stranger with an undercurrent of huge delight in his tone, 
 as though he were playing a game that he enjoyed. 
 
 Bob threw back his head and laughed. It was a short 
 laugh and a bitter one. 
 
 "No," said he shortly, " not now. I've just been 
 fired." 
 
 The big man promptly dropped down beside him on the 
 log. 
 
 "Don't say!" he cried; "what's the matter?" 
 
 "The matter is that I'm no good," said Bob evenly, and 
 without the slightest note of complaint. 
 
 "Tell me about it," suggested the big man soberly after 
 a moment. "I'm pretty close to Fox. Perhaps " 
 
 "It isn't a case of pull," Bob interrupted him pleasantly. 
 "It's a case of total incompetence." 
 
 "That's a rather large order for a husky boy like you," 
 said the older man with a sudden return to his undertone 
 of bantering jollity. 
 
 " Well, I've filled it," said Bob. " That's the one job I've 
 done good and plenty." 
 
 "Haven't stolen the stove, have you?" 
 
 "Might better. It couldn't be any hotter than Collins." 
 
 The stranger chuckled. 
 
 "He is a peppery little cuss," was his comment. "What 
 did you do to him?" 
 
 Bob told him, lightly, as though the affair might be con- 
 sidered humorous. The stranger became grave. 
 
62 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 " That all?" he inquired. 
 
 Bob's self-disgust overpowered him. 
 
 "No," said he, "not by a long shot." In brief sentences 
 he told of his whole experience since entering the business 
 world. When he had finished, his companion puffed away 
 for several moments in silence. 
 
 "Well, what you going to do about it?" he asked. 
 
 "I don't know," Bob confessed. "I've got to tell father 
 I'm no good. That is the only thing I can see ahead to 
 now. It will break him all up, and I don't blame him. 
 Father is too good a man himself not to feel this sort of a 
 thing." 
 
 "I see," said the stranger. "Well, it may come out in 
 the wash," he concluded vaguely after a moment. Bob 
 stared out at the river, lost in the gloomy thoughts his last 
 speech had evoked. The stranger improved the opportunity 
 to look the young man over critically from head to foot. 
 
 "I see you're a college man," said he, indicating Bob's 
 fraternity pin. 
 
 "Yes," replied the young man listlessly. "I went to the 
 University." 
 
 "That so!" said the stranger, "well, you're ahead of me. 
 I never got even to graduate at the high school." 
 
 "Am I?" said Bob. 
 
 "What did you do at college?" inquired the big man. 
 
 "Oh, usual classical course, Greek, Latin, Pol EC. * 
 
 " I don't mean what you learned. What did you do ? " 
 
 Bob reflected. 
 
 "I don't believe I did a single earthly thing except play 
 little football," he confessed. 
 
 "Oh, you played football, did you? That's a great game! 
 I'd rather see a good game of football than a snake fight. 
 Make the 'varsity?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Where did you play?" 
 
 "Halfback." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 63 
 
 "Pretty heavy for a 'half/ ain't you?" 
 
 "Well I train down a little and I managed to get 
 around." 
 
 "Play all four years?" 
 
 "Yes/" 
 
 "Like it?" 
 
 Bob's eye lit up. "Yes!" he cried. Then his face fell. 
 "Too much, I guess," he added sadly. 
 
 For the first time the twinkle in the stranger's eye found 
 vocal expression. He chuckled. It was a good, jolly, 
 subterranean chuckle from deep in his throat, and it shook 
 all his round body to its foundations. 
 
 "Who bossed you?" he asked, " your captain, I mean. 
 What sort of a fellow was he ? Did you get along with him 
 all right?" 
 
 "Had to," Bob grinned wryly; "you see they happened 
 to make me captain." 
 
 " Oh, they happened to, did they ? What is your name ? " 
 
 "Orde." 
 
 The stranger gurgled again. 
 
 "You're just out then. You must have captained those 
 big scoring teams." 
 
 "They were good teams. I was lucky," said Bob. 
 
 "Didn't I see by the papers that you went back to coach 
 last fall?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I've been away and couldn't keep tab. How did you 
 come out?" 
 
 "Pretty well." 
 
 "Win ail your games?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "That's good. Thought you were going to have a hard 
 row to hoe. Before I went away the papers said most of the 
 old men had graduated, and the material was very poor. 
 How did you work it?" 
 
 "The material was all right," Bob returned, relaxing a 
 
64 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 trifle in the interest of this discussion. "It was only a little 
 raw, and needed shaking into shape." 
 
 "And you did the shaking." 
 
 "I suppose so; but you see it didn't amount to much 
 because I'd had a lot of experience in being captain." 
 
 The stranger chuckled one of his jolly subterranean 
 chuckles again. He arose to his feet. 
 
 "Well, I've got to get along to town," said he. 
 
 "I'll trot along, too," said Bob. 
 
 They tramped back in silence by the River Trail. On 
 the pole trail across the swamp the stranger walked with 
 a graceful and assured ease in spite of his apparently unwieldy 
 build. As the two entered one of the sawdust-covered streets, 
 they were hailed by Jim Mason. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Welton!" he cried, "when did you get in and 
 where did you come from?" 
 
 "Just now, Jim," Welton answered. "Dropped off at 
 the tank, and walked down to see how the river work was 
 coming on." 
 
XII 
 
 TOWARD dusk Welton entered the boarding house 
 where Bob was sitting rather gloomily by the central 
 stove. The big man plumped himself down into a pro- 
 testing chair, and took off his slouch hat. Bob saw his low, 
 square forehead with the peculiar hair, black and gray in 
 streaks, curling at the ends. 
 
 "Why don't you take a little trip with me up to the Cedar 
 Branch?" he asked Bob without preamble. "No use your 
 going home right now. Your family's in Washington; and 
 will be for a month or so yet." 
 
 Bob thought it over. 
 
 "Believe I will," he decided at last. 
 
 "Do so!" cried Welton heartily. "Might as well see a 
 little of the life. Don't suppose you ever went on a drive 
 with your dad when you were a kid ? " 
 
 "No," said Bob, "I used to go up to the booms 
 with him I remember them very well ; but we moved 
 up to Redding before I was old enough to get about 
 much." 
 
 Welton nodded his great head. 
 
 "Good old days," he commented; "and let me tell you, 
 your dad was one of the best of 'em. Jack Orde is a name 
 you can scare fresh young rivermen with yet," he added with 
 a laugh. "Well, pack your turkey to-night; we'll take the 
 early train to-morrow." 
 
 That evening Bob laid out what he intended to take with 
 him, and was just about to stuff it into a pair of canvas bags 
 when Tommy Gould, the youngest sealer, pushed open the 
 door. 
 
66 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Hello!" he smiled engagingly; "where are you going? 
 Been transferred from the office?" 
 
 "On drive," said Bob, diplomatically ignoring the last 
 question. 
 
 Tommy sat down on the edge of the bed and laughed until 
 he was weak. Bob stared at him. 
 
 "Is there anything funny?" he inquired at last. 
 
 "Did, you say on drive?" inquired Tommy feebly. 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "With that?" Tommy pointed a wavering finger at the 
 pile of duffle. 
 
 "What's the matter with it?" inquired Bob, a trifle 
 uncertainly. 
 
 "Oh, it's all right. Only wait till Roaring Dick sees it. 
 I'd like to see his face." 
 
 " Look here, Tommy," said Bob with decision, " this isn't 
 fair. Fve never been on drive before, and you know it. 
 Now tell me what's wrong or I'll wring your fool neck." 
 
 "You can't take all that stuff," Tommy explained, wiping 
 his eyes. "Why, if everybody had all that mess, how do 
 you suppose it would be carried?" 
 
 "I've only got the barest necessities," objected Bob. 
 
 "Spread out your pile," Tommy commanded. "There. 
 Take those. Now forget the rest." 
 
 Bob surveyed the single change of underwear and the 
 extra socks with comical dismay. Next morning when he 
 joined Welton he discovered that individual carrying a tooth 
 brush in his vest pocket and a pair of woolen socks stuffed 
 in his coat. These and a sweater were his only baggage. 
 Bob's "turkey," modest as it was, seemed to represent effete 
 luxury in comparison. 
 , " How long will this take ? " he asked. 
 
 "'The drive? About three weeks," Welton told him. 
 "You'd better stay and see it. It isn't much of a drive 
 compared with the old days; but in a very few years there 
 won't be any drives at all." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 67 
 
 They boarded a train which at the end of twenty minutes 
 came to a stop. Bob and Welton descended. The train 
 moved on, leaving them standing by the track. 
 
 The remains of the forest, overgrown with scrub oak and 
 popple thickets pushed down to the right of way. A road, 
 deep with mud and water, beginning at this point, plunged 
 into the wilderness. That was all. 
 
 Welton thrust his hands in his pockets and splashed cheer- 
 fully into the ankle-deep mud. Bob shouldered his little 
 bag and followed. Somehow he had vaguely expected some 
 sort of conveyance. 
 
 "How far is it?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, ten or twelve miles," said Welton. 
 
 Bob experienced a glow of gratitude to the blithe Tommy 
 Gould. What would he have done with that baggage out here 
 in this lonesome wilderness of unbroken barrens and mud? 
 
 The day was beautiful, but the sun breaking through the 
 skin of last night's freezing, softened the ground until the 
 going was literally ankle-deep in slush. Welton, despite 
 his weight, tramped along cheerfully in the apparently 
 careless indifference of the skilled woods walker. Bob 
 followed, but he used more energy. He was infinitely the 
 older man's superior in muscle and endurance, yet he realized, 
 with respect and admiration, that in a long or difficult day's 
 tramp through the woods Welton would probably hold him, 
 step for step. 
 
 The road wound and changed direction entirely according 
 to expedient. It was a "tote road" merely, cutting across 
 these barrens by the direct est possible route. Deep mire 
 holes, roots of trees, an infrequent boulder, puddles and 
 cruel ruts diversified the way. Occasional teeth- rattling 
 stretches of "corduroy" led through a swamp. 
 
 "I don't see how a team can haul a load over this!" Bob 
 voiced his marvel, after a time. 
 
 "It don't," said Welton. "The supplies are all hauled 
 while the ground is frozen. A man goes by hand now." 
 
68 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 In the swamps and bottom lands it was a case of slip, slide 
 and wallow. The going was trying on muscle and wind. 
 To right and left stretched mazes of white popples and 
 willows tangled with old berry vines and the abattis of the 
 slashings. Water stood everywhere. To traverse that 
 swamp a man would have to force his way by main strength 
 through the thick growth, would have to balance on half- 
 rotted trunks of trees, wade and stumble through pools of 
 varying depths, crawl beneath or climb over all sorts of 
 obstructions in the shape of uproots, spiky new growths, and 
 old tree trunks. If he had a gun in his hands, he would 
 furthermore be compelled, through all the vicissitudes of 
 making his way, to hold it always at the balance ready 
 for the snap shot. For a ruffed grouse is wary, and flies 
 like a bullet for speed, and is up and gone almost before the 
 roar of its wings has aroused the echoes. Through that 
 veil of branches a man must shoot quickly, instinctively, 
 from any one of the many positions in which the chance 
 of the moment may have caught him. Bob knew all 
 about this sort of countiy, and his pulses quickened to the 
 call of it. 
 
 "Many partridge?" he asked. 
 
 " Lots," replied Welton; " but the country's too confounded 
 big to hunt them in. Like to hunt ?" 
 
 "Nothing better," said Bob. 
 
 After a time the road climbed out of the swamp into the 
 hardwoods, full of warmth and light and new young green, 
 and the voices of many creatures; with the soft, silent carpet 
 of last autumn's brown, the tiny patches of melting snow, 
 and the pools with dead leaves sunk in them and clear sur- 
 faces over which was mirrored the flight of birds. 
 
 Welton puffed along steadily. He did not appear to 
 talk much, and yet the sum of his information was consid- 
 erable. 
 
 ''That road," he said, pointing to a dim track, "goes down 
 to Thompson's. He's a settler. Lives on a little lake, 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 69 
 
 "There's a deer," he remarked, "over in that thicket 
 against the hill." 
 
 Bob looked closely, but could see nothing until the animal 
 bounded away, waving the white flag of its tail. 
 
 "Settlers up here are a confounded nuisance," went on 
 Welton after a while. "They're always hollering for what 
 they call their 'rights.' That generally means they try to 
 hang up our drive. The average mossback's a hard cus- 
 tomer. I'd rather try to drive nails in a snowbank than 
 tackle driving logs through a farm country. They never 
 realize that we haven't got time to talk it all out for a few 
 weeks. There's one old cuss now that's making us trouble 
 about the water. Don't want to open up to give us a fair 
 run through the sluices of his dam. Don't seem to realize 
 that when we start to go out, we've got to go out in a hurry, 
 spite o' hell and low water." 
 
 He went on, in his good-natured, unexcited fashion, to 
 inveigh against the obstinacy of any and all mossbacks. 
 There was no bitterness in it, merely a marvel over an inex- 
 plicable, natural phenomenon. 
 
 " Suppose you didn't get all the logs out this year," asked 
 Bob, at length. "Of course it would be a nuisance; but 
 couldn't you get them next year ? " 
 
 "That's the trouble," Welton explained. "If you leave 
 them over the summer, borers get into them, and they're 
 about a total loss. No, my son, when you start to take out 
 logs in this country, you've got to take them out!" 
 
 "That's what I'm going in here for now," he explained, 
 after a moment. "This Cedar Branch is an odd job we had 
 to take over from another firm. It is an unimproved river, 
 and difficult to drive, and just lined with mossbacks. The 
 crew is a mixed bunch some old men, some young toughs. 
 They're a hard crowd, and one not like the men on the main 
 drive. It really needs either Tally or me up here; but we 
 can't get away for this little proposition. He's got Darrell 
 in charge. Darrell's a good man on a big job. Then he 
 
70 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 feels his responsibility, keeps sober and drives his men well. 
 But I'm scared he won't take this little drive serious. If he 
 gets one drink in him, it's all off!" 
 
 "I shouldn't think it would pay to put such a man in 
 charge," said Bob, more as the most obvious remark than 
 from any knowledge or conviction. 
 
 " Wouldn't you?" Welton's eyes twinkled. "Well, son, 
 after you've knocked around a while you'll find that every 
 man is good for something somewhere. Only you can't 
 put a square peg in a round hole." 
 
 "How much longer will the high water last?" asked 
 Bob. 
 
 "Hard to say." 
 
 "Well, I hope you get the logs out," Bob ventured. 
 
 "Sure we'll get them out!" replied Welton confidently. 
 "We'll get them out if we have to go spit in the creek!" 
 With which remark the subject was considered closed. 
 
 About four o'clock of the afternoon they came out on 
 a low bluff overlooking a bottom land through which flowed 
 a little stream twenty-five or thirty feet across. 
 
 "That's the Cedar Branch," said Welton, "and I reckon 
 that's one of the camps up where you see that smoke." 
 
 They deserted the road and made their way through a 
 fringe of thin brush to the smoke. Bob saw two big tents, 
 a smouldering fire surrounded by high frames on which hung 
 a few drying clothes, a rough table, and a cooking fire over 
 which bubbled tremendous kettles and fifty-pound lard 
 tins suspended from a rack. A man sat on a cracker box 
 reading a fragment of newspaper. A boy of sixteen squatted 
 by the fire. 
 
 This man looked up and nodded, as Welton and his com- 
 panion approached. 
 
 " Where's the drive, doctor ? " asked the lumberman. 
 
 "This is the jam camp," replied the cook. "The jam's 
 upstream a mile or so. Rear's back by Thompson's some- 
 wheres." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 71 
 
 "Is there a jam in the river?" asked Bob with interest. 
 41 I'd like to see it." 
 
 "There's a dozen a day, probably," replied Welton; "but 
 in this case he just means the head of the drive. We call 
 that the 'jam.'" 
 
 " I suppose Darrell's at the rear?" Welton asked the cook. 
 
 "Yep," replied that individual, rising to peer into one of 
 his cavernous cooking utensils. 
 
 "Who's in charge here?" 
 
 "Larsen." 
 
 " H'm," said Welton. " Well, " he added to himself, " he's 
 slow, safe and sure, anyway." 
 
 He led the way to one of the tents and pulled aside the flap. 
 The ground inside was covered by a welter of tumbled 
 blankets and clothes. 
 
 "Nice tidy housekeeping," he grinned at Bob. He picked 
 out two of the best blankets and took them outside where- 
 he hung them on a bush and beat them vigorously. 
 
 "There," he concluded, "now they're ours." 
 
 "What about the fellows who had 'em before?" inquired 
 Bob. 
 
 " They probably had about eight apiece; and if they hadn't 
 they can bunk together." 
 
 Bob walked to the edge of the stream. It was not very 
 wide, yet at this point it carried from three to six or eight 
 feet of water, according to the bottom. A few logs were 
 stranded along shore. Two or three more floated by, the 
 forerunners of the drive. Bob could see where the highest 
 water had flung debris among the bushes, and by that he 
 knew that the stream must be already dropping from its 
 freshet. 
 
 It was now late in the afternoon. The sun dipped behind 
 a cold and austere hill-line. Against the sky showed a fringe 
 of delicate popples, like spray frozen in the rise. The heavens 
 near the horizon were a cold, pale yellow of unguessed lucent 
 depths, that shaded above into an equally cold, pale green. 
 
72 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Bob thrust his hands in his pockets and turned back to where 
 the drying fire, its fuel replenished, was leaping across the 
 gathering dusk. 
 
 Immediately after, the driving crews came tramping in 
 from upstream. They paid no attention to the newcomers, 
 but dove first for the tent, then for the fire. There they 
 began to pull off their lower garments, and Bob saw that 
 most of them were drenched from the waist down. The 
 drying racks were soon steaming with wet clothes. 
 
 Welton fell into low conversation with an old man, straight 
 and slender as a Norway pine, with blue eyes, flaxen hair, 
 eyebrows and moustache. This was Larsen, in charge of 
 the jam, honest, capable in his way, slow of speech, almost 
 childlike of glance. After a few minutes Welton rejoined 
 Bob. 
 
 "He's a square peg, all right," he muttered, more to him- 
 self than to his companion. "He's a good riverman, but 
 lie's no river boss. Too easy-going. Well, all he has to do 
 :is to direct the work, luckily. If anything really goes wrong, 
 Darrell would be down in two jumps." 
 
 "Grub pile!" remarked the cook conversationally. 
 
 The men seized the utensils from a heap of them, and began 
 to fill their plates from the kettles on the table. 
 
 "Come on, bub," said Welton, "dig in! It's a long time 
 till breakfast!" 
 
XIII 
 
 THE cook was early a foot next morning. Bob, restless 
 with the uneasiness of the first night out of doors, 
 saw the flicker of the fire against the tent canvas long 
 before the first signs of daylight. In fact, the gray had but 
 faintly lightened the velvet black of the night when the cook 
 thrust his head inside the big sleeping tents to utter a wild 
 yell of reveille. 
 
 The men stirred sleepily, stretched, yawned, finally kicked 
 aside their blankets. Bob stumbled into the outer air. The 
 chill of early morning struck into his bones. Teeth chat- 
 tering, he hurried to the river bank where he stripped and 
 splashed his body with the bracing water. Then he rubbed 
 down with the little towel Tommy Gould had allowed him. 
 The reaction in this chill air was slow in coming Bob 
 soon learned that the early cold bath out of doors is a super- 
 stition and he shivered from time to time as he propped 
 up his little mirror against a stump. Then he shaved, 
 anointing his face after the careful manner of college boys. 
 This satisfactorily completed, he fished in his duffle bag to 
 find his tooth brush and soap. His hair he arranged pains- 
 takingly with a pair of military brushes. He further mani- 
 pulated a nail-brush vigorously, and ended with manicuring 
 his nails. Then, clean, vigorous, fresh, but somewhat 
 chilly, he packed away I. : s toilet things and started for camp. 
 
 Whereupon, for the first time, he became aware of one of 
 the rivermen, pipe clenched between his teeth, watching 
 him sardonically. 
 
 Bob nodded, and made as though to pass. 
 
 "Oh, bub!" said the older man. 
 
 73 
 
74 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Bob stopped. 
 
 " Say," drawled the riverman, " air you as much trouble to 
 yourself every day as this?" 
 
 Bob laughed, and dove for camp. He found it practically 
 deserted. The men had eaten breakfast and departed for 
 work. Welton greeted him. 
 
 "Well, bub," said he, "didn't know but we'd lost you. 
 Feed your face, and we'll go upstream." 
 
 Bob ate rapidly. After breakfast Welton struck into a 
 well-trodden foot trail that led by a circuitous route up the 
 river bottom, over points of land, around swamps. Occa- 
 sionally it forked. Then, Welton explained, one fork was 
 always a short cut across a bend, while the other followed 
 accurately the extreme bank of the river. They took this 
 latter and longest trail, always, in order more closely to 
 examine the state of the drive. As they proceeded upstream 
 they came upon more and more logs, some floating free, more 
 stranded gently along the banks. After a time they encoun- 
 tered the first of the driving crew. This man was standing 
 on an extreme point, leaning on his peavy, watching the 
 timbers float past. Pretty soon several logs, held together 
 by natural cohesion, floated to the bend, hesitated, swung 
 slowly and stopped. Other logs, following, carromed gen- 
 tly against them and also came to rest. 
 
 Immediately the riverman made a flying leap to the nearest. 
 He hit it with a splash that threw the water high to either side, 
 immediately caught his equilibrium, and set to work with his 
 peavy. He seemed to know just where to bend his efforts. 
 Two, then three, logs, disentangled from the mass, floated 
 away. Finally, all moved slowly forward. The riverman 
 intent on his work, was swept from view. 
 
 "After he gets them to running free, he'll come ashore," 
 said Welton, in answer to Bob's query. "Oh, just paddle 
 ashore with his peavy. Then he'll come back up the trail. 
 This bend is liable to jam, and so we have to keep a man 
 here." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 75 
 
 They walked on and on, up the trail. Every once in a 
 while they came upon other members of the jam crew, 
 either watching, as was the first man, at some critical point, 
 or working in twos and threes to keep the reluctant timbers 
 always moving. At one place six or eight were picking 
 away busily at a jam that had formed bristling quite across 
 the river. Bob would have liked to stop to watch; but 
 Welton's practised eye saw nothing to it. 
 
 "They're down to the key log, now," he pronounced. 
 "They'll have it out in a jiffy." 
 
 Inside of two miles or so farther they left behind them 
 the last member of the jam crew and came upon an outlying 
 scout of the "rear." Then Wei ton began to take the shorter 
 trails. At the end of another half-hour the two plumped 
 into the full activity of the rear itself. 
 
 Bob saw two crews of men, one on either bank, busily 
 engaged in restoring to the current the logs stranded along 
 the shore. In some cases this merely meant pushing them 
 afloat by means of the peavies. Again, when the timbers 
 had gone hard aground, they had to be rolled over and over 
 until the deeper water caught them. In extreme cases, when 
 evidently the freshet water had dropped away from them, 
 leaving them high and dry, a number of men would clamp 
 on the jaws of their peavies and carry the logs bodily to the 
 water. In this active work the men were everywhere across 
 the surface of the river. They pushed and heaved from 
 the instability of the floating logs as easily as though they 
 had possessed beneath their feet the advantages of solid 
 land. When they wanted to go from one place to another 
 across the clear water they had various methods of propel- 
 ling themselves either broad on, by rolling the log treadwise, 
 or endways by paddling, or by jumping strongly on one end. 
 The logs dipped and bobbed and rolled beneath them; 
 the water flowed over their feet; but always they seemed 
 to maintain their balance unconsciously, and to give their 
 whole attention to the work in hand. They worked as far 
 
76 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 as possible from the decks of logs, but did not hesitate, 
 when necessary, to plunge even waist-deep into the icy cur- 
 rent. Behind them they left a clear river. 
 
 Like most exhibitions of superlative skill, all this would 
 have seemed to an uninitiated observer like Bob an easy task, 
 were it not for the misfortunes of one youth. That boy was 
 about half the time in the water. He could stand upright 
 on a log very well as long as he tried to do nothing else. This 
 partial skill undoubtedly had lured him to the drive. But 
 as soon as he tried to work, he was in trouble. The log 
 commenced to roll; he to struggle for his balance. It always 
 ended with a mighty splash and a shout of joy from every 
 one in sight, as the unfortunate youth soused in all over. 
 Then, after many efforts, he dragged himself out, his gar- 
 ments heavy and dripping, and cautiously tried to gain the 
 perpendicular. This ordinarily required several attempts, 
 each of which meant another ducking as the treacherous log 
 rolled at just the wrong instant. The boy was game, 
 though, and kept at it earnestly in spite of repeated failure. 
 
 Welton watched two repetitions of this performance. 
 
 "Dick!" he roared across the tumult of sound. 
 
 Roaring Dick, whose light, active figure had been seen 
 everywhere across the logs, looked up, recognized Welton, 
 and zigzagged skilfully ashore. He stamped the water 
 from his shoes. 
 
 "Why don't you fire that kid ashore?" demanded Welton. 
 "Do you want to drown him? He's so cold now he don't 
 know where's his feet?" 
 
 Roaring Dick glanced carelessly at the boy. The latter 
 had succeeded in gaining the shallows, where he was try- 
 ing to roll over a stranded log. His hands were purple and 
 swollen; his face puffed and blue; violent shivers shook him 
 from head to foot; his teeth actually chattered when, for a 
 moment, he relaxed his evident intention to stick it through 
 without making a sign. All his movements were slow and 
 awkward, and his dripping clothes clung tight to his body. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 77 
 
 "Oh, him!" said Roaring Dick in reply. "I didn't pay 
 no more attention to him than to one of these yere hell 
 divers. He ain't no good, so I clean overlooked him. Here, 
 you!" he cried suddenly. 
 
 The boy looked up, Bob saw him start convulsively, and 
 knew that he had met the impact of that peculiar dynamic 
 energy in Roaring Dick's nervous face. He clambered 
 laboriously from the shallows, the water draining from 
 the bottom of his "stagged" trousers. 
 
 "Get to camp," snapped Dick. "You're laid off." 
 
 " Why did you ever take such a man on in the first place ?" 
 asked Wei ton. 
 
 "He was here when I come," replied Roaring Dick, 
 indifferently, "and, anyway, he's bound he's goin to be a 
 river-hog. You couldn't keep him out with a fly-screen." 
 
 "How're things going?" inquired Welton. 
 
 "All right," said Roaring Dick. "This ain't no drive 
 to have things goin' wrong. A man could run a hand-organ, 
 a quiltin' party and this drive all to once and never drop a 
 stitch." 
 
 " How about old Murdock's dam ? Looks like he might 
 make trouble." 
 
 " Ain't got to old Murdock yet," said Roaring Dick. " When 
 we do, we'll trim his whiskers to pattern. Don't you worry 
 none about Murdock." 
 
 " I don't," laughed Welton. " But, Dick, what are all these 
 deadheads I see in the river? Our logs are all marked, 
 aren't they?" 
 
 "They's been some jobbing done way below our roll- 
 ways," said Roaring Dick, "and the mossbacks have been 
 taking 'em out long before our drive got this far. Them 
 few deadheads we've picked up along the line; mossbacks left 
 'em stranded. They ain't very many." 
 
 "I'll send up a marking hammer, and we'll brand them. 
 Finders keepers." 
 
 " Sure," said Roaring Dick. 
 
78 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 He nodded and ran out over the logs. The work leaped. 
 Wherever he went the men took hold as though reanimated 
 by an electric current. 
 
 "Dick's a driver," said Welton, reflectively, "and he gets out 
 the logs. But I'm scared he don't take this little job serious." 
 
 He looked out over the animated scene for a moment in 
 silence. Then he seemed suddenly to remember his com- 
 panion. 
 
 "Well, son," said he, "that's called 'sacking' the river. 
 The rear crew is the place of honour, let me tell you. The 
 old timers used to take a great pride in belonging to a crack 
 rear on a big drive. When you get one side of the river 
 working against the other, it's great fun. I've seen some 
 fine races in my day." 
 
 At this moment two men swung up the river trail, bend- 
 ing to the broad tump lines that crossed the tops of their 
 heads. These tump lines supported rather bulky wooden 
 boxes running the lengths of the men's backs. Arrived at the 
 rear, they deposited their burdens. One set to building a 
 fire; the other to unpacking from the boxes all the untensils 
 and receptacles of a hearty meal. The food was contained 
 in big lard tins. It was only necessary to re-heat it. In 
 ten minutes the usual call of "grub pile" rang out across the 
 river. The men came ashore. Each group of five or six built 
 its little fire. The wind sucked aloft these innumerable tiny 
 smokes, and scattered them in a thin mist through the trees. 
 
 Welton stayed to watch the sacking until after three 
 o'clock. Then he took up the river trail to the rear camp. 
 This Bob found to be much like the other, but larger. 
 
 "Ordinarily on drive we have a wanigan," said Welton. 
 "A wanigan's a big scow. It carries the camp and supplies 
 to follow the drive. Here we use teams; and it's some of a 
 job, let me tell you! The roads are bad, and sometimes it's a 
 long ways around. Hard sledding, isn't it Billy ? " he inquired 
 of the teamster, who was warming his hands by the fire. 
 
 "Well, I always get there," the latter replied with some 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 79 
 
 pride. "From the Little Fork here I only tipped over six 
 times, all told." 
 
 The cook, who had been listening near by, grunted. 
 
 "Only time I wasn't with you, Billy," said he; " that's 
 why you got the nerve to tell that!" 
 
 "It's a fact!" insisted the driver. 
 
 The young fellow who had been ordered off the river sat 
 alone by the drying-fire. Now that he had warmed up and 
 dried off, he was seen to be a rather good-looking boy, dark- 
 skinned, black-eyed, with overhanging, thick, straight brows, 
 like a line from temple to temple. These gave him either 
 the sullen, biding look of an Indian or an air of set deter- 
 mination, as the observer pleased. Just now he contemplated 
 the fire rather gloomily. 
 
 Welton sat down on the same log with him. 
 
 "Well, bub," said the old riverman good-naturedly, "so 
 you thought you'd like to be a riverman?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the boy, with a certain sullen reserve. 
 
 "Where did you think you learned to ride a log?" 
 
 "I've been around a little at the booms." 
 
 "I see. Well, it's a different proposition when you come 
 to working on 'em in fast water." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Where you from?" 
 
 " Down Greenville way." 
 
 "Farm?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Back to the farm now, eh?" 
 
 "I suppose so." 
 
 " Don't like the notion, eh?" 
 
 "No!" cried the boy, with a flash of passion. 
 
 " Still like to tackle the river?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the young fellow, again encased in his 
 sullen apathy. 
 
 "If I send you back to-morrow, would you like to tackle 
 it again?" 
 
8o THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Oh, yes!" said the boy eagerly. "I didn't have any 
 sort of a show when you saw me to-day! I can do a heap 
 better than that. I was froze through and couldn't handle 
 myself." 
 
 Welton grinned. 
 
 "What you so stuck on getting wet for?" he inquired. 
 
 "I dunno," replied the boy vaguely. "I just like the 
 woods." 
 
 "Well, I got no notion of drownding you off in the first 
 white water we come across," said Welton; "but I tell you 
 what to do: you wait around here a few days, helping the 
 cook or Billy there, and I'll take you down to the mill and 
 put you on the booms where you can practise in still water 
 with a pike-pole, and can go warm up in the engine room 
 when you fall off. Suit you ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir. Thank you," said the boy quietly; but there 
 was a warm glow in his eye. 
 
 By now it was nearly dark. 
 
 "Guess we'll bunk here tonight," Welton told Bob 
 casually. 
 
 Bob looked his dismay. 
 
 "Why, I left everything down at the other camp," he 
 cried, "even my tooth brush and hair brush!" 
 
 Welton looked at him comically. 
 
 "Me, too," said he. "We won't neither of us be near as 
 much trouble to ourselves to-morrow, will we?" 
 
 So he had overheard the riverman's remark that morning. 
 Bob laughed. 
 
 "That's right," approved Welton, "take it easy. Neces- 
 sities is a great comfort, but you can do without even them." 
 
 After supper all sprawled around a fire. Welton' s big 
 bulk extended in the acme of comfort. He puffed his pipe 
 straight up toward the stars, and swore gently from time to 
 time when the ashes dropped back into his eyes. 
 
 "Now that's a good kid," he said, waving a pipe toward 
 the other fire where the would-be riverman was helping wash 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 81 
 
 the dishes. "He'll never be a first-class riverman, but he's 
 a good kid." 
 
 "Why won't he make a good riverman?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Same reason you wouldn't," said Welton bluntly. "A 
 good white water man has to start younger. Besides, what's 
 the use? There won't be any rivermen ten year from now. 
 Say, you," he raised his voice peremptorily, "what do you 
 call yourself?" 
 
 The boy looked up startled, saw that he was indicated, 
 stammered, and caught his voice. 
 
 "John Harvey, sir," he replied. 
 
 " Son of old John who used to be on the Marquette back 
 in the seventies?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; I suppose so." 
 
 "He ought to be a good kid: he comes of good stock," 
 muttered Welton; "but he'll never be a riverman. No use 
 trying to shove that shape peg in a round hole!" 
 
XIV 
 
 NEAR noon of the following day a man came upstream 
 to report a jam beyond the powers of the outlying 
 rivermen. Roaring Dick, after a short absence for 
 examination, returned to call off the rear. All repaired 
 to the scene of obstruction. 
 
 Bob noticed the slack water a mile or so above the jam. 
 The river was quite covered with logs pressed tight against 
 each other by the force of the interrupted current, but still 
 floating. A little farther along the increasing pressure had 
 lifted some of them clear of the water. They upended 
 slightly, or lay in hollows between the others. Still farther 
 downstream the salient features of a jam multiplied. More 
 timbers stuck out at angles from the surface; some were even 
 lifted bodily. An abattis formed, menacing and formidable, 
 against which even the mighty dynamics of the river pushed 
 in vain. Then at last the little group arrived at the " breast" 
 itself a sullen and fearful tangle like a gigantic pile of 
 jackstraws. Beneath it the diminished river boiled out 
 angrily. By the very fact of its lessened volume Bob could 
 guess at the pressure above. Immediately the rivermen 
 ran out on this tangle, and, after a moment devoted to 
 inspection, set to work with their peavies. Bob started to 
 follow, but Welton held him back. 
 
 "It's dangerous for a man not used to it. The jam may 
 go out at any time, and when she goes, she goes sky-hooting." 
 
 But in the event his precaution turned out useless. All 
 day the men rolled logs into the current below the dam. 
 The click! clank! clank! of their peavies sounded like the 
 valves of some great engine, so regular was the periodicity 
 
 82 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 83 
 
 of their metallic recurrence. They made quite a hole in the 
 breast; and several times the jam shrugged, creaked and 
 settled, but always to a more solid look. Billy, the team- 
 ster, brought down his horses. By means of long blocks 
 and tackle they set to yanking out logs from certain places 
 specified by Roaring Dick. Still the jam proved obstinate. 
 
 "I hate to do it," said Roaring Dick to Welton; "but it's 
 a case of powder." 
 
 "Tie into it," agreed Welton. "What's a few smashed 
 logs compared to hanging the drive?" 
 
 Dick nodded. He picked up a little canvas lunch bag 
 from a stump where, earlier in the day, he had hung it, and 
 from it extracted several sticks of giant powder, a length of 
 fuse and several caps. These he prepared. Then he and 
 Welton walked out over the jam, examining it carefully, 
 and consulting together at length. Finally Roaring Dick 
 placed his charge far down in the interstices, lit the fuse 
 and walked calmly ashore. The men leisurely placed them- 
 selves out of harm's way. Welton joined Bob behind a big 
 burned stub. 
 
 "Will that start her sure?", asked Bob. 
 
 "Depends on whether we guessed right on the key log," 
 said Welton. 
 
 A great roar shook the atmosphere. Straight up into the 
 air spurted the cloud of the explosion. Through the white 
 smoke Bob could see the flame and four or five big logs, 
 like upleaping, dim giants. Then he dodged back from the 
 rain of bark and splinters. 
 
 The immediate effect on the jam was not apparent. It 
 fell forward into the opening made by the explosion, and a 
 light but perceptible movement ran through the waiting 
 timbers up the river. But the men, running out immediately, 
 soon made it evident that the desired result had been attained. 
 Their efforts now seemed to gain definite effects. An uneasi- 
 ness ran through the hitherto solid structure of the jam. 
 1'imbers changed position. Sometimes the whole river 
 
84 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 seemed to start forward a foot or so, but before the eye could 
 catch the motion, it had again frozen to immobility. 
 
 "That fetched the key logs, all right," said Welton, watch- 
 ing. 
 
 Then all at once about half the breast of the jam fell for- 
 ward into the stream. Bob uttered an involuntary cry. But 
 the practised rivermen must have foreseen this, for none 
 was caught. At once the other logs at the breast began 
 to topple of their own accord into the stream. The splashes 
 threw the water high like the explosions of shells, and the 
 thundering of the falling and grinding timbers resembled the 
 roar of artillery. The pattern of the river changed, at first 
 almost imperceptibly, then more and more rapidly. The 
 logs in the centre thrust forward, those on the wings hung 
 back. Near the head of the jam the men worked like 
 demons. Wherever the timbers caught or hesitated for a 
 moment in their slow crushing forward, there a dozen men 
 leaped savagely, to jerk, heave and pry with their heavy 
 peavies. Continually under them the footing shifted; sullen 
 logs menaced them with crushing or complete engulfment 
 in their grinding mill. Seemingly they paid no attention to 
 this, but gave all their energies to the work. In reality, 
 whether from calculation or merely from the instinct that 
 grows out of long experience, they must have pre-estimated 
 every chance. 
 
 " What bully team work! " cried Bob, stirred to enthusiasm. 
 
 Now the motion quickened. The centre of the river 
 rushed forward; the wings sucked in after from either side. 
 A roar and battling of timbers, jets of spray, the smoke of 
 waters filled the air. Quite coolly the rivermen made their 
 way ashore, their peavies held like balancing poles across 
 their bodies. Under their feet the logs heaved, sank, 
 ground together, tossed above the hurrying under-mass, 
 tumultuous as a close-packed drove of wild horses. The 
 rivermen rode them easily. For an appreciable time one 
 man perched on a stable timber watching keenly ahead. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 85 
 
 Then quite coolly he leaped, made a dozen rapid zigzag steps 
 forward, and stopped. The log he had quitted dropped 
 sullenly from sight, and two closed, grinding, where it had 
 been. In twenty seconds every man was safely ashore. 
 
 The river caught its speed. Hurried on by the pressure 
 of water long (lammed back, the logs tumbled forward. 
 Rank after rank they swept past, while the rivermen, lean- 
 ing on the shafts of their peavies, passed them in review. 
 
 "That was luck," Welton's voice broke in on Bob's con- 
 templation. "It's just getting dark. Couldn't have done 
 it without the dynamite. It splinters up a little timber, 
 but we save money, even at that." 
 
 "Billy doesn't carry that with the other supplies, does he?' 
 asked Bob. 
 
 "Sure," said Welton; "rolls it up in the bedding, ot 
 something. Well, John Harvey, Junior," said he to that 
 youth, "what do you think of it? A little different driving 
 this white water than pushing logs with a pike pole down a 
 slack-water river like the Green, hey?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," the boy nodded out of his Indian stolidity. 
 
 "You see now why a man has to start young to be a river- 
 man," Welton told Bob, as they bent their steps toward camp. 
 "Poor little John Harvey out on that jam when she broke 
 would have stood about as much chance as a beetle at a 
 woodpecker prayer meeting." 
 
XV 
 
 TWO days later Welton returned to the mill. At his 
 suggestion Bob stayed with the drive. He took 
 his place quietly as a visitor, had the good sense to 
 be unobtrusive, and so was tolerated by the men. That is 
 to say, he sat at the camp fires practically unnoticed, and the 
 rivermen talked as though he were not there. When he 
 addressed any of them they answered him with entire good 
 humour, but ordinarily they paid no more attention to him 
 than they did to the trees and bushes that chanced to sur- 
 round the camp. 
 
 The drive moved forward slowly. Sometimes Billy 
 packed up every day to set forth on one of his highly adven- 
 turous drives; again camp stayed for some time in the same 
 place. Bob amused himself tramping up and down the 
 river, reviewing the operations. Occasionally Roaring Dick, 
 in his capacity of river boss, accompanied the young fellow. 
 Why, Bob could not imagine, for the alert, self-contained 
 little riverman trudged along in almost entire silence, his 
 keen chipmunk eyes spying restlessly on all there was to 
 be seen. When Bob ventured a remark or comment, he 
 answered by a grunt or a monosyllable. The grunt or the 
 monosyllable was never sullen or hostile or contemptuous; 
 merely indifferent. Bob learned to economize speech, and 
 so got along well with his strange companion. 
 
 By the end of the week the drive entered a cleared farm 
 country. The cultivation was crude and the clearing par- 
 tial. Low-wooded hills dotted with stumps of the old forest 
 alternated with willow-grown bottom-lands and dense 
 swamps. The farmers lived for the most part in slab or log 
 
 86 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 87 
 
 houses earthed against the winter cold. Fences were of split 
 rails laid "snake fashion." Ploughing had to be in and out 
 between the blackened stumps on the tops of which were 
 piled the loose rocks picked from the soil as the share turned 
 them up. Long, unimproved roads wandered over the hills, 
 following roughly the section lines, but perfectly willing to 
 turn aside through some man's field in order to avoid a 
 steep grade or soft going. These things the rivermen saw 
 from their stream exactly as a trainman would see them from 
 his right-of-way. The river was the highway, and rarely 
 was it considered worth while to climb the low bluffs out of 
 the bottom-land through which it flowed. 
 
 In the long run it landed them in a town named Twin 
 Falls. Here were a water-power dam and some small manu- 
 factories. Here, too, were saloons and other temptations for 
 rivermen. Camp was made above town. In the evening 
 the men, with but few exceptions, turned in to the sleeping 
 tent at the usual hour. Bob was much surprised at this; 
 but later he came to recognize it as part of a riverman's pecu- 
 liar code. Until the drive should be down, he did not feel 
 himself privileged to "blow off steam. " Even the excep- 
 tions did not get so drunk they could not show up the follow- 
 ing morning to take a share in sluicing the drive through the 
 dam. 
 
 All but Roaring Dick. The latter did not appear at all, 
 and was reported "drunk a-plenty" by some one who had 
 seen him early that morning. Evidently the river boss did 
 not "take this drive serious." His absence seemed to make 
 no difference. The sluicing went forward methodically. 
 
 "He'll show up hi a day or two," said the cook with entire 
 indifference, when Bob inquired of him. 
 
 That evening, however, four or five of the men disappeared, 
 and did not return. Such was the effect of an evil example 
 on the part of the foreman. Larsen took charge. In 
 almost unbroken series the logs shot through the sluiceways 
 into the river below, where they were received by the jam 
 
88 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 crew and started on the next stage of their long journey to the 
 mills. In a day the dam was passed. One of the younger 
 men rode the last log through the sluiceway, standing upright 
 as it darted down the chute into the eddy below. The 
 crowd of townspeople cheered. The boy waved his hat and 
 birled the log until the spray flew. 
 
 But hardly was camp pitched two miles below town when 
 one of the jam crew came upstream to report a difficulty. 
 Larsen at once made ready to accompany him down the river 
 trail, and Bob, out of curiosity, went along, too. 
 
 "It's mossbacks," the messenger explained, "and them 
 deadheads we been carrying along. They've rigged up a 
 little sawmill down there, where they're cutting what the 
 farmers haul in to 'em. And then, besides, they've planted 
 a bunch of piles right out in the middle of the stream and 
 boomed in their side, and they're out there with pike-poles, 
 nailin' onto every stick of deadhead that comes along." 
 
 "Well, that's all right," said Larsen. "I guess they got 
 a right to them as long as we ain't marked them." 
 
 "They can have their deadheads," agreed the riverman, 
 "but their piles have jammed our drive and hung her." 
 
 "We'll break the jam," said Larsen. 
 
 Arrived at the scene of difficulty, Bob looked about him 
 with great interest. The jam was apparently locked hard 
 and fast against a clump of piles driven about in the centre of 
 the stream. These had evidently been planted as the ex- 
 treme outwork of a long shunting boom. Men working there 
 could shunt into the sawmill enclosure that portion of the 
 drive to which they could lay claim. The remainder could 
 proceed down the open channel to the left. That was the 
 theory. Unfortunately, this division of the river's width 
 so congested matters that the whole drive had hung. 
 
 The jam crew were at work, but even Bob's unpractised 
 eye saw that their task was stupendous. Even should they 
 succeed in loosening the breast, there could be no reason to 
 suppose the performance would not have to be repeated 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 89 
 
 over and over again as the close-ranked drive came against 
 the obstacle. 
 
 Larsen took one look, then made his way across to the 
 other side and down to the mill. Bob followed. The little 
 sawmill was going full blast under the handling of three men 
 and a boy. Everything was done in the most primitive 
 manner, by main strength, awkwardness, and old-fashioned 
 tools. 
 
 "Who's boss?" yelled Larsen against the clang of the 
 mill. 
 
 A slow, black-bearded man stepped forward. 
 
 "What can I do for you?" he asked. 
 
 "Our drive's hung up against your boom," yelled Larsen. 
 
 The man raised his hand and the machinery was suddenly 
 stilled. 
 
 "So I perceive," said he. 
 
 "Your boom-piles are drove too far out in the stream." 
 
 "I don't know about that," objected the mossback. 
 
 "I do," insisted Larsen. "Nobody on earth could keep 
 from jamming, the way you got things fixed." 
 
 "That's none of my business," said the man steadily. 
 
 "Well, we'll have to take out that fur clump of piles to 
 get our jam broke." 
 
 " I don't know about that," repeated the man. 
 
 Larsen apparently paid no attention to this last remark, 
 but tramped back to the jam. There he ordered a couple of 
 men out with axes, and others with tackle. But at that 
 moment the three men and the boy appeared. They car- 
 ried three shotguns and a rifle. 
 
 "That's about enough of that," said the bearded man, 
 quietly. "You let my property alone. I don't want any 
 trouble with you men, but I'll blow hell out of the first man 
 that touches those piles. I've had about enough of this river- 
 hog monkey-work." 
 
 He looked as though he meant business, as did his com- 
 panions. When the river men drew back, he took his position 
 
go THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 atop the disputed clump of piles, his shotgun across his 
 knees. 
 
 The driving crew retreated ashore. Larsen was plainly 
 uncertain. 
 
 "I tell you, boys," said he, "I'll get back to town. You 
 wait." 
 
 " Guess I'll go along," suggested Bob, determined to miss 
 no phase of this new species of warfare. 
 
 " What you going to do ?" he asked Larsen when they were 
 once on the trail. 
 
 "I don't know," confessed the older man, rubbing his cap. 
 "I'm just goin' to see some lawyer, and then I'm goin' to 
 telegraph the Company. I wish Darrell was in charge. I 
 don't know what to do. You can't expect those boys to run 
 a chance of gittin' a hole in 'em." 
 
 "Do you believe they'd shoot?" asked Bob. 
 
 "I believe so. It's a long chance, anyhow." 
 
 But in Twin Falls they received scant sympathy and 
 encouragement. The place was distinctly bucolic, and as 
 such opposed instinctively to larger mills, big millmen, lum- 
 ber, lumbermen and all pertaining thereunto. They tolerated 
 the drive because, in the first place they had to; and in the 
 second place there was some slight profit to be made. But 
 the rough rivermen antagonized them, and they were never 
 averse to seeing these buccaneers of the streams in diffi- 
 culties. Then, too, by chance the country lawyers Larsen 
 consulted happened to be attorneys for the little sawmill 
 men. Larsen tried in his blundering way to express his 
 feeling that "nobody had a right to hang our drive." His 
 explanations were so involved and futile that, without think- 
 ing, Bob struck in. 
 
 "Surely these men have no right to obstruct as they do. 
 Isn't there some law against interfering with navigation?" 
 
 "The stream is not navigable," returned the lawyer curtly. 
 
 Bob's memory vouchsafed a confused recollection of some- 
 thing read sometime, somewhere. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 91 
 
 "Hasn't a stream been declared navigable when logs can 
 be driven in it?" he asked. 
 
 "Are you in charge of this drive?" the lawyer asked, 
 turning on him sharply. 
 
 "Why no," confessed Bob. 
 
 "Have you anything to do with this question?" 
 
 "I don't believe I have." 
 
 " Then I fail to see why I should answer your questions," 
 said the lawyer, with finality. "As to your question," he 
 went on to Larsen with equal coldness, "if you have any 
 doubts as to Mr. Murdock's rights in the stream, you have 
 the recourse of a suit at law to settle that point, and to deter- 
 mine the damages, if any." 
 
 Bob found himself in the street with Larsen. 
 
 " But they haven't got no right to stop our drive dead that 
 way," expostulated the old man. 
 
 Bob's temper was somewhat ruffled by his treatment at the 
 hands of the lawyer. 
 
 "Well, they've done it, whether they have the right to 
 or not," he said shortly; "what next?" 
 
 "I guess I'll telegraph Mr. Welton," said Larsen. 
 
 He did so. The two returned to camp. The rivermen 
 were loafing in camp awaiting Larsen's reappearance. The 
 jam was as before. Larsen walked out on the logs. The 
 boy, seated on the clump of piles, gave a shrill whistle. 
 Immediately from the little mill appeared the brown- 
 bearded man and his two companions. They picked their 
 way across the jam to the piles, where they roosted, their 
 weapons across their knees, until Larsen had returned to 
 the other bank. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Welton ought to be up in a couple of days, 
 if he ain't up the main river somewheres," said Larsen. 
 
 "Aren't you going to do anything in the meantime?'* 
 asked Bob. 
 
 "What can I do?" countered Larsen. 
 
 The crew had nothing to say one way or the other, but 
 
92 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 watched with a cynical amusement the progress of affairs. 
 They smoked, and spat, and squatted on their heels in the 
 Indian taciturnity of their kind when for some reason they 
 withhold their approval. That evening, however, Bob hap- 
 pened to be lying at the campnre next two of the older men. 
 As usual, he smoked in unobtrusive silence, content to be 
 ignored if only the men would act in their accustomed way, 
 and not as before a stranger. 
 
 "Wait; hell!" said one of the men to the other. "Times 
 is certainly gone wrong! If they had anything like an old- 
 time river boss in charge, they'd come the Jack Orde on this 
 lay-out." 
 
 Bob pricked up his ears at this mention of his father's 
 name. 
 
 "What's that? "he asked. 
 
 The riverman rolled over and examined him dispassion- 
 ately for a few moments. 
 
 "Jack Orde," he deigned to explain at last, "was a river- 
 man. He was a good one. He used to run the drive in the 
 Redding country. When he started to take out logs, he took 
 'em out, by God! I've heard him often: ' Get your logs out 
 first, and pay the damage afterward,' says he. He was 
 a holy terror. They got the state troops out after him once. 
 It came to be a sort of by-word. When you generally gouge, 
 kick and sandbag a man into bein' real good, why we say you 
 come the Jack Orde on him." 
 
 "I see," said Bob, vastly amused at this sidelight on the 
 family reputation. " What would you do here ? " 
 
 "I don't know," replied the riverman, "but I wouldn't 
 lay around and wait." 
 
 "Why don't some of you fellows go out there and storm 
 the fort, if you feel that way?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Why?" demanded the riverman, "I won't let any boss 
 stump me; but why in hell should I go out and get my hide 
 full of birdshot? If this outfit don't know enough to get its 
 drive down, that ain't my fault." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 93 
 
 Bob had seen enough of the breed to recognize this as an 
 eminently characteristic attitude. 
 
 "Well," he remarked comfortably, "somebody'll be down 
 from the mill soon." 
 
 The riverman turned on him almost savagely. 
 
 "Down soon!" he snorted. "So'll the water be 'down 
 soon.' It's dropping every minute. That telegraft of yours 
 won't even start out before to-morrow morning. Don't you 
 fool yourself. That Twin Falls outfit is just too tickled to 
 do us up. It'll be two days before anybody shows up, and 
 then where are you at ? Hell!" and the old riverman relapsed 
 into a disgusted silence. 
 
 Considerably perturbed, Bob hunted up Larsen. 
 
 " Look here, Larsen," said he, " they tell me a delay here is 
 likely to hang up this drive. Is that right?" 
 
 The old man looked at his interlocutor, his brow wrinkled. 
 
 "I wish Darrell was in charge," said he. 
 
 "What would Darrell do that you can't do?" demanded 
 Bob bluntly. 
 
 "That's just it; I don't know," confessed Larsen. 
 
 "Well, I'd get some weapons up town and drive that gang 
 off," said Bob heatedly. 
 
 "They'd have a posse down and jug the lot of us," Larsen 
 pointed out, "before we could clear the river." He suddenly 
 flared up. " I ain't no river boss, and I ain't paid as a river 
 boss, and I never claimed to be one. Why in hell don't they 
 keep their men in charge?" 
 
 "You're working for the company, and you ought to do 
 your best for them/' said Bob. 
 
 But Larsen had abruptly fallen into Scandinavian sulks. 
 He muttered something under his breath, and quite deliber- 
 ately arose and walked around to the other side of the fire. 
 
 Twice during the night Bob arose from his blankets and 
 walked down to the riverside. In the clear moonlight he 
 could see one or the other of the millmen always on watch, 
 his shotgun across his knees. Evidently they did not intend 
 
94 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 to be surprised by any night work. The young fellow returned 
 very thoughtful to his blankets, where he lay staring up 
 against the canvas of the tent. 
 
 Next morning he was up early, and in close consultation 
 with Billy the teamster. The latter listened attentively to 
 what Bob had to say, nodding his head from time to time. 
 Then the two disappeared in the direction of the wagon, 
 where for a long interval they busied themselves at some 
 mysterious operation. 
 
 When they finally emerged from the bushes, Bob was carry- 
 ing over his shoulder a ten-foot poplar sapling around the 
 end of which was fastened a cylindrical bundle of consid- 
 erable size. Bob paid no attention to the men about the fire, 
 but bent his steps toward the river. Billy, however, said a 
 few delighted words to the sprawling group. It arose with 
 alacrity and followed the young man' lead. 
 
 Arrived at the bank of the rivet, Bob swung his burden 
 to the ground, knelt by it, and lit a match. The rivermen, 
 gathering close, saw that the bundle around the end of the 
 sapling consisted of a dozen rolls of giant powder from which 
 dangled a short fuse. Bob touched his match to the split 
 outer end of the fuse. It spluttered viciously. He arose 
 with great deliberation, picked up his strange weapon, and 
 advanced out over the logs. 
 
 In the meantime the opposing army had gathered about 
 the disputed clump of piles, to the full strength of its three 
 shotguns and the single rifle. Bob paid absolutely no atten- 
 tion to them. When within a short distance he stopped 
 and, quite oblivious to warnings and threats from the army, 
 set himself to watching painstakingly the sputtering pro- 
 gress of the fire up the fuse, exactly as a small boy watches 
 his giant cracker which he hopes to explode in mid-air. At 
 what he considered the proper moment he straightened 
 his powerful young body, and cast the sapling from him, 
 javelin- wise. 
 
 "Scat!" he shouted, and scrambled madly for cover. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 95 
 
 The army decamped in haste. Of its armament it lost 
 near fifty per cent., for one shotgun and the rifle remained 
 where they had fallen. Like Abou Ben Adam, Murdock led 
 all the rest. 
 
 Now Bob had hurled his weapon as hard as he knew how, 
 and had scampered for safety without looking to see where it 
 had fallen. As a matter of fact, by one of those very lucky 
 accidents, that often attend a star in the ascendent, the sap- 
 ling dove head on into a cavern in the jam above the clump 
 of piles. The detonation of the twelve full sticks of giant 
 powder was terrific. Half the river leaped into the air in a 
 beautiful column of water and spray that seemed to hang 
 motionless for appreciable moments. Dark fragments of 
 timbers were hurled in all directions. When the row had 
 died the clump of piles was seen to have disappeared. Bob's 
 chance shot had actually cleared the river! 
 
 The rivermen glanced at each other amazedly. 
 
 "Did you mean to place that charge, bub?" one asked. 
 
 Bob was too good a field general not to welcome the gifts 
 of chance. 
 
 " Certainly," he snapped. "Now get out on that river, 
 every mother's son of you. Get that drive going and keep 
 it going. I've cleared the river for you; and if you'd any one 
 of you h/d the nerve of my poor old fat sub-centre, you'd 
 have done it for yourselves. Get busy! Hop!" 
 
 The men jumped for their peavies. Bob raged up and 
 down the bank. For the moment he had forgotten the husk 
 of the situation, and saw it only in essential. Here was a 
 squad to lick into shape, to fashion into a team. It mattered 
 little that they wore spikes in their boots instead of cleats; 
 that they sported little felt hats instead of head guards. The 
 principle was the same. The team had gone to pieces in the 
 face of a crisis; discipline was relaxed; grumblers were get- 
 ting noisy. Bob plunged joyously head over ears in his task. 
 By now he knew every man by name, and he addressed each 
 personally. He had no idea of what was to be done to start 
 
96 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 this riverful of logs smoothly and surely on its way; he did 
 not need to. Afloat on the river was technical knowledge 
 enough, and to spare. Bob threw his men at the logs as he 
 used to throw his backs at the opposing line. And they went. 
 Even in the whole-souled, frantic absorption of the good 
 coach he found time to wonder at the likeness of all men. 
 These rivermen differed in no essential from the members of 
 the squad. They responded to the same authority; they 
 could be hurled as a unit against opposing obstacles. 
 
 Bob felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and whirled to stare 
 straight into the bloodshot eyes of Roaring Dick. The man 
 was still drunk, but only with the lees of the debauch. He 
 knew perfectly what he was about, but the bad whiskey still 
 hummed through his head. Bob met the baleful glare from 
 under his square brows, as the man teetered back and forth 
 on his heels. 
 
 "You got a hell of a nerve!" said Roaring Dick, thickly. 
 "You talk like you was boss of this river." 
 
 Bob looked back*at him steadily for a full half-minute. 
 
 "lam," said he at last. 
 
XVI 
 
 R DARING Dick had not been brought up in the knowl- 
 edge of protocols or ultimatums. Scarcely had Bob 
 uttered the last words of his brief speech before he 
 was hit twice in the face, good smashing blows that sent him 
 staggering. The blows were followed by a savage rush, 
 Roaring Dick was on his man with the quickness and fero- 
 city of a wildcat. He hit, kicked, wrestled, even bit. Bob 
 was whirled back by the very impetuosity of the attack. 
 Before he could collect his wits he was badly punished and 
 dazed. He tripped and Roaring Dick, with a bellow oi 
 satisfaction, began to kick at his body even before he reached 
 the ground. 
 
 But strangely enough this fall served to clear Bob's head. 
 Thousands of times he had gone down just like this on the 
 football field, and had then been called upon to struggle on 
 with the ball as far as he was able. A slight hint of the 
 accustomed will sometimes steady us in the most difficult 
 positions. The mind, bumping aimlessly, falls into its 
 groove, and instinctively shoots forward with tremendous 
 velocity. Bob hit the ground, half turned on his shoulder, 
 rolled over twice with the rapid, vigorous twist second- 
 nature to a seasoned halfback, and bounded to his feet. 
 He met Roaring Dick half way with a straight blow. It 
 failed to stop, or even to shake the little riverman. The 
 next instant the men were wrestling fiercely. 
 
 Bob found himself surprisingly opposed. Beneath his 
 loose, soft clothing the riverman seemed to be made of 
 steel. Suddenly Bob was called upon to exert every ounce of 
 strength in his body, and to summon all his acquired skill 
 
 97 
 
98 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 to prevent himself from being ignominiously overpowered. 
 The ferocity of the rush, and the purposeful rapidity of 
 Roaring Dick's attack, as well as the unexpected variety 
 thereof, kept him fully occupied in defending himself. With 
 the exception of the single blow delivered when he had 
 regained his feet, he had been unable even to attempt aggres- 
 sion. It was as though he had touched a button to release 
 an astonishing and bewildering erratic energy. 
 
 Bob had done a great deal of boxing and considerable 
 wrestling. During his boyhood and youth he had even 
 become involved in several fisticuffs. They had always 
 been with the boys or young men of his own ideas. Though 
 conducted in anger they retained still a certain remnant 
 of convention. No matter how much you wanted to "do" 
 the other fellow, you tried to accomplish that result by hit- 
 ting cleanly, or by wrestling him to a point where you could 
 "punch his face in." The object was to hurt your oppo- 
 nent until he had had enough, until he was willing to quit, 
 until he had been thoroughly impressed with the fact that 
 he was punished. But this result was to be accomplished 
 with the fists. If your opponent seized a club, or a stone, 
 or tried to kick, that very act indicated his defeat. He 
 had had enough, and that was one way of acknowledging 
 your superiority. So strongly ingrained had this instinct 
 of the fight-convention become that even now Bob uncon- 
 sciously was playing according to the rules of the game. 
 
 Roaring Dick, on the contrary, was out solely for results. 
 He fought with every resource at his command. Bob was 
 slow to realize this, slow to arouse himself beyond the point 
 of calculated defence. His whole training on the field 
 inclined him to keep cool and to play, whatever the game, 
 from a reasoning standpoint. He was young, strong and 
 practised; but he was not roused above the normal. And, 
 as many rivermen had good reason to know, the nor- 
 mal man availed little against Roaring Dick's maniacal 
 rushes. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 99 
 
 The men were close -locked, and tugging and straining 
 for an advantage. Bob crouched lower and lower with a 
 well-defined notion of getting a twist on his opponent. For 
 an instant he partially freed one side. Like lightning 
 Roaring Dick delivered a fierce straight kick at his groin. 
 The blow missed its aim, but Bob felt the long, sharp spikes 
 tearing the flesh of his thigh. Sheer surprise relaxed his 
 muscles for the fraction of an instant. Roaring Dick low- 
 ered his head, rammed it into Bob's chin, and at the same 
 time reached for the young man's gullet with both hands. 
 Bob tore his head out of reach in the nick of time. As 
 they closed again Roaring Dick's right hand was free. 
 Bob felt the riverman's thumb fumbling for his eyeball. 
 
 "Why, he wants to cripple me, to kill me!" the young 
 man cried to himself. So vivid was the astonishment of 
 this revelation to his sportsman's soul that he believed he 
 had said it aloud. This was no mere fight, it was a com- 
 bat. In modern civilized conditions combats are notably 
 few and far between. It is difficult for the average man 
 to come to a realization that he must in any circumstances 
 depend on himself for the preservation of his life. Even 
 to the last moment the victim of the real melodrama that 
 occasionally breaks out in the most unlikely places is likely 
 to be more concerned with his outraged dignity than with 
 his peril. That thumb, feeling eagerly for his eye-socket, 
 woke Bob to a new world. A swift anger rushed over him 
 like a hot wave. 
 
 This man was trying to injure him. Either the kick or 
 the gouge would have left him maimed for life. A sudden 
 fierce desire to beat his opponent into the earth seized Bob. 
 With a single effort he wrenched his arms free. 
 
 Now this fact has been noted again and again: mere 
 size has often little to do with a man's physical prowess. 
 The list of anecdotes wherein the little fellow "puts it all 
 over" the big bully is exceptionally long. Nor are more 
 than a bare majority of the anecdotes baseless. In our 
 
ioo THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 own lumber woods a one-hundred-and-thirty-pound man 
 with no other weapon than his two hands once nearly killed 
 a two-hundred-pound blacksmith for pushing him off a 
 bench. This phenomenon arises from the fact that the 
 little man seems capable often of releasing at will a greater 
 flood of dynamic energy than a big man. We express this 
 by saying that it is the spirit that counts. As a matter of 
 truth the big man may have as much courage as the little 
 man. It is simply that he cannot, at will, tap as quickly 
 the vast reservoir of nervous energy that lies beneath all 
 human effort of any kind whatsoever. He cannot arouse 
 himself as can the little man. 
 
 It was for the foregoing reason that Roaring Dick had 
 acquired his ascendancy. He possessed the temperament 
 that fuses. When he fought, he fought with the ferocity 
 and concentration of a wild beast. This concentration, 
 this power of fusing to white heat all the powers of a man's 
 being down to the uttermost, this instinctive ability to tap 
 the extra-human stores of dynamics is what constitutes the 
 temperament of genius, whether it be applied to invention, 
 to artistic creation, to ruling, to finance, or merely to beat- 
 ing down personal opposition by beating in the opponent's 
 face. Unfortunately for him, Bob Orde happened also to 
 possess the temperament of genius. The two foul blows 
 aroused him. All at once he became blind to everything 
 but an unreasoning desire to hurt this man who had tried 
 to hurt him. On the side of dynamics the combat suddenly 
 equalized. It became a question merely of relative power, 
 and Bob was the bigger man. 
 
 Bob threw his man from him by main strength. Roar- 
 ing Dick staggered back, only to carrom against a tree. 
 A dozen swift, straight blows in the face drove him by the 
 sheer force of them. He was smothered, overwhelmed, by 
 the young man's superior size. Bob fell upon him 
 savagely. In less than a minute the fight was over as far as 
 Roaring Dick was concerned. Blinded, utterly winded, his 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 101 
 
 whiskey-driven energies drained away, he fell like a log. 
 Bob, still blazing, found himself without an opponent. 
 
 He glared about hm\. The rp*ermer>. were gathered in 
 a silent ring. Just beyond stood a side-bar buggy in which 
 a burly, sodden red-faced man stood up the better to see. 
 Bob recognized him as one of the saloon keepers at Twin 
 Falls, and his white-hot brain jumped to the correct con- 
 clusion that Roaring Dick, driven by some vague conscience- 
 stirring in regard to his work, had insisted on going down 
 river; and that this dive-keeper, loth to lose a profitable 
 customer in the dull season, had offered transportation in 
 the hopeful probability that he could induce the riverman to 
 return with him. Bob stooped, lifted his unconscious oppo- 
 nent, strode to the side-bar buggy and unceremoniously 
 dumped his burden therein. 
 
 "Now," said he roughly, "get out of here! When this 
 man comes to, you tell him he's fired! He's not to show 
 his face on this river again!" 
 
 The saloon-keeper demurred, blustering slightly after the 
 time-tried manner of his sort. 
 
 "Look here, young fellow, you can't talk that way to me." 
 
 "Can't I!" snapped Bob; "well, you turn around and 
 get out of here." 
 
 The man met full the blaze of the extra-normal powers 
 not yet fallen below the barrier in the young fellow's per- 
 sonality. He gathered up the reins and drove away. 
 
 Bob watched him out of sight, his chest rising and fall- 
 ing with the receding waves of his passion. He was a 
 strange young figure with his torn garments, his tossed hair, 
 the streak of blood beneath his eye, and the inner fading 
 glow of his face. At last he drew a long, shuddering breath, 
 and turned to the expectant and silent group of rivermen. 
 
 "Boys," said he pleasantly, "I don't know one damn 
 thing about river-driving, but I do know when a man's 
 doing his best work. I shall expect you fellows to get in 
 and rustle down those logs. Any man who thinks he's 
 
102 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 going to soldier on me is going to get fooled, and he's going 
 to get his time handed put to him on the spot. As near as 
 I can make, oat, unisss we get <ar. everlasting wiggle on us 
 every one of us this drive'll hang up; and I'd just as 
 soon hang it by laying off those who try to shirk as by letting 
 you hang it by not working your best. So get busy. If 
 anybody wants to quit, let 'em step up right now. Any 
 remarks?" He looked from one to another. 
 
 "Nary remark," said one man at last. 
 
 " All right. Now get your backs into this. It's team work 
 that counts. You've each got your choice; either you can 
 lie like the devil to hide the fact that you were a member 
 of the Cedar Branch crew in 1899, or you can go away and 
 brag about it. It's up to you. Get busy." 
 
XVII 
 
 TWO days later Welton swung from the train at Twin 
 Falls. His red, jolly face was as quizzical as ever, 
 but one who knew him might have noticed that his 
 usual leisurely movements had quickened. He walked 
 rapidly to the livery stable where he ordered a rig. 
 
 "Where's the drive, Hank?" he asked the livery- 
 man. 
 
 " Search me!" was his reply; "somewhere down river. 
 Old Murdock is up talkin' wild about damage suits, and 
 there's evidently been one hell of a row, but I just got back 
 myself from drivin' a drummer over to Watsonville." 
 
 "Know if Darrell is in town?" 
 
 "Oh, he's in town; there ain't no manner of doubt as to 
 that." 
 
 "Drunk, eh?" 
 
 " Spifflicated, pie-eyed, loaded, soshed," agreed the livery- 
 man succinctly. 
 
 Welton shook his head humorously and ruefully. 
 
 "Say, Welton," demanded the liveryman with the easy 
 familiarity of his class, "why in blazes do you put a plain 
 drunk like that in charge ?" 
 
 "Darrell is a good man on a big job," said Welton; "you 
 can't beat him, and you can't get him to take a drink. But 
 it takes a big job to steady him." 
 
 " Well, I'd fire him," stated Hank positively. 
 
 "He's already fired," spoke up a hostler, "they laid him 
 off two days ago when he went down drunk and tried to 
 take charge." 
 
 "Well, now," chuckled Welton, as he gathered up the 
 
104 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 reins, "who'd have thought old Larsen could scare up the 
 spunk !" 
 
 He drove down the river road. When he came to a point 
 opposite Murdock's he drew up. 
 
 " That wire said that Murdock had the river blocked," 
 he mused, "but she's certainly flowing free enough now. 
 The river's sacked clean now." 
 
 His presence on the bank had attracted the attention of 
 a man in the mill. After a long scrutiny, this individual 
 launched a skiff and pulled across the stream. 
 
 " I thought it was you," he cried as soon as he had stepped 
 ashore. "Well, let me tell you I'm going to sue you for 
 damages, big damages!" 
 
 Welton looked him over quizzically, and the laughing 
 lines deepened around the corners of his eyes. 
 
 "Lay on, MacDuff," said he, "nobody's sued me yet 
 this year, and it didn't seem natural." 
 
 "And for assault with deadly weapons, and malicious 
 destruction of property, and seizure and 
 
 "You must have been talking to a country lawyer," 
 interrupted Welton, with one of his subterranean chuckles. 
 "Don't do it. They got nothing but time, and you know 
 what your copy book says about idle hands." He crossed 
 one leg and leaned back as though for a comfortable chat. 
 "No, you come and see me, Murdock, and state how^much 
 you've been damaged, and we'll see what we can do. Why, 
 these little lawyers love to name things big. They'd call 
 a sewing circle a riot if one of the members dropped a 
 stitch." 
 
 But Murdock was in deadly earnest. 
 
 "Perhaps throwin' dynamite on the end of a pole, and 
 mighty nigh killin' us, and just blowin' the whole river up 
 in the air is your idea of somethin' little," he stormed; 
 "well, you'll find it'll look big enough in court." 
 
 "So that's what they did to clear the river," said Welton. 
 more than half to himself. "Well, Murdock, suit your- 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 105 
 
 self; you can see me or that intellectual giant of a lawyer 
 of yours. You'll find me cheaper. So long." 
 
 He drove on, chuckling. 
 
 "I didn't think old Larsen had the spunk," he repeated 
 after a time. " Guess I ought to have put him in charge in 
 the beginning." 
 
 He drove to a point where the erratic road turned inland. 
 There he tied his horse to a tree and tramped on afoot. 
 After a little he came in sight of the rear and stopped. 
 
 The men were working hard; a burst of hearty laughter 
 saluted Welton's ears. He could hardly believe them. 
 Nobody had heard this sullen crew of nondescript river- 
 men from everywhere exhibit the faintest symptoms of 
 good-humour or interest before. Another burst of laughter 
 came up the breeze. A dozen men ran out over the logs 
 as though skylarking, inserted their peavies in a threatened 
 lock, and pried it loose. 
 
 " Pretty work," said the expert in Welton. 
 
 He drew nearer through the low growth until he stood 
 well within hearing and seeing distance, Then he stopped 
 again. 
 
 Bob Orde was walking up and down the bank talking to 
 the men. They were laughing back at him. His manner 
 was half fun, half earnest, part rueful, part impatient, 
 wholly affectionate. 
 
 "You, Jim," said he, "go out and get busy. You're 
 loafing, you know you are; I don't give a damn what you're 
 to do. Do something! Don't give an imitation of a cast- 
 iron hero. No, I won't either tell, you what to do. I don't 
 know. But do it, even if you have to make it up out of 
 your own head. Consider the festive water-beetle, and the 
 ant and other industrious doodle-bugs. Get a wiggle on 
 you, fellows. We'll never get out at this rate. If this 
 drive gets hung up, I'm going to murder every last one of 
 you. Come on now, all together; if I could walk out on 
 those logs I'd build a fire under you; but you've got me 
 
106 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 tied to the bank and you know it, you big fat loafers, 
 you!" 
 
 " Keep your hair on, bub; we'll make it, all right" 
 
 "Well, we'd just better make it," warned Bob. "Now 
 I'm going down to the jam to see whether their alarm clock 
 went off this morning. Now, don't slumber!" 
 
 After he had disappeared down the trail, Welton step- 
 ped into view. 
 
 "Oh, Charley!" he called. 
 
 One of the rivermen sprang ashore. 
 
 "When did the rear leave Murdock's?" he asked without 
 preliminary. 
 
 "Thursday." 
 
 "You've made good time." 
 
 "Bet we have," replied Charley with pride. 
 
 "Who's jam boss?" 
 
 "Larsen." 
 
 "Who's in charge of the river, then?" demanded Welton 
 sharply. 
 
 "Why, young Orde!" replied the riverman, surprised. 
 
 "Since when?" 
 
 "Since he blew up Murdock's piles." 
 
 "Oh, he did that, did he? I suppose he fired Darrell, 
 too?" 
 
 " Sure. It was a peach of a scrap." 
 
 "Scrap?" 
 
 "Yep. That Orde boy is a wonder. He just ruined- 
 Roaring Dick." 
 
 "He did, did he?" commented Welton. "Well, so long." 
 
 He followed Bob down the river trail. At the end of a 
 half-mile he overtook the young fellow kneeling on a point 
 gazing at a peeled stake planted at the edge of the 
 river. 
 
 "Wish I knew how long this water was going to hold out," 
 he murmured, as he heard a man pause behind him. " She's 
 dropped two inches by my patent self-adjusting gauge." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 107 
 
 "Young man," said Welton, "are you on the payrolls 
 of this company?" 
 
 Bob turned around, then instantly came to his feet. 
 
 " Oh, you're here at last, Mr. Welton," he cried in tones 
 of vast relief. 
 
 " Answer my question, please." 
 
 "What?" asked Bob with an expression of bewilderment. 
 
 "Are you on the payrolls of this company?" 
 
 "No, sir, of course not. You know that." 
 
 " Then what are you doing in charge of this river ? " 
 
 "Why, don't you see " 
 
 "I see you've destroyed property and let us in for a big 
 damage suit. I see you've discharged our employees with- 
 out authority to do so. I see you're bossing my men and 
 running my drive without the shadow of a right." 
 
 "But something had to be done," expostulated Bob. 
 
 "What do you know about river-driving?" broke in 
 Welton. "Not a thing." 
 
 "Men who told me did " 
 
 "A bunch of river-hogs," broke in Welton contemptu- 
 ously. " It strikes me, young man, that you have the most 
 colossal cheek I've ever heard of." 
 
 But Bob faced him squarely. 
 
 "Look here," he said decidedly, "I'm technically wrong, 
 and I know it. But good men told me your measly old 
 drive would hang if it stayed there two days longer; and I 
 believed them, and I believe them yet. I don't claim to 
 know anything about river-driving, but here your confounded 
 drive is well on its way. I kicked that drunk off the river 
 because he was no good. I took hold here to help you out 
 of a hole, and you're out." 
 
 "But," said Welton, carefully, "don't you see that you 
 took chances on losing me a lot of property ?" 
 
 Bob looked up at him a moment wearily. 
 
 "From my point of view I have nothing to regret," said 
 he stiffly, and turned away. 
 
io8 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 The humorous lines about Welton's eyes had been deep- 
 ening throughout this interview. 
 
 "That tops it off," said he. "First you get me into trouble; 
 then you fire my head man; then you run off with my 
 property; finally you tell me to go to hell! Son, you are a 
 great man! Shake!" 
 
 Bob whirled in surprise to search Welton's good-natured 
 jolly face. The latter was smiling. 
 
 "Shake," he repeated, relapsing, as was his habit when 
 much in earnest, into his more careless speech; "you done 
 just right. Son, remember this: it's true it ain't 
 doing things that makes a man so much as deciding things." 
 
 One of his great chuckles bubbled up. 
 
 "It took some nerve to jump in the way you did; and 
 some sand to handle the flea-bitten bunch of river-hogs " 
 
 "You're mistaken about them," Bob broke in earnestly. 
 "They've been maligned. They're as good and willing a 
 squad as I ever want to see " 
 
 "Oh, sure," laughed Welton; "they're a nice little job 
 lot of tin angels. However, don't worry. You sure saved 
 the day, for I believe we would have hung if we hadn't got 
 over the riffles before this last drop of the water." 
 
 He began to laugh, at first, gently, then more and more 
 heartily, until Bob stared at him with considerable curi- 
 osity and inquiry. Welton caught his look. 
 
 "I was just thinking of Harvey and Collins," he remarked 
 enigmatically as he wiped his eyes. "Oh, Bobby, my son, 
 you sure do please me. Only I was afraid for a minute it 
 might be a flash in the pan and you weren't going to tell 
 me to go to hell." 
 
 They turned back toward the rear. 
 
 "By the way," Welton remarked, "you made one bad 
 break just now." 
 
 "What was that?" asked Bob. 
 
 "You told me you were not on the payrolls of this com- 
 pany. You are." 
 
XVIII 
 
 FOR a year Bob worked hard at all sorts of jobs. He 
 saw the woods work, the river work, the mill work. 
 From the stump to the barges he followed the tim- 
 bers. Being naturally of a good intelligence, he learned 
 very fast how things were done, so that at the end of the time 
 mentioned he had acquired a fair working knowledge of 
 how affairs were accomplished in this business he had 
 adopted. That does not mean he had become a capable 
 lumberman. One of the strangest fallacies long prevalent 
 in the public mind is that lumbering is always a sure road 
 to wealth. The margin of profit seems very large. As a 
 matter of fact, the industry is so swiftly conducted, on so 
 large a scale, along such varied lines; the expenditures must 
 be made so lavishly, and yet so carefully; the consequences 
 of a niggardly policy are so quickly apparent in decreased 
 efficiency, and yet the possible leaks are so many, quickly 
 draining the most abundant resources, that few not brought 
 up through a long apprenticeship avoid a loss. A great deal 
 of money has been and is made in timber. A great deal 
 has been lost, simply because, while the possibilities are 
 alluring, the complexity of the numerous problems is unseen. 
 At first Bob saw only the results. You went into the woods 
 with a crew of men, felled trees, cut them into lengths, 
 dragged them to the roads already prepared, piled them on 
 sleighs, hauled them to the river, and stacked them there. 
 In the spring you floated the logs to the mill where they were 
 sawed into boards, laden into sailing vessels or steam barges, 
 and taken to market. There was the whole process in a nut- 
 shell. Of course, there would be details and obstructions to 
 
 109 
 
I lo THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 cope with. But between the eighty thousand dollars or so 
 worth of trees standing in the forest and the quarter-million 
 dollars or so they represented at the market seemed space 
 enough to allow for many reverses. 
 
 As time went on, however, the young man came more 
 justly to realize the minuteness of the bits comprising this 
 complicated mosaic. From keeping men to the point of 
 returning, in work, the worth of their wages; from so corre- 
 lating and arranging that work that all might be busy and 
 not some waiting for others; up through the anxieties of 
 weather and the sullen or active opposition of natural forces, 
 to the higher levels of competition and contracts, his awak- 
 ened attention taught him that legitimate profits could attend 
 only on vigilant and minute attention, on comprehensive 
 knowledge of detail, on experience, and on natural gift. 
 The feeding of men abundantly at a small price involved 
 questions of buying, transportation and forethought, not to 
 speak of concrete knowledge of how much such things should 
 ideally be worth. Tools by the thousand were needed at 
 certain places and at certain times. They must be cared 
 for and accounted for. Horses, and their feed, equipment 
 and care, made another not inconsiderable item both of 
 expense and attention. And so with a thousand and one 
 details which it would be superfluous to enumerate here. 
 Each cost money, and some one's time. Relaxed attention 
 might make each cost a few pennies more. What do a few 
 pennies amount to? Two things: a lowering of the stand- 
 ard of efficiency, and, in the long run, many dollars. If 
 incompetence, or inexperience should be added to relaxed 
 attention, so that the various activities do not mortise exactly 
 one with another, and the legitimate results to be expected 
 from the pennies do not arrive, then the sum total is very 
 apt to be failure. Where organized and settled industries, 
 however complicated in detail, are in a manner played by 
 score, these frontier activities are vast improvisations follow- 
 ing only the general unchangeable laws of commerce. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME in 
 
 Therefore, Bob was very much surprised and not a little 
 dismayed at what Mr. Welton had to say to him one evening 
 early in the spring. 
 
 It was in the "van" of Camp Thirty-nine. Over in the 
 corner under the lamp the sealer and bookkeeper was epito- 
 mizing the results of his day. Welton and Bob sat close to 
 the round stove in the middle, smoking their pipes. The 
 three or four bunks belonging to Bob, the sealer, and the 
 camp boss were dim in another corner; the shelves of goods 
 for trade with the men occupied a third. A rude door and 
 a pair of tiny windows communicated with the world out- 
 side. Flickers of light from the cracks in the stove played 
 over the massive logs of the little building, over the rough 
 floor and the weapons and snowshoes on the wall. Both 
 Bob and Welton were dressed in flannel and kersey, with the 
 heavy German socks and lumberman's rubbers on their feet. 
 Their bright-checked Mackinaw jackets lay where they had 
 been flung on the beds. Costume and surroundings both 
 were a thousand miles from civilization; yet civilization was 
 knocking at the door. Welton gave expression to this 
 thought. 
 
 "Two seasons more'll finish us, Bob," said he. "I've 
 logged the Michigan woods for thirty-five years, but now 
 I'm about done here." 
 
 "Yes, I guess they're all about done," agreed Bob. 
 
 " The big men have gone West; lots of the old lumber jacks 
 are out there now. It's our turn. I suppose you know 
 we've got timber in California?" 
 
 "Yes," said Bob, with a wry grin, as he thought of the 
 columns of "descriptions" he had copied; "I know that." 
 
 "There's about half a billion feet of it. We'll begin to 
 manufacture when we get through here. I'm going out next 
 month, as soon as the snow is out of the mountains, to see 
 about the plant and the general lay-out. I'm going to leave 
 you in charge here." 
 
 Bob almost dropped his pipe as his jaws fell apart. 
 
112 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 " Me !" he cried. 
 
 " Yes, you." 
 
 "But I can't; I don't know enough! I'd make a mess of 
 the whole business," Bob expostulated. 
 
 "You've been around here for a year," said Welton, "and 
 things are running all right. I want somebody to see that 
 things move along, and you're the one. Are you going to 
 refuse?" 
 
 "No; I suppose I can't refuse," said Bob miserably, and 
 fell silent 
 
XIX 
 
 TO BOB'S father Wei ton expressed himself in some- 
 what different terms. The two men met at the 
 Auditorium Annex, where they promptly adjourned 
 to the Palm Room and a little table. 
 
 "Now, Jack," the lumberman replied to his friend's 
 expostulation, "I know just as well as you do that the kid 
 isn't capable yet of handling a proposition on his own hook. 
 It's just for that reason that I put him in charge." 
 
 "And Welton isn't an Irish name, either," murmured 
 Jack Orde. 
 
 "What? Oh, I see. No; and that isn't an Irish bull, 
 either. I put him in charge so he'd have to learn something. 
 He's a good kid, and he'll take himself dead serious. He'll 
 be deciding everything that comes up all for himself, and 
 he'll lie awake nights doing it. And all the time things will 
 be going on almost like he wasn't there!" 
 
 Welton paused to chuckle in his hearty manner. 
 
 "You see, I've brought that crew up in the business. 
 Mason is as good a mill man as they make; and Tally's all 
 right in the woods and on the river; and I reckon it would 
 be difficult to take a nick out of Collins in office work." 
 
 "In other words, Bob is to hold the ends of the reins 
 while these other men drive," said his father, vastly amused. 
 "That's more like it. I'd hate to bury a green man under 
 too much responsibility." 
 
 "No," denied Welton, "it isn't that exactly. Somebody's 
 got to boss the rest of 'em. And Bob certainly is a wonder 
 at getting the men to like him and to work for him. That's 
 his strong point. He gets on with them, and he isn't afraid 
 
 "3 
 
IH THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 to tell 'em when he thinks they're 'sojering' on him. That 
 makes me think: I wonder what kind of ornaments these 
 waiters are supposed to be." He rapped sharply on the 
 little table with his pocket-knife. 
 
 " It's up to him," he went on, after the waiter had departed. 
 " If he's too touchy to acknowledge his ignorance on different 
 points that come up, and if he's too proud to ask questions 
 when he's stumped, why, he's going to get in a lot of trouble. 
 If he's willing to rely on his men for knowledge, and will 
 just see that everybody keeps busy and sees that they bunch 
 their hits, why, he'll get on well enough." 
 
 "It takes a pretty wise head to make them bunch their 
 hits," Orde pointed out, "and a heap of figuring." 
 
 "It'll keep him mighty busy, even at best," acknowledged 
 Welton, " and he's going to make some bad breaks. I know 
 that." 
 
 "Bad breaks cost money," Orde reminded him. 
 
 " So does any education. Even at its worst this can't cost 
 much money. He can't wreck things the organization 
 is too good he'll just make 'em wobble a little. And this 
 is a mighty small and incidental proposition, while this Cali- 
 fornia lay-out is a big project. No, by my figuring Bob won't 
 actually do much, but he'll lie awake nights to do a hell of a 
 lot of deciding, and " 
 
 "Oh, I know," broke in Orde with a laugh; "you haven't 
 changed an inch in twenty years and 'it's not doing but 
 deciding that makes a man,'" he quoted. 
 
 " Well, isn't it ? " demanded Welton insistently. 
 
 "Of course," agreed Orde with another laugh. "I was 
 just tickled to see you hadn't changed a hair. Now if you'd 
 only moralize on square pegs in round holes, I'd hear again 
 the birds singing in the elms by the dear old churchyard." 
 
 Welton grinned, a trifle shamefacedly. Nevertheless he 
 went on with the development of his philosophy. 
 
 "Well," he asserted stoutly, "that's just what Bob was 
 when I got there. He can't handle figures any better than 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 115 
 
 I can, and Collins had been putting him through a course of 
 sprouts." He paused and sipped at his glass. " Of course, 
 if I wasn't absolutely certain of the men under him, it would 
 be a fool proposition. Bob isn't the kind to get onto treachery 
 or double-dealing very quick. He likes people too well. 
 But as it is, he'll get a lot of training cheap." 
 
 Orde ruminated over this for some time, sipping slowly 
 between puffs at his cigar. 
 
 "Why wouldn't it be better to take him out to California 
 now?" he asked at length. "You'll be building your roads 
 and flumes and railroad, getting your mill up, buying your 
 machinery and all the rest of it. That ought to be good 
 experience for him to see the thing right from the begin- 
 ning." 
 
 "Bob is going to be a lumberman, and that isn't lumber- 
 ing; it's construction. Once it's up, it will never have to be 
 done again. The California timber will last out Bob's life- 
 time, and you know it. He'd better learn lumbering, which 
 he'll do for the next fifty years, than to build a mill, which 
 he'll never have to do again unless it burns up," he added 
 as a half-humorous afterthought. 
 
 "Correct," Orde agreed promptly to this. "You're a 
 wonder. When I found a university with my ill-gotten 
 gains, I'll give you a job as professor of well, of Common 
 Sense, by jiminy!" 
 
XX 
 
 BOB managed to lose some money in his two years of 
 apprenticeship. That is to say, the net income 
 from the small operations under his charge was 
 somewhat less than it would have been under Welton's super- 
 vision. Even at that, the balance sheet showed a profit. 
 This was probably due more to the perfection of the organi- 
 zation than to any great ability on Bob's part. Nevertheless, 
 he exercised a real control over the firm's destinies, and in 
 one or two instances of sudden crisis threw its energies defin- 
 itely into channels of his own choosing. Especially was 
 this true in dealing with the riverman's arch-enemy, the moss- 
 back. 
 
 The mossback follows the axe. When the timber is cut, 
 naturally the land remains. Either the company must pay 
 taxes on it, sell it, or allow it to revert to the state. It may 
 be very good land, but it is encumbered with old slashing, 
 probably much of it needs drainage, a stubborn second- 
 growth of scrub oak or red willows has already usurped the 
 soil, and above all it is isolated. Far from the cities, far 
 from the railroad, far even from the crossroad's general store > 
 it is further cut off by the necessity of traversing atrocious and 
 in the wet season bottomless roads to even the nearest 
 neighbour. Naturally, then, in seeking purchasers for this 
 cut-over land, the Company must address itself to a certain 
 limited class. For, if a man has money, he will buy him a 
 cleared farm in a settled country. The mossback pays in 
 pennies and gives a mortgage. Then he addresses himself 
 to clearing the land. It follows that he is poverty-stricken, 
 lives frugally and is very tenacious of what property rights 
 
 116 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 117 
 
 he may be able to coax or wring from a hard wilderness. He 
 dwells in a shack, works in a swamp, and sees no farther than 
 the rail fence he has split out to surround his farm. 
 
 Thus, while he possesses many of the sturdy pioneer vir- 
 tues, he becomes by necessity the direct antithesis to the 
 riverman. The purchase of a bit of harness, a vehicle, a 
 necessary tool or implement is a matter of close economy, 
 long figuring, and much work. Interest on the mortgage 
 must be paid. And what can a backwoods farm produce 
 worth money? And where can it find a market? Very 
 little; and very far. A man must "play close to his chest" 
 in order to accomplish that plain, primary, simple duty of 
 making both ends meet. The extreme of this virtue means 
 a defect, of course; it means narrowness of vision, conser- 
 vatism that comes close to suspicion, illiberality. When 
 these qualities meet the sometimes foolishly generous and 
 lavish ideas of men trained in the reckless life of the river, 
 almost inevitably are aroused suspicion on one side, con- 
 tempt on the other and antagonism on both. 
 
 This is true even in casual and chance intercourse. But 
 when, as often happens, the mossback's farm extends to the 
 very river bank itself; when the legal rights of property clash 
 with the vaguer but no less certain rights of custom, then 
 there is room for endless bickering. When the river boss 
 steps between his men and the backwoods farmer, he must, 
 on the merits of the case and with due regard to the sort 
 of man he has to deal with, decide at once whether he will 
 persuade, argue, coerce, or fight. It may come to be a 
 definite choice between present delay or a future lav/suit. 
 
 This kind of decision Bob was most frequently called upon 
 to make. He knew little about law, but he had a very good 
 feeling for the human side. Whatever mistakes he made, 
 the series of squabbles nourished his sense of loyalty to the 
 company. His woods training was gradually bringing him 
 to the lumberman's point of view; and the lumberman's point 
 of view means, primarily, timber and loyalty. 
 
n8 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "By Jove, what a fine bunch of timber!" was his first 
 thought on entering a particularly imposing grove. 
 
 Where another man would catch merely a general effect, 
 his more practised eye would estimate heights, diameters, 
 the growth of the limbs, the probable straightness of the 
 grain. His eye almost unconsciously sought the possibilities 
 of location whether a road could be brought in easily, 
 whether the grades could run right. A fine tree gave him 
 the complicated pleasure that comes to any expert on ana- 
 lytical contemplation of any object. It meant timber, good 
 or bad, as well as beauty. 
 
 Just so opposition meant antagonism. Bob was naturally 
 of a partisan temperament. He played the game fairly, 
 but he played it hard. Games imply rules, and any infrac- 
 tion of the rules is unfair and to be punished. Bob could 
 not be expected to reflect that while rules are generally 
 imposed by a third party on both contestants alike, in this 
 game the rules with which he was acquainted had been made 
 by his side; that perhaps the other fellow might have another 
 set of rules. All he saw was that the antagonists were per- 
 petrating a series of contemptible, petty, mean tricks or a 
 succession of dastardly outrages. His loyalty and anger 
 were both thoroughly aroused, and he plunged into his little 
 fights with entire whole-heartedness. As his side of the ques- 
 tion meant getting out the logs, the combination went far 
 toward efficiency. When the drive was down in the spring, Bob 
 looked back on his mossback campaign with a little grieved 
 surprise that men could think it worth their self-respect to try 
 to take such contemptible advantage of quibbles for the pur- 
 pose of defeating what was certainly customary and fair, even 
 if it might not be technically legal. What the mossbacks 
 thought about it we can safely leave to the crossroad stores. 
 
 In other respects Bob had the good sense to depend abso- 
 lutely on his subordinates. 
 
 "How long do you think it ought to take to cut the rest 
 of Eight?" he would ask Tally. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 119 
 
 "About two weeks." 
 
 Bob said nothing more, but next day he ruminated long in 
 the snow-still forest at Eight, trying to apportion in his 
 own mind the twelve days' work. If it did not go at a two 
 weeks' gait, he speedily wanted to know why. 
 
 When the sleighs failed to return up the ice road wit> 
 expected regularity, Bob tramped down to the " banks" to 
 see what the trouble was. When he returned, he remarked 
 casually to Jim Tally: 
 
 "I fired Powell off the job as foreman, and put in Downy." 
 
 "Why?" asked Tally. "I put Powell in there because 
 I thought he was an almighty good worker." 
 
 " He is," said Bob ; " too good. I found them a little short- 
 handed down there, and getting discouraged. The sleighs 
 were coming in on them faster than they could unload. 
 The men couldn't see how they were going to catch up, so 
 they'd slacked down a little, which made it worse. Powell 
 had his jacket off and was working like the devil with a 
 canthook. He does about the quickest and hardest yank 
 with a canthook I ever saw," mused Bob. 
 
 "Well?" demanded Tally. 
 
 "Oh," said Bob, "I told him if that was the kind of a 
 job he wanted, he could have it. And I told Downy to take 
 charge. I don't pay a foreman's wages for canthook work; 
 I hire him to keep the men busy, and he sure can't do it if he 
 occupies his time and attention rolling logs." 
 
 "He was doing his best to straighten things out," said 
 Tally. 
 
 "Well, I'm now paying him for his best," replied Bob, 
 philosophically. 
 
 But if it had been a question of how most quickly to skid 
 the logs brought in by the sleighs, Bob would never have 
 dreamed of questioning Powell's opinion, although he might 
 later have demanded expert corroboration from Tally. 
 
 The outdoor life, too, interested him and kept him in train- 
 ing, both physically and spiritually. He realized his mis- 
 
120 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 takes, but they were now mistakes of judgment rather than of 
 mechanical accuracy, and he did not worry over them once 
 they were behind him. 
 
 When Welton returned from California toward the close 
 of the season, he found the young man buoyant and happy, 
 deeply absorbed, well liked, and in a fair way to learn some- 
 thing about the business. 
 
 Almost immediately after his return, the mill was closed 
 down. The remaining lumber in the yards was shipped 
 mit as rapidly as possible. By the end of September the 
 (vork was over. 
 
 Bob perforce accepted a vacation of some months while 
 affairs were in preparation for the westward exodus. 
 
 Then he answered a summons to meet Mr. Welton at the 
 Chicago offices. 
 
 He entered the little outer office he had left so down- 
 heartedly three years before. Harvey and his two assistants 
 sat on the high stools in front of the shelf-like desk. The 
 same pictures of record loads, large trees, mill crews and 
 logging camps hung on the walls. The same atmosphere 
 of peace and immemorial quiet brooded over the place. 
 Through the half-open door Bob could see Mr. Fox, his leg 
 swung over the arm of his revolving chair, chatting in a 
 leisurely fashion with some visitor. 
 
 No one had heard him enter. He stood for a moment 
 staring at the three bent backs before him. He remembered 
 the infinite details of the work he had left, the purchasings 
 of innumerable little things, the regulation of outlays, the 
 balancings of expenditures, the constantly shifting property 
 values, the cost of tools, food, implements, wages, machinery, 
 transportation, operation. And in addition he brought to 
 mind the minute and vexatious mortgage and sale and rental 
 business having to do with the old cut-over lands; the legal 
 complications; the questions of arbitration and privilege. 
 And beyond that his mind glimpsed dimly the extent of other 
 interests, concerning which he knew little investment 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 121 
 
 interests, and silent interests in various manufacturing enter- 
 prises where the Company had occasionally invested a surplus 
 by way of a flyer. In this quiet place all these things were 
 correlated, compared, docketed, and filed away. In the 
 brains of the four men before him all these infinite details 
 were laid out in order. He knew that Harvey could answer 
 specific questions as to any feature of any one of these activ- 
 ities. All the turmoil, the rush and roar of the river, the mills, 
 the open lakes, the great wildernesses passed through this 
 silent, dusty room. The problems that kept a dozen men 
 busy in the solving came here also, together with a hundred 
 others. Bob recalled his sight of the hurried, wholesale ship- 
 ping clerk he had admired when, discouraged and discred- 
 ited, he had left the office three years before. He had 
 thought that individual busy, and had contrasted his activ- 
 ity with the somnolence of this office. Busy ! Why, he, Bob, 
 had over and over again been ten times as busy. At the 
 thought he chuckled aloud. Harvey and his assistants turned 
 to the sound. 
 
 " Hullo, Harvey; hullo Archie!" cried the young man. 
 "I'm certainly glad to see you. You're the only men I ever 
 saw who could be really bang-up rushed and never show it." 
 
PART TWO 
 
I 
 
 ON A wintry and blustering evening in the latter part 
 of February, 1902, Welton and Bob boarded the 
 Union Pacific train en route for California. They 
 distributed their hand baggage, then promptly took their 
 way forward to the buffet car, where they disposed them- 
 selves in the leather-and-wicker arm-chairs for a smoke. 
 At this time of year the travel had fallen off some- 
 what in volume. The westward tourist rush had slack- 
 ened, and the train was occupied only by those who had 
 definite business in the Land of Promise, and by that class 
 of wise ones who realize that an Eastern March and April 
 are more to be avoided than the regulation winter months. 
 The smoking car contained then but a half-dozen men. 
 
 Welton and Bob took their places and lit their cigars. The 
 train swayed gently along, its rattle muffled by the storm. 
 Polished black squares represented the windows across which 
 drifted hazy lights and ghostlike suggestions of snowflakes. 
 Bob watched this ebony nothingness in great idleness of spirit. 
 Presently one of the half-dozen men arose from his place, 
 walked the length of the car, and dropped into the next chair. 
 
 "You're Bob Orde, aren't you?" he remarked without 
 preliminary. 
 
 Bob looked up. He saw before him a very heavy-set 
 young man, of medium height, possessed of a full moon of 
 a face, and alert brown eyes. 
 
 "I thought so," went on this young man in answer to 
 Bob's assent. "I'm Baker of '93. You wouldn't know me; 
 I was before your time. But I know you. Seen you play. 
 Headed for the Sunshine and Flowers?" 
 
 "5 
 
126 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Yes," said Bob. 
 
 "Ever been there before ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Great country! If you listen to all the come-on stuff 
 you may be disappointed at first." 
 
 "How's that?" asked Bob, highly amused. "Isn't the 
 place what it's cracked up to be?" 
 
 "It's more," asserted Baker, "but not the same stuff. 
 The climate's bully best little old climate they've made, 
 up to date but it's got to rain once in a while; and the 
 wind's got to blow; and all that. If you believe the Weather 
 in the Old Home column, you'll be sore. In two years you'll 
 be sore, anyway, whenever it does anything but stand 55 at 
 night, 72 at noon and shine like the spotlight on the illustrated 
 songster. If a Californian sees a little white cloud about as 
 big as a toy balloon down in the southeast corner he gets 
 morose as a badger. If it starts to drizzle what you'd call 
 a light fog he holes up. When it rains he hibernates like 
 a bear, and the streets look like one of these populous and 
 thriving Aztec metropoli you see down Sonora way. I guess 
 every man is privileged to get just about so sore on the weather 
 wherever he is and does so." 
 
 "You been out there long?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Ever since I graduated," returned Baker promptly, "and 
 I wouldn't live anywhere else. They're doing real things. 
 Don't you run away with any notions of dolce far nientes 
 or tropical languor. This California gang is strictly on the 
 job. The bunch seated under the spreading banana tree 
 aren't waiting for the ripe fruit to drop in their mouths. 
 That's in the First Reader and maybe somewhere down 
 among the Black and Tans 
 
 " Black and Tans?" interrupted Bob with a note of query. 
 
 "Yep. Oilers greasers Mexicans hidalgos of all 
 kinds from here to the equator," explained Baker. "No, 
 sir, that gang under the banana tree are either waiting there 
 to sandbag the next tourist and sell him some real estate 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 127 
 
 before he comes to, or else they're figuring on uprooting said 
 piffling shrub and putting up an office building. Which 
 part of the country are you going to?" 
 
 "Near White Oaks," said Bob. 
 
 "No abalone shells for yours, eh?" remarked Baker 
 cryptically. He glanced at Welton. "Where's your tim- 
 ber located?" he asked. 
 
 "Near Granite," replied Bob; "why, how the devil did 
 you know we were out for timber?" 
 
 "'How did the Master Mind solve that problem?'" 
 asked Baker. " Ah, that's my secret!" 
 
 "No, that doesn't go," said Bob. "I insist on knowing; 
 and what was that abalone shell remark?" 
 
 "Abalone shells tourists." capitulated Baker; "also 
 Mexican drawn work, bead belts, burned leather, fake tur- 
 quoise and ostrich eggs. Sabe?" 
 
 "Sure. But why not a tourist?" 
 
 "Tourist in White Oaks!" cried Baker. "Son, White 
 Oaks raises raisins and peaches and apricots and figs and such 
 things in quantities to stagger you. It is a nice, well-built 
 city, and well conducted, and full of real estate boards and 
 chambers of commerce. But it is not framed up for tourists, 
 and it knows it. Not at TOO degrees Fahrenheit 'most all 
 summer, and a chill and solemn land fog 'most all winter." 
 
 "Well, why timber?" demanded Bob. 
 
 "My dear Watson," said Baker, indicating Mr. Welton, 
 who grinned. "Does your side partner resemble a raisin 
 raiser? Has he the ear marks of a gentle agriculturist? 
 Would you describe him as a typical sheepman, or as a 
 daring and resolute bee-keeper?" 
 
 Bob shook his head, still unconvinced. 
 
 "Well, if you will uncover my dark methods," sighed 
 Baker. He leaned over and deftly abstracted from the 
 breast pocket of Bob's coat a long, narrow document. "You 
 see the top of this stuck out in plain sight. To the intelli- 
 gent eye instructed beyond the second grade of our excel- 
 
128 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 lent school system the inscription cannot be mistaken." He 
 held it around for Bob to see. In plain typing the docu- 
 ment was endorsed as follows : 
 
 "Granite County Timber Lands." 
 
 "My methods are very subtle," said Baker, laughing. "I 
 find it difficult to explain them. Come around sometime 
 and I'll pick it out for you on the piano." 
 
 "Where are you going?" asked Bob in his turn. 
 
 "Los Angeles, on business." 
 
 "On business? or just buying abalone shells?" 
 
 "It takes a millionaire or an Iowa farmer to be a tourist," 
 replied Baker. 
 
 "What are you doing?" 
 
 " Supporting an extravagant wife, I tell Mrs. Baker. You 
 want to get down that way. The town's a marvel. It's 
 grown from thirty thousand to two hundred thousand in 
 twenty years; it has enough real estate sub-divisions to 
 accommodate eight million; it has invented the come-on 
 house built by the real estate agents to show how building 
 is looking up at Lonesomehurst; it has two thousand kinds 
 of architecture all different; it has more good stuff and 
 more fake stuff than any place on earth it's a wonder. 
 Come on down and I'll show you the high buildings." 
 
 He chatted for a few moments, then rose abruptly and 
 disappeared down the aisle toward the sleeping cars with- 
 out the formality of a farewell. 
 
 Welton had been listening amusedly, and puffing away 
 at his cigar in silence. 
 
 "Well," said he when Baker had gone. "How do you 
 like your friend?" 
 
 "He's certainly amusing," laughed Bob, "and mighty 
 good company. That sort of a fellow is lots of fun. I've 
 seen them many times coming back at initiation or Com- 
 mencement. They are great heroes to the kids." 
 
 "But not to any one else?" inquired Welton. 
 
 "Well that's about it," Bob hesitated. "They're 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 129 
 
 awfully good fellows, and see the joke, and jolly things up; 
 but they somehow don't amount to much." 
 
 "Wouldn't think much of the scheme of trying Baker as 
 woods foreman up in our timber, then?" suggested Welton, 
 
 "Him? Lord, no!" said Bob, surprised. 
 
 Welton threw back his head and laughed heartily, in 
 great salvos. 
 
 "Ho! ho! ho!" he shouted. "Oh, Bobby, I wish any old 
 Native Son could be here to enjoy this joke with me. Hoi 
 ho! ho! ho!" 
 
 The coloured porter stuck his head in to see what this 
 tremendous rolling noise might be, grinned sympathetically, 
 and withdrew. 
 
 "What's the matter with you!" cried Bob, exasperated, 
 "Shut up, and be sensible." 
 
 Welton wiped his eyes. 
 
 "That, son, is Carleton P. Baker. Just say Carleton P. 
 Baker to a Californian." 
 
 "Well, I can't, for four days, anyway. Who is he?" 
 
 "Didn't find out from him, for all his talk, did you?" 
 said Welton shrewdly. "Well, Baker, as he told you, 
 graduated from college in '93. He came to California with 
 about two thousand dollars of capital and no experience^ 
 He had the sense to go in for water rights, and here he is!"' 
 
 "Marvellous!" cried Bob sarcastically. "But what is 
 he now that he is here?" 
 
 " Head of three of the biggest power projects in California,"' 
 said Welton impressively, "and controller of more potential 
 water power than any other man or corporation in the state."' 
 
 Welton enjoyed his joke hugely. After Bob had turned 
 in, the big man parted the curtains to his berth. 
 
 "Oh, Bob," he called guardedly. 
 
 "What!" grunted the young man, half-asleep. 
 
 "Who do you think we'd better get for woods foreman 
 just in case Baker shouldn't take the job?" 
 
II 
 
 AtL next day the train puffed over the snow-blown 
 plains. There was little in the prospect, save an 
 inspiration to thankfulness that the cars were warm 
 and comfortable. Bob and Welton spent the morning 
 going over their plans for the new country. After lunch, 
 which in the manner of trans-continental travellers they 
 stretched over as long a period as possible, they again repaired 
 to the smoking car. Baker hailed them jovially, waving a 
 stubby forefinger at vacant seats. 
 
 "Say, do Populists grow whiskers, or do whiskers make 
 Populists?" he demanded. 
 
 "Give it up," replied Welton promptly. "Why?" 
 
 "Because if whiskers make Populists, I don't blame this 
 state for going Pop. A fellow'd have to grow some kind 
 of natural chest protector in self-defence. Look at that 
 snow! And thirty dollars will take you out where there's 
 none of it, and the soil's better, and you can see something 
 around you besides fresh air. Why, any one of these poor 
 pinhead farmers could come out our way, get twenty acres 
 of irrigated land, and in five years " 
 
 "Hold on!" cried Bob, "you haven't by any chance some 
 of that real estate for sale or a sandbag?" 
 
 Baker laughed. 
 
 "Everybody gets that way," said he. "I'll bet the first 
 five men you meet will fill you up on statistics." 
 
 He knew the country well, and pointed out in turn the 
 first low rises of the prairie swell, and the distant Rockies 
 like a faint blue and white cloud close down along the horizon. 
 Bob had never seen any real mountains before, and so was 
 
 130 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 131 
 
 much interested. The train laboured up the grades, steep 
 to the engine, but insignificant to the eye; it passed through 
 the canons to the broad central plateau. The country was 
 broken and strange, with its wide, free sweeps, its sage 
 brush, its stunted trees, but it was not mountainous as Bob 
 had conceived mountains. Baker grinned at him. 
 
 "Snowclad peaks not up to specifications?" he inquired. 
 "Chromos much better? Mountain grandeur somewhat 
 on the blink? Where'd you expect them to put a railroad 
 out where the scenery is ? Never mind. Wait till you 
 slide off 'Cape Horn' into California." 
 
 The cold weather followed them to the top of the Sierras. 
 Snow, dull clouds, mists and cold enveloped the train. 
 Miles of snowsheds necessitated keeping the artificial light 
 burning even at midday. Winter held them in its grip. 
 
 Then one morning they rounded the bold corner of a high 
 mountain. Far below them dropped away the lesser peaks, 
 down a breathless descent. And from beneath, so distant 
 as to draw over themselves a tender veil of pearl gray, flowed 
 out foothills and green plains. The engine coughed, shut 
 off the roar of her exhaust. The train glided silently forward. 
 
 "Now come to the rear platform," Baker advised. 
 
 They sat in the open air while the train rushed downward. 
 From the great drifts they ran to the soft, melting snow, then 
 to the mud and freshness of early spring. Small boys 
 crowded early wild-flowers on them whenever they stopped 
 at the small towns built on the red clay. The air became 
 indescribably soft and balmy, full of a gentle caress. At the 
 next station the children brought oranges. A little farther 
 the foothill ranches began to show the brightness of flowers. 
 The most dilapidated hovel was glorified by splendid sprays 
 of red roses big as cabbages. Dooryards of the tiniest 
 shacks blazed with red and yellow. Trees and plants new 
 to Bob's experience and strangely and delightfully exotic 
 in suggestion began to usurp the landscape. To the far 
 Northerner, brought up in only a common-school knowledge 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 of olive trees, palms, eucalyptus, oranges, banana trees, 
 pomegranates and the ordinary semi-tropical fruits, there is 
 something delightful and wonderful in the first sight of them 
 living and flourishing in the open. When closer investigation 
 reveals a whole series of which he probably does not remem- 
 ber ever to have heard, he feels indeed an explorer in a new 
 and wonderful land. After a few months these things become 
 old stories. They take their places in his cosmos as accus- 
 tomed things. He is then at some pains to understand his 
 visitor's extravagant interest and delight over loquats, 
 chiramoyas, alligator pears, tamarinds, guavas, the bloom- 
 mg of century plants, the fruits of chollas and the like. 
 Baker pointed out some of these things to Bob. 
 
 "Winter to summer in two jumps and a hop," said he. 
 "The come-on stuff rings the bell in this respect, anyway. 
 Smell the air: it's real air. ' Listen to the mocking bird.' ' 
 
 " Seriously or figuratively ? " asked Bob. " I mean, is that 
 a real mocking bird?" 
 
 " Surest thing you know," replied Baker as the train moved 
 on, leaving the songster to his ecstasies. "They sing all 
 night out here. Sounds fine when you haven't a grouch. 
 Then you want to collect a brick and drive the darn fowl off 
 the reservation." 
 
 "I never saw one before outside a cage," said Bob. 
 
 "There's lots of things you haven't seen that you're going 
 to see, now you've got out to the Real Thing," said Baker. 
 "Why, right in your own line: you don't know what big pine 
 is. Wait till you see the woods out here. We've got the 
 biggest trees, and the biggest mountains, and the biggest 
 crops and the biggest " 
 
 "Liars," broke in Bob, laughing. "Don't forget them." 
 
 "Yes, the biggest liars, too," agreed Baker. "A man's 
 got to lie big out here to keep in practice so he can tell the 
 plain truth without straining himself." 
 
 Before they changed cars to the Valley line, Baker had a 
 suggestion to make. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 133 
 
 "Look here," said he, "why don't you come and look at 
 the tall buildings? You can't do anything in the mountains 
 yet, and when you get going you'll be too busy to see Cali- 
 fornia. Come, make a pasear. Glad to show you the sights* 
 Get reckless. Take a chance. Peruse carefully your copy 
 of Rules for Rubes and try it on." 
 
 " Go ahead," said Welton, unexpectedly. 
 
Ill 
 
 BO B went on to Los Angeles with the sprightly Baker. 
 At first glance the city seemed to him like any other. 
 Then, as he wandered its streets, the marvel and 
 vigour and humour of the place seized on him. 
 
 " Don't you suppose I see the joke?" complained Baker 
 at the end of one of their long trolley rides. " Just get onto 
 that house; it looks like a mission-style switch engine. And 
 the one next to it, built to shed snow. Funny! sure it's funny. 
 But you ain't talking to me ! It's alive ! Those fellows wanted 
 something different from anybody else so does everybody. 
 After they'd used up the regular styles, they had to make 
 'em up out of the fresh air. But anyway, they weren't satis- 
 fied just to copy Si Golosh's idea of a Noah's Ark chicken 
 coop." 
 
 They stopped opposite very elaborate and impressive iron 
 gates opening across a graded street. These gates were sup- 
 ported by a pair of stone towers crowned with tiles. A 
 smaller pair of towers and gates guarded the concrete side- 
 walk. As a matter of fact, all these barriers enclosed nothing, 
 for even in the remote possibility that the inquiring visitor 
 should find them shut, an insignificant detour would cir- 
 cumvent their fenceless flanks. 
 
 "Maudsley Court," Bob read sculptured on one of the 
 towers. 
 
 "That makes this particular subdivision mighty exclusive," 
 grinned Baker. "Now if you were a homeseeker wouldn't 
 you love to bring your dinner pail back to the cawstle every 
 night?" 
 
 Bob peered down the single street. It was graded, gut- 
 
 134 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 135 
 
 tered and sidewalked. A small sentry box labelled " office," 
 and inscribed with glowing eulogiums, occupied a strategic 
 position near the gates. From this house Bob immediately 
 became aware of close scrutiny by a man half concealed by the 
 indoor dimness. 
 
 "The spider," said Baker. "He's onto us big as a house. 
 He can spot a yap at four hundred yards' range, and you bet 
 they don't get much nearer than that alone." 
 
 A huge sign shrieked of Maudsley Court. "Get a grin!" 
 was its first advice. 
 
 "They all try for a catchword every one of 'em," 
 explained Baker. "You'll see all kinds in the ads; some 
 pretty good, most of 'em rotten." 
 
 "They seem to have made a start, anyway," observed Bob, 
 indicating a new cottage half way down the street. It was 
 a super-artistic structure, exhibiting the ends of huge brown 
 beams at all points. Baker laughed. 
 
 "That's what it's intended to seem," said he. "That's 
 the come-on house. It's built by the spider. It's stick-um 
 for the flies. 'This is going to be a high-brow proposition/ 
 says the intending purchaser; 'look at the beautiful house 
 already up. I must join this young and thriving colony.' 
 Hence this settled look." 
 
 He waved his hand abroad. Dotted over the low, rounded 
 hills of the charming landscapes were new and modern 
 bungalows. They were spaced widely, and each was flanked 
 by an advertising board and guarded by a pair of gates shut- 
 ting their private thoroughfares from the country highways. 
 Between them showed green the new crops. 
 
 "Nine out of ten come-on houses," said Baker, "and 
 all exclusive. If you can't afford iron gates, you can at least 
 put up a pair of shingled pillars. It's the game." 
 
 "Will these lots ever be sold?" asked Bob. 
 
 " Out here, yes," replied Baker. " That's part of the joke. 
 The methods are on the blink, but the goods insist on deliv- 
 ering themselves. Most of these fellows are just bunks or 
 
136 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 optimists. All hands are surprised when things turn out right. 
 But if all the lots are ever sold, Los Angeles will have a popu- 
 lation of five million." 
 
 They boarded an inward-bound trolley. Bob read the 
 devices as they flashed past. " Hill-top Acres," he read 
 near a street plastered against an apparently perpendicular 
 hill. "Buy before the rise!" advised this man's rival at 
 its foot. The true suburbs strung by in a panorama of 
 strange little houses imitation Swiss chalets jostling bas- 
 tard Moorish, cobblestones elbowing plaster a bewilder- 
 ing succession of forced effects. Baker caught Bob's 
 expression. 
 
 "These are workingmen's and small clerks' houses," he 
 said quietly. " Pretty bad, eh ? But they're trying. Remem- 
 ber what they lived in back East. " 
 
 Bob recalled the square, painted, ugly, featureless boxes 
 built all after the same pattern of dreariness. He looked 
 on this gay bewilderment of bad taste with more interest. 
 
 "At least they're taking notice," said Baker, lighting his 
 pipe. "And every fellow raises some kind of posies." 
 
 A few moments later they plunged into the vortex of 
 the city and the smiling country, the far plains toward the 
 sea, and the circle of the mountains were lost. Only 
 remained overhead the blue of the California sky. 
 
 Baker led the way toward a blaring basement restaurant. 
 
 "I'm beginning to feel that I'll have to find some monkey- 
 food somewhere, or cash in," said he. 
 
 They found a table and sat down. 
 
 "This is the place to see all the sights," proffered Baker, 
 his broad face radiating satisfaction. "When they strike 
 it rich on the desert, they hike right in here. That fat lady 
 thug yonder is worth between three and four millions. Eight 
 months ago she did washing at two bits a shirt while her hus- 
 band drove a one-man prospect shaft. The other day she 
 blew into the big jewelry store and wanted a thirty-thousand- 
 dollar diamond necklace. The boss rolled over twice and 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 137 
 
 wagged his tail. 'Yes, madam/ said he; 'what kind?' 
 'I dunno; just a thirty-thousand-dollar one.' That's all he 
 could get out of her. 'But tell me how you want 'em set,' 
 he begged. She looked bewildered. ' Oh, set 'em so they II 
 jingle,' says she." 
 
 After the meal they walked down the principal streets, 
 watching the crowd. It was a large crowd, as though at busy 
 midday, and variously apparelled, from fur coat to straw 
 hat. Each extreme of costume seemed justified, either by the 
 balmy summer-night effect of the California open air, or by 
 the hint of chill that crept from the distant mountains. 
 Either aspect could be welcomed or ignored by a very slight 
 effort of the will. Electric signs blazed everywhere. Bob 
 was struck by the numbers of clairvoyants, palm readers, 
 Hindu frauds, crazy cults, fake healers, Chinese doctors, 
 and the like thus lavishly advertised. The class that else- 
 where is pressed by necessity to the inexpensive dinginess of 
 back streets, here blossomed forth in truly tropical luxur- 
 iance. Street vendors with all sorts of things, from mechan- 
 ical toys to spot eradicators, spread their portable lay-outs 
 at every corner. Vacant lots were crowded with spielers of 
 all sorts religious or political fanatics, vendors of cure- 
 alls, of universal tools, of marvellous axle grease, of anything 
 and everything to catch the idle dollar. Brilliantly lighted 
 shops called the passer-by to contemplate the latest wave- 
 motor, flying machine, door check, or what-not. Stock in 
 these enterprises was for sale and was being sold! Other 
 sidewalk booths, like those ordinarily used as dispensaries 
 of hot doughnuts and coffee, offered wild-cat mining shares, 
 oil stock and real estate in some highly speculative suburb. 
 Great stores of curios lay open to the tourist trade. Here 
 one could buy sheepskin Indian moccasins made in Massa- 
 chusetts, or abalone shells, or burnt-leatner pillows, or a 
 whole collection of photographic views so minute that they 
 could all be packed in a single walnut shell. Next door 
 were shops of Japanese and Chinese goods presided over by 
 
138 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 suave, sleepy-eyed Orientals, in wonderful brocade, wearing 
 the close cap with the red coral button atop. Shooting gal- 
 leries spit spitefully. Gasolene torches flared. 
 
 Baker strolled along, his hands in his pockets, his hat on 
 the back of his head. From time to time he cast an amused 
 glance at his companion. 
 
 "Come in here," he said abruptly. 
 
 Bob found himself comfortably seated in a commodious 
 open-air theatre, watching an excellent vaudeville perform- 
 ance. He enjoyed it thoroughly, for it was above the average. 
 In fifteen minutes, however, the last soubrette disappeared 
 in the wings to the accompaniment of a swirl of music. Her 
 place was taken by a tall, facetious-looking, bald individual, 
 clad in a loose frock coat. He held up his hand for silence. 
 
 "Ladies 'n' gentlemen," he drawled, "we hope you have 
 enjoyed yourselves. If you find a better show than this in 
 any theatre in town, barring the Orpheum, come and tell 
 us about it and we will see what we can do to brace ours up. 
 I don't believe you can. This show will be repeated every 
 afternoon and evening, with complete change of programme 
 twice a week. Go away and tell your friends about the great 
 free show down on Spring Street. Just tell them about it." 
 
 Bob glanced startled at his companion. Baker was grin- 
 ning. 
 
 "This show has cost us up to date," went on the leisurely 
 drawl, "just twenty-eight hundred dollars. Go and tell 
 your friends that. But" he suddenly straightened his fig- 
 ure and his voice became more incisive " that is not enough. 
 We have decided to give you something real to talk about. 
 We have decided to give every man, woman and child in this 
 vast audience a first-night present of Two Silver Dollars!" 
 
 Bob could feel an electric thrill run through the crowd, 
 and every one sat up a little straighter in his chair. 
 
 "Let me see," the orator went on, running his eye over the 
 audience. He had resumed his quieter manner. "There 
 are perhaps seven hundred people present. That would 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 139 
 
 make fourteen hundred dollars. By the way, John," he 
 addressed some one briskly. "Close the gates and lock 
 them. We don't want anybody in on this who didn't have 
 interest enough in our show to come in the first place." He 
 winked humorously at the crowd, and several laughed. 
 
 " Pretty rotten, eh ? " whispered Baker admiringly. " Fixed 
 'em so they won't bolt when the show's over and before he 
 works off his dope." 
 
 " These Two Silver Dollars, which I want you all to get, 
 are in these hampers. Six little boys will distribute them. 
 Come up, boys, and get each a hatful of dollars." The six 
 solemnly marched up on the stage and busied themselves 
 with the hampers. "While we are waiting," went on the 
 orator, "I will seize the opportunity to present to you 
 the world-famed discoverer of that wonderful anaesthetic, 
 Oxodyne, Painless Porter." 
 
 At the words a dapper little man in immaculately correct 
 evening dress, and carrying a crush hat under his arm, 
 stepped briskly from the wings. He was greeted by wild 
 but presumably manufactured applause. He bowed rigidly 
 from the hips, and at once began to speak in a high and nasal 
 but extremely penetrating voice. 
 
 "As far as advertising is concerned," he began without 
 preamble, "it is entirely unnecessary that I give this show. 
 There is no man, woman or child in this marvellous common- 
 wealth of ours who is not familiar with the name of Painless 
 Porter, whether from the daily papers, the advertising boards, 
 the street cars, or the elegant red brougham in which I trav- 
 erse your streets. My work for you is my best advertise- 
 ment. It is unnecessary from that point of view that I 
 spend this money for this show, or that this extra money should 
 be distributed among you by my colleague, Wizard Walker, 
 the Medical Marvel of Modern Times." 
 
 The tall man paused from his business with the hampers 
 and the six boys to bow in acknowledgment. 
 
 " No, ladies 'n' gentlemen, my purpose is higher. In the 
 
140 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 breast of each human being is implanted an instinctive fear 
 of Pain. It sits on us like a nightmare, from the time we 
 first come to consciousness of our surroundings. It is a curse 
 of humanity, like drink, and he who can lighten that curse 
 is as much of a philanthropist as George W. Childs or Andrew 
 Carnegie. I want you to go away and talk about me. It 
 don't matter what you say, just so you say something. You 
 can call me quack, you may call me fakir, you may call me 
 charletan but be sure to call me SOMETHING! Then 
 slowly the news will spread abroad that Pain is banished, 
 and I can smile in peace, knowing that my vast expenditures 
 of time and money have not been in vain, and that I have 
 been a benefit to humanity. Wizard Walker, the Medical 
 Marvel of Modern Times, will now attend to the distribu- 
 tion, after which I will pull a few teeth gratis in order to 
 demonstrate to you the wonderful merits of Oxodyne." 
 
 "A dentist!" gasped Bob. 
 
 "Yup," said Baker. "Not much gasoline-torch-on-the- 
 back-lot in his, is there ?" 
 
 Bob was hardly surprised, after much preamble and height- 
 ening of suspense, to find that the Two Silver Dollars turned 
 out finally to be a pink ticket and a blue ticket, " good respect- 
 ively at the luxurious offices for one dollar's worth of dental 
 and medical attention FREE." 
 
 Nor was he more than slightly astounded when the back 
 drop rose to show the stage set glitteringly with nickel- 
 mounted dentist chairs and their appurtenances, with 
 shining glass, white linen, and with a chorus of fascinating 
 damsels dressed as trained nurses and standing rigidly at 
 attention. Then entered Painless himself, in snowy shirt- 
 sleeves and serious professional preoccupation. Volunteers 
 came up two by two. Painless explained obscurely the 
 scientific principles on which the marvellous Oxodyne worked 
 by severing temporarily but entirely all communication 
 between the nerves and the brain. Then much business 
 with a very glittering syringe. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 141 
 
 "My lord," chuckled Baker, "if he fills that thing up, it'll 
 drown her!" 
 
 In an impressive silence Painless flourished the forceps, 
 planted himself square in front of his patient, heaved a mom- 
 ent, and triumphantly held up in full view an undoubted 
 tooth. The trained nurses offered rinses. After a moment 
 the patient, a roughly dressed country woman, arose to her 
 feet. She was smiling broadly, and said something, which 
 the audience could not hear. Painless smiled indulgently. 
 
 " Speak up so they can all hear you," he encouraged her. 
 
 " Never hurt a bit," the woman stammered. 
 
 Three more operations were conducted as expeditiously 
 and as successfully. The audience was evidently impressed. 
 
 "How does he do it?" whispered Bob. 
 
 "Cappers," explained Baker briefly. "He only fakes 
 pulling a tooth. Watch him next time and you'll see that he 
 doesn't actually pull an ounce." 
 
 "Suppose a real toothache comes up?" 
 
 " I think that is one now. Watch him. " 
 
 A young ranchman was making his way up the steps 
 that led to the stage. His skin was tanned by long exposure 
 to the California sun, and his cheek rounded into an unmis- 
 takable swelling. 
 
 "No fake about him," commented Baker. 
 
 He seated himself in the chair. Painless examined his 
 jaw carefully. He started back, both hands spread in expos- 
 tulation. 
 
 "My dear friend!" he cried, "you can save that tooth! 
 It would be a crime to pull that tooth! Come to my office 
 at ten to-morrow morning and I will see what can be done." 
 He turned to the audience and for ten minutes expounded 
 the doctrine of modern dentistry as it stands for saving a 
 tooth whenever possible. Incidentally he had much to say 
 as to his skill in filling and bridge work and the marvellous 
 painlessness thereof. The meeting broke up finally to the 
 inspiring strains of a really good band. Bob and his friend, 
 
142 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 standing near the door, watched the audience file out. 
 Some threw away their pink and blue tickets, but most 
 stowed them carefully away. 
 
 "And every one that goes to the 'luxurious offices' for the 
 free dollar's worth will leave ten round iron ones," said 
 Baker. 
 
 After a moment the Painless One and the Wizard marched 
 smartly out, serenely oblivious of the crowd. They stepped 
 into a resplendent red brougham and were whisked rapidly 
 away. 
 
 "It pays to advertise," quoted Baker philosophically. 
 
 They moved on up the street. 
 
 "There's the inventor of the Unlimited Life," said Baker 
 suddenly, indicating a slender figure approaching. "I 
 haven't seen him in three years not since he got into this 
 graft, anyway." 
 
 "Unlimited Life," echoed Bob, "what's that? A medi- 
 cine?" 
 
 " No. A cult. Hullo, Sunny ! " 
 
 The approaching figure swerved and stopped. Bob saw 
 a very slender figure clad in a close-fitting, gray frock suit. 
 To his surprise, from beneath the wide, black felt hat there 
 peered at him the keenly nervous face of the more intelligent 
 mulatto. The man's eyes were very bright and shrewd. 
 His hair surrounded his face as an aureole of darkness, and 
 swept low to his coat collar. 
 
 "Mr. Baker," he said, simply, his eyes inscrutable. 
 
 "Well, Sunny, this is my old friend Bob Orde. Bob, this 
 is the world-famous Sunny Larue, apostle of the Unlimited 
 Life of whom you've heard so much." He winked at Bob. 
 "How's the Colony flourishing, Sunny?" 
 
 "More and more our people are growing to see the light," 
 said the mulatto in low, musical tones. "The mighty but 
 simple principles of Azamud are coming into their own. The 
 poor and lowly, the humble and oppressed are learning that 
 in me is their salvation " He went on in his beautiful 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 143 
 
 voice explaining the Colony of the Unlimited Life, addressing 
 always Bob directly and paying little attention to Baker, 
 who stood aside, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his fat, 
 good-natured face. It seemed that the Colony lived in tents 
 in a canon of the foothills. It paid Larue fifty dollars a head, 
 and in return was supported for six months and instructed 
 in the mysteries of the cult. It had its regimen. " At three we 
 arise and break our fast, quite simply, with three or four dry 
 prunes," breathed Larue, "and then, going forth to the high 
 places for one hour, we hold steadfast the thought of Love." 
 
 "Say, Sunny," broke in Baker, "how many you got 
 rounded up now?" 
 
 "There are at present twenty-one earnest proselytes." 
 
 " At fifty a head and you've got to feed and keep 'em 
 somehow even three dried prunes cost you something in 
 the long run " ruminated Baker. He turned briskly to the 
 mulatto : " Sunny, on the dead, where does the graft come in?" 
 
 The mulatto drew himself up in swift offence, scrutinized 
 Bob closely for a moment, met Baker's grin. Abruptly his 
 impressive manner dropped from him. He leaned toward 
 them with a captivating flash of white teeth. 
 
 "You just leave that to vie" he murmured, and glided 
 away into the crowd. 
 
 Baker laughed and drew Bob's arm within his own. 
 
 "Out of twenty of the faithful there's sure to be one or 
 two with life savings stowed away in a sock, and Sunny's 
 the boy to make them produce the sock." 
 
 "What's his cult, anyway?" asked Bob. "I mean, what 
 do they pretend to believe? I couldn't make out." 
 
 "A nigger's idea of Buddhism," replied Baker briefly. 
 " But you can get any brand of psychic damfoolishness you 
 think you need in your business. They do it all, here, from 
 going barefoot, eating nuts, swilling olive oil, rolling down hill, 
 adoring the Limitless Whichness, and all the works. It is 
 now," he concluded, looking at his watch, " about ten o'clock. 
 We will finish the evening by dropping in on the Fuzzies." 
 
144 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Together they boarded a street car, which shortly depos- 
 ited them at an uptown corner. Large houses and spacious 
 grounds indicated a district of some wealth. To one of these 
 houses, brilliantly lighted, Baker directed his steps. 
 
 "But I don't know these people, and I'm not properly 
 dressed," objected Bob. 
 
 "They know me. And as for dress, if you'd arrange to 
 wear a chaste feather duster only, you'd make a hit." 
 
 A roomful of people were buzzing like a hive. Most were 
 in conventional evening dress. Here and there, however, 
 Bob caught hints of masculine long hair, of feminine psyche 
 knots, bandeaux and other extremely artistic but unusual 
 departures. One man with his dinner jacket wore a soft 
 linen shirt perforated by a Mexican drawn-work pattern 
 beneath which glowed a bright red silk undergarment. 
 Women's gowns on the flowing and Grecian order were not 
 uncommon. These were usually coupled with the incongru- 
 ity of parted hair brought low and madonna-wise over the 
 ears. As the two entered, a very powerful blond man was 
 just finishing the declamation of a French poem. He was 
 addressing it directly at two women seated on a sofa. 
 
 " Un r-r-reve d? amour!" 
 
 He concluded with much passion and clasped hands. 
 
 In the rustle ensuing after this effort, Baker led his friend 
 down the room to a very fat woman upholstered in pink 
 satin, to whom he introduced Bob. Mrs. Annis, for such 
 proved to be her name, welcomed him effusively. 
 
 "I've heard so much about you!" she cried vivaciously, to 
 Bob's vast astonishment. She tapped him on the arm with her 
 fan. "I'm going to make a confession to you; I know it may be 
 foolish, but I do like music so much better than I do pictures." 
 
 Bob, his brain whirling, muttered something. 
 
 "But I'm going to confess to you again, I like artists so 
 much better than I do musicians." 
 
 A light dawned on Bob. "But I'm not an artist nor a 
 musician," he blurted out. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 145 
 
 The pink-upholstered lady, starting back with an agility 
 remarkable in one of her size, clasped her hands. 
 
 "Don't tell me you write!" she cried dramatically. 
 
 "All right, I won't," protested poor Bob, "for I don't." 
 
 A slow expression of bewilderment overspread Mrs. Annis's 
 face, and she glanced toward Baker with an arched brow 
 of interrogation. 
 
 "I merely wanted Mr. Orde to meet you, Mrs. Annis," he 
 said impressively, "and to feel that another time, when he 
 is less exhausted by the strain of a long day, he may have 
 the privilege of explaining to you the details of the great 
 Psychic Movement he is inaugurating." 
 
 Mrs. Annis smiled on him graciously. "I am home 
 every Sunday to my intimes" she murmured. "I should 
 be so pleased." 
 
 Bob bowed mechanically. 
 
 "You infernal idiot!" he ground out savagely to Baker, 
 as they moved away. "What do you mean? I'll punch 
 your fool head when I get you out of here!" 
 
 But the plump young man merely smiled. 
 
 Halfway down the room a group of attractive-looking 
 young men hailed them. 
 
 "Join in, Baker," said they. "Bring your friend along. 
 We're just going to raid the commissary." 
 
 But Baker shook his head. 
 
 "I'm showing him life," he replied. "None but Fuzzies 
 in his to-night !" 
 
 He grasped Bob firmly by the arm and led him away. 
 
 "That," he said, indicating a very pale young man, sur- 
 rounded by women, "is Pickering, the celebrated sub- 
 marine painter." 
 
 "The what?" demanded Bob. 
 
 "Submarine painter. He paints fish and green water 
 and lobsters, and the bottom of the sea generally. He 
 paints them on the skins of kind-faced little calves." 
 
 "What does he do that for?" 
 
146 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "He says it's the only surface that will express what he 
 wants to. He has also invented a waterproof paint that 
 he can use under water. He has a coral throne down on 
 the bottom which he sits in, and paints as long as he can 
 hold his breath." 
 
 "Oh, he does!" said Bob. 
 
 "Yes," said Baker. 
 
 "But a man can't see three feet in front of his face under 
 water!" cried Bob. 
 
 "Pickering says he can. He paints submarinescapes, 
 and knows all the fishes. He says fishes have individual 
 expressions. He claims he can tell by a fish's expression 
 whether he is polygamous or monogamous." 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me anybody swallows that rot!" 
 demanded Bob indignantly. 
 
 " The women do and a lot more I can't remember. The 
 market for calf-skins with green swirls on them is booming. 
 Also the women clubbed together and gave him money 
 enough to build a house." 
 
 Bob surveyed the little white-faced man with a strong 
 expression of disgust. 
 
 "The natural man never sits in chairs," the artist was 
 exppunding. "When humanity shall have come into its 
 own we shall assume the graceful aid hygienic postures of 
 the oriental peoples. In society one must, to a certain extent, 
 follow convention, but in my own house, the House Beau- 
 tiful of my dreams, are no chairs. And even now a small 
 group of the freer spirits are following my example. In 
 time " 
 
 "If you don't take me away, I'll run in circles!" whis- 
 pered Bob fiercely to his friend. 
 
 They escaped into the open air. 
 
 "Phew!" said Bob, straightening his long form. "Is 
 that what you call the good society here?" 
 
 "Good society is there," amended Baker. "That's the 
 joke. There are lots of nice people in this little old town, 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 147 
 
 people who lisp our language fluently. They are all mixed 
 in with the Fuzzies." 
 
 They decided to walk home. Bob marvelled at the 
 impressive and substantial buildings, at the atrocious streets. 
 He spoke of the beautiful method of illuminating one of 
 the thoroughfares by globes of light gracefully supported 
 in clusters on branched arms either side the roadway. 
 
 "They were originally bronze and they went and 
 painted them a mail-box green," commented Baker drily. 
 
 At the hotel the night clerk, a young man, quietly dressed 
 and with an engaging air, greeted them with just the right 
 amount of cordiality as he handed them their keys. Bob 
 paused to look about him. 
 
 "This is a good hotel," he remarked. 
 
 "It's one of the best-managed, the best-conducted, and 
 the best-appointed hotels in the United States," said Baker 
 with conviction. 
 
 The next morning Bob bought all the papers and glanced 
 through them with considerable wonder and amusement. 
 They were decidedly metropolitan in size, and carried 
 a tremendous amount of advertising. Early in his perusal 
 he caught the personal bias of the news. Without distor- 
 tion to the point of literal inaccuracy, nevertheless by skil- 
 ful use of headlines and by manipulation of the point of view, 
 all items were made to subserve a purpose. In local affairs 
 the most vulgar nicknaming, the most savage irony, vitupera- 
 tion, scorn and contempt were poured out full measure on 
 certain individuals unpopular with the papers. Such epi- 
 thets as "lickspittle," "toad," "carcass blown with the 
 putrefying gas of its own importance," were read in the body 
 of narration. 
 
 "These are the best-edited, most influential and powerful 
 journals in the West," commented Baker. "They possess 
 an influence inconceivable to an Easterner." 
 
 The advertising columns were filled to bursting with 
 advertisements of patent medicines, sex remedies, quack 
 
148 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 doctors, miraculous healers, clairvoyants, palm readers, 
 " philanthropists" with something "free" to bestow, clev- 
 erly worded offers of abortion; with full-page prospectuses 
 of mines; of mushroom industrial concerns having to do with 
 wave motors, water motors, solar motors, patent couplers, 
 improved telephones and the like, all of whose stock now 
 stood at $1.10, but which on April zoth, at 8.02 p. M., would 
 go up to $1.15; with blaring, shrieking offers of real estate 
 in this, that or the other addition, consisting, as Bob knew 
 from yesterday, of farm acreage at front-foot figures. The 
 proportion of this fake advertising was astounding. One 
 in particular seemed incredible a full page of the exponent 
 of some Oriental method of healing and prophecy. 
 
 " Of course, a full-page costs money," replied Baker. " But 
 this is the place to get it." He pushed back his chair. "Well, 
 what do you think of our fair young city ? " he grinned. 
 
 "It's got me going," admitted Bob. 
 
 "Took me some time to find out where to get off at," 
 said Baker. " When I found it out, I didn't dare tell anybody. 
 They mob you here and string you up by your pigtail, if 
 you try to hint that this isn't the one best bet on terrestrial 
 habitations. They like their little place, and they believe 
 in it a whole lot, and they're dead right about it! They'd 
 stand right up on their hind legs and paw the atmosphere 
 if anybody were to tell them what they really are, but it's 
 a fact. Same joyous slambang, same line of sharps hanging 
 on the outskirts, same row, racket, and joy in life, same 
 struggle; yes, and by golly! the same big hopes and big 
 enterprises and big optimism and big energies! Wouldn't 
 you like to be helping them do it?" 
 
 "What's the answer?" asked Bob, amused. 
 
 "Well, for all its big buildings and its electric lights, and 
 trolleys, and police and size> it's nothing more nor less than 
 a frontier town." 
 
 "A frontier town!" echoed Bob. 
 
 "You think it over," said Baker. 
 
IV 
 
 BU T if Bob imagined for one moment that he had ac- 
 quired even a notion of California in his experiences 
 and observations down the San Joaquin and in Los 
 Angeles, the next few stages of his Sentimental Journey 
 very soon undeceived him. Baker's business interests soon 
 took him away. Bob, armed with letters of introduction 
 from his friend, visited in turn such places as Santa Barbara, 
 Riverside, San Diego, Redlands and Pasadena. He could 
 not but be struck by the absolute differences that existed, 
 not only in the physical aspects but in the spirit and aims 
 of the peoples. If these communities had been separated 
 by thousands of miles of distance they could not have been 
 more unlike. 
 
 At one place he found the semi-tropical luxuriance of 
 flowers and trees and fruits, the soft, warm sunshine, the 
 tepid, langourous, musical nights, the mellow haze of 
 romance over mountain and velvet hill and soft sea, the 
 low-shaded cottages, the leisurely attractive people one 
 associates with the story-book conception of California. 
 The place was charming in its surroundings and in its graces 
 of life, but it was a cheerful, happy, out-at-the-heels, raggedy 
 little town, whose bright gardens adorned its abyssmal 
 streets, whose beautiful mountains palliated the naivete* of 
 its natural and atrocious roads. Bob mingled with its 
 people with the pardonable amusement of a man fresh from 
 the doing of big things. There seemed to be such long, 
 grave and futile discussions over the undertaking of that 
 which a more energetic community would do as a matter 
 of course in the day's work. The liveryman from whom 
 
 149 
 
150 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Bob hired his saddle horse proved to be a person of a leis- 
 urely and sardonic humour. 
 
 "Their chief asset here is tourists," said he. " That's 
 the leading industry. They can't see it, and they don't want 
 to. They have just one road through the county. It's a 
 bum one. You'd think it was a dozen, to hear them talk 
 about the immense undertaking of making it halfway decent. 
 Any other place would do these things they've been talking 
 about for ten years just on the side, as part of the get-ready. 
 Lucky they didn't have to do anything in the way of getting 
 those mountains set proper, or there'd be a hole there yet." 
 
 "Why don't you go East?" asked Bob. 
 
 "I did once. Didn't like it." 
 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you. Back East when you don't do noth- 
 ing, you feel kind of guilty. Out here when you don't do 
 nothing, you don't give a damn!" 
 
 Nevertheless, Bob was very sorry when he had to leave 
 this quiet and beautiful little town, with its happy, care- 
 less, charming people. 
 
 Thence he went directly to a town built in a half -circle of 
 the mountains. The sunshine here was warm and grate- 
 ful, but when its rays were withdrawn a stinging chill crept 
 down from the snow. No sitting out on the verandah after 
 dinner, but often a most grateful fire in the Club's fireplace. 
 The mornings were crisp and enlivening. And again by 
 the middle of the day the soft California warmth laid the 
 land under its spell. 
 
 This was a place of orange-growers, young fellows from 
 the East. Its University Club was large and prosperous. 
 Its streets were wide. Flowers lined the curbs. There were 
 few fences. The houses were in good taste. Even the 
 telephone poles were painted green so as to be unobtrusive. 
 Bob thought it one of the most attractive places he had ever 
 seen, as indeed it should be, for it was built practically to 
 order by people of intelligence. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 151 
 
 Thence he drove through miles and miles of orange groves, 
 so large that the numerous workmen go about their work 
 on bicycles. Even here in the country, the roadsides were 
 planted with palms and other ornamental trees, and gay with 
 flowers. Abruptly he came upon a squalid village of the old 
 regime, with ugly frame houses, littered streets, sagging side- 
 walks foul with puddles, old tin cans, rubbish; populous 
 with children and women in back-yard dressing sacks 
 a distressing reminder of the worst from the older-established 
 countries. And again, at the end of the week, he most unex- 
 pectedly found himself seated on a country-club verandah, 
 having a very good time, indeed, with some charming speci- 
 mens of the idle rich. He talked polo, golf, tennis and 
 horses; he dined at several most elaborate " cottages"; he 
 rode forth on glossy, bang-tailed horses, perfectly appointed; 
 he drove in marvellously conceived traps in company with 
 most engaging damsels. When, finally, he reached Los 
 Angeles again he carried with him, as standing for California, 
 not even the heterogeneous but fairly coherent idea one 
 usually gains of a single commonwealth, but an impression 
 of many climes and many peoples. 
 
 "Yes," said Baker, "and if you'd gone North to where I 
 live, you'd have struck a different layout entirely." 
 
THERE remained in Bob's initial Southern California 
 experience one more episode that brought him an 
 acquaintance, apparently casual, but which later 
 was to influence him. 
 
 Of an afternoon he walked up Main Street idly and alone. 
 The exhibit of a real estate office attracted him. Over the 
 door, in place of a sign, hung a huge stretched canvas depict- 
 ing not too rudely a wide country-side dotted with model 
 farms of astounding prosperity. The window was filled 
 with pumpkins, apples, oranges, sheaves of wheat, bottles 
 full of r>oft fruits preserved in alcohol, and the like. As 
 background was an oil painting in which the Lucky Lands 
 occupied a spacious pervading foreground, while in clever 
 perspectives the Coast Range, the foothills, and the other 
 cities of the San Fernando Valley supplied a modest setting. 
 This was usual enough. 
 
 At the door stood a very alert man with glasses. He 
 scrutinized closely every passerby. Occasionally he hailed 
 one or the other, conversed earnestly a brief instant, and 
 passed them inside. Gradually it dawned on Bob that 
 this man was acting in the capacity of "barker" that 
 with quite admirable perspicacity and accuracy, he was 
 engaged in selecting from the countless throngs the few 
 possible purchasers for Lucky Lands. Curious to see 
 what attraction was offered to induce this unanimity of 
 acquiescence to the barker's invitation, the young man 
 approached. 
 
 "What's going on?" he asked. 
 
 The barker appraised him with one sweeping glance. 
 
 152 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 153 
 
 " Stereopticon lecture inside," he snapped, and turned his 
 back. 
 
 Bob made his way into a dimly lighted hall. At one end 
 was a slightly elevated platform above which the white screen 
 was suspended. More agricultural products supplied the 
 decorations. The body of the hall was filled with folding 
 chairs, about half of which were occupied. Perhaps a dozen 
 attendants tiptoed here and there. A successful attempt 
 was everywhere made to endow with high importance all 
 the proceedings and appurtenances of the Lucky Land Co. 
 
 Bob slipped into a chair. Immediately a small paste- 
 board ticket and a fountain pen were thrust into his hand. 
 
 " Sign your name and address on this," the man whispered. 
 
 Bob held it up, the better to see what it was. 
 
 "All these tickets are placed in a hat," explained the man, 
 " and one is drawn. The lucky ticket gets a free ride to 
 Lucky on one of our weekly homcseekers' excursions. 
 Others pay one fare for round trip." 
 
 " I see/' said Bob, signing, " and in return you get the 
 names and addresses af every one here." 
 
 He glanced up at his interlocutor with a quizzical expres- 
 sion that changed at once to one of puzzlement. Where had 
 he seen the man before? He was, perhaps, fifty-five years 
 old, tall and slender, slightly stooped, slightly awry. His lean 
 gray face was deeply lined, his close-clipped moustache and 
 hair were gray, and his eyes twinkled behind his glasses with 
 a cold gray light. Something about these glasses struck 
 faintly a chord of memory in Bob's experience, but he could 
 not catch its modulations. The man, on his side, stared at Bob 
 a trifle uncertainly. Then he held the card up to the dim light. 
 
 "You are interested in Lucky Lands Mr. John Smith, 
 of Reno?" he asked, stooping low to be heard. 
 
 "Sure! "grinned Bob. 
 
 The man said nothing more, but glided away, and in a 
 moment the flare of light on the screen announced that the 
 lecture was to begin. 
 
154 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 The lecturer was a glib, self-possessed youth, filled to tlie 
 brim with statistics, with which he literally overwhelmed his 
 auditors. His remarks were accompanied by a rapid-fire 
 snapping of fingers to the time of which the operator changed 
 his slides. A bewildering succession of coloured views 
 flashed on the screen. They showed Lucky in all its glories 
 the blacksmith shop, the main street, the new hotel, the 
 grocery, Brown's walnut ranch, the ditch, the Southern 
 Pacific Depot, the Methodist Church and a hundred others. 
 So quickly did they succeed each other that no one had time 
 to reduce to the terms of experience the scenes depicted on 
 these slides for with the glamour of exaggerated colour, 
 of unaccustomed presentation, and of skillful posing the 
 most commonplace village street seems wonderful and attract- 
 ive for the moment. The lecturer concluded by an alarm- 
 ing statement as to the rapidity with which this desirable 
 ranching property was being snapped up. He urged early 
 decisions as the only safe course; and, as usual with all real 
 estate men, called attention to the contrast between the 
 Riverside of twenty years ago and the Riverside of to-day. 
 
 The daylight was then admitted. 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," concluded the lecturer, still in his 
 brisk, time-saving style, "the weekly excursion to Lucky 
 will take place to-morrow. One fare both ways to home- 
 seekers. Free carriages to the Lands. Grand free open-air 
 lunch under the spreading sycamores and by the babbling 
 brook. Train leaves at seven-thirty." 
 
 In full sight of all he threw the packet of tickets into a 
 hat and drew one. 
 
 "Mr. John Smith, of Reno," he read. "Who is Mr. 
 Smith?" 
 
 "Here," said Bob. 
 
 "Would you like to go to Lucky to-morrow?" 
 
 "Sure," said Bob. 
 
 One of the attendants immediately handed Bob a railroad 
 ticket. The lecturer had already disappeared. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 155 
 
 To his surprise Bob found the street door locked. 
 
 "This way," urged one of the salesmen. "You go out 
 this way." 
 
 He and the rest of the audience were passed out another 
 door in the rear, where they were forced to go through the 
 main offices of the Company. Here were stationed the 
 gray man and all his younger assistants. Bob paused by 
 the door. He could not but admire the acumen of the barker 
 in selecting his men. The audience was made up of just 
 the type of those who come to California with agricultural 
 desires and a few hundred dollars slow plodders from 
 Eastern farms, Italians with savings and ambitions, half 
 invalids all the element that crowds the tourist sleepers 
 day in and day out, the people who are filling the odd corners 
 of the greater valleys. As these debouched into the glare 
 of the outer offices, they hesitated, making up their slow 
 minds which way to turn. In that instant or so the gray 
 man, like a captain, assigned his salesmen. The latter were 
 of all sorts fat and joking, thin and very serious-minded, 
 intense, enthusiastic, cold and haughty. The gray man 
 sized up his prospective customers and to each assigned a 
 salesman to suit. Bob had no means of guessing how 
 accurate these estimates might be, but they were evidently 
 made intelligently, with some system compounded of theory 
 or experience. After a moment Bob became conscious that 
 he himself was being sharply scrutinized by the gray man, 
 and in return watched covertly. He saw the gray man 
 shake his head slightly. Bob passed out the door unac- 
 costed by any of the salesmen. 
 
 At half-past seven the following morning he boarded the 
 local train. In one car he found a score of "prospects" 
 already seated, accompanied by half their number of the 
 young men of the real estate office. The utmost jocularity 
 and humour prevailed, except in one corner where a very 
 earnest young man drove home the points of his argument 
 with an impressive forefinger. Bob dropped unobtrusively 
 
156 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 into a seat, and prepared to enjoy his never-failing interest 
 in the California landscape with its changing wonderful 
 mountains; its alternations of sage brush and wide cultivation; 
 its vineyards as far as the eye could distinguish the vines; 
 its grainfields seeming to fill the whole cup of the valleys; 
 its orchards wide as forests; and its desert stretches, bigger 
 than them all, awaiting but the vivifying touch of water to 
 burst into productiveness. He heard one of the salesmen 
 expressing this. 
 
 "' Water is King,'" he was saying, quoting thus the catch- 
 word of this particular concern. He was talking in a half- 
 joking way, asking one or the other how many inches of rainfall 
 could be expected per annum back where they came from. 
 
 " Don't know, do you?" he answered himself. "Nobody 
 pays any great and particular amount of attention to that 
 you get water enough, except in exceptional years. Out here 
 it's different. Every one knows to the hundredth of an inch 
 just how much rain has fallen, and how much ought to have 
 fallen. It's vital. Water is King." 
 
 He gathered close the attention of his auditors. 
 
 "We have the water in California," he went on; "but it 
 isn't always in the right place nor does it come at the right 
 time. You can't grow crops in the high mountains where 
 most of the precipitation occurs. But you can bring that 
 water down to the plains. That's your answer: irrigation." 
 
 He looked from one to the other. Several nodded. 
 
 "But a man can't irrigate by himself. He can't build 
 reservoirs, ditches all alone. That's where a concern like 
 the Lucky Company makes good. We've brought the water 
 to where you can use it. Under the influence of cultivation 
 that apparently worthless land can produce - "he went 
 on at great length detailing statistics of production. Even 
 to Bob, who had no vital nor practical interest, it was all 
 most novel and convincing. 
 
 So absorbed did he become that he was somewhat startled 
 when a man sat down beside him. He looked up to meet 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 157 
 
 the steel gray eyes and glittering glasses of the chief. Again 
 there swept over him a sense of familiarity, the feeling that 
 somewhere, at some time, he had met this man before. 
 It passed almost as quickly as it came, but left him puzzled. 
 
 "Of course your name is not Smith, nor do you come 
 from Reno," said the man in gray abruptly. "I've seen 
 you somewhere before, but I can't place you. Are you a 
 newspaper man?" 
 
 " I've been thinking the same of you," returned Bob. " No, 
 I'm just plain tourist." 
 
 "I don't imagine you're particularly interested in Lucky," 
 said the gray man. "Why did you come?" 
 
 " Just idleness and curiosity," replied Bob frankly. 
 
 "Of course we try to get the most value in return for our 
 expenditures on these excursions by taking men who are 
 at least interested in the country," suggested the gray man. 
 
 "By Jove, I never thought of that!" cried Bob. "Of 
 course, I'd no business to take that free ticket. I'll pay you 
 my fare." 
 
 The gray man had been scrutinizing him intensely and 
 keenly. At Bob's comically contrite expression, his own face 
 cleared. 
 
 "No, you misunderstand me," he replied in his crisp fash- 
 ion. "We give these excursions as an advertisement of what 
 we have. The more people to know about Lucky, the better 
 our chances. We made an offer of which you have taken 
 advantage. You're perfectly welcome, and I hope you'll 
 enjoy yourself. Here, Selwyn," he called to one of the 
 salesman, "this is Mr. what did you say your name is?" 
 
 "Orde," replied Bob. 
 
 The gray man seemed for an almost imperceptible instant 
 to stiffen in his seat. The gray eyes glazed over; the gray- 
 lined face froze. 
 
 "Orde," he repeated harshly; "where from?" 
 
 "Michigan," Bob replied. 
 
 The gray man rose stiffly. "Well, Selwyn," said he, "this 
 
158 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 is Mr. Orde of Michigan and I want you to show him 
 around." 
 
 He moved down the aisle to take a seat, distant, but facing 
 the two young men. Bob felt himself the object of a furtive 
 but minute scrutiny which lasted until the train slowed down 
 at the outskirts of Lucky. 
 
 Selwyn proved to be an agreeable young man, keen-faced, 
 clean-cut, full of energy and enthusiasm. He soon discovered 
 that Bob did not contemplate going into ranching, and at once 
 admitted that young man to his confidence. 
 
 "You just nail a seat iri that surrey over there, while I 
 chase out my two 'prospects.' We sell on commission and 
 I've got to rustle." 
 
 They drove out of the sleepy little village on which had 
 been grafted showy samples of the Company's progress. 
 The day was beautiful with sunshine, with the mellow calls 
 of meadow larks, with warmth and sweet odours. As the 
 surrey took its zigzag way through the brush, as the quail 
 paced away to right and left, as the delicate aroma of the 
 sage rose to his nostrils, Bob began to be very glad he had 
 come. Here and there the brush had been cleared, small 
 shacks built, fences of wire strung, and the land ploughed 
 over. At such places the surrey paused while Selwyn held 
 forth to his two stolid " prospects" on how long these new- 
 comers had been there and how well they were getting on. 
 The country rose in a gradual slope to the slate-blue moun- 
 tains. Ditches ran here and there. Everywhere were small 
 square stakes painted white, indicating the boundaries of 
 tracts yet unsold. 
 
 They visited the reservoir, which looked to Bob uncom- 
 monly like a muddy duck pond, but whose value Selwyn 
 soon made very clear. They wandered through the Chiquito 
 ranch, whence came the exhibition fruit and other products, 
 and which formed the basis of most Lucky arguments. The 
 owner had taken many medals for his fruit, and had spent 
 twenty-five years in making the Chiquito a model. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 159 
 
 "Any man can do likewise in this land of promise," said 
 Selwyn. 
 
 They ended finally in a beautiful little canon among the 
 foothills. It was grown thick with twisted, mottled syca- 
 mores just budding into leaf, with vines and greenery of the 
 luxurious California varieties. Birds sang everywhere and 
 a brook babbled and bubbled down a stony bed. 
 
 Under the largest of the sycamores a tent had been pitched 
 and a table spread. Affairs seemed to be in charge of a very 
 competent countrywoman whose fuzzy horse and ram- 
 shackle buggy stood securely tethered below. The surries 
 drove up and deposited their burdens. Bob took his place 
 at table to be served with an abundant, hot and well-cooked 
 meal. 
 
 The ice had been broken. Everybody laughed and joked. 
 Some of the men removed their coats in order to be more com- 
 fortable. The young salesmen had laboured successfully to 
 bring these strangers to a feeling of partnership in at least 
 the aims of the Company, of partisanship against the claims 
 of other less-favoured valleys than Lucky. During a pause 
 in the fun, one of the " prospects," an elderly, white- whiskered 
 farmer of the more prosperous type, nodded toward the 
 brook. 
 
 "That sounds good," said he. 
 
 "It's the supply for the Lucky Lands," replied Selwyn. 
 "It ought to sound good." 
 
 "There's mighty few flowing creeks in California this far 
 out from the mountains," interposed another salesman. 
 "You know out here, except in the rainy season, the rivers 
 all flow bottom-up." 
 
 They all guffawed at this ancient and mild joke. The old 
 farmer wagged his head. 
 
 "Water is King," said he solemnly, as though voicing an 
 original and profound thought. 
 
 A look of satisfaction overspread the countenance of the 
 particular salesman who had the old farmer in charge. When 
 
160 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 you can get your " prospect" to adopt your catchword and 
 enunciate it with conviction, he is yours! 
 
 After the meal Bob, unnoticed, wandered off up the canon. 
 He had ascertained that the excursionists would not leave the 
 spot for two hours yet, and he welcomed the chance for 
 exercise. Accordingly he set himself to follow the creek, 
 the one stream of pure and limpid water that did not flow 
 bottom-up. At first this was easy enough, but after a while 
 the canon narrowed, and Bob found himself compelled to 
 clamber over rocks and boulders, to push his way through 
 thickets of brush and clinging vines, finally even to scale a 
 precipitous and tangled side hill over which the stream fell 
 in a series of waterfalls. Once past this obstruction, how- 
 ever, the country widened again. Bob stood in the bed of 
 a broad, flat wash flanked by low hills. Before him, and 
 still some miles distant, rose the mountains in which the 
 stream found its source. 
 
 Bob stood still for a moment, his hat in his hand, enjoying 
 the tepid odours, the warm sun and the calls of innumerable 
 birds. Then he became aware of a faint and intermittent 
 throb put-put (pause) put (pause) , put-put-put! 
 
 " Gasoline engine," said he to himself. 
 
 He tramped a few hundred yards up the dry wash, rounded 
 a bend, and came to a small wooden shack from which 
 emanated the sound of the gas explosions. A steady stream 
 of water gushed from a pump operated by the gasoline engine. 
 Above, the stream bed was dry. Here was the origin of the 
 " beautiful mountain stream." 
 
 Chair-tilted in front of the shack sat a man smoking a pipe. 
 He looked up as Bob approached. 
 
 "Hullo," said he; "show over?" 
 
 He disappeared inside and shut off the gasoline engine. 
 Immediately the flow ceased; the stream dried up as though 
 scorched. Presently the man emerged, thrusting his hands 
 into the armholes of an old coat. Shrugging the garment 
 into place, he snapped shut the padlock on the door. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 161 
 
 "Come on," said he. "My rig's over behind that grease- 
 wood. You're a new one, ain't ye?" 
 
 Bob nodded. 
 
 "That horse is branded pretty thick," he said by way of 
 diversion. 
 
 The man chuckled. 
 
 "Have to turn his skin other side out to get another one 
 on," he agreed. 
 
 They drove down an old dim road that avoided the diffi- 
 culties of the canon. At camp they found the surries just 
 loading up. Bob took his place. Before the rigs started 
 back, the gray man, catching sight of the pump man, drew 
 him aside and said several things very vigorously. The 
 pump man answered with some indignation, pointing finally 
 to Bob. Instantly the gray man whirled to inspect the young 
 fellow. Then he shot a last remark, turned and climbed 
 grumpily into his vehicle. 
 
 At the station Bob tried to draw Selwyn aside for a con- 
 versation. 
 
 "I'll be with you when the train starts, old man," replied 
 Selwyn, "but I've got to stick close to these prospects. 
 There's a gang of knockers hanging around here always, 
 just waiting for a chance to lip in." 
 
 When the train started, however, Selwyn came back to 
 drop into Bob's seat with a wearied sigh. 
 
 " Gosh! I get sick of handing out dope to these yaps," said 
 he. "I was afraid for a while it was going to blow. Looked 
 like it." 
 
 "What of it? "asked Bob. 
 
 " When it blows up here, it'd lift the feathers off a chicken 
 and the chicken off the earth," explained Selwyn. "I've 
 seen more than one good prospect ruined by a bad day." 
 
 "How'd you come out?" inquired Bob. 
 
 " Got one. He handed over his first payment on the spot. 
 Funny how these yahoos almost always bring their cash right 
 with 'em. Other's no good. I get so I can spot that kind 
 
162 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 the first three words. They're always too blame enthus- 
 iastic about the country and the Company. Seems like they 
 try to pay for their entertainment by jollying us along. 
 Don't fool me any. When a man begins to object to things, 
 you know he's thinking of buying." 
 
 Bob listened to this wisdom with some amusement. 
 "How'd you explain when the stream stopped?" he asked. 
 
 "Why," said Selwyn, looking straight ahead, " didn't 
 you hear Mr. Oldham? They turned the water into the 
 Upper Ditch to irrigate the Foothill Tracts." 
 
 Bob laughed. "You're not much of a liar, Selwyn," he 
 said pleasantly. "Failure of gasoline would hit it nearer." 
 
 "Oh, that's where you went," said Selwyn. "I ought to 
 have kept my eye on you closer." 
 
 He fell silent, and Bob eyed him speculatively. He liked 
 the young fellow's clear, frank cast of countenance. 
 
 "Look here, Sdwyn," he broke out, "do you like this 
 bunco game?" 
 
 "I don't like the methods," replied Selwyn promptly; 
 "but you are mistaken when you think it's a bunco game. 
 The land is good; there's plenty of artesian water to be had; 
 and we don't sell at a fancy price. We've located over eight 
 hundred families up there at Lucky Lands, and three out of 
 four are making good. The fourth simply hadn't the capital 
 to hold out until returns came in. It's as good a small- 
 ranch proposition as they could find. If I didn't think so, 
 I wouldn't be in it for a minute." 
 
 "How about that stream?" 
 
 "Nobody said the stream was a natural one. And the 
 water exists, no matter where it cornes from. You can't 
 impress an Eastern farmer with a pump proposition: that's 
 a matter of education. They come to see its value after 
 they've tried it." 
 
 "But your ' 
 
 "I told you I didn't like the methods. I won't have any- 
 thing to do with the dirty work, and Oldham knows it." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 163 
 
 "Why all the bluff, then?" asked Bob. 
 
 " There are thousands of real estate firms in Los Angeles 
 trying to sell millions of acres," said Selwyn, "and this is 
 about the only concern that succeeds in colonizing on a large 
 scale. Oldham developed this system, and it seems to work." 
 
 " The law'll get him some day." 
 
 "I think not," replied Selwyn. "You may find him close 
 to the edge of the law, but he never steps over. He's a 
 mighty bright business man, and he's made a heap of money." 
 
 When nearing the Arcade depot, Oldham himself stepped 
 forward. 
 
 "Stopping in California long?" he asked, with some 
 approach to geniality. 
 
 "Permanently, I think," replied Bob. 
 
 "You are going to manufacture your timber?" 
 
 Bob looked up astonished. 
 
 "You're the Orde interested in Granite County timber, 
 aren't you?" 
 
 "I'm employed by Welton, that's all," said Bob. "He 
 owns the timber. But how did you know I am with 
 Welton?" he asked. 
 
 "With Welton!" echoed Oldham. "Oh, yes well, I 
 heard from Michigan business acquaintances you were 
 with him. Welton's lands are in Granite County?" 
 
 "Yes," said Bob. 
 
 "Well," said Oldham vaguely, "I hope you have enjoyed 
 your little outing." He turned away. 
 
 "Now, how the deuce should anybody know about me, 
 or that I am with Welton, or take the trouble to write about 
 it?" 
 
 He mulled over this for some time. For lack of a better 
 reason, he ascribed to his former football prominence the 
 fact that Oldham' s Michigan correspondent had thought 
 him worth mention. Yet that seemed absurdly inadequate. 
 
PART THREE 
 
I 
 
 TWO weeks later a light buckboard bearing Welton 
 and Bob dashed in the early morning across the 
 plains, wormed its way ingeniously through gaps 
 in the foothills, and slowed to a walk as it felt the grades of 
 the first long low slopes. The air was warm with the sun 
 imprisoned in the pockets of the hills. High chaparral, 
 scrub oaks, and scattered, unkempt digger pines threw their 
 thicket up to the very right of way. It was in general dense, 
 almost impenetrable, yet it had a way of breaking unexpect- 
 edly into spacious parks, into broad natural pastures, into 
 bold, rocky points prophetic of the mountains yet to come. 
 Every once in a while the road drew one side to pause at a 
 cabin nestling among fruit trees, bowered beneath vines, 
 bright with the most vivid of the commoner flowers. They 
 were crazily picturesque with their rough stone chimneys, 
 their roofs of shakes, their broad low verandahs, and their 
 split-picket fences. On these verandahs sat patriarchal- 
 looking men with sweeping white beards, who smoked pipes 
 and gazed across with dim eyes toward the distant blue 
 mountains. When Welton, casually and by the way, men- 
 tioned topographical names, Bob realized to what placid 
 and contented retirement these men had turned, and who 
 they were. Nugget Creek, Flour Gold, Bear Gulch 
 these spoke of the strong, red-shirt ed Argonauts of the 
 El Dorado. Among these scarred but peaceful foothills 
 had been played and applauded the great, wonderful, sor- 
 did, inspired drama of the early days, the traces of which 
 had almost vanished from the land. 
 
 Occasionally also the buckboard paused for water at a 
 
 167 
 
1 68 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 more pretentious place set in a natural opening. There a 
 low, rambling, white ranch-house beneath trees was segre- 
 gated by a picket fence enclosing blossoms like a basket. At 
 a greater or lesser distance were corrals of all sizes arranged 
 in a complicated pattern. They resembled a huge puzzle. 
 The barns were large; a forge stood under an open shed 
 indescribably littered with scrap iron and fragments of all 
 sorts; saddles hung suspended by the horn or one stirrup; 
 bright milk pails sunned bottom-up on fence posts; a dozen 
 horses cropped in a small enclosed pasture or dozed beneath 
 one or another of the magnificent and spreading live-oak 
 trees. Children of all sizes and states of repair clambered 
 to the fence tops or gazed solemnly between the rails. Some- 
 times women stood in the doorways to nod cheerfully at the 
 travellers. They seemed to Bob a comely, healthy-looking 
 lot, competent and good-natured. Beyond an occasional 
 small field and an invariable kitchen garden there appeared 
 to be no evidences of cultivation. Around the edges of the 
 natural opening stretched immediately the open jungle of 
 the chaparral or the park-like forests of oaks. 
 
 " These are the typical mountain people of California," 
 said Welton. " It's only taken us a few hours to come up 
 this far, but we've struck among a different breed of cats. 
 They're born, live and die in the hills, and they might as 
 well be a thousand miles away as forty or fifty. As soon 
 as the snow is out, they hike for the big mountains." 
 
 "What do they do?" inquired Bob. 
 
 " Cattle," replied Welton. " Nothing else." 
 
 "I haven't seen any men." 
 
 "No, and you won't, except the old ones. They've 
 taken their cattle back to the summer ranges in the high 
 mountains. By and by the women and kids will go into 
 the summer camps with the horses." 
 
 On a steep and narrow grade they encountered a girl of 
 twenty riding a spirited pinto. She bestrode a cowboy's 
 stock saddle on which was coiled the usual rope, wore a 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 169 
 
 broad felt hat, and smiled at the two men quite frankly in 
 spite of the fact that she wore no habit and had been com- 
 pelled to arrange her light calico skirts as best she could. 
 The pinto threw his head and snorted, dancing sideways at 
 sight of the buckboard. So occupied was he with the 
 strange vehicle that he paid scant attention to the edge of 
 the road. Bob saw that the passage along the narrow out- 
 side strip was going to be precarious. He prepared to 
 descend, but at that moment the girl faced her pony squarely 
 at the edge of the road, dug her little heels into his flanks, 
 and flicked him sharply with the morale or elongated lash 
 of the reins. Without hesitation the pony stepped off the 
 grade, bunched his hoofs and slid down the precipitous slope. 
 So steep was the hill that a man would have had to climb it 
 on all fours. 
 
 Bob gasped and rose to his feet. The pony, leaving a 
 long furrow in the side of the mountain, caught himself on 
 the narrow ledge of a cattle trail, turned to the left, and 
 disappeared at a little fox trot. 
 
 Bob looked at this companion. Welton laughed. 
 
 "There's hardly a woman in the country that doesn't help 
 round up stock. How'd you like to chase a cow full speed 
 over this country, hey?" 
 
 As they progressed, mounting slowly, but steadily, the 
 character of the country changed. The canons through 
 which flowed the streams became deeper and more pre- 
 cipitous; the divides between them higher. At one point 
 where the road emerged on a bold, clear point, Bob looked 
 back to the shimmering plain, and was astonished to see how 
 high they had climbed. To the eastward and only a few 
 miles distant rose the dark mass of a pine-covered ridge, 
 austere and solemn, the first rampart of the Sierras. Welton 
 pointed to it with his whip. 
 
 "There's our timber," said he simply. 
 
 A little farther along the buckboard drew rein at the top 
 of a long declivity that led down to a broad wooded valley. 
 
170 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Among the trees Bob caught a glimpse of the roofs of scat- 
 tered houses, and the gleam of a river. From the opposite 
 edge of the valley rose the mountain-ridge, sheer and noble. 
 The light of afternoon tinted it with lilac and purple. 
 
 " That's the celebrated town of Sycamore Flats," said 
 Welton. " Just at present we're the most important citizens. 
 This fellow here's the first yellow pine on the road." 
 
 Bob looked upon what he then considered a rather large 
 tree. Later he changed his mind. The buckboard rattled 
 down the grade, swung over a bridge, and so into the little 
 town. Welton drew up at a low, broad structure set back 
 from the street among some trees. 
 
 "We'll tackle the mountain to-morrow," said he. 
 
 Bob descended with a distinct feeling of pleasure at being 
 able to use his legs again. He and Welton and the baggage 
 and everything about the buckboard were powdered thick 
 with the fine, white California dust. At every movement 
 he shook loose a choking cloud. Welton' s face was a dull 
 gray, ludicrously streaked, and he suspected himself of being 
 in the same predicament. A boy took the horses, and the 
 travellers entered the picketed enclosure. Welton lifted up 
 his great rumbling voice. 
 
 "O Auntie Belle!" he roared. 
 
 Within the dark depths of the house life stirred. In a 
 moment a capable and motherly woman had taken them in 
 charge. Amid a rapid-fire of greetings, solicitudes, jokes, 
 questions, commands and admonitions Bob was dusted 
 vigorously and led to ice-cold water and clean towels. Ten 
 minutes later, much refreshed, he stood on the low verandah 
 looking out with pleasure on the little there was to see. 
 Eight dogs squatted themselves in front of him, ears slightly 
 uplifted, in expectancy of something Bob could not guess. 
 Probably the dogs could not guess either. Within the 
 house two or three young girls were moving about, singing 
 and clattering dishes in a delightfully promising manner. 
 Down the winding hill, for Sycamore Flats proved after 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 171 
 
 all to be built irregularly on a slope, he could make out 
 several other scattered houses, each with its dooryard, and 
 the larger structures of several stores. Over all loomed the 
 dark mountain. The sun had just dropped below the ridge 
 down which the road had led them, but still shone clear and 
 golden as an overlay of colour laid against the sombre pines 
 on the higher slopes. 
 
 After an excellent chicken supper, Bob lit his pipe and 
 wandered down the street. The larger structures, three in 
 number, now turned out to be a store and two saloons. A 
 dozen saddle horses dozed patiently. On the platform 
 outside the store a dozen Indian women dressed in bright 
 calico huddled beneath their shawls. After squatting thus 
 in brute immobility for a half- hour, one of them would pur- 
 chase a few pounds of flour or a half-pound of tea. Then 
 she would take her place again with the others. At the end 
 of another half-hour another, moved by some sudden and 
 mysterious impulse, would in turn make her purchases. The 
 interior of the store proved to be no different from the general 
 country store anywhere. The proprietor was very busy 
 and occupied and important and interested in selling a two- 
 dollar bill of goods to a chance prospector, which was well, 
 for this was the storekeeper's whole life, and he had in 
 defence of his soul to make his occupations filling. Bob 
 bought a cigar and went out. 
 
 Next he looked in at one of the saloons. It was an ill- 
 smelling, cheap box, whose sole ornaments were advertising 
 lithographs. Four men played cards. They hardly glanced 
 at the newcomer. Bob deciphered Forest Reserve badges 
 on three of them. 
 
 As he emerged from this joint, his eyes a trifle dazzled by 
 the light, he made out drawn up next the elevated platform 
 a buckboard containing a single man. As his pupils con- 
 tracted he distinguished such details as a wiry, smart little 
 team, a man so fat as almost to fill the seat, a moon-like, 
 good-natured face, a vest open to disclose a vast white shirt. 
 
172 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Hullo!" the stranger rumbled in a great voice. "Any 
 f>f my boys in there?" 
 
 "Don't believe I know your boys," replied Bob pleasantly. 
 
 The fat man heaved his bulk forward to peer at Bob. 
 
 "Consarn your hide!" he roared with the utmost good 
 humour; "stand out of the light so I can see your fool face. 
 You lie like a hound! Everybody knows my boys!" 
 
 There was no offence in the words. 
 
 Bob laughed and obligingly stepped one side the lighted 
 doorway. 
 
 "A towerist!" wheezed the fat man. "Say, you're too 
 early. Nothing doing in the mountains yet. Who sent you 
 this early, anyway?" 
 
 "No tourist; permanent inhabitant," said Bob. "I'm 
 with Welton." 
 
 "Timber, by God!" exploded the fat man. "Well, you 
 and I are like to have friendly doings. Your road goes 
 through us, and you got to toe the mark, young fellow, let 
 me tell you! I'm a hell of a hard man to get on with!" 
 
 "You look it," said Bob. "You own some timber?" 
 
 The fat man exploded again. 
 
 "Hell, no!" he roared. "Why, you don't even know me, 
 do you? I'm Plant, Henry Plant. I'm Forest Supervisor." 
 
 "My name's Orde," said Bob. "If you're after Fore&t 
 Rangers, there's three in there." 
 
 "The rascals!" cried Plant. He raised his voice to a 
 bellow. "Oh, you Jim!" 
 
 The door was darkened. 
 
 "Say, Jim," said Plant. "They tell me there's a fire over 
 Stone Creek way. Somebody's got to take a look at it. 
 You and Joe better ride over in the morning and see what 
 she looks like." 
 
 The man stretched his arms over his head and yawned. 
 "Oh, hell!" said he with deep feeling. "Ain't you got any 
 of those suckers that like to ride ? I've had a headache for 
 three days." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 173 
 
 "Yes, it's hard luck you got to do anything, ain't it," said 
 Plant. "Well, I'll see if I can find old John, and if you 
 don't hear from me, you got to go." 
 
 The Supervisor gathered up his reins and was about to 
 proceed when down through the fading twilight rode a 
 singular figure. It was a thin, wiry, tall man, with a face 
 like tanned leather, a clear, blue eye and a drooping white 
 moustache. He wore a flopping old felt hat, a faded cot- 
 ton shirt and an ancient pair of copper-riveted blue-jeans 
 overalls tucked into a pair of cowboy's boots. A time- 
 discoloured cartridge belt encircled his hips, supporting a 
 holster from which protruded the shiny butt of an old- 
 fashioned Colt's 45. But if the man was thus nondescript 
 and shabby, his mount and its caparisons were magnificent. 
 The horse was a glossy, clean-limbed sorrel with a quick, 
 intelligent eye. The bridle was of braided rawhide, the 
 broad spade-bit heavily inlaid with silver, the reins of braided 
 and knotted rawhide. Across the animal's brow ran three 
 plates of silver linked together. Below its ears were wide 
 silver conchas. The saddle was carved elaborately, and 
 likewise ornamented with silver. The whole outfit shone 
 new-polished and well kept. 
 
 "Oh, you John!" called Plant. 
 
 The old man moved his left hand slightly. The proud- 
 stepping sorrel instantly turned to the left, and, on a signal 
 Bob could not distinguish, stopped to statue-like immobility. 
 Then Bob could see the Forest Ranger badge pinned to one 
 strap of the old man's suspender. 
 
 "John," said Plant, "they tell me there's a fire over at 
 Stone Creek. Ride over and see what it amounts to." 
 
 "All right," replied the Ranger. "What help do I get?" 
 
 "Oh, you just ride over and see what it amounts to," 
 repeated Plant. 
 
 " I can't do nothing alone fighting fire." 
 
 "Well I can't spare anybody now," said Plant, "and it 
 may not amount, to nothing. You go see." 
 
1/4 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "All right," said John. "But if it does amount to some- 
 thing, it'll get an awful start on us." 
 
 He rode away. 
 
 "Old California John," said Plant to Bob with a slight 
 laugh. "Crazy old fool." He raised his voice. "Oh, 
 you Jim! John, he's going to ride over. You needn't go." 
 
 Bob nodded a good night, and walked back up the street. 
 At the store he found the sorrel horse standing untethered 
 in the road. He stopped to examine more closely the very 
 ornate outfit. California John came out carrying a grain 
 sack half full of provisions. This he proceeded to tie on 
 behind the saddle, paying no attention to the young man. 
 
 "Well, Star, you got a long ways to go," muttered the old 
 man. 
 
 "You aren't going over those mountains to-night, are 
 you?" cried Bob. 
 
 The old man turned quite deliberately and inspected his 
 questioner in a manner to imply that he had committed an 
 indiscretion. But the answer was in a tone that implied 
 he had not. 
 
 "Certain sure," he replied. "The only way to handle a 
 fire is to stick to it like death to a dead nigger." 
 
 Bob returned to the hotel very thoughtful. There he 
 found Mr. Welton seated comfortably on the verandah, his 
 feet up and a cigar alight. 
 
 "This is pretty good medicine," he called to Bob. "Get 
 your feet up, you long-legged stork, and enjoy yourself. 
 Been exploring?" 
 
 "Listening to the band on the plaza," laughed Bob. He 
 drew up a chair. At that moment the dim figure of Cali- 
 fornia John jingled by. "I wouldn't like that old fellow's 
 job. He's a ranger, and he's got to go and look up a forest 
 fire." 
 
 "Alone?" asked Welton. "Couldn't they scare up any 
 more? Or are they over there already?" 
 
 "There's three playing poker at the saloon. Looked to 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 175 
 
 me like a fool way to do. He's just going to take a look 
 and then come back and report." 
 
 "Oh, they're heavy on reports!" said Welton. "Where 
 is the fire; did you hear ? " 
 
 " Stone Creek wherever that is." 
 
 "Stone Creek!" yelled Welton, dropping the front legs of 
 his chair to the verandah with a thump. "Why, our timber 
 adjoins Stone Creek! You com* 1 with me!" 
 
II 
 
 W ELTON strode away into the darkness, followed 
 closely by Bob. He made his way as rapidly as he 
 could through the village to an attractive house at 
 the farther outskirts. Here he turned through the picket 
 gate, and thundered on the door. 
 
 It was almost immediately opened by a meek-looking 
 woman of thirty. 
 
 "Plant in?" demanded Welton. 
 
 The meek woman had no opportunity to reply. 
 
 "Sure! Sure! Come in!" roared the Supervisor's great 
 voice. 
 
 They entered to find the fat man, his coat off, leaning 
 luxuriously back in an office chair, his feet up on another, 
 a cigar in his mouth. He waved a hospitable hand. 
 
 "Sit down! Sit down!" he wheezed. "Glad to see 
 you." 
 
 "They tell me there's a fire over in the Stone Creek 
 country," said Welton. 
 
 "So it's reported," said Plant comfortably. "I've sent 
 a man over already to investigate." 
 
 "That timber adjoins ours," went on Welton. "Sending 
 one ranger to investigate don't seem to help the old man a 
 great deal." 
 
 "'Oh, it may not amount to much," disclaimed Plant 
 vaguely. 
 
 "But if it does amount to much, it'll be getting one devil 
 of a start," persisted Welton. "Why don't you send over 
 enough men to give it a fight?" 
 
 "Haven't got 'em," replied Plant briefly. 
 
 176 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 177 
 
 "There's three playing poker now, down in the first 
 saloon," broke in Bob. 
 
 Plant looked at him coldly for ten seconds. 
 
 "Those men are waiting to tally Wright's cattle," he 
 condescended, naming one of the most powerful of the 
 valley ranch kings. 
 
 But Welton caught at Bob's statement. 
 
 a All you need is one man to count cattle," he pointed 
 out. "Can't you do that yourself, and send over your 
 men?" 
 
 "Are you trying to tell me my business, Mr. Welton?" 
 asked the Supervisor formally. 
 
 Welton laughed one of his inexpressible chuckles. 
 
 "Lord love you, no!" he cried. "I have all I can handle. 
 I'm merely trying to protect my own. Can't you hire some 
 men, then?" 
 
 "My appropriation won't stand it," said Plant, a gleam 
 coming into his eye. "I simply haven't the money to pay 
 them with." He paused significantly. 
 
 " How much would it take?" inquired Welton. 
 
 Plant cast his eyes to the ceiling. 
 
 "Of course, I couldn't tell, because I don't know how 
 much of a fire it is, or how long it would take to corral it. 
 But I'll tell you what I'll do: suppose you leave me a lump 
 sum, and I'll look after such matters hereafter without 
 having to bother you with them. Of course, when I have 
 rangers available I'll use 'em; but any time you need 
 protection, I can rush in enough men to handle the situation 
 without having to wait for authorizations and all that. It 
 might not take anything extra, of course." 
 
 "How much do you suppose it would require to be surf 
 we don't run short?" asked Welton. 
 
 "Oh, a thousand dollars ought to last indefinitely," replied 
 Plant. 
 
 The two men stared at each other for a moment. Then 
 Welton laughed. 
 
178 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "I can hire a heap of men for a thousand dollars," said he, 
 rising. " Good night." 
 
 Plant rumbled something. The two went out, leaving 
 ihe fat man chewing his cigar and scowling angrily after 
 them. 
 
 Once clear of the premises Welton laughed loudly. 
 
 "Well, my son, that's your first shy at the government 
 official, isn't it? They're not all as bad as that. At first 
 I couldn't make out whether he was just fat and lazy. Now 
 I know he's a grafter. He ought to get a nice neat 'For 
 Sale' sign painted. Did you hear the nerve of him ? Wanted 
 a thousand dollars bribe to do his plain duty." 
 
 "Oh, that was what he was driving at!" cried Bob. 
 
 "Yes, Baby Blue-eyes, didn't you tumble to that? Well, 
 I don't see a thousand in it whether he's for us or against us." 
 
 "Was that the reason he didn't send over all his men to 
 the fire?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Partly. Principally because he wanted to help old 
 Simeon Wright's men in with the cattle. Simeon probably 
 has a ninety-nine year lease on his fat carcass with the 
 soul thrown in for a trading stamp. It don't take but one 
 man to count cattle, but three extra cowboys comes mighty 
 handy in the timber." 
 
 "Would Wright bribe him, do you suppose?" 
 
 Welton stopped short. 
 
 "Let me tell you one thing about old Simeon, Bob," said 
 he. "He owns more land than any other man in California. 
 He got it all from the government. Eight sections on one of 
 his ranches he took up under the Swamp Act by swearing 
 he had been all over them in a boat. He had. The boat 
 was drawn by eight mules. That's just a sample. You bet 
 Simeon owns a Supervisor, if he thinks he needs one; and 
 that's why the cattle business takes precedence over the fire 
 business." 
 
 "It's an outrage!" cried Bob. "We ought to report him 
 for neglect of duty." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 179 
 
 Welton chuckled. 
 
 "I didn't tell you this to get you mad, Bobby," he drawled 
 with his indescribable air of good humour; "only to show 
 you the situation. What difference does it make? As for 
 reporting to Washington! Look here, I don't know what 
 Plant's political backing is, but it must be 99.84 per cent, 
 pure. Otherwise, how would a man as fat as that get a job 
 of Forest Supervisor? Why, he can't ride a horse, and it's 
 absurd to suppose he ever saw any of the Reserve he's in 
 charge of." 
 
 Welton bestirred himself to good purpose. Inside of two 
 hours a half-dozen men, well-mounted and provisioned, 
 bearing the usual tools of the fire-fighter, had ridden off 
 into the growing brightness of the moon. 
 
 "There," said the lumberman with satisfaction. "That 
 isn't going to cost much, and we'll feel safe. Now let's 
 turn in." 
 
Ill 
 
 THE next morning Bob was awakened to a cold dawn 
 that became still more shivery when he had dressed 
 and stepped outside. Even a hot breakfast helped 
 little; and when the blackboard was brought around, he 
 mounted to his seat without any great enthusiasm. The 
 mountain rose dark and forbidding, high against the eastern 
 sky, and a cold wind breathed down its defiles. When the 
 wiry little ponies slowed to the first stretches of the tiresome 
 climb, Bob was glad to walk alongside. 
 
 Almost immediately the pines began. They were short 
 and scrubby as yet, but beautiful in the velvet of their dark 
 green needles. Bob glanced at them critically. They were 
 perhaps eighty to a hundred feet high and from a foot to 
 thirty inches in diameter. 
 
 "Fair timber/' he commented to his companion. 
 
 Welton snorted. "Timber!" he cried. "That isn't 
 timber; it's weeds. There's no timber on this slope of the 
 mountain." 
 
 Slowly the ponies toiled up the steep grade, pausing often 
 for breath. Among the pines grew many oaks, buckthorns, 
 tall manzanitas and the like. As the valley dropped beneath, 
 they came upon an occasional budding dogwood. Over 
 the slopes of some of the hills spread a mantle of velvety 
 vivid green, fair as the grass of a lawn, but indescribably 
 soft and mobile. It lent those declivities on which it grew 
 a spacious, well-kept, park appearance, on which Bob 
 exclaimed with delight. 
 
 But Welton would have none of it. 
 
 "Bear clover," said he, "full of pitch as an old jack-pine. 
 
 180 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 181 
 
 Burns like coal oil, and you can't hardly cut it with a hoe. 
 Worst stuff to carry fire and to fight fire in you ever saw. 
 Pick a piece and smell it." 
 
 Bob broke off one of the tough, woody stems. A pungent 
 odour exactly like that of extract of hamamelis met his 
 nostrils. Then he realized that all the time he had been 
 aware of this perfume faintly disengaging itself from the 
 hills. In spite of Mr. Welton's disgust, Bob liked its clean, 
 pungent suggestion. 
 
 The road mounted always, following the contour of the 
 mountains. Thus it alternately emerged and crept on 
 around bold points, and bent back into the recesses of 
 ravines. Clear, beautiful streams dashed and sang down 
 the latter; from the former, often, Bob could look out over 
 the valley from which they had mounted, across the foothills, 
 to the distant, yellowing plains far on the horizon, lost finally 
 in brown heat waves. Sycamore Flats lay almost directly 
 below. Always it became smaller, and more and more like 
 a coloured relief-map with tiny, Noah's-ark houses. The 
 forest grew sturdily on the steep mountain. Bob's eyes 
 were on a level with the tops of trees growing but a few 
 hundred feet away. The horizon line was almost at eleven 
 o'clock above him. 
 
 "How'd you handle this kind of a proposition?" he 
 inquired. "Looks to me like hard sledding." 
 
 "This stuff is no good," said Welton. "These little, 
 yellow pines ain't worth cutting. This is all Forest Reserve 
 stuff." 
 
 Bob glanced again down the aisles of what looked to him 
 like a noble forest, but said nothing. He was learning, in 
 this land of surprises, to keep his mouth shut. 
 
 At the end of two hours Welton drew up beside a new 
 water trough to water the ponies. 
 
 "There," he remarked casually, "is the first sugar pine." 
 
 Bob's eye followed the indication of his whip to the spread- 
 ing, graceful arms of a tree so far up the bed of the stream 
 
1 82 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 that he could make out only its top. The ponies, refreshed, 
 resumed their methodical plodding. 
 
 Insensibly, as they mounted, the season had changed. 
 The oaks that, at the level of Sycamore Flats, had been in 
 full leaf, here showed but the tender pinks and russets of the 
 first foliage. The dogwoods were quite dormant. Rivulets 
 of seepage and surface water trickled in the most unexpected 
 places as though from snow recently melted. 
 
 Of climbing there seemed no end. False skylines recur- 
 rently deceived Bob into a belief that the buckboard was 
 about to surmount the top. Always the rise proved to be 
 preliminary to another. The road dipped behind little 
 spurs, climbed ravines, lost itself between deep cuts. Only 
 rarely did the forest growths permit a view, and then only 
 in glimpses between the tops of trees. In the valley and 
 against the foothills now intervened the peaceful and calm 
 blue atmosphere of distance. 
 
 " I'd no idea from looking at it this mountain was so high," 
 he told Welton. 
 
 "You never do," said Welton. "They always fool you. 
 We're pretty nigh the top now." 
 
 Indeed, for a little space the forest had perforce to thin 
 because of lack of footing. The slope became almost a 
 precipice, ending in a bold comb above which once more 
 could be glimpsed the tops of trees. Quite ingeniously the 
 road discovered a cleft up which it laboured mightily, to land 
 breathless after a heart-breaking pull. Just over the top 
 Welton drew rein to breathe his horses and to hear what 
 Bob had to say about it. 
 
 The buckboard stood at the head of a long, gentle slope 
 descending, perhaps fifty feet, to a plateau; which, in turn, 
 rose to another crest some miles distant. The level of this 
 plateau, which comprised, perhaps, thirty thousand acres 
 all told, supported a noble and unbroken forest. 
 
 Mere statistics are singularly unavailing to convey even 
 an idea of a California woodland at its best. We are not 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 183 
 
 here dealing with the so-called "Big Trees," but with the 
 ordinary or extraordinary pines and spruces. The 
 forest is free from dense undergrowths; the individual trees 
 are enormous, yet so symmetrical that the eye can realize 
 their size only when it catches sight of some usual and accus- 
 tomed object, such as men or horses or the buildings in which 
 they live. Even then it is quite as likely that the measures 
 will appear to have been struck small, as that the measured 
 will show in their true grandeur of proportion. The eye 
 refuses to be convinced off-hand that its education has been 
 faulty. 
 
 "Now," said Welton decidedly. "We may as well have 
 it over with right now. How big is that young tree over 
 there?" 
 
 He pointed out a half-grown specimen of sugar pine. 
 
 "About twenty inches in diameter," replied Bob promptly. 
 
 Welton silently handed him a tape line. Bob descended. 
 
 "Thirty-seven!" he cried with vast astonishment, when 
 his measurements were taken and his computations made. 
 
 "Now that one," commanded Welton, indicating a larger 
 tree. 
 
 Bob sized it up. 
 
 "No fair looking at the other for comparison," warned 
 the older man. 
 
 "Forty," hesitated Bob, "and I don't believe it's that!" 
 he added. " Four feet," he amended when he had measured. 
 
 "Climb in," said Welton; "now you're in a proper frame 
 of mind to listen to me with respect. The usual run of tree 
 you see down through here is from five to eight feet in diam- 
 eter. They are about all over two hundred feet tall, and 
 some run close to three hundred." 
 
 Bob sighed. " All right. Drive on. I'll get used to it in 
 time." His face lighted up with a grin. "Say, wouldn't 
 you like to see Roaring Dick trying to handle one of those 
 logs with a peavie? As for driving a stream full of them! 
 Oh, Lord! You'd have to send 'em down one at a time, 
 
1 84 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 fitted out with staterooms for the crew, a rudder and a gaso- 
 line engine!'' 
 
 The ponies jogged cheerfully along the winding road. 
 Water ran everywhere, or stood in pools. Under the young 
 spruces were the last snowbanks. Pushing up through the 
 wet soil, already showed early snowplants, those strange, 
 waxlike towers of crimson. After a time they came to a 
 sidehill where the woods thinned. There still stood many 
 trees, but as the buckboard approached, Bob could see that 
 they were cedars, or spruce, or smaller specimens of the 
 pines. Prone upon the ground, like naked giants, gleamed 
 white and monstrous the peeled bodies of great trees. A 
 litter of "slash," beaten down by the winter, cumbered the 
 ground, and retained beneath its faded boughs soggy and 
 melting drifts. 
 
 "Had some 'fallers' in here last year," explained Welton 
 briefly. "Thought we'd have some logs on hand when it 
 came time to start up." 
 
 " Wait a minute," requested Bob. He sprang lightly from 
 the vehicle, and scrambled over to stand alongside the 
 nearest of the fallen monsters. He could just see over it 
 comfortably. "My good heavens!" said he soberly, resum- 
 ing his seat. "How in blazes do you handle them?" 
 
 Welton drove on a few paces, then pointed with his whip. 
 A narrow trough made of small peeled logs laid parallel and 
 pegged and mortised together at the ends, ran straight over 
 the next hill. 
 
 " That's a chute," he explained briefly. " We hitch a wire 
 cable to the log and just naturally yank it over to the chute." 
 
 "How yank it?" demanded Bob. 
 
 " By a good, husky donkey engine. Then the chute poles 
 are slushed, we hitch cables on four or five logs, and just 
 tow them over the hill to the mill." 
 
 Bob's enthusiasm, as always, was growing with the pres- 
 entation of this new and mighty problem of engineering so 
 succinctly presented. It sounded simple; but from his 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 185 
 
 two years* experience he knew better. He was becoming 
 accustomed to filling in the outlines of pure theory. At a 
 glance he realized the importance of such things as adequate 
 anchors for the donkey engines; of figuring on straight pulls, 
 horse power and the breaking strain of steel cables; of 
 arranging curves in such manner as to obviate ditching the 
 logs, of selecting grades and routes in such wise as to avoid 
 the lift of the stretched cable; and more dimly he guessed at 
 other accidents, problems and necessities which only the 
 emergency could fully disclose. All he said was: 
 
 " So that's why you bark them all so they'll slide. I 
 wondered." 
 
 But now the ponies, who had often made this same trip, 
 pricked up their ears and accelerated their pace. In a 
 moment they had rounded a hill and brought their masters 
 into full view of the mill itself. 
 
 The site was in a wide, natural clearing occupied originally 
 by a green meadow perhaps a dozen acres in extent. From 
 the borders of this park the forest had drawn back to a dark 
 fringe. Now among the trees at the upper end gleamed 
 the yellow of new, unpainted shanties. Square against the 
 prospect was the mill, a huge structure, built of axe-hewn 
 timbers, rough boards, and the hand-rived shingles known 
 as shakes. Piece by piece the machinery had been hauled 
 up the mountain road until enough had been assembled on 
 the space provided for it by the axe men to begin sawing. 
 Then, like some strange monster, it had eaten out for itself 
 at once a space in the forest and the materials for its shell 
 and for the construction of its lesser dependents, the shanties, 
 the cook-houses, the offices and the shops. Welton pointed 
 out with pride the various arrangements; here the flats and 
 the trestles for the yards where the new-sawn lumber was 
 to be stacked; there the dump for the sawdust and slabs; 
 yonder the banking ground constructed of great logs laid 
 close together, wherein the timber-logs would be deposited 
 to await the saw. 
 
1 86 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 From the lower end of the yard a trestle supporting a 
 V-shaped trough disappeared over the edge of a hill. Near 
 its head a clear stream cascaded down the slope. 
 
 " That's the flume," explained the lumberman. " Brought 
 the stream around from the head of the meadow in a ditch. 
 We'll flume the sawn lumber down the mountain. For the 
 present we'll have to team it out to the railroad. Your 
 friend Baker's figuring on an electric road to meet us, though, 
 and I guess we'll fix it up with him inside a few years, 
 anyway." 
 
 " Where's Stone Creek from here?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Over the farther ridge. The mountain drops off again 
 there to Stone Creek three or four thousand feet." 
 
 "We ought to hear from the fire, soon." 
 
 "If we don't, we'll ride over that way and take a look 
 down," replied Welton. 
 
 They drove down the empty yards to a stable where 
 already was established their old barn-boss of the Michigan 
 woods. Four or five big freight wagons stood outside, and 
 a score of powerful mules rolled and sunned themselves in 
 the largest corral. Welton nodded toward several horses 
 in another enclosure. 
 
 "Pick your saddle horse, Bob," said he. "Straw boss 
 has to ride in this country." 
 
 "Make it the oldest, then," said Bob. 
 
 At the cookhouse they were just in time for the noon meal. 
 The long, narrow room, fresh with new wood, new tables 
 and new benches in preparation for the crew to come, looked 
 bare and empty with its handful of guests huddled at one 
 end. These were the teamsters, the stablemen, the care- 
 takers and a few early arrivals. The remainder of the crew 
 was expected two days later. 
 
 After lunch Bob wandered out into the dazzling sunlight. 
 The sky was wonderfully blue, the trees softly green, the 
 new boards and the tiny pile of sawdust vividly yellow. 
 These primary colours made all the world. The air breathed 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 187 
 
 crisp and bracing, with just a dash of cold in the nostrils 
 that contrasted paradoxically with the warm balminess of 
 the sunlight. It was as though these two opposed qualities, 
 warmth and cold, were here held suspended in the same 
 medium and at the same time. Birds flashed like spangles 
 against the blue. Others sang and darted and scratched 
 and chirped everywhere. Tiny chipmunks no bigger than 
 half-grown rats scampered fearlessly about. What Bob took 
 for larger chipmunks the Douglas Squirrels perched 
 on the new fence posts. The world seemed alive alive 
 through its creatures, through the solemn, uplifting vitality 
 of its forests, through the sprouting, budding spring growths 
 just bursting into green, through the wine-draught of its 
 very air, through the hurrying, busy preoccupied murmur 
 of its streams. Bob breathed his lungs full again and again, 
 and tingled from head to foot. 
 
 "How high are we here?" he called to Welton. 
 
 "About six thousand. Why? Getting short-winded?" 
 
 "I could run ten miles," replied Bob. "Come on. I'm 
 going to look at the stream." 
 
 "Not at a run," protested Welton. "No, sir! At a nice, 
 middle-aged, dignified, fat walk! 11 
 
 They sauntered down the length of the trestle, with its 
 miniature steel tracks, to where the flume began. It proved 
 to be a very solidly built V- trough, alongside which ran a 
 footboard. Welton pointed to the telephone wire that 
 paralleled it. 
 
 "When we get going," said he, "we just turn the stream 
 in here, clamp our sawn lumber into bundles of the right 
 size, and 'let her went!' There'll be three stations along 
 the line, connected by 'phone, to see that things go all right. 
 That flume's six mile long." 
 
 Bob strode to the gate, and after some heaving and haul- 
 ing succeeded in throwing water into the flume. 
 
 "I wanted to see her go," he explained. 
 
 "Now if you want some real fun," said Welton, gazing 
 
1 88 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 after the foaming advance wave as it ripped its way down 
 the chute. "You make you a sort of three-cornered boat 
 just to fit the angle of the flume; and then you lie down in 
 it and go to Sycamore Flats, in about six minutes more or 
 less." 
 
 "You mean to say that's done?" cried Bob. 
 
 " Often. It only means knocking together a plank or so." 
 
 "Doesn't the lumber ever jump the flume?" 
 
 "Once in a great while." 
 
 "Suppose the boat should do it?" 
 
 "Then," said Welton drily, "it's probable you'd have to 
 begin learning to tune a harp." 
 
 " Not for mine," said Bob with fervour. " Any time I yearn 
 for Sycamore Flats real hard, I'll go by hand." 
 
 He shut off the water, and the two walked a little farther 
 to a bold point that pressed itself beyond the trees. 
 
 Below them the cliff dropped away so steeply that they 
 looked out above the treetops as from the summit of a true 
 precipice. Almost directly below them lay the wooded 
 valley of Sycamore Flats, maplike, tiny. It was just possible 
 to make out the roofs of houses, like gray dots. Roads 
 showed as white filaments threading the irregular patches of 
 green and brown. From beneath flowed the wide oak and 
 brush-clad foothills, rising always with the apparent cup of 
 the earth until almost at the height of the eye the shimmering, 
 dim plains substituted their brown for the dark green of the 
 hills. The country that yesterday had seemed mountainous, 
 full of canons, ridges and ranges, now showed gently undu- 
 lating, flattened, like a carpet spread before the feet of the 
 Sierras. To the north were tumbled, blue, pine-clad moun- 
 tains as far as the eye could see, receding into the dimness 
 of great distance. At one point, but so far away as to be 
 distinguishable only by a slight effort of the imagination, 
 hovered like soap-bubbles against an ethereal sky the forms 
 of snow mountains. Welton pointed out the approximate 
 position of Yosemite. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 189 
 
 They returned to camp where Welton showed the clean 
 and painted little house built for Bob and himself. It was 
 quite simply a row of rooms with a verandah in front of them 
 all. But the interiors were furnished with matting for the 
 floors, curtains to the windows, white iron bedsteads, run- 
 ning water and open fireplaces. 
 
 "I'm sick of camping," said Welton. "This is our sum- 
 mer quarters for some time. I'm going to be comfortable." 
 
 Bob sighed. 
 
 "This is the bulliest place I ever saw!" he cried boyishly. 
 
 "Well, you're going to have time enough to get used to 
 it," said Welton drily. 
 
IV 
 
 THE Stone Creek fire indeed proved not to amount to 
 much, whereby sheer chance upheld Henry Plant. 
 The following morning the fire fighters returned; 
 leaving, however, two of their number to "guard the line" 
 until the danger should be over. Welton explained to Bob 
 that only the fact that Stone Creek bottom was at a low 
 elevation, filled with brush and tarweed, and grown thick 
 with young trees rendered the forest even inflammable at 
 this time of year. 
 
 "Anywhere else in this country at this time of year it 
 wouldn't do any harm," he told Bob, "and Plant knew it 
 couldn't get out of the basin. He didn't give a cuss how 
 much it did there. But we've got some young stuff that 
 would easy carry a top fire. Later in the season you may 
 see some tall rustling on the fire lines." 
 
 But before noon of that day a new complication arose. 
 Up the road came a short, hairy man on a mule. His beard 
 grew to his high cheek bones, his eyebrows bristled and 
 jutted out over his black eyes, and a thick shock of hair 
 pushed beneath the rim of his hat to meet the eyebrows. 
 The hat was an old black slouch, misshapen, stained and 
 dusty. His faded shirt opened to display a hairy throat 
 and chest. As for the rest he was short-limbed, thick and 
 powerful. 
 
 This nondescript individual rode up to the verandah on 
 which sat Welton and Bob, awaiting the lunch bell. He 
 bowed gravely, and dismounted. 
 
 "Dis ees Meestair Welton?" he inquired with a courtesy 
 at strange variance with his uncouth appearance. 
 
 190 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 191 
 
 Welton nodded. 
 
 " I am Peter Lejeune," said the newcomer, announcing one 
 of those hybrid names so common among the transplanted 
 French and Basques of California. " I have de ship." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Welton rising and going forward to offer 
 his hand. " Come up and sit down, Mr. Leejune." 
 
 The hairy man " tied his mule to the ground" by dropping 
 the end of the reins, and mounted the two steps to the 
 verandah. 
 
 "This is my assistant, Mr. Orde," said Welton. "How 
 are the sheep coming on? Mr. Leejune,' he told Bob, 
 "rents the grazing in our timber." 
 
 "Et is not coming," stated Lejeune with a studied calm. 
 "Plant he riffuse permit to cross." 
 
 "Permit to what?" asked Welton. 
 
 "To cross hees fores', gov'ment fores'. I can' get in here 
 widout cross gov'ment land. I got to get permit from Plant. 
 Plant he riffuse." 
 
 Welton rose, staring at his visitor. 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me," he cried at last, "that a man 
 hasn't got a right to get into his own land ? That they can 
 keep a man out of his own land?" 
 
 "Da's right," nodded the Frenchman. 
 
 " But you've been in here for ten years or so to my knowl- 
 edge." 
 
 Abruptly the sheepman's calm fell from him. He became 
 wildly excited. His black eyes snapped, his hair bristled, 
 he arose from his chair and gesticulated. 
 
 "Every year I geev heem three ship! Three ship!" he 
 repeated, thrusting three stubby fingers at Wei ton's face. 
 "Three little ship! I stay all summer! He never say per- 
 mit. Thees year he kip me out." 
 
 "Give any reason?" asked Welton. 
 
 " He say my ship feed over the line in gov'ment land." 
 
 "Did they?" 
 
 "Mebbe so, little bit. Mebbe not. Nobody show me 
 
192 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 line. Nobody pay no 'tention. I feed thees range ten 
 year." 
 
 "Did you give him three sheep this year?" 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 Welton sighed. 
 
 "I can't go down and tend to this," said he. "My fore- 
 men are here to be consulted, and the crews will begin to 
 come in to-morrow. You'll have to go and see what's eat- 
 ing this tender Plant, Bob. Saddle up and ride down with 
 Mr. Leejune." 
 
 Bob took his first lesson in Western riding behind Lejeune 
 and his stolid mule. He had ridden casually in the East, 
 as had most young men of his way of life, but only enough 
 to make a fair showing on a gentle and easy horse. His 
 present mount was gentle and easy enough, but Bob was 
 called upon to admire feats of which a Harlem goat might 
 have been proud. Lejeune soon turned off the wagon road 
 to make his way directly down the side of the mountain. 
 Bob possessed his full share of personal courage, but in this 
 unaccustomed skirting of precipices, hopping down ledges, 
 and sliding down inclines too steep to afford a foothold he 
 found himself leaning inward, sitting very light in the sad- 
 dle, or holding his breath until a passage perilous was 
 safely passed. In the next few years he had occasion to 
 drop down the mountainside a great many times. After 
 the first few trips he became so thoroughly accustomed that 
 he often wondered how he had ever thought this scary riding. 
 Now, however, he was so busily occupied that he was caught 
 by surprise when Lejeune's mule turned off through a patch 
 of breast-high manzafiita and he found himself traversing 
 the gentler slope at the foot of the mountain. Ten minutes 
 later they entered Sycamore Flats. 
 
 Then Bob had leisure to notice an astonishing change of 
 temperature. At the mill the air had been almost cold 
 entirely so out of the direct rays of the sun. Here it was as 
 hot as though from a furnace. Passing the store, Bob saw 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 193 
 
 that the tall thermometer there stood at 96 degrees. The 
 day was unseasonable, but later, in the August heats, Bob 
 had often, to his sorrow, to test the difference between six 
 thousand and two thousand feet of elevation. From a clear, 
 crisp late-spring climate he would descend in two hours to 
 a temperature of 105 degrees. 
 
 Henry Plant was discovered sprawled out in an armchair 
 beneath a spreading tree in the front yard. His coat was off 
 and his vest unbuttoned to display a vast and billowing 
 expanse of soiled white shirt. In his hand was a palm-leaf 
 fan, at his elbow swung an olla, newspapers littered the 
 ground or lay across his fat knees. When Bob and Lejeune 
 entered, he merely nodded surlily, and went on with his 
 reading. 
 
 "Can I speak to you a moment on business?" asked 
 Bob. 
 
 By way of answer the fat man dropped his paper, and 
 mopped his brow. 
 
 "We've rented our sheep grazing to Mr. Lejeune, here, 
 as I understand we've been doing for some years. He tells 
 ine you have refused him permission to cress the Forest 
 Reserve with his flocks." 
 
 "That's right," grunted Plant. 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "I believe, young man, granting permits is discretionary 
 with the Supervisor," stated that individual. 
 
 "I suppose so," agreed Bob. "But Mr. Lejeune has 
 always had permission before. What reason do you assign 
 for refusing it?" 
 
 "Wilful trespass," wheezed Plant. "That's what, young 
 man. His sheep grazed over our line. He's lucky that 
 I don't have him up before the United States courts for 
 damages as well." 
 
 Lejeune started to speak, but Bob motioned him to silence. 
 
 "I'm sure we could arrange for past damages, and guar- 
 antee against any future trespass," said he. 
 
194 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Well, I'm sure you can't," stated Plant positively. 
 " Good day." 
 
 But Bob was not willing to give up thus easily. He gave 
 his best efforts either to arguing Plant into a better frame 
 of mind, or to discovering some tangible reason for his sud- 
 den change of front in regard to the sheep. 
 
 "It's no use," he told Lejeune, later, as they walked down 
 the street together. "He's undoubtedly the right to refuse 
 permits for cause ; and technically he has cause if your sheep 
 got over the line." 
 
 "But what shall I do!" cried Lejeune. "My ship mus' 
 have feed!" 
 
 "You pasture them or feed them somewhere for a week 
 or so, and I'll let you know," said Bob. "We'll get you on 
 the land or see you through somewhere else." 
 
 He mounted his horse stiffly and rode back up the street. 
 Plant still sat in his armchair like a bloated spider. On 
 catching sight of Bob, however, he heaved himself to his 
 feet and waddled to the gate. 
 
 "Here!" he called. Bob drew rein. "It has been 
 reported to me that your firm has constructed a flume across 
 36, and a wagon road across 14, 22, 28, and 32. Those are 
 government sections. I suppose, of course, your firm has 
 permits from Washington to build said improvements?" 
 
 "Naturally," said Bob, who, however, knew nothing 
 whatever of those details. 
 
 "Well, I'll send a man up to examine them to-morrow," 
 said Plant, and turned his back. 
 
BO B took supper at Auntie Belle's, and rode up the 
 mountain after dark. He did not attempt short 
 cuts, but allowed his horse to follow the plain grade 
 of the road. After a time the moon crept over the zenith, 
 and at once the forest took on a fairylike strangeness, as 
 though at the touch of night new worlds had taken the place 
 of the vanished old. Somewhere near midnight, his body 
 shivering with the mountain cold, his legs stiff and chafed 
 from the long, unaccustomed riding, but his mind filled with 
 the wonder and beauty of the mountain night, Bob drew 
 rein beside the corrals. After turning in his horse, he 
 walked through the bright moonlight to Welton's door, on 
 which he hammered. 
 
 "Hey!" called the lumberman from within. 
 
 "It's I, Bob." 
 
 Welton scratched a match. 
 
 "Why in blazes didn't you come up in the morning?" 
 tye inquired. 
 
 "Ive found out another and perhaps important hole 
 we're in." 
 
 "Can we do anything to help ourselves out before morn- 
 ing?" demanded Welton. "No? Well, sleep tight! I'll 
 see you at six." 
 
 Next morning Welton rolled out, as good-humoured and 
 deliberate as ever. 
 
 "My boy," said he. "When you get to be as old as I am, 
 you'll never stir up trouble at night unless you can fix it 
 then. What is it?" 
 
 Bob detailed his conversation with Plant. 
 
196 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that that old, fat skunk had the 
 nerve to tell you he was going to send a ranger to look at 
 our permit?" he demanded. 
 
 "Yes. That's what he said." 
 
 "The miserable hound! Why I went to see him a year 
 ago about crossing this strip with our road we had to 
 haul a lot of stuff in. He told me to go ahead and haul, 
 and that he'd fix it up when the time came. Since then I've 
 tackled him two or three times about it, but he's always 
 told me to go ahead; that it was all right. So we went 
 ahead. It's always been a matter of form, this crossing 
 permit business. It's meant to be a matter of form!" 
 
 After breakfast Welton ordered his buckboard and, in 
 company with Bob, drove down the mountain again. Plant 
 was discovered directing the activities of several men, who 
 were loading a light wagon with provisions and living utensils. 
 
 "Moving up to our summer camp," one of them told Bob. 
 " Getting too hot down here." 
 
 Plant received them, his fat face expressionless, and led 
 them into the stuffy little office. 
 
 "Look here, Plant," said Welton, without a trace of 
 irritation on his weatherbeaten, round countenance. 
 "What's all this about seeing a permit to cross those govern- 
 ment sections? You know very well I haven't any permit." 
 
 "I have been informed by my men that you have corfe- 
 structed or caused to be constructed a water flume through 
 section 36, and a road through sections 14, 22, 28 and 32. 
 If this has been done without due authorization you are 
 liable for trespass. Fine of not less than $200 or imprison- 
 ment for not less than twelve months or both." He 
 delivered this in a voice absolutely devoid of expression. 
 
 " But you told me to go ahead, and that you'd attend to the 
 details, and it would be all right," said Welton. 
 
 "You must have misunderstood me," replied Plant 
 blandly. "It is against my sworn duty to permit such occu- 
 pation of public land without due conformity to law. It is 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 197 
 
 within iy discretion whether to report the trespass for legal 
 action. I am willing to believe that you have acted in this 
 matter without malicious intent. But the trespass must 
 cease." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" asked Welton. 
 
 " You must not use that road as a highway, nor the flume, 
 and you must remove the flume within a reasonable time. 
 Or else you may still get a permit." 
 
 "How long would that take?" asked Welton. "Could 
 it be done by wire?" 
 
 Plant lifted a glazed and fishy eye to survey him. 
 
 "You would be required to submit in writing specifications 
 of the length and location of said road and flume. This 
 must be accompanied by a topographical map and details 
 of construction. I shall then send out field men to investi- 
 gate, after which, endorsed with my approval, it goes for 
 final decision to the Secretary of the Interior." 
 
 "Good Lord, man!" cried Welton, aghast. "That 
 would take all summer! And besides, I made out all 
 that tomfoolery last summer. I supposed you must have 
 unwound all that red tape long ago!" 
 
 Plant for the first time looked his interlocutor square in 
 the eye. 
 
 "I find among my records no such application," he said 
 deliberately. 
 
 Welton stared at him a moment, then laughed. 
 
 "All right, Mr. Plant, I'll see what's to be done," said he; 
 and went out. 
 
 In silence the two walked down the street until out of 
 earshot. Then Bob broke out. 
 
 "I'd like to punch his fat carcass!" he cried. "The old 
 liar!" 
 
 Welton laughed. 
 
 "It all goes to show that a man's never too old to learn. 
 He's got us plain enough just because this old man was too 
 busy to wake up to the fact that these government grafters 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 are so strong out here. Back our way when you needed a 
 logging road, you just built it, and paid for the unavoidable 
 damage, and that's all there was to it." 
 
 "You take it cool," spluttered Bob. 
 
 "No use taking it any other way," replied Welton. "But 
 the situation is serious. We've got our plant in shape, and 
 our supplies in, and our men engaged. It would be bad 
 enough to shut down with all that expense. But the main 
 trouble is, we're under contract to deliver our mill run to 
 Marshall & Harding. We can't forfeit that contract and 
 stay in business." 
 
 "What are you going to do about it?" asked Bob. 
 
 " Get on the wires to your father in Washington," replied 
 Welton. "Lucky your friend Baker's power project is only 
 four miles away; we can use his 'phone." 
 
 But at the edge of town they met Lejeune. 
 
 "I got de ship in pasture," he told Bob. "But hees 
 good for not more dan one wik." 
 
 "Look here, Leejune," said Welton. "I'm sorry, but 
 you'll have to look up another range for this summer. Of 
 course, we'll pay any loss or damage in the matter. It looks 
 impossible to do anything with Plant." 
 
 The Frenchman threw up both hands and broke into 
 voluble explanations. From them the listeners gathered 
 more knowledge in regard to the sheep business than they 
 could have learned by observation in a year. Briefly, it 
 was necessary that the sheep have high-country feed, at 
 once; the sheepmen apportioned the mountains among 
 themselves, so that each had his understood range; it would 
 now be impossible to find anywhere another range; only 
 sometimes could one trade localities with another, but that 
 must be arranged earlier in the season before the flocks are 
 in the hills in short, affairs were at a critical point, where 
 Lejeune must have feed, and no other feed was to be had 
 except that for which he had in all confidence contracted. 
 Welton listened thoughtfully, his eyes between his horses. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 199 
 
 "Can you run those sheep in, at night, or somehow?" 
 
 The Frenchman's eyes sparkled. 
 
 "I run ship two year in Yosemite Park," he bragged. 
 " No soldier fin' me." 
 
 " That's no great shakes," said Welton drily, "from what 
 I've seen of Park soldiers. If you can sneak these sheep 
 across without getting caught, you do it." 
 
 "I snik ship across all right," said Lejeune. "But I can* 
 stop hees track. The ranger he know I cross all right." 
 
 "What's the penalty?" asked Welton. 
 
 "Mos'ly 'bout one hundred dollars," replied Lejeune 
 promptly. " Mebbe five hundred." 
 
 Welton sighed. "Is that the limit?" he asked. "Not 
 more than five hundred?" 
 
 "No. Dat all." 
 
 "Well, it'll take a good half of the rent to get you in, if 
 they soak us the limit; but you're up against it, and we'll 
 stand back of you. If we agreed to give you that grazing, 
 by God, you'll get it, as long as that land is ours." 
 
 He nodded and drove on, while Lejeune, the true sheep- 
 man's delight in dodging the officers burning strong within 
 his breast, turned his mule's head to the lower country. 
 
VI 
 
 THE full situation, as far as the wires could tell It, was 
 laid before Jack Orde in Washington. A detailed 
 letter followed. Toward evening of that day the 
 mill crews began to come in with the four- and six-horse 
 teams provided for their transportation. They were a 
 dusty but hilarious lot. The teams drew up underneath 
 the solitary sycamore tree that gave the place its name, and 
 at once went into camp. Bob strolled down to look them 
 over. 
 
 They proved to be fresh-faced, strong farm boys, for the 
 most part, with a fair sprinkling of older mountaineers, and 
 quite a contingent of half- and quarter-bred Indians. All 
 these people worked on ranches or in the towns during the 
 off season when the Sierras were buried under winter snows. 
 Their skill at woodsmanship might be undoubted, but the 
 intermittent character of their work precluded any develop- 
 ment of individual type, like the rivermen and shanty boys 
 of the vanished North. For a moment Bob experienced a 
 twinge of regret that the old, hard, picturesque days of his 
 Northern logging were indeed gone. Then the interest of 
 this great new country with its surging life and its new 
 problems gripped him hard. He left these decent, hard- 
 working, self-respecting ranch boys, these quiet mountaineers, 
 these stolid, inscrutable breeds to their flickering camp fire. 
 Next morning the many-seated vehicles filled early and 
 started up the road. But within a mile Welton and Bob in 
 their buckboard came upon old California John square in 
 the middle of the way. Star stood like a magnificent statue 
 except that slowly over and over, with relish, he turned the 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 201 
 
 wheel of the silver-mounted spade-bit under his tongue. As 
 the ranger showed no indication of getting out of the way, 
 Welton perforce came to a halt. 
 
 "Road closed to trespass by the Wolverine Company," 
 the ranger stated impassively. 
 
 Welton whistled. 
 
 "That mean I can't get to my own property?" he asked. 
 
 "My orders are to close this road to the Wolverine 
 Company." 
 
 "Well, you've obeyed orders. Now get out the way. 
 Tell your chief he can go ahead on a trespass suit." 
 
 But the old man shook his head. 
 
 "No, you don't understand," he repeated patiently. "My 
 orders were to close the road to the Company, not just to 
 give notice." 
 
 Without replying Welton picked up his reins and started 
 his horses. The man seemed barely to shift his position, 
 but from some concealment he produced a worn and shiny 
 Colt's. This he laid across the horn of his saddle. 
 
 "Stop," he commanded, and this time his voice had a 
 bite to it. 
 
 "Millions for defence," chuckled Welton, who recognized 
 perfectly the tone, "and how much did you say for tribute?" 
 
 "What say?" inquired the old man. 
 
 "What sort of a hold-up is this? We certainly can't do 
 this road any damage driving over it once. How much of 
 an inducement does Plant want, anyway?" 
 
 "This department is only doing its sworn duty," replied 
 the old man. His blue eyes met Welton's steadily; not a 
 line of his weatherbeaten face changed. For twenty seconds 
 the lumberman tried to read his opponent's mind. 
 
 "Well," he said at last. "You can tell your chief that 
 if he thinks he can annoy and harass me into bribing him 
 to be decent, he's left." 
 
 By this time the dust and creek of the first heavily laden 
 vehicle had laboured up to within a few hundred yards. 
 
202 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "I have over a hundred men there," said Welton, "that 
 I've hired to work for me at the top of that mountain. It's 
 damn foolishness that anybody should stop their going there ; 
 and I'll bet they won't lose their jobs. My advice to you is 
 to stand one side. You can't stop a hundred men alone." 
 
 "Yes, I can," replied the old man calmly. "I'm not 
 alone." 
 
 "No?" said Welton, looking about him. 
 
 "No; there's eighty million people behind that," said 
 California John, touching lightly the shield of his Ranger 
 badge. The simplicity of the act robbed it of all mock- 
 heroics. 
 
 Welton paused, a frown of perplexity between his brows. 
 California John was watching him calmly. 
 
 "Of course, the public has a right to camp in all Forest 
 Reserves subject to reg'lation," he proffered. 
 
 Welton caught at this. 
 
 "You mean " 
 
 "No, you got to turn back, and your Company's rigs 
 have got to turn back," said California John. "But I 
 sure ain't no orders to stop no campers." 
 
 Welton nodded briefly; and, after some difficulty, suc- 
 ceeding in turning around, he drove back down the grade. 
 After he had bunched the wagons he addressed the assembled 
 men. 
 
 "Boys," said he, "there's been some sort of a row with the 
 Government, and they've closed this road to us temporarily. 
 I guess you'll have to hoof it the rest of the way." 
 
 This was no great and unaccustomed hardship, and no 
 one objected. 
 
 "How about our beds?" inquired some one. 
 
 This presented a difficulty. No Western camp of any 
 description lumber, mining, railroad, cow supplies the 
 bedding for its men. Camp blankets as dealt out in our old- 
 time Northern logging camp are unknown. Each man brings 
 his own blankets, which he further augments with a pair of 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 203 
 
 quilts, a pillow and a heavy canvas. All his clothing and 
 personal belongings he tucks inside; the canvas he firmly 
 lashes outside. Thus instead of his "turkey" or duffle- 
 bag he speaks of his "bed roll," and by that term means 
 not only his sleeping equipment but often all his worldly 
 goods. 
 
 "Can't you unhitch your horses and pack them?" asked 
 Bob. 
 
 "Sure," cried several mountaineers at once. 
 
 Welton chuckled. 
 
 "That sounds like it," he approved; "and remember, 
 boys, you're all innocent campers out to enjoy the wonders 
 and beauties of nature." 
 
 The men made short work of the job. In a twinkling 
 the horses were unhitched from the vehicles. Six out of 
 ten of these men were more or less practised at throwing 
 packing hitches, for your Californian brought up in sight 
 of mountains is often among them. Bob admired the 
 dexterity with which some of the mountaineers improvised 
 slings and drew tight the bulky and cumbersome packs. 
 Within half an hour the long procession was under way, 
 a hundred men and fifty horses. They filed past California 
 John, who had drawn one side. 
 
 "Camping, boys?" he asked the leader. 
 
 The man nodded and passed on. California John sat 
 at ease, his elbow on the pommel, his hand on his chin, his 
 blue eyes staring vacantly at the silent procession filing 
 before him. Star stood motionless, his head high, his small 
 ears pricked forward. The light dust peculiar to the mount- 
 ain soils of California, stirred by many feet, billowed and 
 rolled upward through the pines. Long rays of sunlight 
 cut through it like swords. 
 
 "Now did you ever see such utter damn foolishness?" 
 growled Welton. "Make that bunch walk all the way up 
 that mountain! What on earth is the difference whether 
 they walk or ride ? " 
 
204 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 But Bob, examining closely the faded, old figure on the 
 magnificent horse, felt his mind vaguely troubled by another 
 notion. He could not seize the thought, but its influence 
 was there. Somehow the irritation and exasperation had 
 gone from the episode. 
 
 " I know that sort of crazy old mossback," muttered Welton 
 as he turned down the mountain. "Pin a tin star on them 
 and they think they're as important as hell!" 
 
 Bob looked back. 
 
 "I don't know," he said vaguely. "I'm kind of for that 
 old coon." 
 
 The bend shut him out. After the buckboard had dipped 
 into the horseshoe and out to the next point, they again 
 looked back. The smoke of marching rose above the trees 
 to eddy lazily up the mountain. California John, a tiny 
 figure now, still sat patiently guarding the portals of an empty 
 duty. 
 
VII 
 
 BOB and Welton left the buckboard at Sycamore Flats 
 and rode up to the mill by a detour. There they 
 plunged into active work. The labour of getting 
 the new enterprise under way proved to be tremendous. A 
 very competent woods foreman, named Post, was in charge 
 of the actual logging, so Welton gave his undivided attention 
 to the mill work. All day the huge peeled timbers slid and 
 creaked along the greased slides, dragged mightily by a strain- 
 ing wire cable that snapped and swung dangerously. When 
 they had reached the solid "bank" that slanted down toward 
 the mill, the obstreperous "bull" donkey lowered its crest 
 of white steam, coughed, and was still. A man threw over 
 the first of these timbers a heavy rope, armed with a hook, 
 that another man drove home with a blow of his sledge. 
 The rope tightened. Over rolled the log, out from the 
 greased slide, to come, finally, to rest among its fellows at the 
 entrance to the mill. 
 
 Thence it disappeared, moved always by steam-driven 
 hooks, for these great logs could not be managed by hand 
 implements. The sawyers, at their levers, controlled the 
 various activities. When the time came the smooth, deadly 
 steel ribbon of the modern bandsaws hummed hungrily into 
 the great pines; the automatic roller hurried the new-sawn 
 boards to the edgers; little cars piled high with them shot out 
 from the cool dimness into the dazzling sunlight; men armed 
 with heavy canvas or leather stacked them in the yards; 
 and then 
 
 That was the trouble; and then, nothing! 
 
 From this point they should have gone farther. Clamped 
 
 205 
 
206 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 in rectangular bundles, pushing the raging white water 
 before their blunt noses, as strange craft they should have 
 been flashing at regular intervals down the twisting, turn- 
 ing and plunging course of the flume. Arrived safely at 
 the bottom, the eight- and twelve-horse teams should have 
 taken them in charge, dragging them by the double wagon 
 load to the waiting yards of Marshall & Harding. Nothing 
 of the sort was happening. Welton did not dare go ahead 
 with the water for fear of prejudicing his own case. The 
 lumber accumulated. And, as the mill's capacity was great 
 and that of the yards small, the accumulation soon threat- 
 ened to become embarrassing. 
 
 Bob acted as Welton's lieutenant. As the older lumber- 
 man was at first occupied in testing out his sawyers, and 
 otherwise supervising the finished product, Bob was neces- 
 sarily much in the woods. This suited him perfectly. 
 Every morning at six he and the men tramped to the scene 
 of operations. There a dozen crews scattered to as many 
 tasks. Far in the van the fellers plied their implements. 
 First of all they determined which way a tree could be made 
 to fall, estimating long and carefully on the weight of limbs, 
 the slant of the trunk, the slope of ground, all the elements 
 having to do with the centre of gravity. This having been 
 determined, the men next chopped notches of the right depth 
 for the insertion of short boards to afford footholds high 
 enough to enable them to nick the tree above the swell of 
 the roots. Standing on these springy and uncertain boards, 
 they began their real work, swinging their axes alternately, 
 with untiring patience and incomparable accuracy. Slowly, 
 very slowly, the "nick" grew, a mouth gaping ever wider 
 in the brown tree. When it had gaped wide enough the 
 men hopped down from their springboards, laid aside their 
 axes, and betook themselves to the saw. And when, at 
 last, the wedges inserted in the saw-crack started the mighty 
 top, the men calmly withdrew the long ribbon of steel and 
 stood to one side. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 207 
 
 After the dust had subsided, and the last reverberations of 
 that mighty crash had ceased to reecho through the forest, 
 the fellers stepped forward to examine their work. They 
 took all things into consideration, such as old wind shakes, 
 new decay, twist of grain and location of the limbs. Then 
 they measured off the prostrate trunk into logs of twelve, 
 fourteen, sixteen, eighteen, or even twenty feet, according 
 to the best expediency. The division points between logs 
 they notched plainly, and, shouldering their axes and their 
 sledge and their long, limber saw, pocketing their wedges 
 and their bottle of coal oil, they moved on to where the 
 next mighty pine had through all the centuries been awaiting 
 their coming. 
 
 Now arrived on the scene the "swampers" and cross-cut 
 men, swarming over the prostrate tree like ants over a piece 
 of sugar. Some of them cut off limbs; others, with axes and 
 crowbars, began to pry away great slabs of bark; still others, 
 with much precaution of shovel, wedge and axe against 
 jamming, commenced the slow and laborious undertaking 
 of sawing apart the logs. 
 
 But most interesting and complicated of all were the 
 further processes of handling the great logs after they had 
 been peeled and sawed. 
 
 The ends of steel cables were dragged by a horse to the 
 prostrate tree, where they were made fast by means of chains 
 and hooks. Then the puffing and snorting donkey engine 
 near the chute tightened the cable. The log stirred, moved, 
 plunged its great blunt nose forward, ploughing up the soil. 
 Small trees and bushes it overrode. But sooner or later 
 it collided head on, with a large tree, a stump, or a boulder. 
 The cable strained. Men shouted or waved their arms in 
 signal. The donkey engine ceased coughing. Then the 
 horse pulled the end of the log free. Behind it was left a deep 
 trough, a half cylinder scooped from the soil. 
 
 At the chutes the logs were laid end to end, like a train 
 of cars. A more powerful cable, endless, running to the 
 
208 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 mill and back again, here took up the burden. At a certain 
 point it was broken by two great hooks. One of these, the 
 one in advance, the men imbedded in the rear log of the 
 train. The other was dragged behind. Away from the 
 chutes ten feet the returning cable snapped through rude 
 pulleys. The train of logs moved forward slowly and stead- 
 ily, sliding on the greased ways. 
 
 On the knoll the donkey engine coughed and snorted as it 
 heaved the mighty timbers from the woods. The drag 
 of the logs was sometimes heavier than the engine, so it had 
 to be anchored by other cables to strong trees. Between these 
 opposing forces the inertia of the rooted and the fallen 
 it leaped and trembled. At its throttle, underneath a canopy 
 knocked together of rough boaids, the engineer stood, 
 ready from one instant to another to shut off, speed up, 
 or slow down, according to the demands of an ever-changing 
 exigence. His was a nervous job, and he earned his 
 repose. 
 
 At the rear of the boiler a boy of eighteen toiled with an 
 axe, chopping into appropriate lengths the dead wood brought 
 in for fuel. Next year it would be possible to utilize old tops 
 for this purpose, but now they were too green. Another boy, in 
 charge of a solemn mule, tramped ceaselessly back and forth 
 between the engine and a spring that had been dug out down 
 the hill in a ravine. Before the end of that summer they had 
 worn a trail so deep and hard and smooth that many seasons 
 of snow failed to obliterate it even from the soft earth. On 
 either side the mule were slung sacks of heavy canvas. At 
 the spring the boy filled these by means of a pail. Returned 
 to the engine, he replenished the boiler, draining the sacks 
 from the bottom, cast a fleeting glance at the water gauge 
 of the donkey engine, and hastened back to the spring. He 
 had charge of three engines; and was busy. 
 
 And back along the line of the chutes were other men to 
 fill out this crew of many activities old men to signal; 
 young men to stand by with slush brush, axe, or bar when 
 
The men calmly withdrew the long ribbon of steel and 
 stood to one side 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 209 
 
 things did not go well ; axe-men with teams laying accurately 
 new chutes into new country yet untouched. 
 
 Bob found plenty to keep him busy. Post, the woods 
 foreman, was a good chute man. By long experience he 
 had gained practical knowledge of the problems and accidents 
 of this kind of work. To get the logs out from the beds in 
 which they lay, across a rugged country, and into the mill 
 was an engineering proposition of some moment. It is 
 easy to get into difficulties from which hours of work will 
 not extricate. 
 
 But a man involved closely in the practical management 
 of a saw log may conceivably possess scant leisure to corre- 
 late the scattered efforts of such divergent activities. The 
 cross cutters and swampers may get ahead of the fellers 
 and have to wait in idleness until the latter have knocked 
 down a tree. Or the donkey may fall silent from lack of logs 
 to haul; or the chute crews may smoke their pipes awaiting 
 the donkey. Or, worst and unpardonable disgrace of all, 
 the mill may run out of logs! When that happens, the Old 
 Fellow is usually pretty promptly on the scene. 
 
 Now it is obvious that if somewhere on the works ten men 
 are always waiting even though the same ten men are 
 not thus idle over once a week the employer is paying foi 
 ten men too many. Bob found his best activity lay in seeing 
 that this did not happen. He rode everywhere reviewing 
 the work; and he kept it shaken together. Thus he made 
 himself very useful, he gained rapidly a working knowledge 
 of this new kind of logging, and, incidentally, he found his 
 lines fallen in very pleasant places indeed. 
 
 The forest never lost its marvel to him, but after he had to 
 some extent become accustomed to the immense trees, he 
 began to notice the smaller affairs of the woodland. The 
 dogwoods and azaleas were beginning to come out; the waxy, 
 crimson snow plants were up; the tiny green meadows near 
 the heads of streams were enamelled with flowers; hundreds 
 of species of birds sang and flashed and scratched and crept 
 
210 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 and soared. The smaller animals were everywhere. The 
 sun at noon disengaged innumerable and subtle tepid odours 
 of pine and blossom. 
 
 One afternoon, a little less than a week subsequent to the 
 beginning of work, Bob, riding home through the woods 
 by a detour around a hill, came upon sheep. They were 
 scattered all over the hill, cropping busily at the snowbush, 
 moving ever slowly forward. A constant murmur arose, a 
 murmur of a silent, quick, minute activity. Occasionally some 
 mother among them lifted her voice. Bob sat his horse look- 
 ing silently on the shifting grays. In ten seconds his sight 
 blurred; he experienced a slight giddiness as though the sub- 
 stantial ground were shifting beneath him in masses, slowly, 
 as in a dream. It gave him a curious feeling of instability. 
 By an effort he focused his eyes; but almost immediately he 
 caught himself growing fuzzy-minded again, exactly as though 
 he had been gazing absently for a considerable period at 
 a very bright light. He shook himself. 
 
 "I don't wonder sheep herders go dotty," said he aloud. 
 
 He looked about him, and for the first time became aware 
 of a tow-headed youth above him on the hill. The youth 
 leaned on a staff, and at his feet crouched two long-haired 
 dogs. Bob turned his horse in that direction. 
 
 When he had approached, he saw the boy to be about 
 seventeen years old. His hair was very light, as were his 
 eyebrows and eyelashes. Only a decided tinge of blue in 
 his irises saved him from albinism. His lips were thick and 
 loose, his nose flat, his expression vacant. In contrast, the 
 two dogs, now seated on their haunches, their heads to one 
 side, their ears cocked up, their eyes bright, looked to be the 
 more intelligent animals. 
 
 "Good evening," said Bob. 
 
 The boy merely stared. 
 
 "You in charge of the sheep?" inquired the young man 
 presently. 
 
 The boy grunted. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 21 1 
 
 " Where are you camped?" persisted Bob. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "Where's your boss?" 
 
 A faint gleam came into the sheep-herder's eyes. He raised 
 his arm and pointed across through the woods. 
 
 Bob reined his horse in the direction indicated. As he 
 passed the last of the flock in that direction, he caught sight 
 of another herder and two more dogs. This seemed to be a 
 bearded man of better appearance than the boy; but he too 
 leaned motionless on his long staff; he too gazed unblinking 
 on the nibbling, restless, changing, imbecile sheep. 
 
 As Bob looked, this man uttered a shrill, long-drawn 
 whistle. Like arrows from bows the two dogs darted away, 
 their ears flat, their bodies held low to the ground. The 
 whistle was repeated by the youth. Immediately his dogs 
 also glided forward. The noise of quick, sharp barkings 
 was heard. At once the slow, shifting movement of the 
 masses of gray ceased. The sound of mumiurous, deep- 
 toned bells, of bleating, of the movement of a multitude arose. 
 The flock drew to a common centre; it flowed slowly forward. 
 Here and there the dark bodies of the dogs darted, eager and 
 intelligently busy. The two herders followed after, leaning 
 on their long staffs. Over the hill passed the flock. Slowly 
 the sounds of them merged into a murmur. It died. Only 
 remained the fog of dust drifting through the trees, caught 
 up by every passing current of air, light and impalpable as 
 powder. 
 
 Bob continued on his way, but had not proceeded more 
 than a few hundred feet before he was overtaken by 
 Lejeune. 
 
 "You're the man I was looking for," said Bob. " I see you 
 got your sheep in all right. Have any trouble?" 
 
 The sheepman's teeth flashed. 
 
 "Not 'tall," he replied. "I snik in ver' easy up by Beeg 
 Rock." 
 
 At the mill, Bob, while luxuriously splashing the ice-cold 
 
212 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 water on his face and throat, took time to call to Welton in 
 the next room. 
 
 "Saw your sheep man," he proffered. "He got in all 
 right, sheep and all." 
 
 Welton appeared in the doorway, mopping his round, red 
 face with a towel. 
 
 "Funny we haven't heard from Plant, then," said he. 
 "That fat man must be keeping track of Leejune's where- 
 abouts, or he's easier than I thought he was." 
 
VIII 
 
 THE week slipped by. Welton seemed to be completely 
 immersed in the business of cutting lumber. In 
 due time Orde senior had replied by wire, giving 
 assurance that he would see to the matter of the crossing 
 permits. 
 
 "So that's settled," quoth Welton. "You bet-you Jack 
 Orde will make the red tape fly. It'll take a couple of 
 weeks, I suppose time for the mail to get there and back. 
 Meantime, we'll get a cut ahead." 
 
 But at the end of ten days came a letter from the congress- 
 man. 
 
 "Don't know just what is the hitch," wrote Jack Orde. 
 "It ought to be the simplest matter in the world, and so I 
 told Russell in the Land Office to-day. They seem inclined 
 to fall back on their technicalities, which is all rot, of course. 
 The man wants to be annoying for some reason, but I'll 
 take it higher at once. Have an appointment with the Chief 
 this afternoon . . . 
 
 The next letter came by the following mail. 
 
 "This seems to be a bad mess. I can't understand it, nor 
 get to the bottom of it. On the face of the showing here 
 we've just bulled ahead without any regard whatever for 
 law or regulations. Of course, I showed your letter stating 
 your agreement and talks with Plant, but the department 
 has his specific denial that you ever approached him. They 
 stand pat on that, and while they're very polite, they insist 
 on a detailed investigation. I'm going to see the Secretary 
 this morning." 
 
 Close on the heels of this came a wire: 
 
 213 
 
214 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Plant submits reports of alleged sheep trespass com- 
 mitted this spring by your orders. Wire denial." 
 
 "My Lord!" said Welton, as he took this. "That's why 
 we never heard from that! Bobby, that was a fool move, 
 certainly; but I couldn't turn Leejune down after I'd agreed 
 to graze him." 
 
 "How about these lumber contracts?" suggested Bob. 
 
 "We've got to straighten this matter out," said Welton 
 soberly. 
 
 He returned a long telegram to Congressman Orde in 
 Washington, and himself interviewed Plant. He made no 
 headway whatever with the fat man, who refused to emerge 
 beyond the hard technicalities of the situation. Welton made 
 a journey to White Oaks, where he interviewed the Super- 
 intendent of the Forest Reserves. The latter proved to be 
 a well-meaning, kindly, white-whiskered gentleman, named 
 Smith, who listened sympathetically, agreed absolutely with 
 the equities of the situation, promised to attend to the mat- 
 ter, and expressed himself as delighted always to have these 
 things brought to his personal attention. On reaching the 
 street, however, Welton made a bee-line for the bank through 
 which he did most of his business. 
 
 "Mr. Lee," he asked the president, "I want you to be 
 frank with me. I am having certain dealings with the 
 Forest Reserve, and I want to know how much I can depend 
 on this man Smith." 
 
 Lee crossed his white hands on his round stomach, and 
 looked at Welton over his eyeglasses." 
 
 "In what way?" he asked. 
 
 "I've had a little trouble with one of his subordinates. 
 I've just been around to state my case to Smith, and he agrees 
 with my side of the affair and promises to call down his man. 
 Can I rely on him ? Does he mean what he says ? " 
 
 "He means what he says," replied the bank president, 
 slowly, "and you can rely on him until his subordinate 
 gets a chance to talk to him." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 215 
 
 "H'm," ruminated Welton. "Chinless, eh? I wondered 
 why he wore long white whiskers." 
 
 As he walked up the street toward the hotel, where he 
 would spend the night before undertaking the long drive 
 back, somebody hailed him. He looked around to see a 
 pair of beautiful driving horses, shying playfully against 
 each other, coming to a stop at the curb. Their harness 
 was the lightest that could be devised no blinders, no 
 breeching, slender, well-oiled straps; the rig they drew 
 shone and twinkled with bright varnish, and seemed as 
 delicate and light as thistledown. On the narrow seat 
 sat a young man of thirty, covered with an old-fashioned 
 linen duster, wearing the wide, gray felt hat of the country. 
 He was a keen-faced, brown young man, with snapping 
 black eyes. 
 
 "Hullo, Welton," said he as he brought the team to a 
 stand; "when did you get out of the hills?" 
 
 "How are you, Mr. Harding?" Welton returned his greet- 
 ing. " Just down for the day ? " 
 
 "How are things going up your way?" 
 
 "First rate," replied Welton. "We're going ahead three 
 bells and a jingle. Started to saw last week." 
 
 "That's good," said Harding. "I haven't heard of one 
 of your teams on the road, and I began to wonder. We've 
 got to begin deliveries on our Los Angeles and San Pedro 
 contracts by the first of August, and we're depending on you." 
 
 "We'll be there," replied Welton with a laugh. 
 
 The young man laughed back. 
 
 "You'd better be, if you don't want us to come up and 
 take your scalp," said he, gathering his reins. 
 
 "Guess I lay in some hair tonic so's to have a good one 
 ready for you," returned Welton, as Harding nodded his 
 farewell. 
 
IX 
 
 MATTERS stood thus dependent on the efforts of 
 Jack Orde, at Washington, when, one evening, 
 Baker rode in to camp and dismounted before the 
 low verandah of the sleeping quarters. Welton and Bob sat, 
 chair-tilted, awaiting the supper gong. 
 
 "Thrice hail, noble chiefs!" cried Baker, cautiously 
 stretching out first one sturdy leg, then the other. "Against 
 which post can I lean my trusty charger?" 
 
 Baker was garbed to suit the role. His boots were very 
 thick and very tall, and most bristly with hobnails; they 
 laced with belt laces through forty-four calibre eyelets, and 
 were strapped about the top with a broad piece of leather 
 and two glittering buckles. Furthermore, his trousers were 
 of khaki, his shirt of navy blue, his belt three inches broad, 
 his neckerchief of red, and his hat both wide and high. 
 
 In response to enthusiastic greetings, he struck a 
 pose. 
 
 "How do you like it?" he inquired. "Isn't this the 
 candy make-up for the simple life surveyor, hardy pros- 
 pector, mountain climber, sturdy pedestrian? Ain't I the 
 real young cover design for the Out-of-door number?" 
 
 He accepted their congratulations with a lofty wave. 
 
 "That's all right," said he; "but somebody take away 
 this horse before I bite him. I'm sore on that horse. Joke ! 
 Snicker!" 
 
 Bob delivered over the animal to the stableman who was 
 approaching. 
 
 "Come up to see the tall buildings?" he quoted Baker 
 himself. 
 
 91* 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 217 
 
 <: Not so," denied that young man. "My errand 
 is philanthropic. I'm robin redbreast. Leaves for 
 yours." 
 
 "Pass that again," urged Bob; "I didn't get it." 
 
 " I hear you people have locked horns with Henry Plant," 
 said Baker. 
 
 "Well, Plant's a little on the peck," amended Welton. 
 
 "Leaves for yours," repeated the self -constituted robin 
 redbreast. "Babes in the Woods!" 
 
 Beyond this he would vouchsafe nothing until after supper 
 when, cigars lighted, the three of them sprawled before the 
 fireplace in quarters. 
 
 "Now," he began, "you fellows are up against it good 
 and plenty. You can't wish your lumber out, and that's the 
 only feasible method unless you get a permit. Why in blazes 
 did you make this break, anyway?" 
 
 " What break ? " asked Welton. 
 
 Baker looked at him and smiled slowly, 
 
 "You don't think I own a telephone line without know- 
 ing what little birdies light on the wires, do you?" 
 
 " Does that damn operator leak ? " inquired Welton placidly 
 but with a narrowing of the eyes. 
 
 "Not on your saccharine existence. If he did, he'd 
 be out among the scenery in two jumps. But I'm different. 
 That's my business" 
 
 "Mighty poor business," put in Bob quietly. 
 
 Baker turned full toward him. 
 
 "Think so? You'll never get any cigars in the guess- 
 ing contest unless you can scare up better ones than that. 
 Let's get back to cases. How did you happen to make this 
 break, anyway?" 
 
 "Why," explained Welton, "it was simply a case of build 
 a road and a flume down a worthless mountain-side. Back 
 with us a man builds his road where he needs it, and pays 
 for the unavoidable damage. My head was full of all 
 sorts of details. I went and asked Plant about it, and he said 
 
218 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 all right, go ahead. I supposed that settled it, and that he 
 must certainly have authority on his own job." 
 
 Baker nodded several times. 
 
 " Sure. I see the point. Just the same, he has you." 
 
 "For the time being," amended Welton. " Bob's father, 
 here, is congressman from our district in Michigan, and 
 he'll fix the matter." 
 
 Baker turned his face to the ceiling, blew a cloud of smoke 
 toward it, and whistled. Then he looked down at Welton. 
 
 " I suppose you know the real difficulty ? " he asked. 
 
 "One thousand dollars," replied Welton promptly "to 
 hire extra fire-fighters to protect my timber," he added 
 ironically. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well!" the lumberman slapped his knee. "I won't be 
 held up in any such barefaced fashion!" 
 
 "And your congressman will pull you out. Now let me 
 drop a few pearls of wisdom in the form of conundrums. 
 Why does a fat man who can't ride a horse hold a job as 
 Forest Supervisor in a mountain country?" 
 
 "He's got a pull somewhere," replied Welton. 
 
 " Bright boy! Go to the head. Why does a fat man who 
 is hated by every mountain man, who grafts barefacedly, 
 whose men are either loafers or discouraged, hold his job?" 
 
 "Same answer." 
 
 Baker leaned forward, and his mocking face became grave. 
 
 "That pull comes from the fact that old Gay is his first 
 cousin, and that he seems to have some special drag with 
 him." 
 
 "The Republican chairman!" cried Welton. 
 
 Baker leaned back. 
 
 "About how much chance do you think Mr. Orde has of 
 getting a hearing? Especially as all they have to do is to 
 stand pat on the record. You'd better buy your extra fire- 
 fighters." 
 
 "That would be plain bribery," put in Bob from the bed. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 219 
 
 "Fie, fie! Naughty!'' chided Baker. "Bribery! to pro- 
 tect one's timber against the ravages of the devouring ele- 
 ment! Now look here," he resumed his sober tone and more 
 considered speech; "what else can you do?" 
 
 "Fight it," said Bob. 
 
 "Fight what? Prefer charges against Plant? That's 
 been done a dozen times. Such things never get beyond 
 the clerks. There's a man in Washington now who has 
 direct evidence of some of the worst frauds and biggest land 
 steals ever perpetrated in the West. He's been there now 
 four months, and he hasn't even succeeded in getting a hear- 
 ing yet. I tried bucking Plant, and it cost me first and last, 
 in time, delay and money, nearly fifty thousand dollars. I'm 
 offering you that expensive experience free, gratis, for 
 nothing." 
 
 "Make a plain statement of the facts public," said Bob. 
 "Publish them. Arouse public sentiment." 
 
 Baker looked cynical. 
 
 "Such attacks are ascribed to soreheads," said he, "and 
 public sentiment isn't interested. The average citizen won- 
 ders what all the fuss is about and why you don't get along 
 with the officials, anyway, as long as they are fairly reason- 
 able." He turned to Welton: "How much more of a delay 
 can you stand without closing down?" 
 
 "A month." 
 
 "How soon must your deliveries begin ?" 
 
 "July first." 
 
 "If you default this contract you can't meet your notes." 
 
 "What notes?" 
 
 "Don't do the baby blue-eyes. You can't start a show 
 like this without borrowing. Furthermore, if you default 
 this contract, you'll never get another, even if you do weather 
 the storm." 
 
 "That's true," said Welton. 
 
 "Furthermore," insisted Baker, "Marshall and Harding 
 will be considerably embarrassed to fill their contracts down 
 
220 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 below; and the building operations will go bump for lack 
 of material, if they fail to make good. You can't stand 
 or fall alone in this kind of a game." 
 
 Welton said nothing, but puffed strongly on his cigar. 
 
 "You're still doing the Sister Anne toward Washington," 
 said Baker, pleasantly. "This came over the 'phone. I 
 wired Mr. Orde in your name, asking what prospects there 
 were for a speedy settlement. There's what he says!" He 
 flipped a piece of scratch paper over to Welton. 
 
 "Deadlock," read the latter slowly. "No immediate 
 prospect. Will hasten matters through regular channels. 
 Signed, Orde." 
 
 "Mr. Orde is familiar with the whole situation?" asked 
 Baker. 
 
 "He is." 
 
 "Well, there's what he thinks about it even there. You'd 
 better see to that fire protection. It's going to be a dry year." 
 
 "What's all your interest in this, anyway?" asked Bob. 
 
 Baker did not answer, but looked inquiringly toward 
 Welton. 
 
 "Our interests are obviously his," said Welton. "We're 
 the only two business propositions in this country. And if 
 one of those two fail, how's the other to scratch along?" 
 
 "Correct, as far as you go," said Baker, who had listened 
 attentively. "Now, I'm no tight wad, and I'll give you 
 another, gratis. It's strictly under your hats, though. If 
 you fellows bust, how do you think I could raise money to 
 do business up here at all ? It would hoodoo the country." 
 
 Silence fell on the three, while the fire leaped and fell and 
 crackled. Welton's face showed still a trace of stubbornness. 
 Suddenly Baker leaned forward, all his customary fresh spirits 
 shining in his face. 
 
 "Don't like to take his na'ty medicine?" said he. "Well, 
 now, I'll tell you. I know Plant mighty well. He eats out 
 of my hand. He just loves me as a father. If I should go 
 to him and say: 'Plant, my agile sylph, these people are my 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 221 
 
 friends. Give them their nice little permit and let them run 
 away and play,' why, he'd do it in a minute." Baker rolled 
 his eyes drolly at Welton. "Can this be the shadow of 
 doubt! You disbelieve my power?" He leaned forward 
 and tapped Welton's knee. His voice became grave: "I'll 
 tell you what I'll do. /'// bet you a thousand dollars I can 
 get your permit jor you! 11 
 
 The two men looked steadily into each other's eyes. 
 
 At last Welton drew a deep sigh. 
 
 "I'll go you," said he. 
 
 Baker laughed gleefully. 
 
 "It's a cinch," said he. "Now, honest, don't you think 
 so? Do you give up? Will you give me a check now?" 
 
 "I'll give you a check, and you can hunt up a good stake- 
 holder," said Welton. "Shall I make it out to Plant?" he 
 inquired sarcastically. 
 
 "Make the check out to me," said Baker. "I'll just let 
 Plant hold the stakes and decide the bet." 
 
 He rose. 
 
 "Bring out the fiery, untamed steed!" he cried. "I 
 must away!" 
 
 "Not to-night?" cried Bob in astonishment. 
 
 "Plant's in his upper camp," said Baker, "and it's only 
 five miles by trail. There's still a moon." 
 
 "But why this haste?" 
 
 "Well," said Baker, spreading his sturdy legs apart and 
 surveying first one and then the other. "To tell you the 
 truth, our old friend Plant is getting hostile about these prods 
 from Washington, and he intimated he'd better hear from 
 me before midnight to-day." 
 
 "You've already seen him!" cried Bob. 
 
 But Baker merely grinned. 
 
 As he stood by his horse preparing to mount, he remarked 
 casually. 
 
 "Just picked up a new man for my land business 
 name Oldham." 
 
222 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Never heard of him," said Welton. 
 
 "He isn't the Lucky Lands Oldham, is he?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Same chicken," replied Baker; then, as Bob laughed, 
 "Think he's phoney? Maybe he'll take watching and 
 maybe he won't. I'm a good little watcher. But I do 
 know he's got 'em all running up the street with their hats 
 in their hands when it comes to getting results." 
 
BAKER must have won his bet, for Welton never again 
 saw his check for one thousand dollars, until it was 
 returned to him cancelled. Nor did Baker himself 
 return. He sent instead a note advising some one to go 
 over to Plant's headquarters. Accordingly Bob saddled his 
 horse, and followed the messenger back to the Supervisor's 
 summer quarters. 
 
 After an hour and a half of pleasant riding through the 
 great forest, the trail dropped into a wagon road which soon 
 led them to a fine, open meadow. 
 
 "Where does the road go to in the other direction?" 
 Bob asked his guide. 
 
 "She 'jines onto your road up the mountain just by the 
 top of the rise," replied the ranger. 
 
 "How did you get up here before we built that road?" 
 inquired Bob. 
 
 "Rode," answered the man briefly. 
 
 "Pretty tough on Mr. Plant," Bob ventured. 
 
 The man made no reply, but spat carefully into the tar- 
 weed. Bob chuckled to himself as the obvious humour of the 
 situation came to him. Plant was evidently finding the dis- 
 puted right of way a great convenience. 
 
 The meadow stretched broad and fair to a distant fringe 
 of aspens. On either side lay the open forest of spruce and 
 pines, spacious, without undergrowth. Among the trees 
 gleamed several new buildings and one or two old and 
 weather-beaten structures. The sounds of busy saws and 
 hammers rang down the forest aisles. 
 
 Bob found the Supervisor sprawled comfortably in a rude, 
 
 323 
 
224 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 homemade chair watching the activities about him. To his 
 surprise, he found there also Oldham, the real- estate pro- 
 moter from Los Angeles. Two men were nailing shakes on 
 a new shed. Two more were busily engaged in hewing and 
 sawing, from a cross-section of a huge sugar pine, a set of 
 three steps. Plant seemed to be greatly interested in this, 
 as were still two other men squatting on their heels close by. 
 All wore the badges of the Forest Reserves. Near at hand 
 stood two more men holding their horses by the bridle. As 
 Bob ceased his interchange with Oldham, he overhead 
 one of these inquire: 
 
 "All right. Now what do you want us to do?" 
 
 "Get your names on the pay-roll and don't bother me," 
 replied Plant. 
 
 Plant caught sight of Bob, and, to that young man's sur- 
 prise, waved him a jovial hand. 
 
 "'Bout time you called on the old man!" he roared. 
 "Tie your horse to the ground and come look at these 
 steps. I bet there ain't another pair like 'em in the 
 mountains!" 
 
 Somewhat amused at this cordiality, Bob dismounted. 
 
 Plant mentioned names by way of introduction. 
 
 "Baker told me that you were with him, but not that you 
 were on the mountain," said Bob. "Better come over and 
 see us." 
 
 "I'll try, but I'm rushed to get back," replied Oldham 
 formally. 
 
 "How's the work coming on?" asked Plant. "When 
 you going to start fluming 'em down?" 
 
 "As soon as we can get our permit," replied Bob. 
 
 Plant chuckled. 
 
 "Well, you did get in a hole there, didn't you? I guess 
 you better go ahead. It'll take all summer to get the per- 
 mit, and you don't want to lose a season, do you?" 
 
 Astonished at the effrontery of the man, Bob could with 
 difficulty control his expression. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 225 
 
 "We expect to start to-morrow or next day," he replied. 
 "Just as soon as we can get our teams organized. Just 
 scribble me a temporary permit, will you?" He offered 
 a fountain pen and a blank leaf of his notebook. 
 
 Plant hesitated, but finally wrote a few words. 
 
 "You won't need it," he assured Bob. "I'll pass the 
 word. But there you are." 
 
 "Thanks," said Bob, folding away the paper. "You seem 
 to be comfortably fixed here." 
 
 Plant heaved his mighty body to its legs. His fat face 
 beamed with pride. 
 
 " My boy," he confided to Bob, laying a pudgy hand on the 
 young man's shoulder, " this is the best camp in the moun- 
 tains without any exception." 
 
 He insisted on showing Bob around. Of course, the 
 young fellow, unaccustomed as yet to the difficulties of 
 mountain transportation, could not quite appreciate to the 
 full extent the value in forethought and labour of such things 
 as glass windows, hanging lamps, enamelled table service, 
 open fireplaces, and ail the thousand and one conveniences 
 either improvised or transported mule-back that Plant 
 displayed. Nevertheless he found the place most com- 
 fortable and attractive. 
 
 They caught a glimpse of skirts disappearing, but in spite 
 of Plant's roar of "Minnie!" the woman failed to appear. 
 
 "My niece," he explained. 
 
 In spite of himself, Bob found that he was beginning to 
 like the fat man. There could be no doubt that the Super- 
 visor was a great rascal; neither could there be any doubt 
 but that his personality was most attractive. He had a 
 bull-like way of roaring out his jokes, his orders, or his expos- 
 tulations; a smashing, dry humour; and, above all, an invari- 
 ably confident and optimistic belief that everything was 
 going well and according to every one's desires. His manner, 
 too, was hearty, his handclasp warm. He fairly radiated 
 good-fellowship and good humour as he rolled about. Bob's 
 
226 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 animosity thawed in spite of his half-amused realization of 
 what he ought to feel. 
 
 When the tour of inspection had brought them again to the 
 grove where the men were at work, they found two new 
 arrivals. 
 
 These were evidently brothers, as their square-cut features 
 proclaimed. They squatted side by side on their heels. Two 
 good horses with the heavy saddles and coiled ropes of the 
 stockmen looked patiently over their shoulders. A mule, 
 carrying a light pack, wandered at will in the background. 
 The men wore straight-brimmed, wide felt hats, short 
 jumpers, and overalls of blue denim, and cowboy boots 
 armed with the long, blunt spurs of the craft. Their faces 
 were stubby with a week's growth, but their blue eyes were 
 wide apart and clear. 
 
 "Hullo, Pollock," greeted Plant, as he dropped, blowing, 
 into his chair. 
 
 The men nodded briefly, never taking their steady gaze 
 from Plant's face. After a due and deliberate pause, the 
 elder spoke. 
 
 "They's a thousand head of Wright's cattle been drove 
 in on our ranges this year," said he. 
 
 "I issued Wright permits for that number, Jim," replied 
 Plant blandly. 
 
 "But that's plumb crowdin' of our cattle ofl'n the range," 
 protested the mountaineer. 
 
 "No, it ain't," denied Plant. "That range will keep a 
 thousand cattle more. I've had complete reports on it. I 
 know what I'm doing." 
 
 "It'll keep them, all right," spoke up the younger, "which 
 is saying they won't die. But they'll come out in the fall 
 awful pore." 
 
 " I'm using my judgment as to that," said Plant. 
 
 "Yore judgment is pore," said the younger Pollock, bluntly. 
 "You got to be a cattleman to know about them things." 
 
 "Well, I know Simeon Wright don't put in cattle where 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 227 
 
 he's going to lose on them," replied Plant. "If he's willing 
 to risk it, I'll back his judgment." 
 
 " Wright's a crowder," the older Pollock took up the 
 argument quietly. "He owns fifty thousand head. Me 
 and George, here, we have five hunderd. He just aims to 
 summer his cattle, anyhow. When they come out in the 
 fall, he will fat them up on alfalfa hay. Where is George 
 and me and the Mortons and the Carrolls, and all the rest 
 of the mountain folks going to get alfalfa hay? If our cattle 
 come out pore in the fall, they ain't no good to us. The 
 range is overstocked with a thousand more cattle on it. 
 We're pore men, and Wright he owns half of CaHforny. 
 He's got a million acres of his own without crowdin' in on us." 
 
 "This is the public domain, for all the public " 
 
 began Plant, pompously, but George Pollock, the younger, 
 cut in. 
 
 "We've run this range afore you had any Forest Reserves, 
 afore you came into this country, Henry Plant, and our 
 fathers and our grandfathers! We've built up our busi- 
 ness here, and we've built our ranches and we've made our 
 reg'lations and lived up to 'em! We ain't going to be run 
 off our range without knowin' why!" 
 
 " Just because you've always hogged the public land is no 
 reason why you should always continue to do so," said 
 Plant cheerfully. 
 
 "Who's the public ? Simeon Wright ? or the folks up and 
 down the mountains, who lives in the country?" 
 
 "You've got the same show as Wright or anybody else." 
 
 "No, we ain't," interposed Jim Pollock, "for we're playin* 
 a different game." 
 
 "Well, what is it you want me to do, anyway ?" demanded 
 Plant. "The man has his permit. You can't expect me 
 to tell him to get to hell out of there when he has a duly 
 authorized permit, do you?" 
 
 The Pollocks looked at each other. 
 
 "No," hesitated Jim, at last. "But we're overstocked. 
 
228 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Don't issue no such blanket permits next year. The range 
 won't carry no more cattle than it always has." 
 
 "Well, I'll have it investigated," promised Plant. "I'll 
 send out a grazing man to look into the matter." 
 
 He nodded a dismissal, and the two men, rising slowly to 
 their feet, prepared to mount. They looked perplexed and 
 dissatisfied, but at a loss. Plant watched them sardonically. 
 Finally they swung into the saddle with the cowman's easy 
 grace. 
 
 "Well, good day," said Jim Pollock, after a moment's hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 "Good day," returned Plant amusedly. 
 
 They rode away down the forest aisles. The pack mule 
 fell in behind them, ringing his tiny, sweet-toned bell, his 
 long ears swinging at every step. 
 
 Plant watched them out of sight. 
 
 "Most unreasonable people in the world," he remarked 
 to Bob and Oldham. "They never can be made to see 
 sense. Between them and these confounded sheepmen 
 I'd like to get rid of the whole bunch, and deal only with 
 business men. Takes too much palaver to run this outfit. 
 If they gave me fifty rangers, I couldn't more'n make a 
 start." He was plainly out of humour. 
 
 "How many rangers do you get?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Twelve," snapped Plant. 
 
 Bob saw eight of the twelve in sight, either idle or work- 
 ing on such matters as the steps hewed from the section of 
 pine log. He said nothing, but smiled to himself. 
 
 Shortly after he took his leave. Plant, his good humour 
 entirely recovered, bellowed after him a dozen jokes and 
 invitations. 
 
 Down the road a quarter-mile, just before the trail turned 
 off to the mill, Bob and his guide, who was riding down the 
 mountain, passed a man on horseback. He rode a carved- 
 Jeather saddle, without tapaderos.* A rawhide riata hung 
 
 *Stirrup hoods. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 229 
 
 in its loop on the right-hand side of the horn. He wore a 
 very stiff-brimmed hat encircled by a leather strap and buckle, 
 a cotton shirt, and belted trousers tucked into high-heeled 
 boots embroidered with varied patterns. He was a square- 
 built but very wiry man, with a bold, aggressive, half-hostile 
 glance, and rode very straight and easy after the manner of 
 the plains cowboy. A pair of straight-shanked spurs jingled 
 at his heels, and he wore a revolver. 
 
 "Shelby," explained the guide, after this man had passed. 
 " Simeon Wright's foreman with these cattle you been hearing 
 about. He ain't never far off when there's something doing. 
 Guess he's come to see about how's his fences.' ' 
 
XI 
 
 BOB rode jubilantly into camp. The expedition had 
 taken him all the afternoon, and it was dropping 
 dusk when he had reached the mill. 
 
 "We can get busy," he cried, waving the permit at Welton. 
 "Here it is!" 
 
 Welton smiled. "I knew that, my boy," he replied, "and 
 we're already busy to the extent of being ready to turn her 
 loose to-morrow morning. I've sent down a yard crew to 
 the lower end of the flume; and I've started Max to rustling 
 out the teams by 'phone." 
 
 Next day the water was turned into the flume. Fifty men 
 stood by. Rapidly the skilled workmen applied the clamps 
 and binders that made of the boards a compact bundle to be 
 given to the rushing current. Then they thrust it forward 
 to the drag of the water. It gathered headway, rubbing 
 gently against the flume, first on one side, then on the other. 
 Its weight began to tell; it gathered momentum; it pushed 
 ahead of its blunt nose a foaming white wave; it shot out of 
 sight grandly, careening from side to side. The men cheered. 
 
 "Well, we're off!" said Bob cheerfully. 
 
 "Yes, we're off, thank God!" replied Welton. 
 
 From that moment the affairs of the new enterprise went as 
 well as could be expected. Of course, there were many 
 rough edges to be smoothed off, but as the season progressed 
 the community shaped itself. It was indeed a community, 
 of many and diverse activities, much more complicated, Bob 
 soon discovered, than any of the old Michigan logging camps. 
 A great many of the men brought their families. These 
 occupied separate shanties, of course. The presence of the 
 
 230 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 231 
 
 women and children took away much of that feeling of 
 impermanence associated with most pioneer activities. As 
 without exception these women kept house, the company 
 "van" speedily expanded to a company store. Where 
 the " van " kept merely rough clothing, tobacco and patent 
 medicines, the store soon answered demands for all sorts of 
 household luxuries and necessities. Provisions, of course, 
 were always in request. These one of the company's book- 
 keepers doled out. 
 
 "Mr. Poole," the purchaser would often say to this man, 
 "next time a wagon comes up from Sycamore Flats would 
 you just as soon have them bring me up a few things? I 
 want a washboard, and some shoes for Jimmy, and a double 
 boiler; and there ought to be an express package for me from 
 my sister." 
 
 "Sure! I'll see to it," said Poole. 
 
 This meant a great deal of trouble, first and last, what with 
 the charges and all. Finally, Welton tired of it. 
 
 "We've got to keep a store," he told Bob finally. 
 
 With characteristic despatch he put the carpenters to work, 
 and sent for lists of all that had been ordered from Sycamore 
 Flats. A study of these, followed by a trip to White Oaks, 
 resulted in the equipment of a store under charge of a man 
 experienced in that sort of thing. As time went on, and the 
 needs of such a community made themselves more evident, the 
 store grew in importance. Its shelves accumulated dress 
 goods, dry goods, clothing, hardware; its rafters dangled with 
 tinware and kettles, with rope, harness, webbing; its bins over- 
 flowed with various food-stuffs unknown to the purveyor of a 
 lumber camp's commissary, but in demand by the housewife; 
 its one glass case shone temptingly with fancy stationery, 
 dollar watches, and even cheap jewelry. There was candy 
 for the children, gum for the bashful maiden, soda pop for 
 the frivolous young. In short, there sprang to being in an 
 astonishingly brief space of time a very creditable specimen 
 of the country store. It was a business in itself, requiring 
 
232 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 all the services of a competent man for the buying, the selling, 
 and the transportation. At the end of the year it showed a 
 fair return on the investment. 
 
 "Though we'd have to have it even at a dead loss," Welton 
 pointed out, "to hold our community together. All we need 
 is a few tufts of chin whiskers and some politics to be full- 
 fledged gosh-darn mossbacks." 
 
 The storekeeper, a very deliberate person, Merker by name, 
 was much given to contemplation and pondering. He pos- 
 sessed a German pipe of porcelain, which he smoked when 
 not actively pestered by customers. At such times he leaned 
 his elbows on the counter, curved one hand about the porce- 
 lain bowl of his pipe, lost the other in the depths of his great 
 seal-brown beard, and fell into staring reveries. When a 
 customer entered he came back with due deliberation 
 from about one thousand miles. He refused to accept more 
 than one statement at a time, to consider more than one per- 
 son at a time, or to do more than one thing at a time. 
 
 " Gim'me five pounds of beans, two of sugar, and half a 
 pound of tea!" demanded Mrs. Max. 
 
 Merker deliberately laid aside his pipe, deliberately moved 
 down the aisle behind his counter, deliberately filled his scoop, 
 deliberately manipulated the scales. After the package 
 was duly and neatly encased, labelled and deposited accu- 
 rately in front of Mrs. Max, Merker looked her in the eye. 
 
 "Five pounds of beans," said he, and paused for the next 
 item. 
 
 The moment the woman had departed, Merker resumed 
 his pipe and his wide-eyed vacancy. 
 
 Welton was immensely amused and tickled. 
 
 "Seems to me he might keep a little busier," grumbled 
 Bob. 
 
 "I thought so, too, at first," replied the older man, "but 
 his store is always neat, and he keeps up his stock. Further- 
 more, he never makes a mistake there's no chance for it 
 on his one-thing-at-a-time system." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 233 
 
 But it soon became evident that Merker's reveries did not 
 mean vacancy of mind. At such times the Placid One fig- 
 ured on his stock. When he put in a list of goods required, 
 there was little guess-work as to the quantities needed. 
 Furthermore, he had other schemes. One evening he pre- 
 sented himself to Welton with a proposition. His waving 
 brown hair was slicked back from his square, placid brow, 
 his wide, cowlike eyes shone with the glow of the common or 
 domestic fire, his brown beard was neat, and his holiday 
 clothes were clean. At Welton's invitation he sat, but bolt 
 upright at the edge of a chair. 
 
 "After due investigation and deliberation," he stated, 
 "I have come to the independent conclusion that we are 
 overlooking a means of revenue." 
 
 "As what?" asked Welton, amused by the man's deadly 
 seriousness. 
 
 "Hogs," stated Merker. 
 
 He went on deliberately to explain the waste in camp gar- 
 bage, the price of young pigs, the cost of their transportation, 
 the average selling price of pork, the rate of weight increase 
 per month, and the number possible to maintain. He fur- 
 ther showed that, turned at large, they would require no 
 care. Amused still at the man's earnestness, Welton tried 
 to trip him up with questions. Merker had foreseen every 
 contingency. 
 
 " I'll turn it over to you. Draw the necessary money from 
 the store account," Welton told him finally. 
 
 Merker bowed solemnly and went out. In two weeks 
 pigs appeared. They became a feature of the landscape, 
 and those who experimented with gardens indulged in pro- 
 fanity, clubs and hog-proof fences. Returning home after 
 dark, the wayfarer was apt to be startled to the edge of flight 
 by the grunting upheaval of what had seemed a black shadow 
 under the moon. Bob in especial acquired concentrated 
 practice in horsemanship for the simple reason that his 
 animal refused to dismiss his first hypothesis of bears. 
 
234 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Nevertheless, at the end of the season Merker gravely 
 presented a duly made out balance to the credit of hogs. 
 
 Encouraged by the success of this venture, he next 
 attempted chickens. But even his vacant-eyed figuring 
 had neglected to take into consideration the abundance of 
 such predatory beasts and birds as wildcats, coyotes, rac- 
 coons, owls and the swift hawks of the falcon family. 
 
 " I had thought," he reported to the secretly amused Welton, 
 " that even in feeding the finer sorts of garbage to hogs there 
 might be an economic waste; hogs fatten well enough on the 
 coarser grades, and chickens will eat the finer. In that I fell 
 into error. The percentage of loss from noxious varmints 
 more than equals the difference in the cost of eggs. I fur- 
 ther find that the margin of profits on chickens is not large 
 enough to warrant expenditures for traps, dogs and men suf- 
 ficient for protection." 
 
 "And how does the enterprise stand now?" asked Welton. 
 
 "We are behind." 
 
 "H'm. And what would you advise by way of retrench- 
 ment?" 
 
 "I should advise closing out the business by killing the 
 fowl," was Merker's opinion. "Crediting the account with 
 the value of the chickens as food would bring us out with a 
 loss of approximately ten dollars." 
 
 "Fried chicken is hardly applicable as lumber camp 
 provender," pointed out Welton. "So it's scarcely a legiti- 
 mate asset." 
 
 "I had considered that point," replied Merker, "and in 
 my calculations I had valued the chickens at the price of 
 beef." 
 
 Welton gave it up. 
 
 Another enterprise for which Merker was responsible was 
 the utilization of the slabs and edgings in the construction of 
 fruit trays and boxes. When he approached W T elton on the 
 subject, the lumberman was little inclined to be receptive 
 to the idea. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 235 
 
 "That's all very well, Merker," said he, impatiently; "I 
 don't doubt it's just as you say, and there's a lot of good 
 tray and box material going to waste. So, too, I don't doubt 
 there's lots of material for toothpicks and matches and 
 wooden soldiers and shingles and all sorts of things in our 
 slashings. The only trouble is that I'm trying to run a big 
 lumber company. I haven't time for all that sort of little 
 monkey business. There's too much detail involved in it." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Merker, and withdrew. 
 
 About two weeks later, however, he reappeared, towing 
 after him an elderly, bearded farmer and a bashful-looking, 
 hulking youth. 
 
 "This is Mr. Lee," said Merker, "and he wants to make 
 arrangements with you to set up a little cleat and box-stuff 
 mill, and use from your dump." 
 
 Mr. Lee, it turned out, had been sent up by an informal 
 association of the fruit growers of the valley. Said informal 
 association had been formed by Merker through the mails. 
 The store-keeper had submitted such convincing figures 
 that Lee had been dispatched to see about it. It looked 
 cheaper in the long run to send up a spare harvesting engine, 
 to buy a saw, and to cut up box and tray stuff than to pur- 
 chase these necessities from the regular dealers. Would Mr. 
 Welton negotiate? Mr. Welton did. Before long the mill- 
 men were regaled by the sight of a snorting little upright 
 engine connected by a flapping, sagging belt to a small cir- 
 cular saw. Two men and two boys worked like beavers. 
 The racket and confusion, shouts, profanity and general 
 awkwardness were something tremendous. Nevertheless, 
 the pile of stock grew, and every once in a while six-horse 
 farm wagons from the valley would climb the mountain to 
 take away box material enough to pack the fruit of a whole 
 district. To Merker this was evidently a profound satis- 
 faction. Often he would vary his usual between-customer 
 reverie by walking out on his shaded verandah, where he 
 would lean against an upright, nursing the bowl of his pipe, 
 
236 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 gazing across the sawdust to the diminutive and rackety 
 box-plant in the distance. 
 
 Welton, passing one day, laughed at him. 
 
 "How about your economic waste, Merker?" he called. 
 "Two good men could turn out three times the stuff all that 
 gang does in about half the time." 
 
 "There are no two good men for that job," replied Merker 
 unmoved. His large, cowlike eyes roved across the yards. 
 "Men grow in a generation; trees grow in ten," he resumed 
 with unexpected directness. "I have calculated that of a 
 great tree but 40 per cent, is used. All the rest is economic 
 waste slabs, edging, tops, stumps, sawdust." He sighed. 
 "I couldn't get anybody to consider your toothpick and 
 matches idea, nor the wooden soldiers, nor even the shingles," 
 he ended. 
 
 Welton stared. 
 
 "You didn't quote me in the matter, did you?" he asked 
 at length. 
 
 " I did not take the matter as official. Would I have done 
 better to have done so?" 
 
 "Lord, no!" cried Welton fervently. 
 
 "The sawdust ought to make something," continued 
 Merker. "But I am unable to discover a practical use for 
 it." He indicated the great yellow mound that each day 
 increased. 
 
 "Yes, I got to get a burner for it," said Welton, " it'll soon 
 swamp us." 
 
 "There might be power in it," mused Merker. "A big 
 furnace, now " 
 
 "For heaven's sake, man, what for?" demanded Welton. 
 
 "I don't know yet," answered the store-keeper. 
 
 Merker amused and interested Weiton, and in addition 
 proved to be a valuable man for just his position. It tickled 
 the burly lumberman, too, to stop for a moment in his rounds 
 for the purpose of discussing with mock gravity any one of 
 Merker's thousand ideas on economic waste. Welton dis- 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 237 
 
 covered a huge entertainment in this. One day, however, 
 he found Merker in earnest discussion with a mountain man, 
 whom the store-keeper introduced as Ross Fletcher. Welton 
 did not pay very much attention to this man and was about 
 to pass on when his eye caught the gleam of a Forest Ranger's 
 badge. Then he stopped short. 
 
 "Merker!" he called sharply. 
 
 The store-keeper looked up. 
 
 "See here a minute. Now," said Welton, as he drew the 
 other aside, "I want one thing distinctly understood. This 
 Government gang don't go here. This is my property, and 
 I won't have them loafing around. That's all there is to it. 
 Now understand me; I mean business. If those fellows 
 come in here, they must buy what they want and get out. 
 They're a lazy, loafing, grafting crew, and I won't have them." 
 
 Welton spoke earnestly and in a low tone, and his face 
 was red. Bob, passing, drew rein in astonishment. Never, 
 in his long experience with Welton, had he seen the older 
 man plainly out of temper. Welton' s usual habit in aggra- 
 vating and contrary circumstances was to show a surface, at 
 least, of the most leisurely good nature. So unprecedented 
 was the present condition that Bob, after hesitating a moment, 
 dismounted and approached. 
 
 Merker was staring at his chief with wide and astonished 
 eyes, and plucking nervously at his brown beard. 
 
 "Why, that is Ross Fletcher," he gasped. "We were just 
 talking about the economic waste in the forests. He is a 
 good man. He isn't lazy. He " 
 
 " Economic waste hell! " exploded Welton. "I won't have 
 that crew around here, and I won't have my employees con- 
 fabbing with them. I don't care what you tell them, or how 
 you fix it, but you keep them out of here. Understand? I 
 hate the sight of one of those fellows worse than a poison- 
 snake!" 
 
 Merker glanced from Welton to the ranger and back again 
 perplexed. 
 
238 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "But but " he stammered. "I've known Ross 
 
 Fletcher a long time. What can I say " 
 
 Welt on cut in on him with contempt. 
 
 "Well, you'd better say something, unless you want me to 
 throw him off the place. This is no corner saloon for 
 loafers." 
 
 "I'll fix it," offered Bob, and without waiting for a reply, 
 he walked over to where the mountaineer was leaning against 
 the counter. 
 
 "You're a Forest Ranger, I see," said Bob. 
 
 "Yes," replied the man, straightening from his lounging 
 position. 
 
 "Well, from our bitter experiences as to the activities of a 
 Forest Ranger we conclude that you must be very busy people 
 too busy to waste time on us." 
 
 The man's face changed, but he evidently had not quite 
 arrived at the drift of this. 
 
 "I think you know what I mean," said Bob. 
 
 A slow flush overspread the ranger's face. He looked the 
 young man up and down deliberately. Bob moved the frac- 
 tion of an inch nearer. 
 
 " Meaning I'm not welcome here?" he demanded. 
 
 "This place is for the transaction of business only. Can 
 I have Merker get you anything ? " 
 
 Fletcher shot a glance half of bewilderment, half of anger, 
 in the direction of the store-keeper. Then he nodded, not 
 without a certain dignity, at Bob. 
 
 "Thanks, no," he said, and walked out, his spurs jingling. 
 
 "I guess he won't bother us again," said Bob, returning 
 to Welton. 
 
 The latter laughed, a trifle ashamed of his anger. 
 
 "Those fellows give me the creeps," he said, "like cats 
 do some people. Mossbacks don't know no better, but a 
 Government grafter is a little more useless than a nigger on 
 a sawlog." 
 
 He went out. Bob turned to Merker. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 239 
 
 " Sorry for the row," he said briefly, for he liked the gentle, 
 slow man. "But they're a bad lot. We've got to keep that 
 crew at arm's length for our own protection." 
 
 "Ross Fletcher is not that kind," protested Merker. "I've 
 known him for years." 
 
 "Well, he's got a nerve to come in here. I've seen him 
 and his kind holding down too good a job next old Austin's 
 bar." 
 
 "Not Ross," protested Merker again. "He's a worker. 
 He's just back now from the high mountains. Mr. Orde, if 
 you've got a minute, sit down. I want to tell you about 
 Ross." 
 
 Willing to do what he could to soften Merker' s natural 
 feeling, Bob swung himself to the counter, and lit his pipe. 
 
 "Ross Fletcher is a ranger because he loves it and believes 
 in it," said Merker earnestly. "He knows things are going 
 rotten now, but he hopes that by and by they'll go better. 
 His district is in good shape. Why, let me tell you : last 
 spring Ross was fighting fire all alone, and he went out for 
 help and they docked him a day for being off the reserve 1" 
 
 "You don't say," commented Bob. 
 
 "You don't believe it. Well, it's so. And they sent him 
 in after sheep in the high mountains earl}', when the feed 
 was froze, and wouldn't allow him pay for three sacks of 
 barley for his animals. And Ross gets sixty dollars a month, 
 and he spends about half of that for trail tools and fire tools 
 that they won't give him. What do you think of that ?" 
 
 "Merker," said Bob kindly, "I think your man is either a 
 damn liar or a damn fool. Why does he say he does all this ? " 
 
 "He likes the mountains. He well, he just believes 
 in it." 
 
 "I see. Are there any more of these altruists? or is he the 
 only bird of the species?" 
 
 Merker caught the irony of Bob's tone. 
 
 "They don't amount to much, in general," he admitted. 
 "' But there's a few they keep the torch lit." 
 
240 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "I supposed their job was more in the line of putting it 
 out," observed Bob; then, catching Merker's look of slow 
 bewilderment, he added: "So there are several." 
 
 "Yes. There's good men among 'em. There's Ross, 
 and Charley Morton, and Tom Carroll, and, of course, old 
 California John." 
 
 Bob's amused smile died slowly. Before his mental vis- 
 ion rose the picture of the old mountaineer, with his faded, 
 ragged clothes, his beautiful outfit, his lean, kindly face, his 
 steady blue eyes, guarding an empty trail for the sake of an 
 empty duty. That man was no fool; and Bob knew it. The 
 young fellow slid from the counter to the floor. 
 
 "I'm glad you believe in your friend, Merker," said he 
 "and I don't doubt he's a fine fellow; but we can't have 
 rangers, good, bad, or indifferent, hanging around here. 
 I hope you understand that?" 
 
 Merker nodded, his wide eyes growing dreamy. 
 
 "It's an economic waste," he sighed, "all this cross-pur- 
 poses. Here's you a good man, and Ross a good man, and 
 you cannot work in harmony because of little things. The 
 Government and the private owner should conduct business 
 together for the best utilization of all raw material " 
 
 "Merker," br Ae in Bob, with a kindly twinkle, "you're 
 a Utopian." 
 
 "Mr. Orde," returned Merker with entire respect, "you're 
 a lumberman." 
 
 With this interchange of epithets they parted. 
 
XII 
 
 THE establishment of the store attracted a great many 
 campers. California is the campers' state. Imme- 
 diately after the close of the rainy season they set 
 forth. The wayfarer along any of the country roads will 
 everywhere meet them, either plodding leisurely through the 
 charming landscape, or cheerfully gipsying it by the road- 
 side. Some of the outfits are very elaborate, veritable houses 
 on wheels, with doors and windows, stove pipes, steps that 
 let down, unfolding devices so ingenious that when they are 
 all deployed the happy owners are surrounded by complete 
 convenience and luxury. The man drives his ark from 
 beneath a canopy; the women and children occupy com- 
 fortably the living room of the house whose sides, per- 
 chance, fold outward like wings when the breeze is cool and 
 the dust not too thick. Carlo frisks joyously ahead and 
 astern. Other parties start out quite as cheerfully with the 
 delivery wagon, or the buckboard, or even at a pinch 
 with the top buggy. For all alike the country-side is golden, 
 the sun warm, the sky blue, the birds joyous, and the spring 
 young in the land. The climate is positively guaranteed. 
 It will not rain; it will shine; the stars will watch. Feed 
 for the horses everywhere borders the roads. One can idle 
 along the highways and the byways and the noways-at-all, 
 utterly carefree, surrounded by wild and beautiful scenery. 
 No wonder half the state turns nomadic in the spring. 
 
 And then, as summer lays its heats blessed by the fruit 
 man, the irrigator, the farmer alike over the great interior 
 valleys, the people divide into two classes. One class, by 
 far the larger, migrates to the Coast. There the trade winds 
 
 241 
 
242 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 blowing softly from the Pacific temper the semi- tropic sun; 
 the Coast Ranges bar back the furnace -like heat of the 
 interior; and the result is a summer climate even nearer 
 perfection though not so much advertised than is that 
 of winter. Here the populace stays in the big winter hotels 
 at reduced rates, or rents itself cottages, or lives in one or 
 the other of the unique tent cities. It is gregarious and 
 noisy, and healthy and hearty, and full of phonographs and 
 a desire to live in bathing suits. Another, and smaller con- 
 tingent, turns to the Sierras. 
 
 We have here nothing to do with those who attend the 
 resorts such as Tahoe or Klamath; nor yet with that much 
 smaller contingent of hardy and adventurous spirits who, 
 with pack-mule and saddle, lose themselves in the wonderful 
 labyrinth of granite and snow, of canon and peak, of forest 
 and stream that makes up the High Sierras. But rather let 
 us confine ourselves to the great middle class, the class that 
 has not the wealth nor the desire for resort hotels, nor the 
 skill nor the equipment to explore a wilderness. These peo- 
 ple hitch up the farm team, or the grocer's cart, or the family 
 horse, pile in their bedding and their simple cooking utensils, 
 whistle to the dog, and climb up out of the scorching inferno 
 to the coolness of the pines. 
 
 They have few but definite needs. They must have 
 company, water, and the proximity of a store where they 
 can buy things to eat. If there is fishing, so much the 
 better. At any rate there is plenty of material for bonfires. 
 And since other stores are practically unknown above the 
 six-thousand-foot winter limit of habitability, it follows that 
 each lumber-mill is a magnet that attracts its own community 
 of these visitors to the out of doors. 
 
 As early as the beginning of July the first outfit drifted in. 
 Below the mill a half-mile there happened to be a small, 
 round lake with meadows at the upper and lower ends. By 
 the middle of the month two hundred people were camped 
 there. Each constructed his abiding place according to his 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 243 
 
 needs and ideas, and promptly erected a sign naming it. The 
 names were facetiously intended. The community was out 
 for a good time, and it had it. Phonographs, concertinas, 
 and even a tiny transportable organ appeared. The men 
 dressed in loose rough clothes ; the women wore sun-bonnets ; 
 the girls inclined to bandana handkerchiefs, rough-rider 
 skirts and leggings, cowboy hats caught up at the sides, 
 fringed gauntlet gloves. They were a good-natured, kindly 
 lot, and Bob liked nothing better than to stroll down to the 
 Lake in the twilight. There he found the arrangements 
 differing widely. The smaller ranchmen lived roughly, 
 sleeping under the stars, perhaps, cooking over an open fire, 
 eating from tinware. The larger ranchmen did things in 
 better style. They brought rocking chairs, big tents, china- 
 ware, camp stoves and Japanese servants to manipulate 
 them. The women had flags and Chinese lanterns with 
 which to decorate, hammocks in which to lounge, books to 
 read, tables at which to sit, cots and mattresses on which to 
 sleep. No difference in social status was made, however. 
 The young people undertook their expeditions together: 
 the older folks swapped yarns in the peaceful enjoyment of 
 the forest. Bob found interest in all, for as yet the California 
 ranchman has not lost in humdrum occupations the initiative 
 that brought him to a new country nor the influences of the 
 experience he has gained there. To his surprise several of 
 the parties were composed entirely of girls. One, of four 
 members, was made up of students from Berkeley, out for 
 their summer vacation. Late in the summer these four 
 damsels constructed a pack of their belongings, lashed it on 
 a borrowed mule, and departed. They were gone for a 
 week in the back country, and returned full of adventures 
 over the detailing of which they laughed until they gasped. 
 
 To Bob's astonishment none of the men seemed particu- 
 larly wrought up over this escapade. 
 
 "They're used to the mountains," he was assured, "and 
 they'll get along all right with that old mule." 
 
244 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Does anybody live over there?" asked Bob. 
 
 "No, it's just a wild country, but the trails is good." 
 
 "Suppose they get into trouble?" 
 
 "What trouble? And 'tain't likely they'd all get into 
 trouble to once." 
 
 "I should think they'd be scared." 
 
 "Nothin' to be scared of," replied the man comfortably. 
 
 Bob thought of the great, uninhabited mountains, the 
 dark forests, the immense loneliness and isolation, the thou- 
 sand subtle and psychic influences which the wilderness 
 exerts over the untried soul. There might be nothing to 
 be scared of, as the man said. Wild animals are harmless, 
 the trails are good. But he could not imagine any of the 
 girls with whom he had acquaintance pushing off thus 
 joyous and unafraid into a wilderness three days beyond 
 the farthest outpost. He had yet to understand the spirit, 
 almost universal among the native-born Californians, that 
 has been brought up so intimately with the large things of 
 nature that the sublime is no longer the terrible. Perhaps 
 this states it a little too pompously. They have learned 
 that the mere absence of mankind is ' nothing to be scared 
 of; they have learned how to be independent and to take 
 care of themselves. Consequently, as a matter of course, as 
 one would ride in the park, they undertake expeditions into 
 the Big Country. 
 
 Many of these travellers, especially toward the close of 
 the summer, complained bitterly of the scarcity of horse- 
 feed. In the back country where the mountains were high 
 and the wilderness unbroken, they depended for forage on the 
 grasses of the mountain meadows. This year they reported 
 that the cattle had eaten the forage down to the roots. 
 Where usually had been abundance and pleasant camping, 
 now were hard, close lawns, and cattle overrunning and 
 defiling everything. Under the heavy labour of mountain 
 travel the horses fell off rapidly in flesh and strength. 
 
 "We're the public just as much as them cattlemen," 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 245 
 
 declamied one grizzled veteran waving his pipe. "I come 
 to these mountains first in sixty-six, and the sheep was bad 
 enough then, but you always had some horse meadows. 
 Now they're just plumb overrunning the country. There's 
 thousands and thousands of folks that come in camping, 
 and about a dozen of these yere cattlemen. They got no 
 right to hog the public land." 
 
 With so much approval did this view meet that a delegation 
 went to Plant's summer quarters to talk it over. The 
 delegation returned somewhat red about the ears. Plant 
 had politely but robustly told it that a supervisor was the 
 best judge of how to run his own forest. This led to declama- 
 tory denunciation, after the American fashion, but without 
 resulting in further activity. Resentment seemed to be about 
 equally divided between Plant and the cattlemen as a class. 
 
 This resentment as to the latter, however, soon changed 
 to sympathy. In September the Pollock boys stopped over- 
 night at the Lake Meadow on their way out. Their cattle, 
 in charge of the dogs, they threw for the night into a rude 
 corral of logs, built many years before for just that purpose. 
 Their horses they fed with barley hay bought from Merker. 
 Their camp they spread away from the others, near the 
 spring. It was dark before they lit their fire. Visitors 
 sauntering over found George and Jim Pollock on either 
 side the haphazard blaze stolidly warming through flapjacks, 
 and occasionally settling into a firmer position the huge 
 coffee pot. The dust and sweat of driving cattle still lay 
 thick on their faces. A boy of eighteen, plainly the son of 
 one of the other two, was hanging up the saddles. The 
 whole group appeared low-spirited and tired. The men res- 
 ponded to the visitors by a brief nod only. The latter there- 
 upon sat down just inside the circle of lamplight and smoked 
 in silence. Presently Jim arose stiffly, frying pan in hand. 
 
 "It's done," he announced. 
 
 They ate in silence, consuming great quantities of half- 
 cooked flapjacks, chunks of overdone beef, and tin-cupfuls 
 
246 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 of scalding coffee. When they had finished they thrust aside 
 the battered tin dishes with the air of men too weary to bother 
 further with them. They rolled brown paper .cigarettes and 
 smoked listlessly. After a time George Pollock remarked: 
 
 "We ain't washed up." 
 
 The statement resulted in no immediate action. After 
 a few moments more, however, the boy arose slowly, gathered 
 the dishes clattering into a kettle, filled the latter with water, 
 and set it in the fire. Jim and his brother, too, bestirred 
 themselves, disappearing in the direction of the spring with 
 a bar of mottled soap, an old towel, and a battered pan. 
 They returned after a few moments, their faces shining, 
 their hair wetted and sleeked down. 
 
 "Plumb too lazy to wash up." George addressed the 
 silent visitors by way of welcome. 
 
 " Drove far ? " asked an old ranchman. 
 
 "Twin Peaks." 
 
 "How's the feed?" came the inevitable cowman's question. 
 
 "Pore, pore," replied the mountaineer. "Ain't never 
 seen it so short. My cattle's pore." 
 
 "Well, you're overstocked; that's what's the matter," 
 spoke up some one boldly. 
 
 George Pollock turned his face toward this voice. 
 
 " Don't you suppose I know it ? " he demanded. " There's 
 a thousand head too many on my range alone. I've been 
 crowded and pushed all summer, and I ain't got a beef steer fit 
 to sell, right now. My cattle are so pore I'll have to winter 'em 
 on foothill winter feed. And in the spring they'll be porer." 
 
 "Well, why don't you all get together and reduce your 
 stock?" persisted the questioner. "Then there'll be a show 
 for somebody. I got three packs and two saddlers that 
 ain't fatted up from a two weeks' trip in August. You got 
 the country skinned; and that ain't no dream." 
 
 George Pollock turned so fiercely that his listeners shrank. 
 
 "Get together! Reduce our stock 1" he snarled, shaken 
 from the customary impassivity of the mountaineer. "It 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 247 
 
 ain't us! We got the same number of cattle, all we mountain 
 men, that our fathers had afore us! There ain't never been 
 no trouble before. Sometimes we crowded a little, but we 
 all know our people and we could fix things up, and so long 
 as they let us be, we got along all right. It don't pay us to 
 overstock. What for do we keep cattle? To sell, don't 
 we? And we can't sell 'em unless they're fat. Summer 
 feed's all we got to fat 'em on. Winter feed's no good. You 
 know that. We ain't going to crowd our range. You make 
 me tired!" 
 
 "What's the trouble then?" 
 
 "Outsiders," snapped Pollock. "Folks that live on the 
 plains and just push in to summer their cattle anyhow, 
 and then fat 'em for the market on alfalfa hay. This ain't 
 their country. Why don't they stick to their own?" 
 
 "Can't you handle them? Who are they?" 
 
 "It ain't they," replied George Pollock sullenly. "It's 
 him. It's the richest man in California, with forty ranches 
 and fifty thousand head of cattle and a railroad or two and 
 God knows what else. But he'll come up here and take 
 a pore man's living away from him for the sake of a few 
 hundred dollars saved." 
 
 " Old Simeon, hey ?" remarked the ranchman thoughtfully. 
 
 "Simeon Wright," said Pollock. "The same damn old 
 robber. Forest Reserves!" he sneered bitterly. "For the 
 use of the public! Hell! Who's the public? me and you 
 and the other fellow ? The public is Simeon Wright. What 
 do you expect?" 
 
 " Didn't Plant say he was going to look into the matter 
 for next year ? " Bob inquired from the other side the fire. 
 
 " Plant ! He's bought," returned Pollock contemptuously. 
 " He's never seen the country, anyway ; and he never will." 
 
 He rose and kicked the fire together. 
 
 " Good night ! " he said shortly, and, retiring to the 
 shadows, rolled himself in a blanket and turned his back 
 on the visitors. 
 
XIII 
 
 THE season passed without further incidents of general 
 interest. It was a busy season, as mountain seasons 
 always are. Bob had opportunity to go nowhere; 
 but in good truth he had no desire to do so. The surround- 
 ings immediate to the work were rich enough in interest. 
 After the flurry caused by the delay in opening communi- 
 cation, affairs fell into their grooves. The days passed on 
 wings. Almost before he knew it, the dogwood leaves 
 had turned rose, the aspens yellow, and the pines, thinning 
 in anticipation of the heavy snows, were dropping their 
 russet needles everywhere. A light snow in September 
 reminded the workers of the altitude. By the first of Novem- 
 ber the works were closed down. -The donkey engines had 
 been roughly housed in; the machinery protected; all things 
 prepared against the heavy Sierra snows. Only the three 
 caretakers were left to inhabit a warm corner. Throughout 
 the winter these men would shovel away threatening weights 
 of snow and see to the damage done by storms. In order to 
 keep busy they might make shakes, or perhaps set themselves 
 to trapping fur-bearing animals. They would use skis to 
 get about. 
 
 For a month after coming down from the mountain, Bob 
 stayed at Auntie Belle's. There were a number of things 
 to attend to on the lower levels, such as anticipating repairs 
 to flumes, roads and equipment, systematizing the yard 
 arrangements, and the like. Here Bob came to know more 
 of the countryside and its people. 
 
 He found this lower, but still mountainous, country 
 threaded by roads ; rough roads, to be sure, but well enough 
 
 248 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 249 
 
 graded. Along these roads were the ranch houses and 
 spacious corrals of the mountain people. Far and wide 
 through the wooded and brushy foothills roamed the cattle, 
 seeking the forage of the winter range that a summer's 
 absence in the high mountains had saved for them. Bob 
 used often to "tie his horse to the ground" and enter for a 
 chat with these people. Harbouring some vague notions 
 of Southern "crackers," he was at first considerably sur 
 prised. The houses were in general well built and clean, 
 even though primitive, and Bob had often occasion to notice 
 excellent books and magazines. There were always plenty 
 of children of all sizes. The young women were usually 
 attractive and blooming. They insisted on hospitality; 
 and Bob had the greatest difficulty in persuading them that 
 he stood in no immediate need of nourishment. The men 
 repaid cultivation. Their ideas were often faulty because 
 of insufficient basis of knowledge: but, when untinged by 
 prejudice, apt to be logical. Opinions were always positive, 
 and always existent. No phenomenon, social or physical, 
 could come into their ken without being mulled over and 
 decided upon. In the field of their observations were no 
 dead facts. Not much given to reception of contrary argu- 
 ment or idea they were always eager for new facts. Bob 
 found himself often held in good-humoured tolerance as a 
 youngster when he advanced his opinion; but listened to 
 thirstily when he could detail actual experience or knowl- 
 edge. The head of the house held patriarchal sway until 
 the grown-up children were actually ready to leave the 
 paternal roof for homes of their own. One and all loved 
 the mountains, though incoherently, and perhaps without 
 full consciousness of the fact. They were extremely tena- 
 cious of personal rights. 
 
 Bob, being an engaging and open-hearted youth, soon 
 gained favour. Among others he came to know the two 
 Pollock families well. Jim Pollock, with his large brood, 
 had arrived at a certain philosophical, though watchful, 
 
250 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 acceptance of life; but George, younger, recently married, 
 and eagerly ambitious, chafed sorely. The Pollocks had 
 been in the country for three generations. They inhabited 
 two places on opposite sides of a canon. These houses 
 possessed the distinction of having the only two red-brick 
 chimneys in the hills. They were low, comfortable, ram- 
 bling, vine-clad. 
 
 "We always run cattle in these hills," said George fiercely 
 to Bob, "and got along all right. But these last three years 
 it's been bad. Unless we can fat our cattle on the summer 
 ranges in the high mountains, we can't do business. The 
 grazing on these lower hills you just got to save for winter. 
 You can't raise no hay here. Since they begun to crowd 
 us with old Wright's stock it's tur'ble. I ain't had a head 
 of beef cattle fittin' to sell, bar a few old cows. And if I 
 ain't got cattle to sell, where do I get money to live on? I 
 always been out of debt; but this year I done put a mort- 
 gage on the place to get money to go on with." 
 
 "We can always eat beef, George," said his wife with a 
 little laugh, "and miner's lettuce. We ain't the first folks 
 that has had hard times and got over it." 
 
 "Mebbe not," agreed George, glancing with furrowed 
 brow at a. tiny garment on which Mrs. George was sewing. 
 
 Jim Pollock, smoking comfortably in his shirt sleeves 
 before his fire, was not so worried. His youngest slept in 
 his arms; two children played and tumbled on the floor; 
 buxom Mrs. Pollock bustled here and there on household 
 business; the older children sprawled over the table under 
 the lamp reading; the oldest boy, with wrinkled brow, toiled 
 through the instructions of a correspondence school course. 
 
 "George always takes it hard," said Jim. "I've got 
 six kids, and he'll have one or at most two mebbe. 
 It's hard times all right, and a hard year. I had to mortgage, 
 too. Lord love you, a mortgage ain't so bad as a porous 
 plaster. It'll come off. One good year for beef will fix us. 
 We ain't lost nothing but this year's sales. Our cattle are 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 251 
 
 too pore for beef, but they're all in good enough shape. We 
 ain't lost none. Next year'll be better." 
 
 "What makes you think so?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Well, Smith,he's superintendent atWhiteOaks, you know, 
 he's favourable to us. I seed him myself. And even Plant, 
 he's sent old California John back to look over what shape 
 the ranges are in. There ain't no doubt as to which way 
 he'll report. Old John is a cattleman, and he's square." 
 
 One day Bob found himself belated after a fishing excur- 
 sion to the upper end of the valley. As a matter of course he 
 stopped over night with the first people whose ranch he 
 came to. It was not much of a ranch and it's two-room 
 house was of logs and shakes, but the owners were hospitable. 
 Bob put his horse into a ramshackle shed, banked with 
 earth against the winter cold. He had a good time all the 
 evening. 
 
 "I'm going to hike out before breakfast," said he before 
 turning in, "so if you'll just show me where the lantern is, 
 I won't bother you in the morning." 
 
 "Lantern!" snorted the mountaineer. "You turn on the 
 switch. It's just to the right of the door as you go in." 
 
 So Bob encountered another of the curious anomalies 
 not infrequent to the West. He entered a log stable in the 
 remote backwoods and turned on a sixteen-candle-power 
 electric globe! As he extended his rides among the low 
 mountains of the First Rampart, he ran across many more 
 places where electric light and even electric power were used 
 in the rudest habitations. 
 
 The explanation was very simple ; these men had possessed 
 small water rights which Baker had needed. As part of 
 their compensation they received from Power House Num- 
 ber One what current they required for their own use. 
 
 Thus reminded, Bob one Sunday visited Power House 
 Number One. It proved to be a corrugated iron structure 
 through which poured a great stream and from which went 
 high-tension wires strung to mushroom- shaped insulators. 
 
252 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 It was filled with the clean and shining machinery of elec- 
 tricity. Bob rode up the flume to the reservoir, a great lake 
 penned in canon walls by a dam sixty feet high. The flume 
 itself was of concrete, large enough to carry a rushing stream. 
 He made the acquaintance of some of the men along the 
 works. They tramped and rode back and forth along the 
 right of way, occupied with their insulations, the height of 
 their water, their watts and volts and amperes. Surround- 
 ings were a matter of indifference to them. Activity was 
 of the same sort, whether in the city or in the wilderness. As 
 influences city or wilderness it was all the same to 
 them. They made their own influences which in turn 
 developed a special type of people among the delicate and 
 powerful mysteries of their craft. Down through the land 
 they had laid the narrow, uniform strip of their peculiar 
 activities; and on that strip they dwelt satisfied with a world 
 of their own. Bob sat in a swinging chair talking in snatches 
 to Hicks, between calls on the telephone. He listened to 
 quick, sharp orders as to men and instruments, as to the 
 management of water, the undertaking of repairs. These 
 were couched in technical phrases and slang, for the most 
 part. By means of the telephone Hicks seemed to keep in 
 touch not only with the plants in his own district, but also 
 with the activities in Power Houses Two, Three and Four, 
 many miles away. Hicks had never once, in four years, 
 been to the top of the first range. He had had no interest in 
 doing so. Neither had he an interest in the foothill country 
 to the west. 
 
 "I'd kind of like to get back and kill a buck or so," he 
 confessed; "but I haven't got the time." 
 
 "It's a different country up where we are," urged Bob. 
 "You wouldn't know it for the same state as this dry and 
 brushy country. It has fine timber and green grass." 
 
 "I suppose so," said Hicks indifferently. "But I haven't 
 got the time." 
 
 Bob rode away a trifle inclined to that peculiar form of 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 253 
 
 smug pity a hotel visitor who has been in a place a week 
 feels for yesterday's arrival. He knew the coolness of the 
 great mountain. 
 
 At this point an opening in the second growth of yellow 
 pines permitted him a vista. He looked back. He had 
 never been in this part of the country before. A little 
 portion of Baldy, framed in a pine-clad cleft through the First 
 Range, towered chill, rugged and marvellous in its granite 
 and snow. For the first time Bob realized that even so 
 immediately behind the scene of his summer's work were 
 other higher, more wonderful countries. As he watched, 
 the peak was lost in the blackness of one of those sudden 
 storms that gather out of nothing about the great crests. The 
 cloud spread like magic in all directions. The faint roll of 
 thunder came down a wind, damp and cool, sucked from 
 the high country. 
 
 Bob rounded a bend in the road to overtake old California 
 John, jingling placidly along on his beautiful sorrel. Though 
 by no means friendly to any member of this branch of 
 government service, Bob reined his animal. 
 
 "Hullo," said he, overborne by an unexpected impulse. 
 
 "Good day," responded the old man, with a friendly 
 deepening of the kindly wrinkles about his blue eyes. 
 
 " John," asked Bob, " were you ever in those big mountains 
 there?" 
 
 " Baldy ? " said the Ranger. " Lord love you, yes. I have 
 to cross Baldy 'most every time I go to the back country. 
 There's two good passes through Baldy." 
 
 "Back country!" repeated Bob. "Are there any higher 
 mountains than those?" 
 
 Old California John chuckled. 
 
 "Listen, son," said he. "There's the First Range, and 
 then Stone Creek, and then Baldy. And on the other side 
 of Baldy there's the canon of the Joncal which is three 
 thousand foot down. And then there's the Burro Mount- 
 ains, which is half again as high as Baldy, and all the 
 
254 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Burro country to Little Jackass. That's a plateau covered 
 with lodge-pole pine and meadows and creeks and little 
 lakes. It's a big plateau, and when you're a-ridin' it, you 
 shore seem like bein' in a wide, flat country. And then 
 there's the Green Mountain country; and you drop off five 
 or six thousand foot into the box canon of the north fork; 
 and then you climb out again to Red Mountain; and after 
 that is the Pinnacles. The Pinnacles is the Fourth Rampart. 
 After them is South Meadow, and the Boneyard. Then 
 you get to the Main Crest. And that's only if you go plumb 
 due east. North and south there's all sorts of big country. 
 Why, Baldy's only a sort of taster." 
 
 Bob's satisfaction with himself collapsed. This land so 
 briefly shadowed forth was penetrable only in summer: that 
 he well knew. And all summer Bob was held to the great 
 tasks of the forest. He hadn't the time! Wherein did he 
 differ from Hicks? In nothing save that his right of wav 
 happened to be a trifle wider. 
 
 "Have you been to all these places?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Many times," replied California John. "From Stan- 
 islaus to the San Bernardino desert I've ridden." 
 
 "How big a country is that?" 
 
 "It's about four hundred mile long, and about eighty mile 
 wide as the crow flies a lot bigger as a man must 
 ride." 
 
 "All big mountains?" 
 
 "Surely." 
 
 "You must have been everywhere?" 
 
 "No," said California John, "I never been to Jack Main's 
 Canon. It's too fur up, and I never could get time off to 
 go in there." 
 
 So this man, too, the ranger whose business it was to travel 
 far and wide in the wild country, sighed for that which lay 
 beyond his right of way! Suddenly Bob was filled with a 
 desire to transcend all these activities, to travel on and over 
 the different rights of way to which ail the rest of the world 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 255 
 
 was confined until he knew them all and what lay beyond 
 them. The impulse was but momentary, and Bob laughed 
 at himself as it passed. 
 
 " 'Something hid beyond the ranges,' " he quoted softly 
 to himself. 
 
 Suddenly he looked up, and gathered his reins. 
 
 "John," he said, "we're going to catch that storm." 
 
 " Surely," replied the old man looking at him with surprise; 
 "just found that out?" 
 
 "Well, we'd better hurry." 
 
 "What's the use? It'll catch us, anyhow. We're shore 
 due to get wet." 
 
 "Well, let's hunt a good tree." 
 
 "No,' 3aid California John, "this is a thunder-storm, 
 and trees is too scurce. You just keep ridin' along the open 
 road. I've noticed that lightnin' don't hit twice in the 
 same place mainly because the same place don't seem to be 
 thar any more after the first time." 
 
 The first big drops of the storm delayed fully five minutes. 
 It did seem foolish to be jogging peacefully along at a fox- 
 trot while the tempest gathered its power, but Bob realized 
 the justice of his companion's remarks. 
 
 When it did begin, however, it made up for lost time. The 
 rain fell as though it Cad been turned out of a bucket. In 
 an instant every runnel was full. The water even flowed in 
 a thin sheet from the hard surface of the ground. The men 
 were soaked. 
 
 Then came the thunder in a burst of fury and noise. The 
 lightning flashed almost continuously, not only down, but 
 aslant, and even Bob thought up. The thunder roared 
 and reverberated and reechoed until the world was filled 
 with its crashes. Bob's nerves were steady with youth and 
 natural courage, but the implacable rapidity with which 
 assault followed assault ended by shaking him into a sort of 
 confusion. His horse snorted, pricking its ears backward 
 and forward, dancing from side to side. The lightning 
 
256 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 seemed iairly to spring into being all about them, from the 
 substance of the murk in which they rode. 
 
 "Isn't this likely to hit us?" he yelled at California John. 
 
 "Liable to," came back the old man's reply across the roar 
 of the tempest. 
 
 Bob looked about him uneasily. The ranger bent his 
 head to the wind. Star, walking more rapidly, outpaced 
 Bob's horse, until they were proceeding single file some ten 
 feet apart. 
 
 Suddenly the earth seemed to explode directly ahead. A 
 blinding flare swept the ground, a hissing crackle was 
 drowned in an overwhelming roar of thunder. Bob dodged, 
 and his horse whirled. When he had mastered both his 
 animal and himself he spurred back. California John had 
 reined in his mount. Not twenty feet ahead of him the bolt 
 had struck. California John glanced quizzically over his 
 shoulder at the sky. 
 
 "Old Man," he remarked, "you'll have to lower you:. 
 sights a little, if you want to git me." 
 
XIV 
 
 A CHRISTMAS Bob took a brief trip East, returning 
 to California about the middle of January. The 
 remainder of the winter was spent in outside business, 
 and in preparatory arrangements for the next season's work. 
 The last of April he returned to the lower mountains. 
 
 He found Sycamore Flats in a fever of excitement over 
 the cattle question. After lighting his post-prandial pipe 
 he sauntered down to chat with Martin, the lank and leisurely 
 keeper of the livery, proprietor of the general store, and; 
 clearing house of both information and gossip. 
 
 "It looks like this," Martin answered Bob's question. 
 "You remember Plant sent back old California John to 
 make a report on the grazing. John reported her over- 
 stocked, of course; nobody could have done different. Plant 
 kind of promised to fix things up; and the word got around 
 pretty definite that the outside stock would be reduced." 
 
 "Wasn't it?" 
 
 "Not so you'd notice. When the permits was published 
 for this summer, they read good for the same old number." 
 
 "Then Wright's cattle will be in again this year." 
 
 "That's the worst of it; they are in. Shelby brought up p 
 a thousand head a week ago, and was going to push them 
 right in over the snow. The feed's just starting on the low 
 meadows in back, and it hasn't woke up a mite in the higher 
 meadows. You throw cattle in on that mushy, soft ground 
 and new feed, and they tromp down and destroy more'n 
 they eat. No mountain cattleman goes in till the feed's 
 weU started, never." 
 
 "But what does Shelby do it for, then?" 
 
 257 
 
258 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Martin spat accurately at a knothole. 
 
 ""Oh, he don't care. Those big men don't give a damn 
 what kind of shape cattle is in, as long as they stay alive. 
 Same with humans; only they ain't so particular about the 
 staying alive part." 
 
 " Couldn't anything be done to stop them?" 
 
 "Plant could keep them out, but he won't. Jim and 
 George Pollock, and Tom Carroll and some of the other 
 boys put up such a kick, though, that they saw a great light. 
 They ain't going in for a couple of weeks more." 
 
 "That's all right, then," said Bob heartily. 
 
 "Is it? "asked Martin. 
 
 "Isn't it?" inquired Bob. 
 
 "Well, some says not. Of course they couldn't be expected 
 to drive all those cattle back to the plains, so they're 
 just naturally spraddled out grazing over this lower 
 country." 
 
 "Why, what becomes of the winter feed?" cried Bob 
 aghast, well aware that in these lower altitudes the season's 
 growth was nearly finished and the ripening about to begin. 
 
 "That's just it," said Martin; "where, oh, where?" 
 
 "Can't anything be done?" repeated Bob, with some 
 show of indignation. 
 
 "What? This is all government land. The mountain 
 boys ain't got any real exclusive rights there. It's public 
 property. The regulations are pretty clear about preference 
 being given to the small owner, and the local man; but 
 that's up to Plant." 
 
 "It'll come pretty hard on some of the boys, if they keep 
 on eating off their winter feed and their summer feed too," 
 hazarded Bob. 
 
 "It'll drive 'em out of business," said Martin. "It'll dc 
 more; it'll close out settlement in this country. There ain't 
 nothing doing but cattle, and if the small cattle business is 
 closed up, the permanent settlement closes up too. There's 
 only lumber and power and such left; and they don't mean 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 259 
 
 settlement. That's what the Government is supposed to 
 look out for." 
 
 "Government!" said Bob with contempt. 
 
 "Well, now, there's a few good ones, oven at that," stated 
 Martin argumentively. " There's old John, and Ross 
 Fletcher, and one or two more that are on the square. It 
 may be these little grafters have got theirs coming yet. Now 
 and then an inspector comes along. He looks over the 
 books old Hen Plant or the next fellow has fixed up; asks a 
 few questions about trails and such; writes out a nice little 
 recommend on his pocket typewriter, and moves on. And 
 if there's a roar from some of these little fellows, why it gets 
 lost. Some clerk nails it, and sends it to Mr. Inspector 
 with a blue question mark on it; and Mr. Inspector passes 
 it on to Mr. Supervisor for explanation; and Mr. Super- 
 visor's strong holt is explanations. There you are! But 
 it only needs one inspector who inspects to knock over the 
 whole apple-cart. Once get by your clerk to your chief, and 
 you got it." 
 
 Whether Martin made this prediction in a spirit of hope 
 and a full knowledge, or whether his shot in the air merely 
 chanced to hit the mark, it would be impossible to say. As 
 a matter of fact within the month appeared Ashley Thorne, an 
 inspector who inspected. 
 
 By this time all the cattle, both of the plainsmen and the 
 mountaineers, had gone back. The mill had commenced 
 its season's operations. After the routine of work had 
 been well established, Bob had descended to attend to cer- 
 tain grading of the lumber for a special sale of uppers. Thus 
 he found himself on the scene. 
 
 Ashley Thorne was driven in. He arrived late in the 
 afternoon. Plant with his coat on, and a jovial expression 
 illuminating his fat face, held out both hands in greeting as 
 the vehicle came to a stop by Martin's barn. The Inspector 
 leaped quickly to the ground. He was seen to be a man 
 between thirty and forty, compactly built, alert in movement 
 
260 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 He had a square face, aggressive gray eyes, and wore a 
 small moustache clipped at the line of the lips. 
 
 "Hullo! Hullo!" roared Plant in his biggest voice. "So 
 here we are, hey! Kind of dry, hot travel, but we've got 
 the remedy for that." 
 
 "How are you?" said Thorne crisply; "are you Mr. 
 Plant ? Glad to meet you." 
 
 "Leave your truck," said Plant. "I'll send some one 
 after it. Come right along with me." 
 
 "Thanks," said Thorne, "but I think I'll take a wash 
 and clean up a bit, first." 
 
 "That's all right," urged Plant. "We can fix you up." 
 
 "Where is the hotel?" asked Thorne. 
 
 "Hotel!" cried Plant, "ain't you going to stay with 
 me?" 
 
 "It is kind of you, and I appreciate it," said Thorne 
 briefly, "but I never mix official business with social pleasure. 
 This is an invariable rule and has no personal application, 
 of course. After my official work is done and my report 
 written, I shall be happy to avail myself of your hospitality." 
 
 "Just as you say, of course," said Plant, quite good- 
 humouredly. To him this was an extraordinarily shrewd, 
 grand-stand play; and he approved of it. 
 
 "I shall go to your office at nine to-morrow," Thorne 
 advised him. " Please have your records ready." 
 
 " Always ready," said Plant. 
 
 Thorne was assigned a room at Auntie Belle's, washed 
 away the dust of travel, and appeared promptly at table 
 when the bell rang. He wore an ordinary business suit, a 
 flannel shirt with white collar, and hung on the nail a wide 
 felt hat. Nevertheless his general air was of an out-of-door 
 man, competent and skilled in the open. His manner was 
 self-contained and a trifle reserved, although he talked 
 freely enough with Bob on a variety of subjects. 
 
 After supper he retired to his room, the door of which, 
 however, he left open. Any one passing down the narrow 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 261 
 
 hallway could have seen him bent over a mass of papers on 
 the table, his portable typewriter close at hand. 
 
 The following morning, armed with a little hand satchel, 
 he tramped down to Henry Plant's house. The Supervisor 
 met him on the verandah. 
 
 " Right on deck!" he roared jovially. "Come in! AU 
 ready for the doctor!" 
 
 Thome did not respond to this jocosity. 
 
 "Good morning," he said formally, and that was all. 
 
 Plant led the way into his office, thrust forward a chair, 
 waved a comprehensive hand toward the filing cases, over 
 the bill files, at the tabulated reports laid out on the desk. 
 
 "Go to it," said he cheerfully. "Have a cigarl Every- 
 thing's all ready." 
 
 Thorne laid aside his broad hat, and at once with keen con- 
 centration attacked the tabulations. Plant sat back watch- 
 ing him. Occasionally the fat man yawned. When Thorne 
 had digested the epitome of the financial end, he reached for 
 the bundles of documents. 
 
 "That's just receipts and requisitions," said Plant, "and 
 such truck. It'll take you an hour to wade through that stuff." 
 
 "Any objections 10 my doing so?" asked Thorne. 
 
 "None," replied Plant drily. 
 
 "Now rangers' reports," requested Thorne at the end of 
 another busy period. 
 
 "What, that flapdoodle?" cried Plant. "Nobody bothers 
 much with that stuff! A man has to write the history of his 
 life every time he gets a pail of water." 
 
 "Do I understand your ranger reports are remiss?" 
 insisted Thorne. 
 
 "Lord, there they are. Wish you joy of them. Most of 
 the boys have mighty vague ideas of spelling." 
 
 At noon Thorne knocked off, announcing his return at 
 one o'clock. Most inspectors would have finished an hour 
 ago. At the gate he paused. 
 
 " This place belong to you or the Government?" he asked. 
 
262 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 -'To me," replied Plant. " Mighty good little joint foi 
 the mountains, ain't it?" 
 
 "Why have you a United States Forest Ranger working on 
 the fences then?" inquired Thorne crisply. 
 
 Plant stared after his compact, alert figure. The fat 
 man's lower jaw had dropped in astonishment. Nobody 
 had ever dared question his right to use his own rangers as 
 he damn well pleased! A slow resentment surged up within 
 him. He would have been downright angry could he have 
 been certain of this inspector's attitude. Thorne was cold 
 and businesslike, but he had humorous wrinkles at the 
 corners of his eyes. Perhaps all this monkey business was 
 one elaborate josh. If so it wouldn't do to fall into the trap 
 by getting mad. That must be it. Plant chuckled a cavern- 
 ous chuckle. Nevertheless he ordered his ranger to knock 
 off fence mending for the present. 
 
 By two o'clock Thorne pushed back his chair and stretched 
 his arms over his head. Plant laughed. 
 
 "That pretty near finishes what we have here," said he. 
 "There really isn't much to it, after all. We've got things 
 pretty well going. To-morrow I'll get one of the boys to 
 ride out with you near here. If you want to take any trips 
 back country, I'll scare up a pack." 
 
 This was the usual and never- accepted offer. 
 
 "I haven't time for that," said Thorne, "but I'll look at 
 that bridge site to-morrow." 
 
 "When must you go?" 
 
 "In a couple of days." 
 
 Plant's large countenance showed more than a trace of 
 satisfaction. 
 
 On leaving the Supervisor's headquarters, Thorne set off 
 vigorously up the road. He felt cramped for exercise, and 
 he was out for a tramp. Higher and higher he mounted on 
 the road to the mill, until at last he stood on a point far above 
 the valley, f he creak and rattle of a wagon aroused him 
 from his contemplation of the scene spread wide before him. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 263 
 
 He looked up to see a twelve-horse freight team ploughing 
 toward him through a cloud of dust that arose dense and 
 choking. To escape this dust Thorne deserted the road 
 and struck directly up the side of the mountain. A series 
 of petty allurements led him on. Yonder he caught a glimpse 
 of tree fungus that interested him. He pushed and plunged 
 through the manzanita until he had gained its level. Once 
 there he concluded to examine a dying yellow pine farther 
 up the hill. Then he thought to find a drink of water in 
 the next hollow. Finally the way ahead seemed easier than 
 the brush behind. He pushed on, and after a moment of 
 breathless climbing reached the top of the ridge. 
 
 Here Thorne had reached a lower spur of that range on 
 which were located both the sawmill and Plant's summer 
 quarters. He drew a deep breath and looked about him 
 over the topography spread below. Then he examined 
 with an expert's eye the wooded growths. His glance fell 
 naturally to the ground. 
 
 "Well, I'll be- " began Thorne, and stopped. 
 
 Through the pine needles at his feet ran a shallow, narrow 
 and meandering trough. A rod or so away was a similar 
 trough. Thorne set about following their direction. 
 
 They led him down a gentle slope, through a young growth 
 of pines and cedars to a small meadow. The grass had 
 been eaten short to the soil and trampled by many little 
 hoofs. Thorne walked to the upper end of the meadow. 
 Here he found old ashes. Satisfied with his discoveries, he 
 glanced at the westering sun, and plunged directly down the 
 side of the mountain. 
 
 Near the edge of the village he came upon California John. 
 The old man had turned Star into the corral, and was at 
 this moment seated on a boulder, smoking his pipe, and 
 polishing carefully the silver inlay of his Spanish spade-bit. 
 Thorne stopped and examined him closely, coming finally 
 to the worn brass ranger's badge pinned to the old man's 
 suspenders. California John did not cease his occupation. 
 
264 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "You're a ranger, I take it," said Thorne curtly. 
 
 California John looked up deliberately. 
 
 "You're an inspector, I take it," said he, after a moment. 
 
 "Thorne grinned appreciation under his close-clipped 
 moustache. This was the first time he had relaxed his look 
 of official concentration, and the effect was most boyish and 
 pleasing. The illumination was but momentary, however. 
 
 "There have been sheep camped at a little meadow on 
 that ridge," he stated. 
 
 "I know it," replied California John tranquilly. 
 
 "You seem to know several things," retorted Thorne 
 crisply, "but your information seems to stop short of the 
 fact that you're supposed to keep sheep out of the Reserve." 
 
 "Not when they have permission," said California John. 
 
 " Permission 1" echoed Thorne. "Sheep are absolutely 
 prohibited by regulation. What do you mean?" 
 
 "What I say. They had a permit." 
 
 "Who gave it?" 
 
 "Supervisor Plant, of course." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 California John polished his bit carefully for some moments 
 in silence. Then he laid it one side and deliberately faced 
 about. 
 
 "For ten dollars," said he coolly, looking Thorne in the 
 eye. 
 
 Thorne looked back at him steadily. 
 
 "You'll swear to that?" he asked. 
 
 "I sure will," said California John. 
 
 "How long has this sort of thing gone on?" 
 
 "Always," replied the ranger. 
 
 "How long have you known about it?" 
 
 "Always," said California John. 
 
 "Why have you never said anything before?" 
 
 "What for?" countered the old man. "I'd just get fired. 
 There ain't no good in saying anything. He's my superior 
 officer. They used to teach me in the army that I ain't got 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 265 
 
 no call to criticize what my officer does. It's my job to obey 
 orders the best I can." 
 
 "Why do you tell me, then?" 
 "You're my superior officer, too and his." 
 "So were all the other inspectors who have been here." 
 "Them hell!" said California John. 
 Thorne returned to his hotel very thoughtful. It was 
 falling dark, and the preliminary bell had rung for supper- 
 Nevertheless he lit his lamp and clicked off a letter to a 
 personal friend in the Land Office requesting the latter to 
 forward all Plant's vouchers for the past two years. Then 
 he hunted up Auntie Belle. 
 
 "I thought I should tell you that I won't be leaving my 
 room Wednesday, as I thought," said he. "My business 
 will detain me longer." 
 
XV 
 
 THORNE curtly explained himself to Plant as detained 
 on clerical business. While awaiting the vouchers 
 from Washington, he busily gathered the gossip of 
 the place. Naturally the cattle situation was one of the 
 first phases to come to his attention. After listening to 
 what was to be said, he despatched a messenger back into 
 the mountains requesting the cattlemen to send a represen- 
 tative. Ordinarily he would have gone to the spot himself; 
 but just now he preferred to remain nearer the centre of 
 Plant's activities. 
 
 Jim Pollock appeared in due course. He explained the 
 state of affairs carefully and dispassionately. Thome 
 heard him to the end without comment. 
 
 "If the feed is too scarce for the number of cattle, that 
 fact should be officially ascertained," he said finally. 
 
 "Davidson California John was sent back last fall 
 to look into it. I didn't see his report, but John's a good 
 cattleman himself, and there couldn't be no two opinions 
 on the matter." 
 
 Thorne had been shown no copy of such a report during 
 his official inspection. He made a note of this. 
 
 "Well," said he finally, "if on investigation I find the 
 facts to be as you state them and that I can determine 
 only on receiving all the evidence on both sides I can 
 promise you relief for next season. The Land Office is just, 
 when it is acquainted with the facts. I will ask you to make 
 affidavits. I am obliged to you for your trouble in coming." 
 
 Jim Pollock made his three-day ride back more cheered 
 by these few and tentative words than by Superintendent 
 
 266 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 267 
 
 Smith's effusive assurances, or Plant's promises. He so 
 reported to his neighbours in the back ranges. 
 
 Thorne established from California John the truth as to 
 the suppressed reports. 
 
 Some rumour of all this reached Henry Plant. Whatever 
 his faults, the Supervisor was no coward. He had always 
 bulled things through by sheer weight and courage. If he 
 could outroar his opponent, he always considered the victory 
 as his. Certainly the results were generally that way. 
 
 On hearing of Thome's activities, Plant drove down to 
 see him. He puffed along the passageway to Thome's room. 
 The Inspector was pecking away at his portable typewriter 
 and did not look up as the fat man entered. 
 
 Plant surveyed the bent back for a moment. 
 
 "Look here/' he demanded, "I hear you're still investi- 
 gating my district as well as doing 'clerical work.' ' 
 
 "I am, 1 ' snapped Thorne without turning his head. 
 
 " Am I to consider myself under investigation ? " demanded 
 Plant truculently. To this direct question he, of course, 
 expected a denial a denial which he would proceed to 
 demolish with threats and abuse. 
 
 "You are," said Thorne, reaching for a fresh sheet of 
 paper. 
 
 Plant stared at him a moment; then went out. Next 
 day he drove away on the stage, and was no more seen for 
 several weeks. 
 
 This did not trouble Thorne. He began to reach in all 
 directions for evidence. At first there came to him only 
 those like the Pollock boys who were openly at outs with 
 Plant, and so had nothing to lose by antagonizing him fur- 
 ther. Then, hesitating, appeared others. Many of these 
 grievances Thorne found to be imaginary; but in several 
 cases he was able to elicit definite affidavits as to graft and 
 irregularity. Evidence of bribery was more difficult to 
 obtain. Plant's easy-going ways had made him friends, and 
 his facile suspension of grazing regulations for a con- 
 
268 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 sideration appealed strongly to self-interest. However, 
 as always in such cases, enough had at some time felt them- 
 selves discriminated against to entertain resentment. Thorne 
 tooK advantage of this both to get evidence, and to secure 
 information that enabled him to frighten evidence out of 
 others. 
 
 The vouchers arrived from Washington. In them Plant's 
 methods showed clearly. Thorne early learned that it had 
 been the Supervisor's habit to obtain duplicate bills for 
 everything purchases, livery, hotels and the like. He had 
 explained to the creditors that a copy would be necessary for 
 riling, and of course the mountain people knew no better. 
 Thus, by a trifling manipulation of dates, Plant had been 
 able to collect twice over for his expenses. 
 
 "There is the plumb limit," said Martin, while running 
 over the vouchers he had given. He showed Thorne two 
 bearing the same date. One read: 
 
 " To team and driver to Big Baldy post office, $4." 
 
 "That item's all right," said Martin; "I drove him there 
 myself. But here's the joke." 
 
 He handed the second bill to Thorne: 
 
 " To saddle horse Big Baldy to McClintock claim, $2." 
 
 "Why," said Martin, "when we got to Big Baldy he put 
 his saddle on one of the driving horses and rode it about 
 a mile over to McClintock's. I remember objecting on 
 account of his being so heavy. Say," reflected the livery- 
 man after a moment, "he's right out for the little stuff, 
 ain't he? When his hand gets near a dollar, it cramps!" 
 
 In the sheaf of vouchers Thorne ran across one item 
 repeated several hundred times in the two years. It read: 
 
 "To M.Aiken, team, $3." 
 
 Inquiry disclosed the fact that "M. Aiken," was Minnie, 
 Plant's niece. By the simple expedient of conveying to her 
 title in his team and buckboard, the Supervisor was enabled 
 to collect three dollars every time he drove anywhere. 
 
 Thus the case grew, fortified by affidavits. Thorne 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 269 
 
 found that Plant had been grafting between three and four 
 thousand dollars a year. 
 
 Of course the whole community soon came to know all 
 about it. The taking of testimony and the giving of 
 affidavits were matters for daily discussion. Thorne 
 inspired faith, because he had faith himself. 
 
 "I don't wonder you people have been hostile to the 
 Forest Reserves," said he. "You can't be blamed. But 
 it is not the Office's fault. I've been in the Land Office a 
 great many years, and they won't stand for this sort of thing 
 a minute. I found very much the same sort of thing in one 
 of the reserves in Oregon, only there was a gang operating 
 there. I got eleven convictions, and a new deal ail round. 
 The Land Office is all right, when you get to it. You'll see 
 us in a different light, after this is over." 
 
 The mountaineers liked him. He showed them a new 
 kink by which the lash rope of a pack could be jammed in 
 the cinch-hook for convenience of the lone packer; he proved 
 to be an excellent shot with the revolver; in his official work 
 he had used and tested the methods of many wilderness 
 travellers, and could discuss and demonstrate. Further- 
 more, he got results. 
 
 Austin conducted a roadhouse on the way to the Power 
 House Number One: this in addition to his saloon in Syca- 
 more Flats. The roadhouse was, as a matter of fact, on 
 government land, but Austin established the shadow of a 
 claim under mineral regulations, and, by obstructionist 
 tactics, had prevented all the red tape from being unwound. 
 His mineral claim was flimsy; he knew it, and everybody 
 else knew it. But until the case should be reported back, 
 he remained where he was. It was up to Plant; and Plant 
 had been lenient. Probably Austin could have told why. 
 
 Thorne became cognizant of all this. He served Austin 
 notice. Austin offered no comment, but sat tight. He 
 knew by previous experience that the necessary reports, 
 recommendations, endorsements and official orders would 
 
270 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 take anywhere from one to three months. By that time this 
 inspector would have moved on Austin knew the game. 
 But three days later Thorne showed up early in the morning 
 followed by a half-dozen interested rangers. In the most 
 business-like fashion and despite the variegated objections of 
 Austin and his disreputable satellites, Thorne and his men 
 attached their ropes to the flimsy structure and literally 
 pulled it to pieces from the saddle. 
 
 "You have no right to use force!" cried Austin, who was 
 well versed in the regulations. 
 
 " I've saved my office a great deal of clerical work," Thorne 
 snapped back at him. "Report me if you feel like it!" 
 
 The debris remained where it had fallen. Austin did not 
 venture again at least while this energetic youth was on 
 the scene. Nevertheless, after the first anger, even the saloon- 
 keeper had in a way his good word to say. 
 
 "If they's anythin' worse than a of a comes out in 
 the next fifty year, he'll be it!" stormed Austin. "But, 
 damn it," he added, "the little devil's worse'n a cata- 
 mount for fight!" 
 
 Thorne was little communicative, but after he and Bob 
 became better acquainted the Inspector would tell something 
 of his past inspections. AJl up and down the Sierras he 
 had unearthed enough petty fraud and inefficiency to send 
 a half-dozen men to jail and to break another half-dozen 
 from the ranks. 
 
 "And the Office has upheld me right along," said Thorne 
 in answer to Bob's scepticism regarding government sincerity. 
 "The Office is all right; don't make any mistake on that. 
 It's just a question of getting at it. I admit the system is all 
 wrong, where the complaints can't get direct to the chiefs; 
 but that's what I'm here for. This Plant is one of the 
 easiest cases I've tackled yet. I've got direct evidence six 
 times over to put him over the road. He'll go behind the 
 bars sure. As for the cattle situation, it's a crying disgrace 
 and a shame. There's no earthly reason under the regula- 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 271 
 
 tions why Simeon Wright should bring cattle in at all; and 
 I'll see that next year he doesn't." 
 
 At the end of two weeks Thorne had finished his work 
 and departed. The mountain people with whom he had 
 come in contact liked and trusted him in spite of his brusque 
 and business-like manners. He could shoot, pack a 
 horse, ride and follow trail, swing an axe as well as any of 
 them. He knew what he was talking about. He was square. 
 The mountain men "happened around" such of them as 
 were not in back with the cattle to wish him farewell. 
 
 "Good-bye, boys," said he. "You'll see me again. I'm 
 glad to have had a chance to straighten things out a little. 
 Don't lose faith in Uncle Sam. He'll do well by you when 
 you attract his attention." 
 
 Fully a week after his departure Plant returned and took 
 his accustomed place in the community. He surveyed his old 
 constituents with a slightly sardonic eye, but had little to say. 
 
 About this time Bob moved up on the mountain. He 
 breathed in a distinct pleasure over again finding himself 
 among the pines, in the cool air, with the clean, aromatic 
 woods-work. The Meadow Lake was completely sur- 
 rounded by camps this year. Several canvas boats were 
 on the lake. Bob even welcomed the raucous and confused 
 notes of several phonographs going at full speed. After 
 the heat and dust and brown of the lower hills, this high 
 country was inexpressibly grateful. 
 
 At headquarters he found Welton rolling about, jovial, 
 good-natured, efficient as ever. With him was Baker. 
 
 "Well," said Bob to the latter. "Where did you get by 
 me? I didn't know you were here." 
 
 " Oh, I blew in the other day. Didn't have time to stop 
 below; and, besides, I was saving my strength for your 
 partner here." He looked at Welton ruefully. "I thought 
 I'd come up and get that water-rights matter all fixed up 
 in a few minutes, and get back to supper. Nothing doing!" 
 
 "This smooth-faced pirate,' ' explained Welton, "offers 
 
272 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 to take our water if we'll pay him for doing it, as near as I 
 can make out that is, if we'll supply the machinery to do 
 it with. In return he'll allow us the privilege of buying back 
 what we are going to need for household purposes. I tell him 
 this is too liberal. We cannot permit him to rob himself. 
 Since he has known our esteemed fellow-citizen, Mr. Plant, 
 he's falling into that gentleman's liberal views." 
 
 Baker grinned at his accusor appreciatively, but at the 
 mention of Plant's name Bob broke in. 
 
 "Plant's landed," said he briefly. "They've got him. 
 Prison bars for his." 
 
 "What?" cried Welton and Baker in a breath. 
 
 Bob explained; telling them of Thorne, his record, 
 methods, and the definite evidence he had acquired. Long 
 before he had finished both men relaxed from their more 
 eager attention. 
 
 "That all?" commented Baker. "From what you said 
 I thought he was in the bastile!" 
 
 "He will be shortly," said Bob. "They've got the evi- 
 dence direct. It's an open-and-shut case." 
 
 Baker merely grinned. 
 
 "But Thome's jugged them all up the range," persisted 
 Bob. "He's convicted a whole lot of them men who 
 have been at it for years." 
 
 "H'm," said Baker. 
 
 "But how can they dodge it?" cried Bob. "They can't 
 deny the evidence! The Department has upheld Thorne 
 warmly." 
 
 "Sure," said Baker. 
 
 "Well," concluded Bob. "Do you mean to say that 
 they'll have the nerve to pass over such direct evidence as 
 that?" 
 
 "Don't know anything about it," replied Baker briefly. 
 "I only know results when I see them. These other little 
 grafters that your man Thorne has bumped off probably 
 haven't any drag." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 273 
 
 "Well, what does Plant amount to once he's exposed?" 
 challenged Bob. 
 
 "I haven't figured it out on the Scribner scale," admitted 
 Baker, "but I know what happens when you try to bump 
 him. Bet you a thousand dollars I do," he shot at Welton. 
 "It isn't the wraith-like Plant you run up against; it's 
 interests" 
 
 "Well, I don't believe yet a great government will keep 
 in a miserable, petty thief like Plant against the direct evi- 
 dence of a man like Thorne!" stated Bob with some heat. 
 
 "Listen," said Baker kindly. "That isn't the scrap. 
 Thorne vs. Plant looks like easy money on Thorne, eh ? 
 Well, now, Plant has a drag with Chairman Gay; don't know 
 what if is, but it's a good one, a peacherino. We know 
 because we've trained some heavy guns on it ourselves, and 
 it's stood the shock. All right. Now it's up to Chairman 
 Gay to support his cousin. Then there's old Simeon Wright. 
 Where would he get off at without Plant? He's going to do 
 a little missionary work. Simeon owns Senator Barrow, 
 and Senator Barrow is on the Ways and Means Committee, 
 so lots of people love the Senator. And so on in all direc- 
 tions I'm from Missouri. You got to show me. If it 
 came to a mere choice of turning down Plant or Thorne, 
 they'd turn down Plant, every time. But when it comes 
 to a choice between Thorne and Gay, Thorne and Barrow, 
 Thorne and Simeon Wright, Thorne and a dozen others that 
 have their own Angel Children to protect, and won't protect 
 your Angel Child unless you'll chuck a front for theirs 
 why Thorne is just lost in the crowd ! " 
 
 "I don't believe it," protested Bob. "It would be a 
 scandal." 
 
 "No, just politics," said Baker. 
 
XVI 
 
 THE sawmill lay on the direct trail to the back country. 
 Every man headed for the big mountains by way of 
 Sycamore Flats passed fairly through the settle- 
 ment itself. So every cattleman out after provisions or 
 stock salt, followed by his docile string of pack mules, paused 
 to swap news and gossip with whoever happened for the 
 moment to have leisure for such an exchange. 
 
 The variety poured through this funnel of the mountains 
 comprised all classes. Professional prospectors with their 
 burros, ready alike for the desert or the most inaccessible 
 crags, were followed by a troupe of college boys afoot lead- 
 ing one or two old mares as baggage transportation. The 
 business-like, semi-military outfits of geological survey 
 parties, the worn but substantial hunters' equipments, the 
 marvellous and oftentimes ridiculous luxury affected by the 
 wealthy camper, the makeshifts of the poorer ranchmen 
 of the valley, out with their entire families and the farm 
 stock for a "real good fish," all these were of never-failing 
 interest to Bob. In fact, he soon discovered that the one 
 absorbing topic outside of bears, of course was the 
 discussion, the comparison and the appraising of the vari- 
 ous items of camping equipment. He also found each man 
 amusingly partisan for his own. There were schools advo- 
 cating heatedly the merits respectively of the single 
 or double cinch, of the Dutch oven or the reflector, of raw- 
 hide or canvas kyacks, of sleeping bags or blankets. 
 Each man had invented some little kink of his own without 
 which he could not possibly exist. Some of these kinks 
 were very handy and deserved universal adoption, such as 
 
 274 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 275 
 
 a small rubber tube with a flattened brass nozzle with which 
 to encourage reluctant fires. Others expressed an individ- 
 ual idiosyncrasy only; as in the case of the man who carried 
 clothes hooks to screw into the trees. A man's method of 
 packing was also closely watched. Each had his own 
 favourite hitch. The strong preponderance seemed to be 
 in favour of the Diamond, both single and double, but many 
 proved strongly addicted to the Lone Packer, or the Basco, 
 or the Miners', or the Square, or even the generally despised 
 Squaw, and would stoutly defend their choices, and give 
 reasons therefore. Bob sometimes amused himself prac- 
 tising these hitches in miniature by means of a string, a 
 bent nail, and two folded handkerchiefs as packs. After 
 many trials, and many lapses of memory, he succeeded on 
 all but the Double Diamond. Although apparently he 
 followed every move, the result was never that beautiful 
 all-over tightening at the last pull. He reluctantly con- 
 cluded that on this point he must have instruction. 
 
 Although rarely a day went by during the whole season 
 that one or more parties did not pass through, or camp over 
 night at the Meadow Lake, it was a fact that, after passing 
 Baldy, these hundreds could scatter so far through the 
 labyrinth of the Sierras that in a whole summer's journeying 
 they were extremely unlikely to see each other or indeed 
 any one else, save when they stumbled on one of the estab- 
 lished cow camps. The vastness of the California mountains 
 cannot be conveyed to one who has not travelled them. 
 Men have all summer pastured illegally thousands of head 
 of sheep undiscovered, in spite of the fact that rangers and 
 soldiers were out looking for them. One may journey 
 diligently throughout the season, and cover but one corner 
 of the three great maps that depict about one-half of them. 
 If one wills he can, to all intents and purposes, become sole 
 and undisputed master of kingdoms in extent. He can 
 occupy beautiful valleys miles long, guarded by cliffs rising 
 thousands of feet, threaded by fish-haunted streams, spangled 
 
276 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 with fair, flower-grown lawns, cool with groves of trees, 
 neck high in rich feed. Unless by sheer chance, no one 
 will disturb his solitude. Of course he must work for his 
 kingdom. He must press on past the easy travel, past the 
 wide cattle country of the middle elevations, into the splint- 
 ered, frowning granite and snow, over the shoulders of the 
 mighty peaks of the High Sierras. Nevertheless, the reward 
 AS sure for the hardy voyager. 
 
 Most men, however, elect to spend their time in the eas- 
 ier middle ground. There the elevations run up to nine 
 or ten thousand feet; the trails are fairly well denned and 
 travelled; the streams are full of fish; meadows are in 
 every moist pocket; the great box canons and peaks of the 
 spur ranges offer the grandeur of real mountain scenery. 
 
 From these men, as they ended their journeys on the way 
 out, came tales and rumours. There was no doubt what- 
 ever that the country had too many cattle in it. That was 
 brought home to each and every man by the scarcity of horse 
 feed on meadows where usually an abundance for everybody 
 was to be expected. The cattle were thin and restless. It 
 was unsafe to leave a camp unprotected; the half -wild ani- 
 mals trampled everything into the ground. The cattlemen, 
 of whatever camp, appeared sullen and suspicious of every 
 comer. 
 
 "It's mighty close to a cattle war," said one old lean and 
 leathery individual to Bob; "I know, for I been thar. Used 
 to run cows in Montana. I hear everywhar talk about 
 Wright's cattle dyin' in mighty funny ways. I know that's 
 so, for I seen a slather of dead cows myself. Some of 'em 
 fall off cliffs; some seem to have broke their legs. Some 
 bogged down. Some look like to have just laid down and 
 died." 
 
 "Well, if they're weak from loss of feed, isn't that nat- 
 ural?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Wall," said the old cowman, "in the first place, they're 
 pore, but they ain't by no means weak. But the strange 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 277 
 
 part is that these yere accidents always happens to Wright's 
 cattle." 
 
 He laughed and added: 
 
 "The carcasses is always so chawed up by b'ar and coyote 
 - or at least that's what they say done it that you can't 
 sw'ar as to how they did come to die. But I heard one 
 funny thing. It was over at the Pollock boys' camp. 
 Shelby, Wright's straw boss, come ridin' in pretty mad, and 
 made a talk about how it's mighty cur'ous only Wright's 
 cattle is dyin'. 
 
 "'It shorely looks like the country is unhealthy for 
 plains cattle,' says George Pollock; 'ours is brought up in 
 the hills.' 
 
 "'Well,' says Shelby, 'if I ever comes on one of these acci- 
 dents a-happenin', I'll shore make some one hard to catch!' 
 
 '"Some one's likely one of these times to make you 
 almighty easy to catch!' says George. 
 
 "Now," concluded the old cattleman, "folks don't make 
 them bluffs for the sake of talkin' at a mark not in this 
 country." 
 
 Nevertheless, in spite of that prediction, the summer 
 passed without any personal clash. The cattle came out 
 from the mountains rather earlier than usual, gaunt, wiry, 
 active. They were in fine shape, as far as health was con- 
 cerned; but absolutely unfit, as they then stood, for beef. 
 The Simeon Wright herds were first, thousands of them, in 
 charge of many cowboys and dogs. The punchers were a 
 reckless, joyous crew, skylarking in anticipation of the towns 
 of the plains. They kissed their hands and waved their 
 hats at all women, old and young, in the mill settlement; 
 they played pranks on each other; they charged here and 
 there on their wiry ponies, whirling to right and left, ' turn- 
 ing on a ten-cent piece/ throwing their animals from full 
 speed to a stand, indulging in the cowboys' spectacular 
 'flash riding' for the sheer joy of it. The leading cattle, 
 eager with that strange instinct that, even early in the fall, 
 
278 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 calls all ruminants from good mountain feed to the brown 
 lower country, pressed forward, their necks outstretched, 
 their eyes fixed on some distant vision. Their calls blended 
 into an organ note. Occasionally they broke into a little 
 trot. At such times the dogs ran forward, yelping, to turn 
 them back into their appointed way. At an especially bad 
 break to right or left one or more of the men would dash to 
 the aid of the dogs, riding with a splendid recklessness through 
 the timber, over fallen trees, ditches, rocks, boulders and 
 precipitous hills. The dust rose chokingly. At the rear 
 of the long procession plodded the old, the infirm, the crip- 
 ples and the young calves. Three or four men rode compactly 
 behind this rear guard, urging it to keep up. Their means 
 of persuasion were varied. Quirts, ropes, rattles made of 
 tin cans and pebbles, strong language were all used in turn 
 and simultaneously. Long after the multitude had passed, 
 the vast and composite voice of it reechoed through the for- 
 est ; the dust eddied and swirled among the trees. 
 
 The mountain men's cattle, on the other hand, came out 
 sullenly, in herds of a few hundred head. There was more 
 barking of dogs ; more scurrying to and fro of mounted men, 
 for small bands are more difficult to drive than large ones. 
 There were no songs, no boisterous high spirits, no flash 
 riding. In contrast to the plains cowboys, even the 
 herders' appearance was poor. They wore blue jeans 
 overalls, short jeans jumpers, hats floppy and all but dis- 
 integrated by age and exposure to the elements. Wright's 
 men, being nothing but cowboys, without other profession, 
 ties or interests, gave more attention to details of profes- 
 sional equipment. Their wide hats were straight of brim and 
 generally encircled by a leather or hair or snakeskin band; 
 their shirts were loose; they wore handkerchiefs around 
 their necks, and oiled leather "chaps" on their legs. Their 
 distinguishing and especial mark, however, was their boots. 
 These were made of soft leather, were elaborately stitched 
 or embroidered in patterns, possessed exaggeratedly wide 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 279 
 
 and long straps like a spaniel's ears, and were mounted on 
 thin soles and very high heels. They were footwear such 
 as no mountain man, nor indeed any man who might ever 
 be required to go a mile afoot, would think of wearing. 
 The little herds trudged down the mountains. While the 
 plainsmen anticipated easy duty, the pleasures of the town, 
 fenced cattle growing fat on alfalfa raised during the sum- 
 mer by irrigation, these sober-faced mountaineers looked 
 forward to a winter range much depleted, a market closed 
 against such wiry, active animals as they herded, and an 
 impossibility of rounding into shape for sale any but a 
 few old cows. 
 
 "If it wasn't for this new shake-up," said Jim Pollock, 
 ;< I'd shore be gettin' discouraged. But if they keep out 
 Simeon Wright's cattle this spring, we'll be all right. It's 
 cost us money, though." 
 
 "A man with a wife and child can't afford to lose money/' 
 said George Pollock. 
 
 Jim laughed. 
 
 "You and your new kid!" he mocked. "No, I suppose 
 ne can't. Neither can a man with a wife and six children. 
 But I reckon we'll be all right as long as there's a place to 
 crawl under when it rains." 
 
XVII 
 
 THE autumn passed, and winter closed down. Plant 
 continued his administration. For a month the 
 countryside was on a tip-toe of expectation. It 
 counted on no immediate results, but the " suspension pend- 
 ing investigation" was to take place within a few weeks. 
 As far as surface indications were concerned nothing 
 happened. Expectation was turned back on itself. Abso- 
 lute confidence in Plant's removal and criminal conviction 
 gave place to scepticism and doubt, finally to utter disbelief. 
 And since Thorne had succeeded in arousing a real faith 
 and enthusiasm, the reaction was by so much the stronger. 
 Tolerance gave way to antagonism; distrust to bitterness; 
 grievance to open hostility. The Forest Reserves were 
 cursed as a vicious institution created for the benefit of the 
 rich man, depriving the poor man of his rights and privi- 
 leges, imposing on him regulations that were at once galling 
 and senseless. 
 
 The Forest Rangers suddenly found themselves openly 
 unpopular. Heretofore a ranger had been tolerated by 
 the mountaineers as either a good-for-nothing saloon loafer 
 enjoying the fats of political perquisite; or as a species of 
 inunderstandable fanatic to be looked down upon with good- 
 humoured contempt. Now a ranger became a partisan 
 of the opposing forces, and as such an enemy. Men ceased 
 speaking to him, or greeted him with the curtest of 
 nods. Plant's men were ostracized in every way, once they 
 showed themselves obstinate in holding to their positions. 
 Every man was urged to resign. Many did so. Others 
 hung on because the job was too soft to lose. Some, 
 
 280 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 281 
 
 like Ross Fletcher, California John, Tom Carroll, Charley 
 Morton and a few others, moved on their accustomed 
 way. 
 
 One of the inspiring things in the later history of the great 
 West is the faith and insight, the devotion and self-sacrifice 
 of some of the rough mountain men in some few of the 
 badly managed reserves to truths that were but slowly 
 being recognized by even the better educated of the East. 
 These men, year after year, without leadership, without 
 encouragement, without the support and generally against the 
 covered or open hostility of their neighbours, under most 
 disheartening official conditions kept the torch alight. They 
 had no wide theory of forestry to sustain their interest; they 
 could certainly have little hope of promotion and advance- 
 ment to a real career; their experience with a bureaucratic 
 government could not arouse in their breasts any expec- 
 tation of a broad, a liberal, or even an enlightened policy of 
 conservation or use. They were set in opposition to their 
 neighbours without receiving the support of the power that 
 so placed them. Nevertheless, according to their knowledge 
 they worked faithfully. Five times out of ten they had 
 little either of supervision or instruction. Turned out in 
 the mountains, like a bunch of stock, each was free to do 
 as much or as little of whatever he pleased. Each improved 
 his district according to his ideas or his interests. One cared 
 most for building trails; another for chasing sheep trespas- 
 sers; a third for construction of bridges, cabins and fences. 
 All had occasionally to fight fires. Each was given the 
 inestimable privilege of doing what he could. Everything 
 he did had to be reported on enormous and complicated 
 forms. If he made a mistake in any of these, he heard 
 from it, and perhaps his pay was held up. This pay ran 
 somewhere about sixty or seventy-five dollars a month, and 
 he was required to supply his own horses and to feed 
 them. Most rangers who were really interested in their 
 profession spent some of this in buying tools with which 
 
282 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 to work.* The Government supplied next to nothing. In 
 1902 between the King's River and the Kaweah, an area of 
 somewhere near a million acres, the complete inventory of 
 fire- fighting tools consisted of two rakes made from fifty 
 cents' worth of twenty-penny nails. 
 
 But these negative discouragements were as nothing com- 
 pared to the petty rebuffs and rulings that emanated from 
 the Land Office itself. 
 
 One spring Ross Fletcher, following specific orders, was 
 sent out after twenty thousand trespassing sheep. It was 
 early in the season. His instructions took him up into the 
 frozen meadows, so he had to carry barley for his horses. 
 He used three sacks and sent in a bill for one. Item refused. 
 Feed was twenty dollars a thousand. Salary seventy-five 
 dollars. 
 
 One of Simeon Wright's foremen broke down govern- 
 ment fences and fed out all the ranger horse feed. Tom 
 Carroll wrote to Superintendent Smith; later to Washington. 
 The authorities, however, refused to revoke the cattleman's 
 licence. At Christmas time, when Carroll was inWhite Oaks 
 the foreman and his two sons jeered at and insulted the 
 ranger in regard to this matter until the latter lost his temper 
 and thrashed all three, one after the other. For this he was 
 severely reprimanded by Washington. 
 
 Charley Morton was ordered to Yosemite to consult with 
 the military officers there. He was instructed to do so in 
 a certain number of days. To keep inside his time limit 
 he had to hire a team. Item refused. 
 
 California John fought fire alone for two days and a night, 
 then had to go outside for help. Docked a day for going 
 off the reserve. 
 
 Why did these men prefer to endure neglect and open 
 hostility to the favour of their neighbours and easier work ? 
 Bob, with a growing wonder and respect, tried to find out. 
 
 *The accounts of one man showed that for a long period he had so disbursed from his own 
 pocket an average of thirty dollars a month. His salary was sixty dollars. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 283 
 
 He did not succeed. There certainly was no overwhelming 
 love for the administration of Henry Plant; nor loyalty to the 
 Land Office. Indeed for the latter, one and all entertained the 
 deep contempt of the out-of-door man for the red-tape clerk. 
 
 "What do you think is the latest," asked California 
 John one day, "from them little squirts? I just got instruc- 
 tions that during of the fire season I must patrol the whole 
 of my district every dayi" The old man grinned. "I only 
 got from here to Pumice Mountain ! I wonder if those fellows 
 ever saw a mountain? I suppose they laid off an inch on 
 the map and let it go at that. Patrol every day ! " 
 
 "How long would it take you?" asked Bob. 
 
 "By riding hard, about a week." 
 
 Rather the loyalty seemed to be gropingly to the idea back 
 of it all, to something broad and dim and beautiful which 
 these rough, untutored men had drawn from their native 
 mountains and which thus they rendered back. 
 
 As Bob gradually came to understand more of the situation 
 his curiosity grew. The lumberman's instinctive hostility 
 to government control and interference had not in the 
 slightest degree modified; but he had begun to differentiate 
 this small, devoted band from the machinery of the 
 Forest Reserves as they were then conducted. He was a 
 little inclined to the fanatic theory; he knew by now that the 
 laziness hypothesis would not apply to these. 
 
 "What is there in it?" he asked. "You surely can't hope 
 for a boost in salary; and certainly your bosses treat you 
 badly." 
 
 At first he received vague and evasive answers. They 
 liked the work; they got along all right; it was a lot better 
 than the cattle business just now, and so on. Then as it 
 became evident that the young man was genuinely inter- 
 ested, California John gradually opened up. One strange 
 and beautiful feature of American partisanship for an ideal 
 is its shyness. It will work and endure, will wait and suf- 
 fer, but it will not go forth to proselyte. 
 
284 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "The way I kind of look at it is this," said the old man 
 one evening. "I always did like these here mountains 
 and the big trees and the rocks and water and the snow. 
 Everywhere else the country belongs to some one: it's 
 staked out. Up here it belongs to me, because I'm an 
 American. This country belongs to all of us the people 
 all of us. We most of us don't know we've got it, that's 
 all. I kind of look at it this way: suppose I had a big pile 
 of twenty- dollar gold pieces lying up, say in Siskiyou, that 
 I didn't know nothing whatever about; and some fellow come 
 along and took care of it for me and hung onto it even when 
 I sent out word that anybody was welcome to anything I 
 owned in Siskiyou I not thinking I really owned anything 
 there, you understand why well, you see, I sort of 
 like to feel I'm one of those fellows!" 
 
 "What good is there in hanging onto a lot of land that 
 would be better developed?" asked Bob. 
 
 But California John refused to be drawn into a discus- 
 sion. He had his faith, but he would not argue about it. 
 Sometime or other the people would come to that same 
 faith. In the meantime there was no sense in tangling up 
 with discussions. 
 
 "They send us out some reading that tells about it," 
 said California John. "I'll give you some." 
 
 He was as good as his word. Bob carried away with 
 him a dozen government publications of the sort that, he 
 had always concluded, everybody received and nobody read. 
 Interested, not in the subject matter of the pamphlets, but 
 in their influence on these mountain men, he did read them. 
 In this manner he became for the first time acquainted with 
 the elementary principles of watersheds and water con- 
 servation. This was actually so. Nor did he differ in this 
 respect from any other of the millions of well-educated youth 
 of the country. In a vague way he knew that trees influence 
 climate. He had always been too busy with trees to bother 
 about climate. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 285 
 
 The general facts interested him, and appealed to his 
 logical common sense. He saw for the first time, because 
 for the first time it had been presented to his attention, the 
 real use and reason for the forest reserves. Hitherto he 
 had considered the whole institution as semi-hostile, at least 
 AS something in potential antagonism. Now he was will- 
 ing fairly to recognize the wisdom of preserving some 
 portion of the mountain cover. He had not really denied 
 it; simply he hadn't considered it. 
 
 Early in this conviction he made up to Ross Fletcher for 
 his brusqueness in ordering the ranger off the mill property. 
 
 "I just classed you with your gang, which was natural," 
 said Bob. 
 
 "I am one of my gang, of course," said Fletcher. 
 
 "Do you consider yourself one of the same sort of dicky 
 bird as Plant and that crew?" demanded Bob. 
 
 "There ain't no humans all alike," replied the moun- 
 taineer. 
 
 Although Bob was thus rebuffed in immediately getting 
 inside of the man's loyalty to his service and his superiors, 
 he was from that moment made to feel at his ease. Later, in a 
 fuller intimacy, he was treated more frankly. 
 
 Welton laughed openly at Bob's growing interest in these 
 matters. 
 
 "You're the first man I ever saw read any of those things," 
 said he in regard to the government reports. "I once read 
 one," he went on in delightful contradiction to his first 
 statement. "It told how to cut timber. When you cut 
 down a tree, you pile up the remains in a neat pile and put 
 a little white picket fence around them. It would take 
 a thousand men and cost enough to buy a whole new tract 
 to do all the monkey business they want you to do. I've 
 only been in the lumber business forty years! When a 
 college boy can teach me, I'm willing to listen; but he can't 
 teach me the A B C of the business." 
 
 Bob laughed. "Well, I can't just see us taking time in a 
 
286 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 short season to back-track and pile up ornamental brush 
 piles," he admitted. 
 
 "Experimental farms, and experimental chickens, and 
 experimental lumbering are all right for the gentleman 
 farmer and the gentleman poultry fancier and the gentle- 
 man lumberman if there are any. But when it comes to 
 business " 
 
 Bob laughed. "Just the same," said he, "I'm begin- 
 ning to see that it's a good thing to keep some of this timber 
 standing; and the only way it can be done is through the 
 Forest Reserves." 
 
 "That's aU right," agreed Welton. "Let 'em reserve. 
 I don't care. But they are a nuisance. They keep step- 
 ping on my toes. It's too good a chance to annoy and 
 graft. It gives a hard lot of loafers too good a chance to 
 make trouble." 
 
 "They are a hard lot in general," agreed Bob, "but there's 
 some good men among them, men I can't help but admire." 
 
 Welton rolled his eyes drolly at the younger man. 
 
 "Who?" he inquired. 
 
 "Well, there's old California John." 
 
 "There's three or four mossbacks in the lot that are hon- 
 est," cut in Welton, "but it's because they're too damn 
 thick-headed to be anything else. Don't get kiddish enough 
 to do the picturesque mountaineer act, Bobby. I can dig 
 you up four hundred of that stripe anywhere and hold- 
 ing down just about as valuable jobs. Don't get too thick 
 with that kind. In the city you'll find them holding open- 
 air meetings. I suppose our friend Plant has been pinched ? ' ' 
 
 "Not yet," grinned Bob, a trifle shamefacedly. 
 
 "Don't get the reform bug, Bob," said Welton kindly, 
 "That's all very well for those that like to amuse themselves, 
 but we're busy." 
 
XVIII 
 
 THE following spring found Plant still in command. 
 No word had come from the silence of political 
 darkness. His only concession to the state of affairs 
 had been an acknowledgment under coercion that the cat- 
 tle ranges had been overstocked, and that outside cattle 
 would not be permitted to enter, at least for the coming 
 season. This was just the concession to relieve the imme- 
 diate pressure against him, and to give the Supervisor time 
 to apply all his energies to details within the shades. 
 
 Details were important, in spite of the absence of surface 
 indications. Many considerations were marshalled. On one 
 side were arrayed plain affidavits of fraud. In the lower 
 ranks of the Land Office it was necessary to corrupt men, 
 by one means or another. These lesser officials in the course 
 of routine would come face to face with the damaging affi- 
 davits, and must be made to shut their eyes d( dberately to 
 what they know. The cases of the higher officials were 
 different. They must know of the charges, of course, but 
 matters must be so arranged that the evidence must never 
 meet their eyes, and that they must adopt en bloc the findings 
 of their subordinates. Bribery was here impossible; but 
 influence could be brought to bear. 
 
 Chairman Gay upheld his cousin, Henry Plant, because 
 of the relationship. This implied a good word, and per- 
 sonal influence. After that Chairman Gay forgot the 
 matter. But a great number of people were extremely 
 anxious to please Chairman Gay. These exerted them- 
 selves. They came across evidence that would have caused 
 Chairman Gay to throw his beloved cousin out neck and 
 
 287 
 
288 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 crop, but they swallowed it and asked for more simply 
 because Gay possessed patronage, and it was not to their 
 interest to bring disagreeable matters before the great man. 
 Nor was the Land Office unlikely to listen to reason. A 
 strong fight was at that time forward to transfer control of 
 the Forest Reserves from a department busy in other lines 
 to the Bureau of Forestry where it logically belonged. This 
 transfer was violently opposed by those to whom the dis- 
 tribution of supervisorships, ranger appointments and the 
 like seemed valuable. The Land Office adherents needed 
 all the political backing they could procure; and the friends 
 of Chairman Gay epitomized political backing. So the 
 Land Office, too, was anxious to please the Chairman. 
 
 At the same time Simeon Wright had bestirred himself. 
 There seems to be no good and valid reason for owning a 
 senator if you don't use him. Wright was too shrewd to 
 think it worth while to own a senator from California. 
 That was too obvious. Few knew how closely affiliated 
 were the Wright and the Barrow interests. Wright dropped 
 a hint to the dignified senator; the senator paid a casual 
 call to an official high up in the Land Office. Senators 
 would by their votes ultimately decide the question of 
 transfer. The official agreed to keep an eye on the recom- 
 mendations in this case. 
 
 Thus somebody submerged beneath the Gay interests 
 saw obscurely somebody equally submerged beneath the 
 Wright and Barrow interests. In due course all Thome's 
 careful work was pigeonholed. An epitome of the charges 
 was typed and submitted to the High Official. On the back 
 of them had been written: 
 
 "I find the charges not proved." 
 
 This was signed by the very obscure clerk who had filed 
 away the Thorne affidavits and who happened to be a friend 
 of the man to whom in devious ways and through many 
 mouths had come an expression of the Gay wishes. It 
 was O. K.'d by a dozen others. The High Official added 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 289 
 
 his O. K. to the others. Then he promptly forgot about it, 
 as did every one else concerned, save the men most vitally 
 interested. 
 
 In due time Thorne, then in Los Angeles, received a brief 
 communication from Stafford, the obscure clerk. 
 
 "In regard to your charges against Supervisor H. M. 
 Plant, the Department begs to advise you that, after exam- 
 ining carefully the evidence for the defence, it finds the 
 charges not proven." 
 
 Thorne stared at the paper incredulously, then he did some- 
 thing he had never permitted himself before; he wrote in 
 expostulation to the Higher Official. 
 
 "I cannot imagine what the man's defence could be," he 
 wrote, hi part, "but my evidence a mere denial could hardly 
 controvert. The whole countryside knows the man is 
 crooked; they know he was investigated; they are now 
 awaiting with full confidence the punishment for well-under- 
 stood peculation. I can hardly exaggerate the body blow 
 to the Service such a decision would give. Nobody will 
 believe in it again." 
 
 On reading this the Higher Official called in one of his 
 subordinates. 
 
 " I have this from Thorne/' said he. " What do you think 
 of it?" 
 
 The subordinate read it through. 
 
 "I'll look it up," said he. 
 
 "Do so and bring me the papers," advised the Higher 
 Official. 
 
 The Higher Official knew Thome's work and approved 
 it. The inspector was efficient, and throughout all his 
 reforming of conditions in the West, the Department had 
 upheld him. The Department liked efficiency, and where 
 the private interests of its own grafters were not concerned, 
 it gave good government. 
 
 In due time the subordinate came back, but without the 
 papers. 
 
2QO THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 " Stafford says he'll look them up, sir," said he. "He 
 told me to tell you that the case was the one you were ask- 
 ing Senator Barrow about." 
 
 "Ah!" said the Higher Official. 
 
 He sat for some time in deep thought. Then he called 
 through the open door to his stenographer. 
 
 " In re your's 2ist," he dictated, "I repose every confi- 
 dence in Mr. Stafford's judgment; and unless I should 
 care to supersede him, it would hardly be proper for me to 
 carry any matter over his head." 
 
 Thorne immediately resigned, and shortly went into 
 landlooking for a lumbering firm in Oregon. Chairman 
 Gay wrote a letter advising Plant to "adopt a policy of 
 conciliation toward the turbulent element." 
 
XIX 
 
 SHORTLY after Bob's return in the early spring, 
 George Pollock rode to Auntie Belle's in some dis- 
 order to say that the little girl, now about a year 
 old, had been taken sick. 
 
 "Jenny has a notion it's something catching," said he, 
 "so she won't let Jim send Mary over. There's too many 
 young-uns in that family to run any risks." 
 
 "How does she seem?" called Auntie Belle from the bed- 
 room where she was preparing for departure. 
 
 "She's got a fever, and is restless, and won't eat," said 
 George anxiously. " She looks awful sick to me." 
 
 "They all do at that age," said Auntie Belle c'/.nfortably; 
 "don't you worry a mite." 
 
 Nevertheless Auntie Belle did not return that day, nor 
 the next, nor the next. When finally she appeared, it was 
 only to obtain certain supplies and clothes. These she 
 caused to be brought out and laid down where she could 
 get them. She would allow nobod* to come near her. 
 
 "It's scarlet fever," she said, "a*id Lord knows where 
 the child got it. But we won't scatter it, so you-all stay 
 away. I'll do what I can. I've been through it enough 
 times, Lord knows." 
 
 Three days later she appeared again, very quietly. 
 
 "How's the baby?" asked Bob. "Better, I hope?" 
 
 "The poor little thing is dead," said Auntie Belle shortly, 
 "and I want you or somebody to ride down for the 
 minister." 
 
 The community attended the funeral in a body. It was 
 held in the open air, under a white oak tree, for Auntie 
 
 391 
 
292 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Belle, with unusual caution and knowledge for the mount- 
 ains, refused to permit even a chance of spreading the 
 contagion. The mother appeared dazed. She sat through 
 the services without apparent consciousness of what was 
 going on; she suffered herself to be led to the tiny enclosure 
 where all the Pollocks of other generations had been buried; 
 she allowed herself to be led away again. There was in 
 the brief and pathetic ceremony no meaning and no pain 
 for her. The father, on the other hand, seemed crushed. 
 So broken was his figure that, after the services, Bob was 
 impelled to lay his hand on the man's shoulder and mutter 
 a few incoherent but encouraging words. The mountain- 
 eer looked up dully, but sharpened to comprehension and 
 gratitude as his eyes met those of the tall, vigorous young 
 man leaning over him. 
 
 "I mean it," said Bob; "any time any place." 
 
 On the way back to Sycamore Flats Auntie Belle expressed 
 her mind to the young man. 
 
 "Nobody realizes how things are going with those Pol- 
 locks," said she. " George sold his spurs and that Cruces 
 bit of his to get medicine. He wouldn't take anything from 
 me. They're proud folks, and nobody'd have a chance to 
 suspect anything. I tell you," said the good lady solemnly, 
 "it don't matter where that child got the fever; it's Henry 
 Plant, the old, fat scoundrel, that killed her just as plain 
 as if he'd stuck a gun to her head. He has a good deal to 
 answer for. There's lots of folks eating their own beef cat- 
 tle right now; and that's ruinous. I suppose Washington 
 ain't going to do anything. We might have known it. I 
 don't suppose you heard anything outside about it?" 
 
 "Only that Thorne had resigned." 
 
 "That so!" Auntie Belle ruminated on this a moment. 
 "Well, I'm right glad to hear it. I'd hate to think I was 
 fooled on him. Reckon l resign' means fired for daring to 
 say anything about His High- and- mightiness?" she guessed. 
 
 Bob shook his head. "Couldn't say," said he. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 293 
 
 The busy season was beginning. Every day laden teams 
 crawled up the road bringing supplies for the summer work. 
 Woodsmen came in twos, in threes, in bunches of a dozen 
 or more. Bob was very busy arranging the distribution 
 and forwarding, putting into shape the great machinery 
 of handling, so that when, a few weeks later, the bundles of 
 sawn lumber should begin to shoot down the flume, they 
 would fall automatically into a systematic scheme of furtht~ 
 transportation. He had done this twice before, and he kne^ ' 
 all the steps of it, and exactly what would be required of 
 him. Certain complications were likely to arise, requiring 
 each their individual treatments, but as Bob's experience 
 grew these were becoming fewer and of lesser importance. 
 The creative necessity was steadily lessening as the work 
 became more familiar. Often Bob found his eagerness 
 sinking to a blank; his attention economizing itself to the 
 bare needs of the occasion. He caught himself at times 
 slipping away from the closest interest in what he had to do. 
 His spirit, although he did not know it, was beginning once 
 more to shake itself restlessly, to demand, as it had always 
 demanded in the past from the time of his toy printing press 
 in his earliest boyhood, fresh food for the creative instinct 
 that was his. Bobby Orde, the child, had been thorough. 
 No superficial knowledge of a subject sufficed. He had 
 worked away at the mechanical difficulties of the cheap 
 toy press after Johnny English, his partner in enterprise, 
 had given up in disgust. By worrying the problem like a 
 terrier, Bobby had shaken it into shape. Then when the 
 commercial possibilities of job printing for parents had 
 drawn Johnny back ablaze with enthusiasm, Bobby had, 
 to his partner's amazement, lost completely all interest in 
 printing presses. The subject had been exhausted; he had 
 no desire for repetitions. 
 
 So it had gone. One after another he had with the utmost 
 fervour taken up photography, sailing, carpentry, metal 
 working a dozen and one occupations only to drop 
 
294 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 them as suddenly. This restlessness of childhood came to 
 be considered a defect in young manhood. It indicated 
 instability of character. Only his mother, wiser in her 
 quiet way, saw the thoroughness with which he ransacked 
 each subject. Bobby would read and absorb a dozen tech- 
 nical books in a week, reaching eagerly for the vital principles 
 of his subject. She alone realized, although but dimly, 
 y aat the boy did not relinquish his subject until he had 
 L rasped those vital principles. 
 
 "He's learning all the time," she ventured. 
 
 "'Jack of all trades: master of none,'" quoted Orde 
 doubtfully. 
 
 The danger being recognized, little Bobby's teaching 
 was carefully directed. He was not discouraged in his 
 varied activities; but the bigger practical principles of Ameri- 
 can life were inculcated. These may be very briefly 
 stated. An American must not idle; he must direct his 
 energies toward success; success means making one's way 
 in life; nine times out of ten, for ninety-nine men out of a 
 hundred, that means the business world. To seize the busi- 
 ness opportunity; to develop that opportunity through the 
 business virtues of attention to detail, industry, economy, 
 persistence, and enthusiasm these represented the plain 
 and manifest duty of every citizen who intended to "be 
 somebody." 
 
 Now Bob realized perfectly well that here he was more 
 fortunate than most. A great many of his friends had to 
 begin on small salaries in indoor positions of humdrum and 
 mechanical duty. He had started on a congenial out-of- 
 door occupation of great interest and picturesqueness, one 
 suited to his abilities and promising a great future. Never- 
 theless, he had now been in the business five years. He was 
 beginning to see through and around it. As yet he had not 
 lost one iota of his enthusiasm for the game; but here and 
 there, once in a while, some of the necessary delays and slow, 
 long repetitions of entirely mechanical processes left him 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 295 
 
 leisure to feel irked, to look above him, beyond the affairs 
 that surrounded him. At such times the old blank, doped 
 feeling fell across his mind. It had always been so defin- 
 ite a symptom in his childhood of that state wherein he 
 simply could not drag himself to blow up the embers of his 
 extinguished enthusiasm, that he recoiled from himself in 
 alarm. He felt his whole stability of character on trial. If 
 be could not "make good" here, what excuse could there 
 be for him; what was there left for him save the profitless 
 and honourless life of the dilettante and idler? He had 
 caught on to a big business remarkably well, and it was 
 worse than childish to lose his interest in the game even for 
 the fraction of a second. Of course, it amounted to nothing 
 but that. He never did his work better than that spring. 
 A week after the burial of the Pollock baby, Mrs. Pollock 
 was reported seriously ill. Bob rode up a number of times 
 to inquire, and kept himself fully informed. The doctor 
 came twice from White Oaks, but then ceased his visits. 
 Bob did not know that such visits cost fifty dollars apiece. 
 Mary, Jim's wife, shared the care of the sick woman with 
 George. She was reported very weak, but getting on. The 
 baby's death, together with the other anxieties of the last 
 two years, had naturally pulled her down. 
 
XX 
 
 BEFORE the gray dawn one Sunday morning Bob, 
 happening to awaken, heard a strange, rumbling, 
 distant sound to the west. His first thought was 
 that the power dam had been opened and was discharging 
 its waters, but as his senses came to him, he realized that 
 this could not be so. He stretched himself idly. A mock- 
 ing bird uttered a phrase outside. No dregs of drowsiness 
 remained in him, so he dressed and walked out into the 
 freshness of the new morning. Here the rumbling sound, 
 which he had concluded had been an effect of his half-con- 
 scious imagination, came clearer to his ears. He listened 
 for a moment, then walked rapidly to the Lone Pine Hill 
 from whose slight elevation he could see abroad over the 
 low mountains to the west. The gray light before sunrise 
 was now strengthening every moment. By the time Bob 
 had reached the summit of the knoll it had illuminated the 
 world. 
 
 A wandering suction of air toward the higher peaks brought 
 with it the murmur of a multitude. Bob topped the hill 
 and turned his eyes to the west. A great cloud of dust 
 arose from among the chaparral and oaks, drifting slowly 
 but certainly toward the Ranges. Bob could now make 
 out the bawling, shouting, lowing of great herds on the 
 march. In spite of pledges and promises, in spite of Cali- 
 fornia John's reports, of Thome's recommendations, of 
 Plant's assurances, Simeon Wright's cattle were again com- 
 ing in! 
 
 Bob shook his head sadly, and his clear-cut young face 
 was grave. No one knew better than himself what this 
 
 296 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 297 
 
 must mean to the mountain people, for his late spring and 
 early fall work had brought him much in contact with them. 
 He walked thoughtfully down the hill. 
 
 When just on the outskirts of the little village he was 
 overtaken by George Pollock on horseback. The mount- 
 aineer was jogging along at a foot pace, his spurs jingling, 
 his bridle hand high after the Western fashion. When he 
 saw Bob he reined in, nodding a good morning. Bob 
 noticed that he had strapped on a blanket and slicker, and 
 wore his six-shooter. 
 
 "You look as though you were going on a journey," 
 remarked Bob. 
 
 " Thinking of it," said Pollock. Bob glanced up quickly 
 at the tone of his voice, which somehow grated unusually on 
 the young man's ear, but the mountaineer's face was placid 
 under the brim of his floppy old hat. "Might as well," 
 continued the cattleman after a moment. "No thin' special 
 to keep me." 
 
 " I'm glad Mrs. Pollock is better," ventured Bob. 
 
 "She's dead," stated Pollock without emotion. "Died 
 this morning about two o'clock." 
 
 Bob cried out at the utterly unexpected shock of this 
 statement. Pollock looked down on him as though from 
 a great height. 
 
 "I sort of expected it," he answered Bob's exclamation. 
 "I reckon we won't talk of it. 'Spose you see that Wright's 
 cattle is coming in again? I'm sorry on account of Jim 
 and the other boys. It wipes me out, of course, but it don't 
 matter as far as I'm concerned, because I'm going away, 
 anyway." 
 
 Bob laid his hand on the man's stirrup leather and walked 
 alongside, thinking rapidly. He did not know how to take 
 hold of the situation. 
 
 "Where are you thinking of going?" he asked. 
 
 Pollock looked down at him. 
 
 " What's that to you?" he demanded roughly. 
 
298 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Why nothing I was simply interested," gasped 
 Bob in astonishment. 
 
 The mountaineer's eyes bored him through and through. 
 Finally the man dropped his gaze. 
 
 "I'll tell you," said he at last, "'cause you and Jim are 
 the only square ones I know. I'm going to Mexico. I 
 never been there. I'm going by Vermilion Valley, and 
 Mono Pass. If they ask you, you can tell 'em different. 
 I want you to do something for me." 
 
 "Gladly," said Bob. "What is it?" 
 
 "Just hold my horse for me," requested Pollock, dis- 
 mounting. "He stands fine tied to the ground, but there's 
 a few things he's plumb afraid of, and I don't want to take 
 chances on his getting away. He goes plumb off the grade 
 for freight teams; he can't stand the crack of their whips. 
 Sounds like a gun to him, I reckon. He won't stand for 
 shooting neither." 
 
 While talking the mountaineer handed the end of his 
 hair rope into Bob's keeping. 
 
 "Hang on to him," he said, turning away. 
 
 George Pollock sauntered easily down the street. At 
 Supervisor Plant's front gate, he turned and passed with- 
 in. Bob saw him walk rapidly up the front walk, and pound 
 on Plant's bedroom door. This, as usual in the mountains, 
 opened directly out on the verandah. With an exclamation 
 Bob sprang forward, dropping the hair rope. He was in 
 time to see the bedroom door snatched open from within, 
 and Plant's huge figure, white-robed, appear in the door- 
 way. The Supervisor was evidently angry. 
 
 "What in hell do you want?" he demanded. 
 
 "You," said the mountaineer. 
 
 He dropped his hand quite deliberately to his holster, 
 flipped the forty-five out to the level of his hip, and fired 
 twice, without looking at the weapon. Plant's expression 
 changed; turned blank. For an appreciable instant he 
 tottered upright, then his knees gave out beneath him and 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 299 
 
 he fell forward with a crash. George Pollock leaned over 
 him. Apparently satisfied after a moment's inspection, the 
 mountaineer straightened, dropped his weapon into the 
 holster, and turned away. 
 
 All this took place in so short a space of time that Bob 
 had not moved five feet from the moment he guessed Pol- 
 lock's intention to the end of the tragedy. As the first shot 
 rang out, Bob turned and seized again the hair rope attached 
 to Pollock's horse. His habit of rapid decision and cool 
 judgment showed him in a flash that he was too late to inter- 
 fere, and revealed to him what he must do. 
 
 Pollock, looking neither to the right nor the left, took 
 the rope Bob handed him and swung into the saddle. His 
 calm h; d. fallen from him. His eyes burned and his face 
 worked. With a muffled cry of pain he struck spurs to his 
 horse and disappeared. 
 
 Considerably shaken, Bob stood still, considering what 
 he must do. It was manifestly his duty to raise the alarm. 
 If he did so, however, he would have to bear witness to what 
 he knew; and this, for George Pollock's sake, he desired 
 to avoid. He was the only one who could know positively 
 and directly and immediately how Plant had died. -The 
 sound of the shots had not aroused the village. If they had 
 been heard, no one would have paid any attention to them; 
 the discharge of firearms was too common an occurrence 
 to attract special notice. It was better to let the discovery 
 come in the natural course of events. 
 
 However, Bob was neither a coward nor a fool. He 
 wanted to save George Pollock if he could, but he had no 
 intention of abandoning another plain duty in the matter. 
 Without the slightest hesitation he opened Plant's gate and 
 walked to the verandah where the huge, unlovely hulk hud- 
 dled in the doorway. There, with some loathing, he 
 determined the fact that the man was indeed dead. 
 Convinced as to this point, he returned to the street, and 
 looked carefully up and down it. It was still quite deserted. 
 
300 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 His mind in a whirl of horror, pity, and an unconfessed, 
 hidden satisfaction, he returned to Auntie Belle's. The 
 customary daylight breakfast for the teamsters had been 
 omitted on account of the Sabbath. A thin curl of smoke 
 was just beginning to rise straight up from the kitchen stove- 
 pipe. Bob, his mouth suddenly dry and sticky, went around 
 to the back porch, where a huge olla hung always full of 
 spring water. He rounded the corner to run plump against 
 Oldham, tilted back in a chair smoking the butt of a cigar. 
 
 In his agitation of mind, Bob had no stomach for casual 
 conversation. By an effort he smoothed out his manner 
 and collected his thoughts. 
 
 "How are you, Mr. Oldham?" he greeted the older man; 
 "when did you get in?" 
 
 "About an hour ago," replied Oldham. His spare figure 
 in the gray business suit did not stir from its lazy posture, 
 nor did the expression of his thin sardonic face change, 
 but somehow, after swallowing his drink, Bob decided to 
 revise his first intention of escaping to his room. 
 
 "An hour ago," he repeated, when the import of the words 
 finally filtered through his mental turmoil. "You travelled 
 up at night then?" 
 
 "Yes. It's getting hot on the plains." 
 
 "Got in just before daylight, then?" 
 
 "Just before. I'd have made it sooner, but I had to 
 work my way through the cattle." 
 
 "Where's your team?" 
 
 "I left it down at the Company's stables; thought you 
 wouldn't mind." 
 
 "Sure not," said Bob. 
 
 The Company's stables were at the other end of the vil- 
 lage. Oldham must have walked the length of the street. 
 He had said it was before daylight; but the look of the man's 
 eyes was quizzical and cold behind the glasses. Still, it 
 was always quizzical and cold. Bob called himself a pan- 
 icky fool. Just the same, he wished now he had looked 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 301 
 
 for footprints in the dust of the street. While his brain 
 was thus busy with swift conjecture and the weighing of 
 probabilities, his tongue was making random conversation, 
 and his vacant eye was taking in and reporting to his intel- 
 ligence the most trivial things. Generally speaking, his 
 intelligence did not catch the significance of what his eyes 
 reported until after an appreciable interval. Thus he noted 
 that Oldham had smoked his cigar down to a short butt. 
 This unimportant fact meant nothing, until his belated 
 mind told him that never before had he seen the man actu- 
 ally smoking. Oldham always held a cigar between his 
 lips, but he contented himself with merely chewing it or 
 rolling it about. And this was very early, before breakfast. 
 
 " Never saw you smoke before," he remarked abruptly, 
 as this bubble of irrelevant thought came to the surface. 
 
 "No?" said Oldham, politely. 
 
 " It would make me woozy all day to smoke before I ate," 
 said Bob, his voice trailing away, as his inner ear once more 
 took up its listening for the hubbub that must soon break. 
 
 As the moments went by, the suspense of this waiting 
 became almost unbearable. A small portion of him kept 
 up its semblance of conversation with Oldham; another 
 small portion of him made minute and careful notes of triv- 
 ial things; all the rest of him, body and soul, was listening, 
 in the hope that soon, very soon, a scream would break the 
 suspense. From time to time he felt that Oldham was 
 looking at him queerly, and he rallied his faculties to the 
 task of seeming natural. 
 
 " Aren't you feeling well?" asked the older man at last. 
 "You're mighty pale. You want to watch out where you 
 drink water around some of these places." 
 
 Bob came to with a snap. 
 
 "Didn't sleep well," said he, once more himself. 
 
 "Well, that wouldn't trouble me," yawned Oldham; "if 
 it hadn't been for cigars I'd have dropped asleep in this 
 chair an hour ago. You said you couldn't smoke before 
 
302 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 breakfast; neither can I ordinarily. This isn't before break- 
 fast for me, it's after supper; and I've smoked two just to 
 keep awake." 
 
 "Why keep awake?" asked Bob. 
 
 "When I pass away, it'll be for all day. I want to eat 
 first." 
 
 There, at last, it had come! A man down the street 
 shouted. There followed a pounding at doors, and then 
 the murmur of exclamations, questions and replies. 
 
 "It sounds like some excitement," yawned Oldham, 
 bringing his chair down with a thump. " They haven't even 
 rung the first bell yet; let's wander out and stretch our legs." 
 
 He sauntered off the wide back porch toward the front 
 of the house. Bob followed. When near the gate Bob's 
 mind grasped the significance of one of the trivial details 
 that his eyes had reported to it some moments before. He 
 uttered an exclamation, and returned hurriedly to the back 
 porch to verify his impressions. They had been correct. 
 Oldham had stated definitely that he had arrived before 
 daylight, that he had been sitting in his chair for over an 
 hour; that during that time he had smoked two cigars through. 
 
 Neither on the broad porch, nor on the ground near it, nor 
 in any possible receptacle were there any cigar ashes f 
 
XXI 
 
 THE hue and cry rose and died; the sheriff from the 
 plains did his duty; but no trace of the murderer 
 was found. Indeed, at the first it was not known 
 positively who had done the deed; a dozen might have had 
 motive for the act. Only by the process of elimination was 
 the truth come at. No one could say which way the fugi- 
 tive had gone. Jim Pollock, under pressure, admitted that 
 his brother had stormed against the door, had told the awak- 
 ened inmates that his wife was dead and that he was 
 going away. Immediately on making this statement, he 
 had clattered off. Jim steadfastly maintained that his 
 brother had given no inkling of whither he fled. Simeon 
 Wright's cattle, on their way to the high country, filed 
 past. The cowboys listened to the news with interest, 
 and a delight which they did not attempt to conceal. 
 They denied having seen the fugitive. The sheriff 
 questioned them perfunctorily. He knew the breed. George 
 Pollock might have breakfasted with them for all that the 
 denials assured him. 
 
 There appeared shortly on the scene of action a United 
 States marshal. The murder of a government official was 
 serious. Against the criminal the power of the nation was 
 deployed. Nevertheless, in the long run, George Pollock 
 got clean away. Nobody saw him from that day or 
 nobody would acknowledge to have seen him. 
 
 For awhile Bob expected at any moment to be summoned 
 for his testimony. He was morally certain that Oldham 
 had been an eye-witness to the tragedy. But as time went 
 on, and no faintest indication manifested itself that he could 
 
 303 
 
304 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 have been connected with the matter, he concluded himself 
 mistaken. Oldham could have had no motive in conceal- 
 ment, save that of the same sympathy Bob had felt for 
 Pollock. But in that case, what more natural than that 
 he should mention the matter privately to Bob ? If, on the 
 other hand, he had any desire to further the ends of the law, 
 what should prevent him from speaking out publicly? In 
 neither case was silence compatible with knowledge. 
 
 But Bob knew positively the man had lied, when he 
 stated that he had for over an hour been sitting in the chair 
 on Auntie Belle's back porch. Why had he done so ? Where 
 had he been ? Bob could not hazard even the wildest guess. 
 Oldham' s status with Baker was mysterious; his occasional 
 business in these parts it might well be that Oldham 
 thought he had something to conceal from Bob. In that 
 case, where had the elder man been, and what was he about 
 during that fatal hour that Sunday morning? Bob was 
 not conversant with the affairs of the Power Company, but 
 he knew vaguely that Baker was always shrewdly reaching 
 out for new rights and privileges, for fresh opportunities 
 which the other fellow had not yet seen and which he had 
 no desire that the other fellow should see until too late. 
 It might be that Oldham was on some such errand. In the 
 rush of beginning the season's work, the question gradually 
 faded from Bob's thoughts. 
 
 Forest Reserve matters locally went into the hands of a 
 receiver. That is to say, the work of supervision fell to 
 Plant's head-ranger, while Plant's office was overhauled 
 and straightened out by a clerk sent on from Washington. 
 Forest Reserve matters nationally, however, were on a dif- 
 ferent footing. The numerous members of Congress who 
 desired to leave things as they were, the still more numerous 
 officials of the interested departments, the swarming petty poli- 
 iticians dealing direct with small patronage all these power- 
 ful interests were unable satisfactorily to answer one com- 
 mon-sense question; why is the management of our Forest 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 305 
 
 Reserves left to a Land Office already busy, already doubted, 
 when we have organized and equipped a Bureau of Forestry 
 consisting of trained, enthusiastic and honest men ? Reluct- 
 antly the transfer was made. The forestry men picked 
 up the tangle that incompetent, perfunctory and often venal 
 management had dropped. 
 
XXII 
 
 TO MOST who heard of it this item of news was inter- 
 esting, but not especially important; Bob could 
 not see where it made much difference who held 
 the reins three thousand miles away. To others it came as 
 the unhoped-for, dreamed-of culmination of aspiration. 
 
 California John got the news from Martin. The old 
 man had come in from a long trip. 
 
 "You got to take a brace now and be scientific," chaffed 
 Martin. "You old mossback! Don't you dare fall any 
 more trees without measuring out the centre of gravity; 
 and don't you split any more wood unless you calculate first 
 the probable direction of riving; and don't you let any 
 doodle-bug get away without looking at his teeth/*' 
 
 California John grinned slowly, but his eyes were shining. 
 
 "And what's more, you old grafters' 11 get bounced, sure 
 pop," continued Martin. "They won't want you. You 
 don't wear spectacles, and you eat too many proteids in your 
 beans." 
 
 "You ain't heard who's going to be sent out for Super- 
 visor?" asked old John. 
 
 "They haven't found any one with thick enough glasses 
 yet," retorted Martin, 
 
 California John made some purchases, packed his mule, 
 and climbed back up the mountain to the summer camp. 
 Here he threw off his saddle and supplies, and entered the 
 ranger cabin. A rusty stove was very hot. Atop bubbled 
 a capacious kettle. California John removed the cover and 
 peered in. 
 
 "Chicken V dumpling!" said he. 
 
 306 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 307 
 
 He drew a broken-backed chair to the table and set to 
 business. In ten minutes his plate contained nothing but 
 chicken bones. He contemplated them with satisfaction. 
 
 "I reckon that'll even up for that bacon performance," 
 he remarked in reference to some past joke on himself. 
 
 At dusk three men threw open the outside door and entered. 
 They found California John smoking his pipe contempla- 
 tively before a clean table. 
 
 "Now, you bowlegged old sidewinder," said Ross Fletcher, 
 striding to the door, "we'll show you something you don't 
 get up where you come from." 
 
 "What is it?" asked California John with a mild curiosity. 
 
 "Chicken," replied Fletcher. 
 
 He peered into the kettle. Then he lit a match and 
 peered again. He reached for a long iron spoon with which 
 he fished up, one after another, several dumplings. Finally 
 he swore softly. 
 
 "What's the matter, Ross?" inquired California John. 
 
 "You know what's the matter," retorted Ross shaking 
 the spoon. 
 
 California John arose and looked down into the kettle. 
 
 "Thought you said you had chicken," he observed; "looks 
 to me like dumplin' soup." 
 
 " I did have chicken," replied the man. " Oh, you Miles! 
 Bob! come here. This old wreck has gone and stole all 
 our chicken." 
 
 The boys popped in from the next room. 
 
 "I never," expostulated California John, his eyes twink- 
 ling. "I never stole nothin'. I just came in and found a 
 poor old hen bogged down in a mess of dough, so I rescued 
 her." 
 
 The other man said nothing for some time, but surveyed 
 California John from head to toe and from toe to head again. 
 
 " Square," said he at last. 
 
 "Square," replied California John with equal gravity. 
 They shook hands. 
 
308 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 While the newcomers ate supper, California John read 
 laboriously his accumulated mail. After spelling through 
 one document he uttered a hearty oath. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Ross, suspending operations. 
 
 " They've put me in as Supervisor to succeed Plant," 
 replied California John, handing over the official document. 
 "I ain't no supervisor." 
 
 "I'd like to know why not," spoke up Miles indignantly. 
 "You know these mountains better'n any man ever set foot 
 in J em." 
 
 "I ain't got no education," replied California John. 
 
 "Damn good thing," growled Ross. 
 
 California John smoked with troubled brow. 
 
 "What's the matter with you, anyhow?" demanded 
 Ross impatiently, after a while; "ain't you satisfied?" 
 
 "Oh, I'm satisfied well enough, but I kind of hate to 
 leave the service; I like her." 
 
 "Quit!" cried Ross. 
 
 "No," denied California John, "but I'll get fired. First 
 thing," he explained, "I'm going after Simeon Wright's 
 grazing permits. He ain't no right in the mountains, and 
 the ranges are overstocked. He can't trail in ten thousand 
 head while I'm supposed to be boss, so it looks as though 
 I wasn't going to be boss long after Simeon Wright comes 
 in." 
 
 "Oh, go slow," pleaded Ross; "take things a little easy 
 at first, and then when you get going you can tackle the big 
 things." 
 
 " I ain't going to enforce any regulations they don't give 
 me," stated California John, "and I'm going to try to 
 enforce all they do. That's what I'm here for." 
 
 "That means war with Wright," said Ross. 
 
 "Then war it is," agreed California John comfortably. 
 
 "You won't last ten minutes against Wright." 
 
 "Reckon not," agreed old John, "reckon not; but I'll 
 iast long enough to make him take notice." 
 
XXIII 
 
 BY end of summer California John was fairly on his 
 road. He entered office at a time when the local 
 public sentiment was almost unanimously against 
 the system of Forest Reserves. The first thing he did was 
 to discharge eight of the Plant rangers. These fell back 
 on their rights, and California John, to his surprise, found 
 that he could not thus control his own men. He wagged 
 his head in his first discouragement. It was necessary to 
 recommend to Washington that these men be removed; 
 and California John knew well by experience what happened 
 to such recommendations. Nevertheless he sat him down 
 to his typewriter, and with one rigid forefinger, pecked out 
 such a request. Having thus accomplished his duty in the 
 matter, but without hope of results, he went about other 
 things. Promptly within two weeks came the necessary 
 authority. The eight ornamentals were removed. 
 
 Somewhat encouraged, California John next undertook 
 the sheep problem. That, under Plant, had been in the 
 nature of a protected industry. California John and his 
 delighted rangers plunged neck deep into a sheep war. 
 They found themselves with a man's job on their hands. 
 The sheepmen, by long immunity, had come to know the 
 higher mountains intimately, and could hide themselves 
 from any but the most conscientious search. When dis- 
 covered, they submitted peacefully to being removed from 
 the Reserve. At the boundaries the rangers' power ceased. 
 The sheepmen simply waited outside the line. It was mani- 
 festly impossible to watch each separate flock all the time. 
 As soon as surveillance was relaxed, over the line they slipped, 
 
 309 
 
3io THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 again to fatten on prohibited feed until again discovered, 
 and again removed. The rangers had no power of arrest; 
 they could use only necessary force in ejecting the trespas- 
 sers. It was possible to sue in the United States courts, 
 but the process was slow and unsatisfactory, and the dam- 
 ages awarded the Government amounted to so little that 
 the sheepmen cheerfully paid them as a sort of grazing tax. 
 The point was, that they got the feed either free or at a 
 nominal cost and the rangers were powerless to stop them. 
 
 Over this problem California John puzzled a long time. 
 
 "We ain't doing any good playing hide and coop," he 
 told Ross; "it's just using up our time. We got to get at 
 it different. I wish those regulations was worded just the 
 least mite different!" 
 
 He produced the worn Blue Book and his own instruc- 
 tions and thumbed them over for the hundredth time. 
 
 "' Employ only necessary force,'" he muttered; "'remove 
 them beyond the confines of the reserve.'" He bit sav- 
 agely at his pipe. Suddenly his tension relaxed and his 
 wonted shrewdly humorous expression returned to his 
 brown and lean old face. "Ross," said he, "this is going 
 to be plumb amusing. Do you guess we-all can track up 
 with any sheep?" 
 
 " Jim Hutchins's herders must have sneaked back over 
 by Iron Mountain," suggested Fletcher. 
 
 "Jim Hutchins," mused California John; "where is he 
 now? Know?" 
 
 "I heard tell he was at Stockton." 
 
 "Well, that's all right then. If Jim was around, he 
 might start a shootin' row, and we don't want any of that." 
 
 "Well, I don't know as I'm afraid of Jim Hutchins," 
 said Ross Fletcher. 
 
 "Neither am I, sonny," replied California John; "but 
 this is a grand-stand play, and we got to bring her off with- 
 out complications. You get the boys organized. We start 
 to-morrow." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 311 
 
 "What you got up your sleeve?" asked Ross. 
 
 "Never you mind." 
 
 "Who's going to have charge of the office?" 
 
 "Nobody," stated California John positively; "we tackle 
 one thing to a time." 
 
 Next day the six rangers under command of their super- 
 visor disappeared in the wilderness. When they reached 
 the trackless country of the granite and snow and the lost 
 short-hair meadows, they began scouting. Sign of sheep 
 they found in plenty, but no sheep. Signal smokes over 
 distant ranges rose straight up, and died; but never could 
 they discover where the fire had been burned. Sheepmen 
 of the old type are the best of mountaineers, and their skill 
 has been so often tested that they are as full of tricks as so 
 many foxes. The fires they burned left no ash. The 
 smokes they sent up warned all for two hundred miles. 
 
 Nevertheless, by the end of three days young Tom Car- 
 roll and Charley Morton trailed down a band of three thou- 
 sand head. They came upon the flock grazing peacefully 
 over blind hillsides in the torment of splintered granite. The 
 herders grinned, as the rangers came in sight. They had 
 been "tagged" in this "game of hide and coop." As a 
 matter of course they began to pack their camp on the two 
 burros that grazed among the sheep; they ordered the dogs 
 to round up the flock. For two weeks they had grazed 
 unmolested, and they were perfectly satisfied to pay the 
 inconvenience of a day's journey over to the Inyo line. 
 
 "'llo boys," said their leader, flashing his teeth at them. 
 "'Wan start now?" 
 
 "These Jim Hutchins's sheep?" inquired Carroll. 
 
 But at that question the Frenchman suddenly lost all his 
 command of the English language. 
 
 "They're Hutchins's all right," said Charley, who had 
 ridden out to look at the brand painted black on the animals' 
 flanks. "No go to-night," he told the attentive herder, 
 u Camp here." 
 
312 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 He threw off his saddle. Tom Carroll rode away to find 
 California John. 
 
 The two together, with Ross Fletcher, whom they had 
 stumbled upon accidentally, returned late the following 
 afternoon. By sunrise next morning the flocks were under 
 way for Inyo. The sheep strung out by the dogs went for- 
 ward steadily like something molten; the sheepherders 
 plodded along staff in hand; the rangers brought up the 
 rear, riding. Thus they went for the marching portions 
 of two days. Then at noon they topped the main crest at 
 the broad Pass, and the sheer descents on the Inyo side 
 lay before them. From beneath them flowed the plains 
 of Owen's Valley, so far down that the white roads showed 
 like gossamer threads, the ranches like tiny squares of green. 
 Eight thousand feet almost straight down the precipice 
 fell away. Across the valley rose the White Mountains 
 and the Panamints, and beyond them dimly could be guessed 
 Death Valley and the sombre Funeral Ranges. To the 
 north was a lake with islands swimming in it, and above 
 it empty craters looking from above like photographs of 
 the topography of the moon; and beyond it tier after tier, 
 as far as the eye could reach, the blue mountains of Nevada. 
 A narrow gorge, standing fairly on end, led down from the 
 Pass. Without hesitation, like a sluggishly moving, viscid 
 brown fluid, the sheep flowed over the edge. The dogs, 
 their flanking duties relieved by the walls of dark basalt on 
 either hand, fell to the rear with their masters. The 
 mountain-bred horses dropped calmly down the rough 
 and precipitous trail. 
 
 At the end of an hour the basalt gorge opened out to a 
 wide steep slope of talus on which grew in clumps the first 
 sage brush of the desert. Here California John called a 
 halt. The line of the Reserve, unmarked as yet save by 
 landmarks and rare rough "monuments" of loose stones 
 lay but just beyond. 
 
 "This is as far as we go," he told the chief herder. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 313 
 
 The Frenchman flashed his teeth, and bowed with some 
 courtesy. "Au revoi'," said he. 
 
 "Hold on," repeated California John, "I said this is as 
 far as we go. That means you, too; and your men." 
 
 "But th' ship!" cried the chief herder. 
 
 " My rangers will put them off the Reserve, according to 
 regulation," stated California John. 
 
 The Frenchman stared at him. 
 
 "Wat you do? " he gasped at last. "Where we go?" 
 
 "I'm going to put you off the Reserve, too, but on the west 
 side," said California John. The old man's figure straight- 
 ened in his saddle, and his hand dropped to the worn and 
 shiny butt of his weapon: "No; none of that! Take your 
 hand off your gun! I got the right to use necessary force; 
 and, by God, I'll do it!" 
 
 The herder began a voluble discourse of mingled pro- 
 testations and exposition. California John cut him short 
 
 "I know my instructions as well as you do," said he. 
 "They tell me to put sheep and herders off the Reserve 
 without using unnecessary force; but there ain't nothing 
 said about putting them off in the same place!" 
 
 Ross Fletcher rocked with joy in his saddle. 
 
 "So that's what you had up your sleeve!" he fairly 
 shouted. "Why, it's as simple as a b'ar trap!" 
 
 California John pointed his gnarled forefinger at the herder. 
 
 "Call your dogs!" he commanded sharply. "Call them 
 in, and tie them! The first dog loose in camp will be shot. 
 If you care for your dogs, tie them up. Now drop your 
 gun on the ground. Tom, you take their shootin' -irons." 
 He produced from his saddle bags several new pairs of hand- 
 cuffs, which he surveyed with satisfaction. "This is busi- 
 ness," said he; "I bought these on my own hook. You bet I 
 don't mean to have to shoot any of you fellows in the back; 
 and I ain't going to sit up nights either. Snap 'em on, 
 Charley. Now, Ross, you and Tom run those sheep over 
 the line, and then follow us up." 
 
3 14 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 As the full meaning of the situation broke on the French- 
 man's mind, he went frantic. By the time he and his herders 
 should be released, the whole eighty-mile width of the Sier- 
 ras would lie between him and his flocks. He would have 
 to await his chance to slip by the rangers. In the three 
 weeks or more that must elapse before he could get back, 
 the flocks would inevitably be about destroyed. For it is 
 a striking fact, and one on which California John had built 
 his plan, that sheep left to their own devices soon perish. 
 They scatter. The coyotes, bears and cougars gather to 
 the feast. It would be most probable that the sheep-hating 
 cattlemen of Inyo would enjoy mutton chops. 
 
 California John collected his scattered forces, delegated 
 TWO men to eject the captives; and went after more sheep. 
 He separated thus three flocks from their herders. After 
 that the sheep question was settled; government feed was 
 too expensive. 
 
 " That's off'n our minds," said he. "Now we'll tackle 
 the next job." 
 
 He went at it in his slow, painstaking way, and accom- 
 plished it. Never, if he could help it, did he depend on the 
 mails when the case was within riding distance. He pre- 
 ferred to argue the matter out, face to face. 
 
 "The Government prejers friends," he told everybody, 
 and then took his stand, in all good feeling, according as the 
 other man proved reasonable. Some of the regulations 
 were galling to the mountain traditions. He did not attempt 
 to explain or defend them, but simply stated their pro- 
 visions. 
 
 "Now, I'm swore in to see that these are carried out," 
 said he, "always, and if you ain't going to toe the mark, 
 why, you see, it puts me in one hell of a hole, don't it? I 
 ain't liking to be put in the position of fighting all my old 
 neighbours, and I sure can't lie down on my job. It don't 
 really mean much to you, now does it ; Link? and it helps 
 me out a lot." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 315 
 
 "Well, I know you're square, John, and I'll do it," said 
 the mountaineer reluctantly, "but I wouldn't do it for any 
 other blank of a blank in creation!" 
 
 Thus California John was able, by personality, to reduce 
 much friction and settle many disputes. He could be uncom- 
 promising enough on occasion. 
 
 Thus Win Spencer and Tom Hoyt had a violent quarrel 
 over cattle allotments which they brought to California John 
 for settlement. Each told a different story, so the evidence 
 pointed clearly to neither party. California John listened 
 in silence. 
 
 "I won't take sides," said he; "settle it for yourselves. 
 Pd just as soon make enemies of both oj you as o) one." 
 
 Then in the middle of summer came the trial of it all. 
 The Service sent notice that, beginning the following season, 
 a grazing tax would be charged, and it requested the 
 Supervisor to send in his estimate of grazing allotments. 
 California John sat him down at his typewriter and made 
 out the required list. Simeon Wright's name did not appear 
 therein. In due time somebody wanted, officially, to know 
 why not. California John told them, clearly, giving the 
 reasons that the range was overstocked, and quoting the 
 regulations as to preference being given to the small owner 
 dwelling in or near the Forests. He did this just as a good 
 carpenter might finish the under side of a drain; not that 
 it would do any good, but for his own satisfaction. 
 
 "We will now listen to the roar of the lion," he told Ross 
 Fletcher, "after which I'll hand over my scalp to save 'em 
 the trouble of sharpening up their knives." 
 
 As a matter of fact the lion did roar, but no faintest echo 
 reached the Sierras. Fr the first time Simeon Wright and 
 the influence Simeon Wright could bring to bear failed of 
 their accustomed effect at Washington. An honest, fear- 
 less, and single-minded Chief, backed by an enthusiastic 
 Service, saw justice rather than expediency. California John 
 received back his recommendation marked "Approved." 
 
316 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 The old man tore open the long official envelope, when 
 he received it from Martin's hand, and carried it to the 
 light, where he adjusted precisely his bowed spectacles, 
 and, hi his slow, methodical way, proceeded to investigate 
 the contents. As he caught sight of the word and its ini- 
 tials his hand involuntarily closed to crush the papers, and 
 his gaunt form straightened. In his mild blue eye sprang 
 fire. He turned to Martin, his voice vibrant with an emo- 
 tion carefully suppressed through the nine long years of his 
 faithful service. 
 
 "They've turned down Wright," said he, "and they've 
 give us an appropriation. They've turned down old Wright! 
 By God, we've got a man!" 
 
 He strode from the store, his head high. As he went up 
 the street a canvas sign over the empty storehouse attracted 
 his attention. He pulled his bleached moustache a moment; 
 then removed his floppy old hat, and entered. 
 
 An old-fashioned exhorting evangelist was holding forth 
 to three listless and inattentive sinners. A tired-looking 
 woman sat at a miniature portable organ. At the close of 
 the services California John wandered forward. 
 
 "I'm plumb busted," said he frankly, "and that's the 
 reason I couldn't chip in. I couldn't buy fleas for a dawg. 
 I'm afraid you didn't win much." 
 
 The preacher looked gloomily at a nickle and a ten-cent 
 piece. 
 
 "Dependin' on this sort of thing to get along?" asked 
 California John. 
 
 "Yes," said the preacher. The woman looked out of 
 the window. 
 
 California John said no more, but went out of the build- 
 ing and down the street to Austin's saloon. 
 
 "Howdy, boys," he greeted the loungers and card players. 
 "Saw off a minute. There's goin' to be a gospel meetin' 
 right here a half-hour from now. I'm goin' to hold it 
 and I'm goin* out now to rustle a congregation. At the 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 317 
 
 close we'll take up a collection for the benefit of the 
 church." 
 
 At the end of the period mentioned he placed himself 
 behind the bar and faced a roomful of grinning men. 
 
 "This is serious, boys. Take off your hat, Bud. Wipe 
 them snickers offn your face. We're all sinners; and I 
 reckon now's as good a time as any to realize the fact. I 
 don ? t know much about the Bible; but I do recall enough 
 to hold divine services for once, and I intend to have 'em 
 respected." 
 
 For fifteen minutes California John conducted his ser- 
 vices according to his notion. Then he stated briefly his 
 cause and took up his collection. 
 
 "Nine-forty-five," said he thoughtfully, looking at the 
 silver. He carefully extracted two nickels, and dumped 
 the rest in his pocket. "I reckon I've earned a drink out 
 of this," he stated; "any objections?" 
 
 There were none; so California John bought his drink 
 and departed. 
 
 "That's all right," he told the astonished and grateful 
 evangelist, "I had to do somethin' to blow off steam, or else 
 go on a hell of a drunk. And it would have been plumb 
 ruinous to do that. So you see, it's lucky I met you." The 
 old man's twinkling and humorous blue eyes gazed quiz- 
 zically at the uneasy evangelist, divided between gratitude 
 and his notion that he ought to reprobate this attitude of 
 mind. Then they softened. California John laid his hand 
 on the preacher's shoulder. "Don't get discouraged," 
 said he; "don't do it. The God of Justice still rules. I've 
 just had some news that proves it." 
 
XXIV 
 
 FROM this moment the old man held his head high, 
 and went about the work with confidence. He 
 built trails where trails had long been needed; he 
 regulated the grazing; he fought fire so successfully that his 
 burned area dropped that year from two per cent, to one- 
 half of one per cent. ; he adjusted minor cases of special use 
 and privilege justly. Constantly he rode his district on the 
 business of his beloved Forest. His beautiful sorrel, Star, 
 with his silver-mounted caparisons, was a familiar figure 
 on all the trails. When a man wanted his first Special 
 Privilege, he wrote the Supervisor. The affair was quite 
 apt to bungle. Then California John saw that man per- 
 sonally. After that there was no more trouble. The 
 countryside dug up the rest of California John's name, and 
 conferred on him the dignity of it. John had heard it 
 scarcely at all for over thirty years. Now he rather liked 
 the sound of "Supervisor Davidson." In the title and the 
 simple dignities attaching thereunto he took the same gentle 
 and innocent pride that he did in Star, and the silver- mounted 
 bridle and the carved-leatber saddle. 
 
 But when evening came, and the end of the month, Super- 
 visor Davidson always found himself in trouble. Then he 
 sat down before his typewriter, on which he pecked method- 
 ically with the rigid forefinger of his right hand. Naturally 
 slow of thought when confronted by blank paper, the 
 mechanical limitations put him far behind in his reports and 
 correspondence. Naturally awkward of phrase when 
 deprived of his picturesque vernacular, he stumbled among 
 phrases. The monthly reports were a nightmare to him. 
 
 318 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 319 
 
 When at last they were finished, he breathed a deep sigh, 
 and went out into his sugar pines and spruces. 
 
 In August California John received his first inspector. 
 At that time the Forest Service, new to the saddle, heir to 
 the confusion left by the Land Office, knew neither its field 
 nor its office men as well as it does now. Occasionally it 
 made mistakes in those it sent out. Brent was one of them. 
 
 Brent was of Teutonic extraction, brought up in Brook- 
 line, educated in the Yale Forestry School, and experienced 
 in the offices of the Bureau of Forestry before it had had 
 charge of the nation's estates. He possessed a method- 
 ical mind, a rather intolerant disposition, thick glasses, a 
 very cold and precise manner, extreme personal neatness, 
 and abysmal ignorance of the West. He disapproved of 
 California John's rather slipshod dress, to start with; his 
 ingrained reticence shrank from Davidson's informal cor- 
 diality; his orderly mind recoiled with horror from the 
 jumble of the Supervisor's accounts and reports. As he 
 knew nothing whatever of the Sierras, he was quite unable 
 to appreciate the value of trails, of fenced meadows, of a 
 countryside of peace those things were so much a matter 
 of course back East that he hardly noticed them one way 
 or another. Brent's thoroughness burrowed deep into office 
 failures. One by one he dragged them to the light and 
 examined them through his near-sighted glasses. They 
 were bad enough in all conscience; and Brent was not in 
 the least malicious in the inferences he drew. Only he had 
 no conception of judging the Man with the Time and the 
 Place. 
 
 He believed in military smartness, in discipline, in ordered 
 activities. 
 
 "It seems to me you give your rangers a great deal of 
 freedom and latitude," said he one day. 
 
 "Well," said California John, " strikes me that's the only 
 way. With men like these you got to get their confidence," 
 
 Brent peered at him. 
 
320 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "H'm," said he sarcastically, "do you think you have 
 done so?" 
 
 California John flushed through his tan at the implica- 
 tion, but he replied nothing. 
 
 This studied respect for his superior officer on the Super- 
 visor's part encouraged Brent to deliver from time to time 
 rather priggish little homilies on the way to run a Forest. 
 California John listened, but with a sardonic smile concealed 
 beneath his sun-bleached moustache. After a little, how- 
 ever, Brent became more inclined to bring home the personal 
 application. Then California John grew restive. 
 
 "In fact," Brent concluded his incisive remarks one day, 
 "you run this place entirely too much along your own 
 lines." 
 
 California John leaned forward. 
 
 "Is that an official report?" he asked. 
 
 "What?" inquired Brent, puzzled. 
 
 "That last remark. Because if it ain't you'd better put 
 it in writing and make it official. Step right in and do it 
 now!" 
 
 Brent looked at him in slight bewilderment. 
 
 "I'm willing to hear your talk," went on California John 
 quietly. "Some of it's good talk, even if it ain't put out in 
 no very good spirit; and I ain't kicking on criticism that's 
 what I'm here for, and what you're here for. But I ain't 
 here for no private remarks. If you've got anything to 
 kick on, put it down and sign it and send it on. I'll stand 
 for it, and explain it if I can; or take my medicine if I 
 can't. But anything you ain't ready and willing to report 
 on, I don't want to take from you private. Sabe?" 
 
 Brent bowed coldly, turned his back and walked away 
 without a word. California John looked after him. 
 
 "Well, that wasn't no act of Solomon," he told himself; 
 "but, anyway, I feel better." 
 
 After Brent's departure it took California John two weeks 
 to recover his equanimity and self-confidence. Then the 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 321 
 
 importance of his work gripped him once more. He looked 
 about him at the grazing, the policing, the fire-fighting, 
 all the varied business of the reserves. In them all he knew 
 was no graft, and no favouritism. The trails were being 
 improved; the cabins built; the meadows for horse-feed 
 fenced; the bridges built and repaired; the country pa- 
 trolled by honest and enthusiastic men. He recalled the 
 old days of Henry Plant's administration under the Land- 
 Office the graft, the supineness, the inefficiency, the con- 
 fusion. 
 
 "We're savin' the People's property, and keepin' it in 
 good shape," he argued to himself, "and that's sure the 
 main point. If we take care of things, we've done the main 
 job. Let the other fellows do the heavy figgerin'. The 
 city's full of cheap bookkeepers who can't do nothing else." 
 
XXV 
 
 BUT a month later, at the summer camp, California 
 John had opportunity to greet a visitor whom he 
 was delighted to see. One morning a very dusty 
 man leaned from his saddle and unlatched the gate before 
 headquarters. As he straightened again, he removed his 
 broad hat and looked up into the cool pine shadows with 
 an air of great refreshment. 
 
 "Why, it's Ashley Thorne!" cried California John, leap- 
 ing to his feet. 
 
 "The same," replied Thorne, reaching out his hand. 
 
 He dismounted, and Charley Morton, grinning a wel- 
 come, led his horse away to the pasture. 
 
 "I sure am glad to see you!" said California John over 
 and over again; "and where did you come from? I thought 
 you were selling pine lands in Oregon." 
 
 Thorne dropped into a chair with a sigh of contentment. 
 "I was," said he, "and then they made the Transfer, so I 
 came back." 
 
 "You're in the Service again?" cried California John 
 delighted. 
 
 "Couldn't stay out now that things are in proper hands." 
 
 "Good! I expect you're down here to haul me over 
 the coals," California John chuckled. 
 
 "Oh, just to look around," said Thorne, biting at his 
 close-clipped, bristling moustache. 
 
 Next morning they began to look around. California 
 John was overjoyed at this chance to show a sympathetic 
 and congenial man what he had done. 
 
 41 1 got a trail 'way up Baldy now," he confided as they 
 
 322 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 323 
 
 swung aboard. "It's a good trail too; and it makes a great 
 fire lookout. We'll take a ride up there, if you have trnie 
 before you go. Well, as I was telling you about that Cook 
 cattle case the old fellow says 
 
 At the end of the Supervisor's long and interested dis- 
 sertation on the Cook case, Thome laughed gently. 
 
 "Looks as if you had him," said he, "and I think the 
 Chief will sustain you. You like this work, don't you?" 
 
 "I sure just naturally love it," replied California John 
 earnestly. "I've got the chance now to straighten things 
 out. What I say goes. For upward of nine years I've 
 been ridin' around seein' how things had ought to be done* 
 And I couldn't get results nohow. Somebody always had 
 a graft in it that spoiled the whole show. I could see how 
 simple and easy it would be to straighten everythin* all out 
 in good shape; but I couldn't do nothing." 
 
 "Hard enough to hold your job," suggested Thome, 
 
 "That's it. And everybody in the country thought I 
 was a damn fool. Only damn fools and lazy men took 
 rangers' jobs those days. But I hung on because I believed 
 in it. And now I got the best job in the bunch. In place 
 of being looked down on as that old fool John, I'm Mr. 
 Davidson, the Forest Supervisor." 
 
 "It's a matter for pride," said Thorne non-committally. 
 
 " It isn't that," denied the old man; " I'm not proud because 
 I'm Supervisor. Lord love you, Henry Plant was Super- 
 visor; and I never heard tell that any one was proud of him, 
 not even himself. But I'm proud of being a good super- 
 visor. They ain't a sorehead near us now. Everybody's 
 out for the Forest. I've made 'em understand that it's for 
 them. They know the Service is square. And we ain't 
 had fires to amount to nothing; nor trespass," 
 
 "You've done good work," said Thorne soberly; "none 
 better. No one could have done it but you. You have 
 a right to be proud of it." 
 
 "Then you'll be sending in a good report," said Call- 
 
324 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 fornia John, solely by way of conversation. "I suspicion 
 that last fellow gave me an awful roast." 
 
 "I'm not an inspector," replied Thorne. 
 
 "That so? You used to be before you resigned; so I 
 thought sure you must be now. What's your job ? " 
 
 "I'll tell you when we have more time," said Thorne. 
 
 For three days they rode together. The Supervisor was 
 a very busy man. He had errands of all sorts to accom- 
 plish. Thorne simply went along. Everywhere he found 
 good feeling, satisfactory conditions. 
 
 At the end of the third day as the two men sat before the 
 rough stone fireplace at headquarters, Thorne abruptly 
 broke the long silence. 
 
 "John," said he, "I've got a few things to say that are 
 not going to be pleasant either for you or for me. Never- 
 theless, I am going to say them. In fact, I asked the Chief 
 for the privilege rather than having you hear through the 
 regular channels." 
 
 California John had not in the least changed his position, 
 yet all at once the man seemed to turn still and watchful. 
 
 "Fire ahead," said he. 
 
 "You asked me the other day what my job is. It is 
 Supervisor of this district. They have appointed me in 
 your place." 
 
 "Oh, they have," said California John. He sat for some 
 time, his eyes narrowing, looking straight ahead of him. 
 'Td like to know why!" he burst out at last. A dull red 
 spot burned on each side his weather-beaten cheeks. 
 
 d-r j> 
 
 "You had nothing to do with it," interrupted Cali- 
 fornia John sharply; "I know that. But who did? Why 
 did they do it? By God," he brought his fist down sharply, 
 "I intend to get to the bottom of this! I've been in the 
 Service since she started. I've served honest. No man 
 can say I haven't done all my duty and been square. And 
 that's been when every man- jack of them was getting his 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 325 
 
 graft as reg'lar as his pay check. And since I've been Super- 
 visor is the only time tftis Forest has ever been in any kind 
 of shape, if I do say it myself. I've rounded her up. I've 
 stopped the graft. I've fixed the 'soldiers.' I've got 
 things in shape. They can't remove me without cause 
 I know that and if they think I'm goin' to lie down and 
 take it without a kick, they've got off the wrong foot good 
 and plenty!' 7 
 
 Thorne sat tight, nor offered a word of comment. 
 
 " You've been an inspector," California John appealed 
 to him. " You've been all over the country among the dif- 
 ferent reserves. Ain't mine up to the others?" 
 
 "Things are in better shape here than in any of them," 
 replied Thorne decisively; "your rangers have more esprit 
 de corps, your neighbours are better disposed, your fires 
 have a smaller percentage of acreage, your trails are better." 
 
 "Well?" demanded California John. 
 
 "Well," repeated Thorne leaning forward, "just this. 
 What's the use of it all?" 
 
 "Use?" repeated California John, vaguely. 
 
 "Yes. Of what you and all the rest of us are doing." 
 
 "To save the public's property." 
 
 "That's part of it; and that's the part you've been doing 
 superlatively well. It's the old idea, that: the idea ex- 
 pressed by the old name the Forest Reserves to save, 
 to set aside. It seemed the most important thing. The 
 forests had so many eager enemies unprincipled land- 
 grabbers and lumbermen, sheep, fire. To beat these back 
 required all our best efforts. It was all we could think of. 
 We hadn't time to think of anything else. It was a full 
 job." 
 
 "You bet it was," commented the old man grimly. 
 
 "Well, it's done. There will be attempts to go back to 
 the old state of affairs, but they will grow feebler from 
 year to year. Things will never slide back again. The 
 people are awake." 
 
326 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Think so?" doubted California John. 
 
 "I know it. Now comes the new idea. We no longer 
 speak of Forest Reserves, but of National Forests. We've 
 saved them; now what are we going to do with them? 
 What would you think of a man who cleared a 'forty,' and 
 pulled all the stumps, and then quit work?" 
 
 "I never thought of that," said California John, "but 
 what's that got to do with these confounded whelps " 
 
 "We are going to use these forests for the benefit of the 
 people. We're going to cut the ripe trees and sell them to 
 the lumber manufacturer; we're going to develc p the water 
 power; we're going to improve the grazing; Are' re going 
 to study what we have here, so that by and by from our 
 forests we will be getting the income the lumberman now 
 gets, and will not be injuring the estate. Each Forest 
 is going to be a big and complicated business, like rail- 
 roading or wholesaling. Anybody can run Martin's store 
 down at the Flats. It takes a trained man to oversee even 
 a proposition like the Star at White Oaks." 
 
 "Oh, I see what you're drivin' at," said California John, 
 "but I've made good up to now; and until they try me out, 
 they've no right to fire me. I'll defy 'em to find anythin' 
 crooked! ! !" 
 
 "John, you're as straight as a string. But they have 
 tried you out. Your office work has been away off." 
 
 " Oh, that! What's those dinkey little reports and tiionkey- 
 doodle business amount to, anyhow? You know per- 
 fectly well it's foolish to ask a ranger to fill out an eight- 
 page blank every time he takes a ride. What does that 
 amount to?" 
 
 "Not very much," confessed Thome. "But when things 
 begin to hum around here there'll be a thousand times as 
 much of the same sort of stuff, and it'll all be important." 
 
 "They'd better get me a clerk." 
 
 "They would get you a clerk, several of them. But no 
 man has a right to even boss a job he doesn't himself under- 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 327 
 
 stand. What do you know about timber grading? esti- 
 mating? mapping? What is your scientific training ?" 
 
 "I've give my soul and boot-straps to this Service for 
 nine years at sixty and ninety a month," interrupted 
 California John. "Part of that I spent for tools they was 
 too stingy to give me. Now they kick me out." 
 
 " Oh, no, they don't," said Thome. "Not any! But you 
 agree with me, don't you, that you couldn't hold down the 
 job?" 
 
 "I suppose so," snapped California John. "To hell with 
 such a game. I think I'll go over Goldfield way." 
 
 "No, you won't," said Thome gently. "You'll stay here, 
 in the Service." 
 
 "What!" cried the old man rising to his feet; "stay here 
 in the Service! And every mountain man to point me out 
 as that old fool Davidson who got fired after workin' nine 
 years like a damn ijit. You talk foolish!" 
 
 Thorne arose too, and put one hand on the old man's 
 shoulder. 
 
 "And what about those nine years?" he asked gently. 
 "Things looked pretty dark, didn't they? You didn't have 
 enough to live on; and you got your salary docked without 
 any reason or justice; and you had to stand one side while 
 the other fellows did things dishonest and wrong; and it 
 didn't look as though it was ever going to get better. Nine 
 years is a long time. Why did you do it?" 
 
 "I don't know," muttered California John. 
 
 " It was just waiting for this time that is coming. In five 
 years we'll have the people with us ; we'll have Congress, 
 and the money to do things; we'll have sawmills and 
 water-power, and regulated grazing, and telephone lines r 
 and comfortable quarters. We'll have a Service safe- 
 guarded by Civil Service, and a body of disciplined men r 
 and officers as the Army and Navy have. It's coming; 
 and it's coming soon You've been nine years at the other 
 thing " 
 
328 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "It's humiliating," insisted California John, "to do a 
 job well and get fired." 
 
 "You'll still have just the job you have now only 
 you'll be called a head-ranger." 
 
 "My people won't see it that way." 
 
 Ashley Thorne hesitated. 
 
 " No, they won't," said he frankly at last. " I could argue 
 on the other side; but they won't. They'll think you've 
 dropped back a peg; and they'll say to each other at 
 least some of them will: 'Old Davidson bit off more than 
 he could chew; and it serves him right for being a damn 
 fool, anyway.' You've been content to play along mis- 
 understood for nine years because you had faith. Has 
 that faith deserted you?" 
 
 California John looked down, and his erect shoulders 
 shrunk forward a little. 
 
 "Old friend," said Thorne, "it's a sacrifice. Are you 
 going to stay and help me?" 
 
 California John for a long time studied a crack in the 
 floor. When he looked up his face was illuminated with 
 his customary quizzical grin. 
 
 "I've sure got it on Ross Fletcher," he drawled. "I done 
 told him I wasn't no supervisor, and he swore I was." 
 
PART FOUR 
 
WHEN next Bob was able to visit the Upper Camp, 
 he found Thorne fully established. He rode in 
 from the direction of Rock Creek, and so through 
 the pasture and by the back way. In the tiny potato and 
 garden patch behind the house he came upon a woman 
 wielding a hoe. 
 
 Her back was toward him, and a pink sunbonnet, freshly 
 starched, concealed all her face. The long, straight lines 
 of her gown fell about a vigorous and supple figure that 
 swayed with every stroke of the hoe. Bob stopped and 
 watched her. There was something refreshing hi the eager- 
 ness with which she attacked the weeds, as though it were 
 less a drudgery than a live interest which it was well to meet 
 joyously. After a moment she walked a few steps to another 
 row of tiny beans. Her movements had the perfect grace 
 of muscular control; one melted, flowed, into the other. 
 Bob's eye of the athlete noted and appreciated this fact. 
 He wondered to which of the mountain clans this girl 
 belonged. Vigorous and breezy as were the maidens of the 
 hills, able to care for themselves, like the paladins of old, 
 afoot or ahorse, they lacked this grace of movement. He 
 stepped forward. 
 
 "I beg pardon," said he. 
 
 The girl turned, resting the heel of her hoe on the earth, 
 and both hands on the end of its handle. Bob saw a dark, 
 oval countenance, with very red cheeks, very black eyes and 
 hair, and an engaging flash of teeth. The eyes looked at 
 him as frankly as a boy's, and the flash of teeth made him 
 unaffectedly welcome. 
 
 331 
 
332 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Is Mr. Thorne here?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Why, no," replied the girl; "but I'm Mr. Thome's sister. 
 Won't I do?" 
 
 She was leisurely laying aside her hoe, and drawing the 
 fringed buckskin gauntlets from her hands. Bob stepped 
 gallantly forward to relieve her of the implement. 
 
 "Do?" he echoed. "Why, of course you'll do!" 
 
 She stopped and looked him full in the face, with an air 
 of great amusement. 
 
 " Did you come to see Mr. Thorne on business ? " she asked. 
 
 "No," replied Bob; "just ran over to see him." 
 
 She laughed quietly. 
 
 "Then I'm afraid I won't do," she said, "for I must cook 
 dinner. You see," she explained, "I'm Mr. Thome's clerk, 
 and if it were business, I might attend to it." 
 
 Bob flushed to the ears. He was ordinarily a young man 
 of sufficient self-possession, but this young woman's direct- 
 ness was disconcerting. She surveyed his embarrassment 
 with approving eyes. 
 
 "You might finish those beans," said she, offering the 
 hoe. "Of course, you must stay to dinner, and I must go 
 light the fire." 
 
 Bob finished the beans, leaned the hoe up against the 
 house, and went around to the front. There he stopped in 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Well, you have changed things!" he cried. 
 
 The stuffy little shed kitchen was no longer occupied. 
 A. floor had been laid between the bases of four huge trees, 
 and walls enclosing three sides to the height of about eight 
 feet had been erected. The affair had no roof. Inside these 
 three walls were the stove, the kitchen table, the shelves and 
 utensils of cooking. Miss Thorne, her sunbonnet laid aside 
 irom her glossy black braids, moved swiftly and easily here 
 and there in this charming stage-set of a kitchen. About 
 ten feet in front of it, on the pine needles, stood the dining 
 table, set with white. 
 
"I beg pardon," said he. The girl turned 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 333 
 
 The girl nodded brightly to Bob. 
 
 "Finished?" she inquired. She pointed to the water pail: 
 "There's a useful task for willing hands." 
 
 Bob filled the pail, and set it brimming on the section of 
 cedar log which seemed to be its appointed resting place. 
 
 "Thank you," said the girl. Bob leaned against the 
 tree and watched her as she moved here and there about the 
 varied business of cooking. Every few minutes she would 
 stop and look upward through the cool shadows of the trees, 
 like a bird drinking. At times she burst into snatches of song, 
 so brief as to be unrecognizable. 
 
 "Do you like sticks in your food?" she asked Bob, as 
 though suddenly remembering his presence, "and pine 
 needles, and the husks of pine nuts, and other debris ? because 
 that's what the breezes and treeses and naughty little squir- 
 rels are always raining down on me." 
 
 "Why don't you have the men stretch you a canvas?" 
 asked Bob. 
 
 "Well," said the girl, stopping short, "I have considered 
 it. I no more than you like unexpected twigs in my dough. 
 But you see I do like shadows and sunlight and upper air 
 and breezes in my food. And you can't have one without 
 the other. Did you get all the weeds out ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes," said Bob. "Look here; you ought not to have to 
 do such work as that." 
 
 "Do you think it will wear down my fragile strength?" 
 she asked, looking at him good-humouredly. "Is it too 
 much exercise for me?" 
 
 "No- " hesitated Bob, "but " 
 
 " Why, bless you, I like to help the babies to grow big and 
 green," said she. "One can't have the theatre or bridge up 
 here; do leave us some of the simple pleasures." 
 
 " Why did you want me to finish for you then ? " demanded 
 Bob shrewdly. 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 "Young man," said she, "I could give you at least ten 
 
334 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 reasons," with which enigmatic remark she whipped her 
 apron around her hand and whisked open the oven door, 
 where were displayed rows of beautifully browned biscuits. 
 
 "Nevertheless " began Bob. 
 
 "Nevertheless," she took him up, raising her face, slightly 
 flushed by the heat, " all the men-folks are busy, and this one 
 woman-folk is not harmed a bit by playing at being a farmer 
 lassie." 
 
 " One of the rangers could do it all in a couple of hours." 
 
 "The rangers are in the employ of the United States Gov- 
 ernment, and this garden is mine," she stated evenly. "How 
 could I take a Government employee to work on my prop- 
 erty?" 
 
 "But surely Mr. Thorne " 
 
 "Ashley, bless his dear old heart, takes beans for granted, 
 as something that happens on well-regulated tables." 
 
 She walked to the edge of the kitchen floor and looked up 
 through the trees. "He ought to be along soon now. I 
 hope so; my biscuits are just on the brown." She turned to 
 Bob, her eyes dancing: "Now comes the exciting moment 
 of the day, the great gamble! Will he come alone, or will 
 he bring a half-dozen with him ? I am always ready for the 
 half-dozen, and as a consequence we live in a grand, ingenious 
 debauch of warmed-ups and next-days. You don't know 
 what good practice it is; nor what fun! I've often thought 
 I could teach those cook > of Marc Antony's something 
 you remember, don't you, they used to keep six dinners 
 going all at different stages of preparation because they never 
 knew at what hour His High-and-mightiness might choose to 
 dine. Or perhaps you don't know ? Football men don't 
 have to study, do they ? " 
 
 "What makes you think I'm a football man?" grinned 
 Bob; "generally bovine expression?" 
 
 "Not know the great Bob Orde!" cried the girl. "Why, 
 not one of us but had your picture, generally in a nice gilt 
 shrine, but always with violets before it." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 335 
 
 But on this ground Bob was sure. 
 
 "You have been reading a ten-cent magazine," he admon- 
 ished her gravely. "It is unwise to take your knowledge of 
 the customs in girls' colleges from such sources." 
 
 From the depths of the forest eddied a cloud of dust. Miss 
 Thorne appraised it carefully. 
 
 " Warmed-overs to-night," she pronounced. "There's 
 no more than two of them." 
 
 The accuracy of her guess was almost immediately veri- 
 fied by the appearance of two riders. A moment later Thorne 
 and California Jonn dismounted at the hitching rail, some 
 distance removed ?mong the azaleas, and came up afoot. 
 The younger man Lad dropped all his dry, official precision, 
 his incisive abruptness, his reticence. Clad in the high, 
 laced cruisers, the khaki and gray flannel, the broad, felt 
 hat and gay neckerchief of what might be called the pro- 
 fessional class of out-of-door man, his face glowing with 
 health and enthusiasm, he seemed a different individual. 
 
 " Hullo! Hullo!" he cried out a joyous greeting as he drew 
 nearer; "I couldn't bring you much company to-day, Amy. 
 But I see you've found some. How are you, Orde? I'm 
 glad to see you." 
 
 He and California John disappeared behind the shed, 
 where the wash basin was; while Amy, with deftness, re- 
 arranged the taWe to accord with the numbers who would 
 sit down to it. 
 
 The meal in the open was most delightful; especially to 
 Bob, after his long course of lumber-camp provender. The 
 deep shadows shifted slowly across the forest floor. Sparkles 
 of sunlight from unexpected quarters touched gently in turn 
 each of the diners, or glittered back from glass or linen. 
 Occasionally a wandering breeze lifted a corner of the table- 
 cloth and let it fall, or scurried erratically across the table 
 itself. Occasionally, too, a pine needle, a twig, a leaf would 
 zigzag down through the air to fall in some one's coffee or 
 glass or plate. Birds flashed across the open vault of thi? 
 
336 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 forest room brilliant birds, like the Louisiana Tanager; 
 sober little birds like the creepers and nuthatches. Circum- 
 spect and reserved whitecrowns and brush tohees scratched 
 and hopped silently over the forest litter. Once a swift fal- 
 con, glancing like a shadowy death, slanted across the upper 
 spaces. The food was excellent, and daintily served. 
 
 "I am proud of my blue and white enamel-ware," Miss 
 Thorne told Bob; "it's so much better than tin or this ugly 
 gray. And that glass pitcher I got with coupons from the 
 coffee packages." 
 
 "You didn't get these with coupons?" said Bob, lifting 
 one of the massive silver forks. 
 
 " No," she admitted. " That is my one foolishness. All the 
 rest does not matter, but I can't get along without my silver." 
 
 "And a great nuisance it is to those who have to move 
 as we move," put in Ashley Thorne. 
 
 The forest officers took up their broken conversation. 
 Bob found himself a silent but willing listener. He heard 
 discussion of policies, business dealings, plans that widened 
 the horizon of what the Forest had meant to him. In these 
 discussions the girl took an active and intelligent part. Her 
 opinion seemed to be accepted seriously by both the men, 
 as one who had knowledge, and indeed, her grasp of details 
 seemed as comprehensive as that of the men themselves. 
 
 Finally Thorne pushed his chair back and began to fill 
 his pipe. 
 
 "Anybody here to-day?" he asked. 
 
 The girl ran over rapidly a half-dozen names, sketching 
 briefly the business they had brought. Then, one after the 
 other, she told the answers she had made to them. This 
 one had been given blanks, forms and instructions. That 
 one had been told clearly that he was in the wrong, and must 
 amend his ways. The other had been advised but tenta- 
 tively, and informed that he must see the Supervisor person- 
 ally. To each of these Thorne responded by a brief nod, 
 puffing, meanwhile, on his pipe. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 337 
 
 "All right?" she asked, when she had finished. 
 
 " All right but one," said he, removing his pipe at last. " I 
 don't think it will be advisable to let Francotti have what 
 he wants." 
 
 "Pull the string, then!" cried the girl gaily. 
 
 Thorne turned to California John in discussion of the 
 Francotti affair. 
 
 "What do you mean by 'pull the string'?" Bob took the 
 occasion to inquire. 
 
 "I settle a lot of these little matters that aren't worth 
 bothering Ashley with," she explained, "but I tie a string to 
 each of my decisions. I always make them 'subject to the 
 Supervisor's approval.' Then if I do wrong, all I have to do 
 is to write the man and tell him the Supervisor does not 
 approve." 
 
 "I shouldn't think you'd like that," said Bob. 
 
 "Like what?" 
 
 "Why, it sort of puts you in a hole, doesn't it? Lays all 
 the blame on you." 
 
 She laughed in frank amusement. 
 
 "What of it?" she challenged. 
 
 1 ' Any letters ? ' ' Thorne asked abruptly. ' ' Morton brought 
 mail this morning, didn't he?" 
 
 "Nothing wildly important except that they're thinking 
 of adopting a ranger uniform." 
 
 "A uniform!" snorted California John, rearing his old 
 head. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I've heard of that," put in Thorne instantly. 
 "It's to be a white pith helmet with a green silk scarf on it; 
 red coat with gold lace, and white, English riding breeches 
 with leather leggins. Don't you think old John would 
 look sweet in that?" he asked Bob. 
 
 But the old man refused to be drawn out. 
 
 "Supervisors same; but with a gold pompon on top the 
 helmet," he observed. "What is the dang thing, anyway, 
 Amy ?" he asked. 
 
338 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Dark green whipcord, green buttons, gray hat, military 
 cut." 
 
 "Not bad," said Thorne. 
 
 "About one fifty-mile ride and one fire would make that 
 outfit look like a bunch of mildewed alfalfa. Blue jeans 
 is about my sort of uniform," observed John. 
 
 "I don't believe we'd be supposed to wear it on range," 
 suggested Thorne. "Only in town and official business." 
 He turned to the girl again: "May have to go over Baldy 
 to-morrow," said he, "so we'll run off those letters." 
 
 She arose and saluted, military fashion. The two dis- 
 appeared in the tiny box-office, whence presently came the 
 sound of Thome's voice in dictation. 
 
 California John knocked the ashes from his pipe. 
 
 " Get your apron on, sonny," said he. 
 
 He tested the water on the stove and slammed out a 
 commodious dish-pan. 
 
 "Glasses first; then silver; and if you break anything, I'll 
 bash in your fool head. There's going to be some style to 
 this dish-washing. I used to slide 'em all in together and let 
 her go. But that ain't the way here. She knc \vs four aces 
 and the jolly joker better than that. Glasses fin.t." 
 
 They washed and wiped the dishes, and laid them carefully 
 away. 
 
 " She's a little wonder," said California John, nodding at 
 the office, "and there ain't none of the boys but helps all 
 they can." 
 
 Thorne called the old man by name, and he disappeared 
 into the office. A moment later the girl emerged, smoothing 
 back her hair with both hands. She stepped immediately 
 to the little kitchen. 
 
 " Thank you," said she. " That helps." 
 
 "It was old John," disclaimed Bob. "I'm ashamed to 
 say I should never have thought of it." 
 
 The girl nodded carelessly. 
 
 "Where did you learn stenography?" asked Bob. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 339 
 
 "Oh, I got that out of a ten-cent magazine too." She 
 sat on a bench, looked up at the sky through the trees, and 
 drew a deep breath. 
 
 "You're tired," said Bob. 
 
 " Not a bit," she denied. " But I don't often get a chance 
 to just look up." 
 
 "You seem to do the gardening, the cooking, tht house- 
 work, the clerical work you don't do the laundry, too, 
 do you?" demanded Bob ironically. 
 
 "You noticed those miserable khakis!" cried Amy with 
 a gesture of dismay. "Ashley," she called, "change those 
 khakis before you go out." 
 
 "Yes, mama," came back a mock childish voice. 
 
 "What's your salary?" demanded Bob bluntly, nodding 
 toward the office. 
 
 "What?" she asked, as tho:igh puzzled. 
 
 " Didn't you say you were the clerk ?" 
 
 "Oh, I see. I just help Ashley out. He could never 
 get through the field work and the office work both." 
 
 "Doesn't the Service allow him a clerk?" 
 
 " Not yet; but it will in time." 
 
 "What is Mr. Thome's salary?" 
 
 "Well, really " 
 
 "Oh, I beg pardon," cried Bob flushing; "I just meant 
 supervisors' salaries, of course. I wasn't prying, really. 
 It's all a matter of public record, isn't it?" 
 
 "Of course." The girl checked herself. "Well, it's 
 eighteen hundred and something for expenses." 
 
 "Eighteen hundred!" cried Bob. "Do you mean to say 
 that the two of you give all your time for that} Why, we pay 
 a good woods foreman pretty near that!" 
 
 "And that's all you do pay him," said the girl quietly. 
 "Money wage isn't the whole pay for any job that is worth 
 doing." 
 
 " Don't understand," said Bob briefly. 
 
 "We belong to the Service," she stated with a little move- 
 
340 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 ment of pride. "Those tasks in life which give a high 
 moneyed wage, generally give only that. Part of our com- 
 pensation is that we belong to the Service; we are doing 
 something for the whole people, not just for ourselves." She 
 caught Bob's half -smile, more at her earnestness than at her 
 sentiment, and took fire. "You needn't laugh 1" she cried. 
 ' It's small now, but that's because it's the beginning, because 
 we have the privilege of being the forerunners, the pioneers! 
 The time will come when in this country there will be three 
 great Services the Army, the Navy, the Forest; and an 
 officer in the one will be as much respected and looked up to 
 as the others! Perhaps more! In the long times of peace, 
 while they are occupied with their eternal Preparation, we 
 shall be labouring at Accomplishment." 
 
 She broke off abruptly. 
 
 "If you don't want to get me started, don't be superior," 
 she ended, half apologetic, half resentful. 
 
 " But I do want to get you started," said Bob. 
 
 " It's amusing, I don't doubt." 
 
 "Not quite that: it's interesting, and I am no longer bewil- 
 dered at the eighteen hundred a year that is," he quoted 
 a popular song, "'if there are any more at home like you.'" 
 
 She looked at him humorously despairing. 
 
 "That's just like an outsider. There are plenty who 
 feel as I do, but they don't say so. Look at old California 
 John, at Ross Fletcher, at a half-dozen others under your 
 very nose. Have you ever stopped to think why they have 
 so long been loyal? I don't suppose you have, for I doubt 
 if they have. But you mark my words!" 
 
 "All right, Field Marshal or is it 'General'?" said 
 Bob. 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " Just camp cook," she replied good-humouredly. 
 
 The sun was slanting low through the tall, straight trunks 
 of the trees. Amy Thorne arose, gathered a handful of kind- 
 ling, and began to rattle the stove. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 341 
 
 "I am contemplating a real pudding," she said over her 
 shoulder. 
 
 Bob arose reluctantly. 
 
 "I must be getting on," said he. 
 
 They said farewell. At the hitching rail Thome joined him. 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm not very hospitable," said the Supervisor, 
 "but that mustn't discourage you from coming often. We'll 
 be better organized in time." 
 
 "It's mighty pleasant over here; I've enjoyed myself," 
 said Bob, mounting. 
 
 Thorne laid his hand on the young man's knee. 
 
 "I wish we could induce you old-timers to come to our 
 way of thinking," said he pleasantly. 
 
 "How's that?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Your slash is in horrible shape." 
 
 " Our slash ! " repeated Bob in a surprised tone. " How ? " 
 
 "It's a regular fire-trap, the way you leave it tangled up. 
 It wouldn't cost you much to pile the tops and leave the 
 ground in good shape." 
 
 "Why, it's just like any other slash!" protested Bob. 
 "We're logging just as everybody always logs!" 
 
 "That's just what I object to. And when you fall a tree 
 or pull a log to the skids, I do wish we could induce you to 
 pay a little attention to the young growth. It's a little more 
 trouble, sometimes, to go around instead of through, but 
 it's worth it to the forest." 
 
 Bob's brows were bent on the Supervisor in puzzled sur- 
 prise. Thorne laughed, and slapped the young man's horse 
 on the flanks to start him. 
 
 "You think it over!" he called. 
 
 A half-hour's ride took Bob to the clearing where the log- 
 ging crews had worked the year before. Here, although the 
 hour was now late, he reined in his horse and looked. It 
 was the first time he had ever really done so. Heretofore 
 a slashing had been as much a part of the ordinary woodland 
 landscape as the forest itself. 
 
342 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 He saw then the abattis of splintered old trunks, of lopped 
 limbs, and entangled branches, piled up like jackstraws to the 
 height of even six or eight feet from the ground; the unsightly 
 mat of sodden old masses of pine needles and cedar fans; the 
 hundreds of young saplings bent double by the weight of de- 
 bris, broken square off, or twisted out of all chance of becoming 
 straight trees in their age; the long, deep, ruthless furrows 
 where the logs had been dragged through everything that 
 could stand in their way; the few trees left standing, weak 
 specimens, undesirable species, the culls of the forest, further 
 scarred where the cruel steel cables had rasped or bitten them. 
 He knew by experience the difficulty of making a way, even 
 afoot, through this tangle. Now, under the influence of 
 Thome's suggestion, he saw them as great piles of so much 
 fuel, laid as though by purpose for the time when the evil 
 genius of the forest should desire to warm himself. 
 
II 
 
 BOB was finally late for supper, which he ate hastily and 
 without much appetite. After finishing the meal, 
 he hunted up Welton. He found the lumberman 
 tilted back in a wooden armchair, his feet comfortably eleva- 
 ted to the low rail about the stove, his pipe in mouth, his coat 
 off, and his waistcoat unbuttoned. At the sight of his homely, 
 jolly countenance, Bob experienced a pleasant sensation of 
 slipping back from an environment slightly off-focus to the nor- 
 mal, accustomed and real. Nevertheless, at the first opportu- 
 nity, he tested his new doubts by Welton's common sense. 
 
 "I rode through our slash on 18," he remarked. " That's 
 an awful mess." 
 
 " Slashes are," replied Welton succinctly. 
 
 " If the thing gets afire it will make a hot blaze." 
 
 "Sure thing," agreed Welton. "But we've never had 
 one go yet at least, while we were working. There's men 
 enough to corral anything like that." 
 
 "But we've always worked in a wet country," Bob pointed 
 out. "Here it's dry from April till October." 
 
 "Have to take chances, then; and jump on a f:vr ~-""ck if it 
 starts," said Welton philosophically. 
 
 "These forest men advise certain methods of obviating the 
 danger," Bob suggested. 
 
 "Pure theory," returned Welton. "The theory's a good 
 one, too," he added. "That's where these college men are 
 strong only it isn't practical. They mean well enough, 
 but they haven't the knowledge. When you look at anything 
 broad enough, it looks easy. That's what busts so many 
 people in the lumber business." He rolled out one of his 
 
 343 
 
344 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 jolly chuckles. " Lumber barons!" he chortled. "Oh, it's 
 easy enough! Any mossback can make money lumbering! 
 Here's your stumpage at a dollar a thousand, and there's 
 your lumber at twenty! Simplest thing in the world. Just 
 the same there are more failures in the lumber business than 
 in any other I know anything about. Why is it ?" 
 
 " Economic waste," put in Merker, who was leaning across 
 the counter. 
 
 "Lack of experience," said Bob. 
 
 " A little of both," admitted Welton; "but it's more because 
 die business is made up of ten thousand little businesses. 
 You have to conduct a cruising business, and a full-fledged 
 real estate and mortgage business; you have to build houses 
 and factories, make roads, build railroads; you have to do 
 a livery trade, and be on the market for a thousand little 
 things. Between the one dollar you pay for stumpage and 
 the twenty dollars you get for lumber lies all these things. 
 Along comes your hardware man and says, Here, why don't 
 you put in my new kind of spark arrester; think how little 
 it costs; what's fifty dollars to a half-million-dollar business? 
 The spark arrester's a good thing all right, so you put it in. 
 And then there's maybe a chance to use a little paint and 
 make the shanties look like something besides shanties; that 
 don't cost much, either, to a half-million-dollar business. 
 And so on through a thousand things. And by and by it's 
 costing *~- ->nty dollars and one cent to get your lumber to 
 market; and it's B-U-S-T, bust!" 
 
 "That's economic waste," put in Merker. 
 
 "Or lack of experience," added Bob. 
 
 " No," said Welton, emphasizing his point with his pipe; "it's 
 not sticking to business! It's not stripping her down to the 
 bare necessities ! It's going in for frills ! When you get to be 
 as old as I am, you learn not to monkey with the band wagon." 
 
 His round, red face relaxed into one of his good-humoured 
 grins, and he relit his pipe. 
 
 " That's the trouble with this forestry monkey business. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 345 
 
 It's all right to fool with, if you want fooling. So's fancy 
 farming. But it don't pay. If you are playing, why, it's 
 all right to experiment. If you ain't, why, it's a good plan 
 to stick to the methods of lumbering. The present system 
 of doing things has been worked out pretty thorough by a lot 
 of pretty shrewd business men. And it works!" 
 
 Bob laughed. 
 
 "Didn't know you could orate to that extent," he gibed. 
 " Sic 'em!" 
 
 Welton grinned a trifle abashed. 
 
 "You don't want to get me started, then," said he. 
 
 " Oh, but I do !" Bob objected, for the second time that day. 
 
 "Now this slashing business," went on the old lumber- 
 man in a more moderate tone. "When the millennium 
 comes, it would be a fine thing to clear up the old slashings." 
 He turned suddenly to Bob. "How long do you think it 
 would take you with a crew of a dozen men to cut and pile 
 the waste stuff in 18?" he inquired. 
 
 Bob cast back the eye of his recollection to the hopeless 
 tangle that cumbered the ground. 
 
 "Oh, Lord!" he ejaculated; "don't ask me!" 
 
 " If you were running a business would you feel like stop- 
 ping work and sending your men whom you are feeding 
 and paying back there to pile up that old truck?" 
 
 Bob's mind, trained to the eager hurry of the logging season, 
 recoiled from this idea in dismay. 
 
 "I should say not!" he cried. Then as a second thought 
 he added: " But what they want is to pile the tops while the 
 work is going on." 
 
 "It takes just so much time to do so much work," stated 
 Welton succinctly, "and it don't matter whether you do it 
 all at once, or try to fool yourself by spraddling it out." 
 
 He pulled strongly at his pipe. 
 
 "Forest Reserves are all right enough," he acknowledged, 
 "and maybe some day their theories will work out. But 
 not now; not while taxes go on!" 
 
Ill 
 
 ONE day, not over a week later, Bob working in the 
 woods, noticed California John picking his way 
 through the new slashing. This was a difficult mat- 
 ter, for the fresh-peeled logs and the debris of the tops afforded 
 few openings for the passage of a horse. The old man made 
 it, however, and finally emerged on solid ground, much in 
 the fashion of one climbing a bank after an uncertain ford. 
 He caught sight of Bob. 
 
 " You fellows can change the face of the country beyant all 
 belief," announced the old man, pushing back his hat. 
 " You're worse than snow that way. I ought to know this 
 country pretty well, but when I get down into one of your 
 pesky slashings, I'm lost for a way out! " 
 
 Bob laughed, and exchanged a few commonplace remarks. 
 
 "If you can get off, you better come over our way," said 
 California John, as he gathered up his reins. " We're holding 
 ranger examinations something new. You got to tell what 
 you know these days before you can work for Uncle Sam." 
 
 "What do you have to know?" asked Bob. 
 
 " Come ever and find out." 
 
 Bob reflected. 
 
 "I believe I will," he decided. "There's nothing to keep 
 me here." 
 
 Accordingly, early next morning he rode over to the Upper 
 Camp. Outside, near the creek, he came upon the deserted 
 evidences of a gathering of men. Bed rolls lay scattered 
 under the trees, saddles had been thrown over fallen trunks, 
 bags of provisions hung from saplings, cooking utensils 
 flanked the smouldering remains of a fire which was, how- 
 
 346 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 347 
 
 ever, surrounded by a scraped circle of earth after the careful 
 fashion of the mountains. Bob's eye, by now practised in 
 the refinements of such matters, ran over the various accoutre- 
 ments thus spread abroad. He estimated the number of 
 their owners at about a score. The bedroll of the cowman, 
 the "turkey" of the lumber jack, the quilts of the mountaineer, 
 were all in evidence; as well as bedding plainly makeshift in 
 character, belonging to those who must have come from a 
 distance. A half-dozen horses dozed in an improvised fence- 
 corner corral. As many more were tied to trees. Saddles, 
 buckboards, two-wheeled carts, and even one top buggy 
 represented the means of transportation. 
 
 Bob rode on through the gate to headquarters.. This he 
 found deserted, except for Amy Thorne. She was engaged in 
 wiping the breakfast dishes, and she excitedly waved a towel 
 at the young man as he rode up. 
 
 "A godsend!" she cried. "I'm just dancing with impa- 
 tience! They've been gone five minutes! Come help me 
 finish!" 
 
 Bob fastened his horse, rolled back his sleeves, and took 
 hold with a will. 
 
 "Where's your examining board, and your candidates?" 
 he inquired. " I thought I was going to see an examination." 
 
 "Up the Meadow Trail," panted the girl. "Don't stop 
 to talk. Hurry!" 
 
 They hurried, to such good purpose, that shortly they 
 were clambering, rather breathless, up the steeps of the 
 Meadow Trail. This led to a flat, upper shelf or bench in 
 which, as the name implied, was situated a small meadow. 
 At the upper end were grouped twenty-five men, closely 
 gathered about some object. 
 
 Amy and Bob plunged into the dew-heavy grasses. The 
 men proved to be watching Thorne, who was engaged in 
 tacking a small target on the stub of a dead sugar pine. 
 This accomplished, he led the way back some seventy-five 
 or eighty paces. 
 
348 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Three shots each," said he, consulting his note-book 
 "Off-hand. Hicks!" 
 
 The man so named stepped forward to the designated 
 mark, sighted his piece carefully, and fired. 
 
 "Do I get each shot called?" he inquired; but Thorne 
 shook his head. 
 
 "You ought to know where your guns shoot," said he. 
 
 After the third shot, the whole group went forward to 
 examine the target. Thorne marked the results in his note- 
 book, and called upon the next contestant. 
 
 While the shooting went on, Bob had leisure to examine 
 the men. They numbered, as he had guessed, about twenty. 
 Three were plainly from the towns, for they wore thin shoes, 
 white shirts, and clothes of a sort ill adapted to out-of-door 
 work in the mountains. Two others, while more appro- 
 priately dressed in khakis and high boots, were as evidently 
 foreign to the hills. Bob guessed them recent college grad- 
 uates, perhaps even of some one of the forestry schools. In 
 this he was correct. The rest were professional out-of-door 
 men. Bob recognized two of his own woods-crew good 
 men they were, too. He nodded to them. A half-dozen 
 lithe, slender youths, handsome and browned, drew apart 
 by themselves. He remembered having noticed one of them 
 as a particularly daring rider after Pollock's cattle the fall 
 before; and guessed his companions to be of the same breed. 
 Among the remainder, two picturesque, lean, slow and quiz- 
 zical prospectors attracted his particular attention. 
 
 Most of these men were well practised in the use of the 
 rifle, but evidently not to exhibiting their skill in company. 
 What seemed to Bob a rather exaggerated earnestness 
 oppressed them. The shooting, with two exceptions, was not 
 good. Several, whom Bob strongly suspected had many 
 a time brought down their deer on the run, even missed the 
 target entirely ! It was to be remarked that each contestant, 
 though he might turn red beneath his tan, took the announce- 
 ment of the result in silence. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 349 
 
 The two notable exceptions referred to were strangely con- 
 trasted. The elder was one of the prospectors. He was 
 armed with an ancient 45-70 Winchester, worn smooth and 
 shiny by long carrying in a saddle holster. This arm was 
 fitted with buckhorn sights of the old mountain type. When 
 it exploded, its black powder blew forth a stunning detona- 
 tion and volume of smoke. Nevertheless, of the three bullets, 
 two were within the tiny black Thorne had seen fit to mark 
 as bullseye, and the other clipped close to its edge. A 
 murmur of admiration went up from the bystanders. Even 
 eliminating the unaccountable nervousness that had thrown 
 so many shots wild, it seemed improbable that any of the other 
 contestants felt themselves qualified to equal this score. 
 
 "Good shooting," whispered Bob to Amy. "I doubt 
 if I could make out that bullseye through sights." 
 
 The other exception, whose turn came somewhat later, was 
 one of the Easterners mentioned as a graduate of the for- 
 estry school. This young man, not over twenty-two years of 
 age, was an attractive youngster, with refined features, and 
 engaging dark-blue eyes. His arm was the then latest model, 
 a 33-calibre high power, fitted with aperture sights. This 
 he manipulated with great care, adjusting it again and again; 
 and fired with such deliberation that some of the spectators 
 moved impatiently. Nevertheless, the target, on examina- 
 tion, showed that he had duplicated the prospector's score. 
 To be sure, the worst shot had not cut quite as close to the 
 bull as had that of the older man, but on the other hand, 
 those in the black were slightly nearer the centre. It was 
 generally adjudged a good tie. 
 
 "Well, youngster!" cried the prospector, heartily, "we're 
 the cocks of the walk! If you can handle the other weep'n 
 as well, I'll give you my hand for a good shot." 
 
 The young man smiled shyly, but said nothing. 
 
 The distance was now shortened to something under 
 twenty paces, and a new target substituted for the old. The 
 black in this was fully six inches in diameter. 
 
350 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Five shots with six-shooter," announced Thorne briefly. 
 
 "A man should hit a dollar twice in five at that distance," 
 muttered the prospector. Thorne caught the remark. 
 
 " You hit that five out of five, and I'll forgive you," said he 
 curtly. "Hicks, you begin." 
 
 The contest went forward with varying success. Not over 
 half of the men were practised with the smaller arm. Some 
 very wild work was done. On the other hand, eight or ten 
 performed very creditably, placing their bullets in or near 
 the black. Indeed, two succeeded in hitting the bullseye 
 four times out of five. Every man took the utmost pains with 
 every shot. 
 
 "Now, Ware," said Thorne, at last, "step up. You've 
 got to make good that five out of five to win." 
 
 The prospector stood forward, at the same time producing 
 from an open holster blackened by time one of the long- 
 barrelled single-action Colt's 45*5, so universally in use on the 
 frontier. He glarvcod carelessly toward the mark, grinned 
 back at the crowd, turned, and instantly began firing. He 
 shot the five shots without appreciable sighting before each, 
 as fast as his thumb could pull back the long-shanked hammer. 
 The muzzle of the weapon rose and fell with a regularity posi- 
 tively mechanical, and the five shots had been delivered 
 in half that number of seconds. 
 
 "There's your five," said he, carelessly dropping his gun 
 back into its holster. 
 
 The five bullets were found to be scattered within the six- 
 inch black. 
 
 The concourse withdrew to give space for the next con- 
 testant. Silence fell as the man was taking his aim. Amy 
 touched Bob's arm. He looked down. Her eyes were shin- 
 ing, and her cheeks red with excitement. 
 
 "Doesn't it remind you of anything?" she whispered 
 eagerly. 
 
 "What?" he asked, not guessing her meaning. 
 
 "This: all of it!" she waved her hand abroad at the fair 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 351 
 
 oval meadow with its fringe of tall trees and the blue sky above 
 it; at the close-gathered knot of spectators, and the single 
 contestant advanced before them. He shook his head. 
 "Wait," she breathed, laying her fingers across her lips. 
 
 The contest wore along until it again came the turn of the 
 younger man. He stepped to the front, unbuckled a covered 
 holster of the sort never carried in the West, and produced 
 one of those beautifully balanced, beautifully finished revol- 
 vers known as the Officer's Model. Taking the firm yet 
 easy position of the practised target shot, he sighted with 
 great deliberation, firing only when he considered his aim 
 assured. Indeed, once he lowered his weapon until a puff 
 of wind had passed. The five shots were found to be not 
 only within the black, but grouped inside a three-inch diam- 
 eter. 
 
 " ' A Hubert! A Hubert! ' " breathed the girl in Bob's ear. 
 "In the clout!" 
 
 "I thought his name was Elliott," said Bob. "Is it 
 Hubert?" 
 
 The girl eyed him reproachfully, but said nothing. 
 
 "You're a good shot, youngster!" cried Ware, in the 
 heartiest congratulation; "but if Mr. Thorne don't mind, 
 I'd like to shoot off this tie. Down in our country we don't 
 shoot quite that way, or at that kind of a mark. Will you 
 take a try my way ? " 
 
 Amy leaned again toward Bob, her face aflame. 
 
 "'And now, 1 " she shot at him, "'/ will crave your Grace's 
 permission to plant such a mark as is used in the north country; 
 
 and welcome every brave yeoman who shall try a shot at it ' 
 
 Don't dare tell me you don't remember!" 
 
 " ' A man can but do his best,' " Bob took up the tale. " Of 
 course, I remember; you're right." 
 
 "All right," Thorne was agreeing, "but make it short. 
 We've got a lot to do." 
 
 Ware selected another target one intended for the six- 
 shooters that had not been used. This he tacked up in 
 
352 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 place of the one already disfigured by many shots. Then 
 he paced off twelve yards. 
 
 "That looks easier than the other," Thorne commented. 
 
 "Mebbe," agreed Ware, non-committally, "but you may 
 change your mind. As for that sort of monkey- work," he 
 indicated the discarded target, "down our way we'd as soon 
 shoot at a barn." 
 
 The girl softly clapped her hands. 
 
 "*For his own part,'" she quoted in a breath, and so 
 rapidly that the words fairly tumbled over one another, "'in 
 the land where he was bred, men would as soon take for their 
 mark King Arthur's round table, which held sixty knights 
 around it. A child of seven might hit yonder target with a 
 headless shaft. ' Oh, this is perfect." 
 
 " Now," said Ware to young Elliott, "if you'll hit that mark 
 in my fashion of shooting, you're all right." 
 
 Bob turned to the girl, his eyes dancing with delight. 
 
 "' he that hits yon mark at I-jorget-how-many yards,'" 
 he declaimed, " '/ will call him an archer fit to bear bow before 
 a king' or something to that effect; I'm afraid I'm not 
 letter perfect." 
 
 He laughed amusedly, and the girl laughed with him. 
 "Just the same, I'm glad you remember," she told him. 
 
 Ware had by now taken his place at the new mark he had 
 established. 
 
 "Fifteen shots," he announced. At the word his hand 
 dropped to the butt of his gun, his right shoulder hunched 
 forward, and with one lightning smooth motion the weapon 
 glided from the holster. Hardly had it left the leather when 
 it was exploded. The hammer had been cocked during the 
 upward flip of the muzzle. The first discharge was followed 
 immediately by the five others in a succession so rapid that 
 Bob believed the man had substituted a self-cocking arm 
 until he caught the rapid play of the marksman's thumb. 
 The weapon was at no time raised above the level of the 
 man's waist. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 353 
 
 "Hold on!" commanded Ware, as the bystanders started 
 forward to examine the result of the shots. " Let's finish 
 the string first." 
 
 He had been deliberately pushing out the exploded cart- 
 ridges one by one. Now he as deliberately reloaded. Tak- 
 ing a position somewhat to the left of the target, he folded 
 his arms so that the revolver lay across his breast with its 
 muzzle resting over his left elbow. Then he strode rapidly 
 but evenly across the face of the target, discharging the five 
 bullets as he walked. 
 
 Again he reloaded. This time he stood with the revolver 
 hanging in his right hand gazing intently for some moments 
 at the target, measuring carefully with his eye its direction and 
 height. He turned his back; and, flipping his gun over his 
 left shoulder, fired without looking back. 
 
 "The first ten ought to be in the black," announced Ware, 
 "The last five ought to be somewheres on the paper. A 
 fellow can't expect more than to generally wing a man over 
 his shoulder." 
 
 But on examination the black proved to hold but eight 
 bullet holes. The other seven, however, all showed on the 
 paper. 
 
 "Comes of not wiping out the dirt once in a while when 
 you're shooting black powder," said Ware philosophically. 
 
 The crowd gazed upon him with admiration. 
 
 "That's a remarkable group of shots to be literally thrown 
 out at that speed," muttered Thorne to Bob. "Why, you 
 could cover them with your hat! Well, young man," he 
 addressed Elliott, "step up!" 
 
 But Elliott shook his head. 
 
 "Couldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole," said he pleas- 
 antly. "Mr. Ware has given me a new idea of what can be 
 done with a revolver. His work is especially good with 
 that heavily charged arm. I wish he would give us a little 
 exhibition of how close he can shoot with my gun, It's sup- 
 posed to be a more accurate weapon." 
 
354 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "No, thank you," spoke up Ware. "I couldn't hit a 
 flock of feather pillers with your gun. You see, I shoot by 
 throw, and I'm used to the balance of my gun." 
 
 Thorne finished making some notes. 
 
 " All right, boys," he said, sr cpping shut his book. " We'll 
 go down to headquarters next." 
 
IV 
 
 ON THE way down the narrow trail Bob found himself 
 near the two men from his own camp. He chaffed 
 them good-humouredly over their lack of skill in the 
 contests, to which they replied in the same spirit. 
 
 Arrived at camp, Thorne turned to face his followers, who 
 gathered in a group to listen. 
 
 "Let's have a little riding, boys," said he. "Bring out 
 a horse or two and some saddles. Each man must saddle 
 his horse, circle that tree down the road, return, unsaddle 
 and throw up both hands to show he's done." 
 
 Bob was amused to see how the aspect of the men changed 
 at this announcement. The lithe young fellows, who had 
 been looking pretty sober over the records they had made 
 at shooting, brightened visibly and ran with some eagerness 
 to fetch out their own horses and saddles. Some of the 
 others were not so pleased, notably two of the young fellows 
 from the valley towns. Still others remained stolidly 
 indifferent to a trial in which they could not hope to compete 
 with the professional riders, but in which neither would they 
 fail. 
 
 The results proved the accuracy of this reasoning. A 
 new set of stars rose to the ascendant, while the heroes of the 
 upper meadow dropped into obscurity. Most of the moun- 
 tain men saddled expeditiously but soberly their strong and 
 capable mountain horses, rode the required distance, and 
 unsaddled deftly. It was part of their everyday life to be 
 able to do such things well. The two town boys, and, to 
 Bob's surprise, one of his lumberjacks, furnished the comic 
 relief. They frightened the horses allotted them, to begin 
 
 355 
 
356 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 with; threw the saddles aboard in a mess which it was neces- 
 sary to untangle; finally clambered on awkwardly and rode 
 precariously amid the yells and laughter of the spectators. 
 
 "How you expect to be a ranger, if you can't ride?" 
 shouted some one at the lumberjack. 
 
 1 'If horses don't plumb detest me, I reckon I can learn!" 
 retorted the shanty boy, stoutly. "This ain't my game!" 
 
 But when young Pollock, whom Bob recognized as Jim's 
 oldest, was called out, the situation was altered. He appeared 
 leading a beautiful, half-broken bay, that snorted and 
 planted its feet and danced away from the unaccustomed 
 crowd. Nevertheless the lad, as impassive as an image, 
 held him well in hand, awaiting Thome's signal. 
 
 "Go!" called the Supervisor, his eyes on his watch. 
 
 The boy, still grasping the hackamore in his left hand, 
 with his right threw the saddle blanket over the animal's 
 back. Stooping again, he seized the heavy stock saddle by 
 the horn, flipped it high in the air, and brought it across the 
 horse with so skilful a jerk that not only did the skirts, 
 the heavy stirrup and the horsehair cinch fall properly, but 
 the cinch itself swung so far under the horse's belly that 
 young Pollock was able to catch it deftly before it swung 
 back. To thrust the broad latigo through the rings, jerk 
 it tight, and fasten it securely was the work of an instant. 
 With a yell to his horse the boy sprang into the saddle. The 
 animal bounded forward, snorting and buck-plunging, his 
 eye wild, his nostril wide. Flung with apparent carelessness 
 in the saddle, the rider, his body swaying and bending and 
 giving gracefully to every bound, waved his broad hat, 
 uttering shrill yips of encouragement and admonition to his 
 mount. The horse straightened out and thundered swift 
 as an arrow toward the tree that marked the turning point. 
 'With unslackened gait, with loosened rein, he swept fairly 
 to the tree. It seemed to Bob that surely the lad must over- 
 shoot the mark by many yards. But at the last instant 
 the rider swayed backward and sidewise; the horse set his 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 357 
 
 feet, plunged mightily thrice, threw up a great cloud of dust, 
 and was racing back almost before the spectators could 
 adjust their eyes to the change of movement. Straight to 
 the group horse and rider raced at top speed, until the more 
 inexperienced instinctively ducked aside. But in time the 
 horse sat back, slid and plunged ten feet in a spray of dust 
 and pine needles, to come to a quivering halt. Even before 
 that young Pollock had thrown himself from the saddle. 
 Three jerks ripped that article of furniture from its place to 
 the earth. The boy, with an engaging gleam of teeth, threw 
 up both hands. 
 
 It was flash-riding, of course; but flash-riding at its best. 
 And how the boys enjoyed it! Now the little group of 
 "buckeroos," heretofore rather shyly in the background, 
 shone forth in full glory. 
 
 " Now let's see how good you are at packing," said Thome, 
 when the last man had done his best or worst. " Jack," he 
 told young Pollock, "you go up in the pasture and catch me 
 up that old white pack mare. She's warranted to stand like 
 erock." 
 
 While the boy was gone on this errand, Thorne rummaged 
 the camp. Finally he laid out on the ground about a peck of 
 loose potatoes, miscellaneous provisions, a kettle, frying- 
 pan, coffee-pot, tin plates, cutler} 7 , a single sack of barley, a 
 pick and shovel, and a coil of rope. 
 
 "That looks like a reasonable camp outfit," remarked 
 Thorne. " Just throw one of those pack saddles on her," he 
 told Jack Pollock, who led up the white mare. "Now you 
 boys all retire; you mustn't have a chance to learn from the 
 other fellow. Hicks, you stay. Now pack that stuff on that 
 horse. I'll time you." 
 
 Hicks looked about him. 
 
 "Where's the kyacks?"* he demanded. 
 
 "You don't get any kyacks," stated Thorne crisply. 
 
 "Got to pack all that stuff without 'em?" 
 
 * Kyacks pack sacks slung either side the pack saddle. 
 
358 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 Hicks set methodically to work, gathering up the loose 
 articles, thrusting them into sacks, lashing the sacks on the 
 cross buck saddle. At the end of a half- hour, he stepped back. 
 
 "That might ride for a while," said Thorne. 
 
 "I never pack without kyacks," said Hicks. 
 
 "So I see. Well, sit down and watch the rest of them. 
 Ware!" Thorne shouted. 
 
 The prospector disengaged himself from the sprawling 
 and distant group. 
 
 "Throw those things off, and empty out those bags," 
 ordered Thorne. " Now, there's your camp outfit. Pack it, 
 as fast as you can." 
 
 Ware set to work, also deliberately, it seemed. He threw 
 a sling, packed on his articles, and over it all drew the dia- 
 mond hitch. 
 
 "Reckon that'll travel," he observed, stepping back. 
 
 "Good pack," commended Thorne briefly, as he glanced 
 at his watch. "Eleven minutes." 
 
 "Eleven minutes!" echoed Bob to California John, who 
 sat near, "and the other man took thirty-five! Impossible! 
 Ware didn't hurry any; he moved, if anything, slower than 
 the other man." 
 
 "He didn't make no moves twice," pointed out California 
 John. "He knows how. This no-kyack business is going 
 to puzzle plenty of those boys who can do good, ordinary 
 packing." 
 
 " It's near noon," Thorne was saying; " we haven't time for 
 another of those duffers. I'll just call up your partner, Ware, 
 and we'll knock off for dinner." 
 
 The partner did as well, or even a little better, for the 
 watch credited him with ten and one-half minutes, whereupon 
 he chaffed Ware hugely. Then the pack horse was led to a 
 patiently earned feed, while the little group of rangers, with 
 Thorne, his sister and Bob, moved slowly toward headquar- 
 ters. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 359 
 
 "That's all this morning, boys," he told the waiting 
 group as they passed it. " This afternoon we'll double up a bit. 
 The rest of you can all take a try at the packing, but at the 
 same time we'll see who can cut down a tree quickest and best." 
 
 "Stop and eat lunch with us," Amy was urging Bob. 
 "It's only a cold one not even tea. I didn't want to miss 
 the show. So it's no bother." 
 
 They all turned to and set the table under the open. 
 
 "This is great fun," said Bob gratefully, as they sat down. 
 "Good as a field day. When do you expect to begin your 
 examinations? That's what these fellows are here for, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 He looked up to catch both Thorne and Amy looking on 
 him with a comically hopeless air. 
 
 "You don't mean to say!" cried Bob, a light breaking in 
 on him. " of course! I never thought " 
 
 "What do you suppose we would examine candidates for 
 Forest Ranger in higher mathematics?" demanded Amy. 
 
 "Now that's practical that's got some sense!" cried 
 Bob enthusiastically. 
 
 Thorne, with a whimsical smile, held up his finger for 
 silence. Through the thin screen of azalea bushes that 
 fringed this open-air dining room Bob saw two men approach- 
 ing down the forest. They were evidently unaware of obser- 
 vation. With considerable circumspection they drew near 
 and disappeared within the little tool house. Bob recognized 
 the two lumberjacks from his own camp. 
 
 "What are those fellows after?" he demanded indignantly. 
 
 But Thorne again motioned for caution. 
 
 "I suspect," said Thorne in a low voice. "Go on eating 
 your lunch. We'll see." 
 
 The men were inside the tool house for some time. When 
 they reappeared, each carried an axe. They looked about 
 them cautiously. No one was in sight. Then they thrust 
 the axes underneath a log, and disappeared in the direction 
 of their own camp. 
 
360 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Thorne laughed aloud. 
 
 "The old foxes!" said he. "I'll bet anything you please 
 that we'll find the two best-balanced axes the Government 
 owns under that log." 
 
 Such proved to be the case. Furthermore, the implements 
 had been ground to a razor edge. 
 
 "When I mentioned tree cutting, I saw their eyes light up," 
 said Thorne. "It's always interesting in a crowd of can- 
 didates like this to see every man cheer up when his spec- 
 ialty comes along." He chuckled. "Wait till I spring the 
 written examinations on them. Then you'll see them droop." 
 
 " What else is there ? " asked Bob. 
 
 "Well, I'll organize regular survey groups compass- 
 man, axe-man, rod-man, chain-men and let them run 
 lines; and I'll make them estimate timber, and make a sketch 
 map or so. It's all practical. " 
 
 "I should think so!" cried Bob. "I wonder if I could 
 pass it myself." He laughed. " I should hate to tackle tying 
 those things on that horse even after seeing those pros- 
 pectors do it!" 
 
 "Most of them will go a little slow. They're used to 
 kyacks. But you'd have your specialty." 
 
 "What would it be?" asked Amy curiously of Bob. 
 
 The young man shook his head. 
 
 "You haven't got some nice scrappy little job, have you?" 
 he asked, "where I can tell people to hop high? That's 
 about all I'm good for." 
 
 "We might even have that," said Thorne, eyeing the young 
 man's proportions. 
 
V 
 
 BOB saw that afternoon the chopping contest. Thorne 
 assigned to each a tree some eighteen or twenty inches 
 in diameter, selecting those whose loss would aid 
 rather than deplete the timber stand, and also, it must be 
 confessed, those whose close proximity to others might make 
 axe swinging awkward. About twenty feet from the base 
 of each tree he placed upright in the earth a sharpened 
 stake. This, he informed the axe-man, must be driven by the 
 fall of the tree. 
 
 As in the previous contests, three classes of performers 
 quickly manifested themselves the expert, the man of 
 workmanlike skill, and the absolute duffer. The lumber- 
 jacks produced the implements they had that noon so care- 
 fully ground to an edge. It was beautiful to see them at 
 work. To all appearance they struck easily, yet each stroke 
 buried half the blade. The less experienced were inclined 
 to put a great deal of swift power in the back swing, to throw 
 too much strength into the beginning of the down stroke. 
 The lumberjacks drew back quite deliberately, swung for- 
 ward almost lazily. But the power constantly increased, 
 until the axe met the wood in a mighty swish and whack. 
 And each stroke fell in the gash of the one previous. Meth- 
 odically they opened the "kerf," each face almost as smooth 
 as though it had been sawn. At the finish they left the last 
 fibres on one side or another, according as they wanted to 
 twist the direction of the tree's fall. Then the trunk crashed 
 down across the stake driven in the ground. 
 
 The mountaineers, accustomed to the use of the axe in their 
 backwoods work, did a workmanlike but not expert job on 
 
362 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 their respective trees. They felled their trees accurately 
 over the mark, and their axe work was fairly clean, but it 
 took them some time to finish the job. 
 
 But some of the others made heavy weather. Young 
 Elliott was the worst. It was soon evident that he had prob- 
 ably never had any but a possible and casual wood-pile axe 
 in his hand before. The axe rarely hit twice in the same 
 place; its edge had apparently no cutting power; the handle 
 seemed to be animated with a most diabolical tendency to 
 twist in mid- air. Bob, with the wisdom of the woods, with- 
 drew to a safe distance. The others followed. 
 
 Long after the others had finished, poor Elliott hacked 
 away. He seemed to have no definite idea of possible system. 
 All he seemed to be trying to do was to accomplish some kind 
 of a hole in that tree. The chips he cut away were small and 
 ragged; the gash in the side. of the tree was long and irregular. 
 
 " Looks like some thin' had set out to chaw that tree down!" 
 drawled a mountain man to his neighbour. 
 
 But when the tree finally tottered and crashed to the ground 
 it fairly centred the direction stake ! 
 
 The bystanders stared; then catching the expression of 
 ludicrous astonishment on Elliott's face, broke into appre- 
 ciative laughter. 
 
 "I'm as much surprised as you are, boys," said Elliott, 
 showing the palms of his hands, on which were two blisters. 
 
 "The little cuss is game, anyhow," muttered California 
 John to Thorne. 
 
 "It was an awful job," confided the other; "but I marked 
 him something on it because he stayed with it so well." 
 
 Toward sunset Bob said farewell, expressing many regrets 
 that he could not return on the morrow to see the rest of the 
 examinations. He rode back through the forest, thoughtfully 
 inclined. The first taste of the Western joy of mere existence 
 was passing with him. He was beginning to look upon his 
 life, and ask of it the why. To be sure, he could tell him- 
 self that his day's work was well done, and that this should 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 363 
 
 suffice any man; that he was an integral part of the economic 
 machine; that in comparison with the average young man 
 of his age he had made his way with extraordinary success; 
 that his responsibilities were sufficient to keep him busy 
 and happy; that men depended on him all the reasons 
 that philosophy or acquiescence in the plan of ! ; .fe ultimately 
 bring to a man. But these did not satisfy the uneasiness of 
 his spirit. He was too young to settle down to a routine; he 
 was too intellectually restless to be contented with reiterations, 
 however varied, of that which he had seen through and 
 around. It was the old defect or glory of his char- 
 acter; the quality that had caused him more anxiety, more 
 self-reproach, more bitterness of soul than any other, the 
 Rolling Stone spirit that though now he could not see it 
 even if it gathered no moss of respectable achievement, might 
 carry him far. 
 
 So as he rode he peered into the scheme of things for the 
 final satisfaction. In what did it lie ? Not for him in mere 
 activity, nor in the accomplishment of the world's work, no 
 matter how variedly picturesque his particular share of it 
 might be. He felt his interest ebbing, his spirit restless at its 
 moorings. The days passed. He arose in the morning: 
 and it was night! Four years ago he had come to California. 
 It seemed but yesterday. The days were past, gone, used. 
 Of it all what had he retained ? The years had run like sea 
 sands between his fingers, and not a grain of them remained 
 in his grasp. A little money was there, a little knowledge, 
 a little experience but what toward the final satisfaction, 
 the justification of a man's life? Bob was still too young, 
 too individualistic to consider the doctrine of the day's work 
 well done as the explanation and justification of all. The 
 coming years would pass as quickly, leaving as little behind. 
 Never so poignantly had he felt the insistence of the carpe 
 diem. It was necessary that he find a reality, something he 
 could winnow from the years as fine gold from sand, so that 
 he could lay his hand on the treasure and say to his soul: 
 
364 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "This much have I accomplished." Bob had learned well 
 the American lesson: that the idler is to be scorned; that a 
 true man must use his powers, must work; that he must suc- 
 ceed. Now he was taking the next step spiritually. How 
 does a man really use his powers? What is success? 
 
 Troubled by this spiritual unrest, the analysis of which, 
 even the nature of which was still beyond him, he arrived 
 at camp. The familiar objects fretted on his mood. For 
 the moment all the grateful feeling of power over under- 
 standing and manipulating this complicated machinery of 
 industry had left him. He saw only the wheel in which these 
 activities turned, and himself bound to it. In this truly 
 Buddhistic frame of mind he returned to his quarters. 
 
 There, to his vague annoyance, he found Baker. Usually 
 the liveliness of that able young citizen was welcome, but 
 to-night it grated. 
 
 "Well, Gentle Stranger," sang out the power man, "what 
 jungle have you been lurking in ? I laboured in about three 
 and went all over the works looking for you." 
 
 " I've been over watching the ranger examinations at their 
 headquarters," said Bob. "It's pretty good fun." 
 
 Baker leaned forward. 
 
 "Have you heard the latest dope?" he demanded. 
 
 "What sort?" 
 
 "They're trying to soak us, now. Want to charge us so 
 much per horse power! Now what do you think of that!" 
 
 " Can't you pay it?" asked Bob. 
 
 " Great guns! Why should we pay it?" demanded Baker. 
 "It's the public domain, isn't it? First they take away the 
 settler's right to take up public land in his own state, and 
 now they want to charge, actually charge the public for what's 
 its own." 
 
 But Bob, a new light shining in his eyes, refused to become 
 heated. 
 
 "Well," he asked deliberately, "who is the public, 
 anyhow?" 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 365 
 
 Baker stared at him, one chubby hand on each fat knee. 
 
 "Why, everybody," said he; "the people who can make 
 use of it. You and I and the other fellow." 
 
 " Especially the other fellow," put in Bob drily. 
 
 Baker chuckled. 
 
 "It's like any business," said he. "First-come collect 
 at the ticket office for his business foresight. But we'll try 
 out this hold-up before we lie down and roll over." 
 
 "Why shouldn't you pay?" demanded Bob again. "You 
 get your value, don't you ? The Forest Service protects your 
 watershed, and that's where you get your water. Why 
 shouldn't you pay for that service, just the same as you pay 
 for a night watchman at your works?" 
 
 "Watershed!" snorted Baker. "Rot! If every stick 
 of timber was cleaned off these mountains, I'd get the water 
 just the same."* 
 
 "Baker," said Bob to this. "You go and take a long, 
 long look at your bathroom sponge in action, and then come 
 back and I'll talk to you." 
 
 Baker contemplated his friend for a full ten seconds. 
 Then his fat, pugnacious face wrinkled into a grin. 
 
 " Stung on the ear by a wasp!" he cried, with a great shout 
 of appreciation. "You merry, merry little josher! You 
 had me going for about five minutes." 
 
 Bob let it go at that. 
 
 " I suppose you won't be able to pay over twenty per cent, 
 this next year, then?" he inquired, with an amused 
 expression. 
 
 "Twenty per cent.!" cried Baker rolling his eyes up. 
 "It's as much as I can do to dig up for improvements and 
 bond interest and the preferred." 
 
 "Not to mention the president's salary," amended Bob. 
 
 "But I've got 'em where they live," went on Baker, com- 
 placently, without attention to this. "You don't catch 
 
 * Extraordinary as it may seem to the modern reader, this sentiment or this ignorance 
 was at that time sincerely entertained by men as influential, as powerful, and as closely 
 interested in water power as Baker is here depicted. 
 
366 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Little Willie scattering shekels when he can just as well keep 
 kopecks. They've left a little joker in the pack." He 
 produced a paper-covered copy of the new regulations, later 
 called the Use Book. "They've swiped about everything 
 in sight for these pestiferous reserves, but they encourage the 
 honest prospector. 'Let us develop the mineral wealth/ 
 says they. So these forests are still open for taking up under 
 the mineral act. All you have to do is to make a ' discovery/ 
 and stake out your claim; and there you are!" 
 
 "All the mineral's been taken up long ago," Bob pointed 
 out. 
 
 "All the valuable mineral," corrected Baker. "But it's 
 sufficient, so Erbe tells rne, to discover a ledge. Ledges? 
 Hell! They're easier to find than an old maid at a sewing 
 circle! That's what the country is made of ledges! 
 You can dig one out every ten feet. Well, I've got people 
 out finding ledges, and filing on them." 
 
 "Can you do that?" asked 3ob. 
 
 "I am doing it." 
 
 "I mean legally." 
 
 "Oh, this bunch of prospectors files on the claims, and 
 gets them patented. Then it's nobody's business what they 
 do with their own property. So they just sell it to me." 
 
 "That's colonizing," objected Bob. "You'll get nailed." 
 
 "Not on your tintype, it isn't. I don't furnish a cent. 
 They do it all on their own money. Oldham's got the whole 
 matter in hand. When we get the deal through, we'll have 
 about two hundred thousand acres all around the head- 
 waters; and then these blood-sucking, red-tape, autocratic 
 slobs can go to thunder." 
 
 Baker leaned forward impressively. 
 
 "Got to spring it all at once," said he, "otherwise there'll 
 be outsiders in, thinking there's a strike been made also 
 they'll get inquisitive. It's a great chance. And, Orde, 
 my son, there's a few claims up there that will assay about 
 sixty thousand board feet to the acre. What do you think 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 367 
 
 of it for a young and active lumberman ? I'm going to talk 
 it over with Welton. It's a grand little scheme. Wonder 
 how that will hit our old friend, Thome?" 
 
 Bob rose yawning. 
 
 "I'm tired. Going to turn in," said he. "Thome isn't 
 a bad sort." 
 
 "He's one of these damn theorists, that's what he is," said 
 Baker; "and he's got a little authority, and he's doing just 
 as much as he can to unsettle business and hinder the legiti- 
 mate development of the country." He relaxed his earnest- 
 ness with another grin. "Stung again. That's two rises 
 you got out of me," he remarked. "Say, Orde, don't get 
 persuaded to turn ranger. I hear they've boosted their 
 salaries to ninety a month. Must be a temptation I" 
 
VI 
 
 BOB arose rather early the following Sunday, snatched 
 a hasty breakfast and departed. Baker had been 
 in camp three days. All at once Bob had taken the 
 young man in strong distaste. Baker amused him, com- 
 manded his admiration for undoubted executive ability and 
 a force of character so dynamic as to be almost brutal. In a 
 more social environment Bob would still have found him 
 a mighty pleasant fellow, generous, open-hearted, and loyal 
 to his personal friends. But just now his methods chafed 
 on the sensitiveness of Bob's new unrest. Baker was worth 
 probably a couple of million dollars, and controlled ten 
 times that. He had now a fine house in Fremont, where 
 he had chosen to live, a pretty wife, two attractive children 
 and a wide circle of friends. Life was very good to him. 
 
 And yet, in the perversity and the clairvoyance of his 
 mood, Bob thought to see in Baker's life something of that 
 same emptiness of final achievement he faced in his own. 
 This was absurd, but the feeling of it persisted. Thorne, 
 with his miserable eighteen hundred a year, and his glowing 
 enthusiasm and quick interest seemed to him more worth 
 while. Why? It was absurd; but this feeling, too, 
 persisted. 
 
 Bob was a healthy young fellow, a man of action rather 
 than of introspection, but now the hereditary twist of his 
 character drove him to attempt analysis. He arrived at 
 nothing. Both Baker and Thorne seemed to stand on one 
 ground each was satisfied, neither felt that lack of the ful- 
 filling content Bob was so keenly experiencing. But the 
 streak of feminine divination Bob had inherited from his 
 
 368 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 369 
 
 mother made him understand or made him think to 
 understand that Baker's satisfaction was taken because 
 he did not see, while Thome was working with his eyes open 
 and a full sense of values. This vague glimpse Bob gained 
 only partially and at length. It rather opened to him 
 new vistas of spiritual perplexity than offered to him any 
 solution. 
 
 He paced rapidly down the length of the lake whereon 
 Che battered but efficient towing launch lay idle for Sunday 
 to the Lake Meadow. This was, as usual, surrounded 
 by hundreds of campers of all classes. Bob was known to 
 all of them, of course; and he, in turn, had at least such a 
 nodding acquaintance with them that he could recognize 
 any accretions to their members. Near the lower end of 
 the meadow, beneath a group of a dozen noble firs, he caught 
 sight of newcomers, and so strolled down that way to see 
 what they could be like. 
 
 He found pomp and circumstance. An enclosure had 
 been roped off to exclude the stock grazing at large in the 
 meadow. Three tents had been erected. They were 
 made of a very light, shiny, expensive-looking material 
 with fringes along the walls, flies overhead and stretched 
 in front, sod cloths before the entrances. Three gaily 
 painted wooden rocking chairs, an equally gaudy hammock, 
 a table flanked with benches, a big cooking stove in the rear, 
 canvas pockets hung from the trees a dozen and one 
 other conveniences and luxuries bespoke the occupants as 
 well-to-do and determined to be comfortable. Two 
 Japanese servants dressed all in white moved silently and 
 mysteriously in the background, a final touch of incongruity 
 in a rough country. 
 
 Before Bob had moved on, two men stepped into view 
 from the interior of one of the tents. They paced slowly 
 to the gaudy rocking chairs and sat down. In their progress 
 they exhibited that peculiar, careless but conscious delibera- 
 tion of gait affected everywhere by those accustomed to 
 
370 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 appearing in public. In their seating of themselves, their 
 producing of cigars, their puffings thereon, was the same 
 studied ignoring of observation; a manner which, it must 
 be acknowledged, becomes second nature to those forced 
 to its adoption. It was a certain blown impressiveness, a 
 significance in the smallest movements, a self-importance, 
 in short, too large for the affairs of any private citizen. It is 
 to be seen in those who sit in high places, in clergy, actors 
 off the boards, magistrates, and people behind shop windows 
 demonstrating things to street crowds. Bob's first thought 
 was of amusement that this elaborate unconsciousness of 
 his lone presence should be worth while; his second a realiza- 
 tion that his presence or the presence of any one else had 
 nothing to do with it. He wondered, as we all wonder at 
 times, whether these men acted any differently when alone 
 and in utter privacy, whether they brushed their teeth and 
 bathed with all the dignity of the public man. 
 
 The smaller, but evidently more important of these men, 
 wore a complete camping costume. His hat was very wide 
 and stiff of brim and had a woven band of horsehair; his 
 neckerchief was ve*> red and worn bib fashion in the way 
 Bob had come to believe that no one ever wore a neckerchief 
 save in Western plays and the illustrations of Western stories; 
 his shirt was of thick blue flannel, thrown wide open at the 
 throat; his belt was very wide and of carved leather; his 
 breeches were of khaki, but bagged above and fitted close 
 below the knee into the most marvellous laced boots, with 
 leather flaps, belt lacings, and rows of hobnails with which 
 to make tracks. Bob estimated these must weigh at least 
 three pounds apiece. The man wore a little pointed beard 
 and eyeglasses. About him Bob recognized a puzzling 
 familiarity. He could not place it, however, but finally 
 decided he must have carried over a recollection from a 
 tailor's fashion plate of the Correct Thing for Camping. 
 
 The other man was taller, heavier, but not near so impres- 
 sive. His form was awkward, his face homely, his ears 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 371 
 
 stuck out like wings, and his expression was that of the 
 always-appreciated buffoon. 
 
 Bob was about to pass on, when he noticed that he was 
 not the only spectator of all this ease of manner. A dozen 
 of the campers had gathered, and were staring across the 
 ropes with quite frank and unabashed curiosity. More 
 were coming from all directions. In a short time a crowd 
 of several hundred had collected, and stood, evidently in 
 expectation. Then, and only then, did the small man 'with 
 the pointed beard seem to become aware of the presence 
 of any one besides his companion. He leaned across to 
 exchange a few words with the latter, after which he laid 
 aside his hat, arose and advanced to the rope barrier on 
 which he rested the tips of his fingers. 
 
 "My friends," he began in a nasal but penetrating voice, 
 that carried without effort to every hearer. "I am not a 
 regularly ordained minister of the gospel. I find, however, 
 that there is none such among us, so I have gathered you 
 here together this morning to hear a few words appropriate 
 to the day. It has pleased Providence to call me to a public 
 position wherein my person has become well known to you 
 all; but that is an accident of the great profession to which 
 I have been called, and I bow my heart in humility with 
 the least and most lowly. I am going to tell you about myself 
 this morning, not because I consider myself of importance, 
 but because it seems to me from my case a great lesson may 
 be drawn." 
 
 He paused to let his eye run over the concourse. Bob 
 felt the gaze, impersonal, impassive, scrutinizing, cold, rest 
 on him the barest appreciable flicker of a moment, and then 
 pass on. He experienced a faint shock, as though his 
 defences had been tapped against. 
 
 "My father," went on the nasal voice, "came to this 
 country in the 'sixties. It was a new country in the hands 
 of a lazy people. It needed development, so my father was 
 happy felling the trees, damming the streams, building the 
 
372 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 roads, getting possession of the land. That was his job in 
 life, and he did it well, because the country needed it. He 
 didn't bother his head with why he was doing it; he just 
 thought he was making money. As a matter of fact, he 
 didn't make money; he died nearly bankrupt." 
 
 The orator bowed his head for a moment. 
 
 "I might have done the same thing. It's all legitimate 
 business. But I couldn't. The country is being developed 
 by its inhabitants: work of that kind couldn't satisfy me. 
 Why, friends? Because now it would be selfish work. My 
 father didn't know it, but the reason he was happy was 
 because the work he was doing for himself was also work 
 for other people. You can see that. He didn't know it, 
 but he was helping develop the country. But it wouldn't 
 have been quite so with me. The country is developed in 
 that way. If I did that kind of work, I'd be working for 
 myself and nobody else at all. That turns out all right for 
 most people, because they don't see it: they do their duty 
 as citizens and good business men and fathers and husbands, 
 and that ends it. But I saw it. I felt I had to do a work 
 that would support me in the world but it must be a work 
 that helped humanity too. That is why, friends, I am what 
 I am. That a certain prominence is inevitable to my position 
 is incidental rather than gratifying. 
 
 "So, I think, the lesson to be drawn is that each of us 
 should make his life help humanity, should conduct his 
 business in such a way as to help humanity. Then he'll 
 be happy." 
 
 He stood for a moment, then turned away. The tall, 
 ungainly man with the outstanding ears and the buffoon's 
 face stepped forward and whispered eagerly in his ear. He 
 listened gravely, but shook his head. The tall man whisp- 
 ered yet more vehemently, at great length. Finally the 
 orator stepped back to his place. 
 
 " We are here for a complete rest after exhausting labours," 
 he stated. "We have looked forward for months to undis- 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 373 
 
 turbed repose amongst these giant pines. No thought of 
 care was to intrude. But my colleague's great and tender 
 heart has smitten him, and, I am ashamed to say against my 
 first inclination, he urges me to a course which I'd have liked 
 to avoid; but which, when he shows me the way, I realize 
 is the only decent thing. We find ourselves in the midst 
 of a community of some hundreds of people. It may be 
 some of these people are suffering, far from medical or 
 surgical help. If there are any such, and the case is really 
 pressing, you understand, we will be willing, just for common 
 humanity, to do our best to relieve them. And friends, " 
 the speaker stepped forward until his body touched the rope, 
 and he was leaning confidentially forth, "it would be poor 
 humanity that would cause you pain or give you inferior 
 treatments. I am happy to say we came to this great virgin 
 wilderness direct with our baggage from White Oaks where we 
 had been giving a two weeks' course of treatments mainly 
 charitable. We have our instruments and our medicines 
 with us in their packin' cases. If need arises which I 
 trust it will not we will not hesitate to go to any trouble 
 for you. It is against our principles to give anything but 
 our best. You will suffer no pain. But it must be under- 
 stood, " he warned impressively. "This is just for you, our 
 neighbours! We don't want this news spread to the lumber 
 camps and over the countryside. We are here for a rest. 
 But we cannot be true to our high calling and neglect the 
 relieving of pain." 
 
 The man bowed slightly, and rejoined his companion to 
 whom he conversed low-voiced with absolute unconscious- 
 ness of the audience he had just been addressing so intimately. 
 The latter hesitated, then slowly dispersed. Bob stood, his 
 brows knit, trying to recall. There was something haunt- 
 ingly familiar about the whole performance. Especially a 
 strange nasal emphasis on the word "pain" struck sharply 
 a chord in his recollection. He looked up in sudden 
 enlightenment. 
 
374 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Painless Porter!" he cried aloud. 
 
 The man looked up at the mention of his name. 
 
 "That's my name," said he. "What can I do for you?" 
 
 "I just remembered where I'd seen you," explained Bob. 
 
 "I'm fairly well known." 
 
 Bob approached eagerly. The discourse, hollow, insin- 
 cere, half-blasphemous, a buncombe bit of advertising as it 
 was, nevertheless contained the germ of an essential truth 
 for which Bob had been searching. He wanted to know how, 
 through what experience, the man had come to this insight. 
 
 But his attempts at conversation met with a cold reception. 
 Painless Porter was too old a bird ever to lower his guard. 
 He met the youth on the high plane of professionalism, 
 refused to utter other than the platitudinous counters de- 
 manded by the occasion. He held the young man at spear's 
 length, and showed plainly by the oriinous glitter of his 
 eye that he did not intend to be trifled with. 
 
 Then Baker's jolly voice broke in. 
 
 "Well! well! well!" he cried. "If here aren't my old 
 friends, Painless Porter and the Wiz ! Simple life for yours, 
 eh? Back to beans! What's the general outline of this 
 graft?" 
 
 "We have come camping for a complete rest," stated 
 Waller gravely, his comical face cast in lines of reprobation 
 and warning. 
 
 "Whatever it is, you'll get it," jibed Baker. "But I'll bet 
 you a toothpick it isn't a rest. What's exhausted you fellows, 
 anyway? Counting the easy money?" 
 
 "Our professional labours have been very heavy lately," 
 spoke up the painless one. 
 
 "What's biting you fellows?" demanded Baker. 
 "There's nobody here." 
 
 Waller indicated Bob by a barely perceptible jerk of the 
 head. Baker threw back his head and laughed. 
 
 "Thought you knew him," said he. "You were all 
 having such a love feast gab-fest when I blew in. This is 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 375 
 
 Mr. Orde, who bosses this place and most of the country 
 around here. If you want to do good to humanity on this 
 meadow you'd better begin by being good to him. He 
 controls it. He's humanity with a capital H." 
 
 Ten minutes later the four men, cigars alight, a bottle 
 within reach, were sprawling about the interior of one of 
 the larger tents. Bob was enjoying himself hugely. It was 
 the first time he had ever been behind the scenes at this sort 
 of game. 
 
 "But that was a good talk, just the same," he interrupted 
 a cynical bit of bragging. 
 
 " Say, wasn't it ! " cried Porter. " I got that out of a shoutin' 
 evangelist. The minute I heard it I saw where it was hot 
 stuff for my spiel. I'm that way: I got that kind of good 
 eye. I'll be going along the street and some little thing'll 
 happen that won't amount to nothin' at all really. Another 
 man wouldn't think twice about it. But like a flash it 
 comes to me how it would fit in to a spiel. It's like an 
 artist that way finding things to put in a picture. You'd 
 never spot a dago apple peddler as good for nothing but to 
 work a little graft on mebbe; but an artist comes along and 
 slaps him in a picture and he's the fanciest-looking dope in 
 the art collection. That's me. I got some of my best 
 spiels from the funniest places! That one this morning is 
 a wonder, because it don't listen like a spiel. I followed that 
 evangelist yap around for a week getting his dope down fine. 
 You got to get the language just right on these things, or 
 they don't carry over." 
 
 " Which one is it, Painful?" asked Baker. 
 
 "You know; the make-your-work-a-good-to-humanity 
 bluff." 
 
 "And all about papa in the 'sixties?" 
 
 "That's it." 
 
 " 'And just don't you dare tell the neighbours?' " 
 
 "Correct." 
 
 "The whole mountains will know all about it by 
 
376 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 to-morrow," Baker told Bob, "and they'll flock up here in 
 droves. It's easy money." 
 
 "Half these country yaps have bum teeth, anyway," said 
 Porter. 
 
 "And the rest of them think they're sick," stated Wizard 
 Waller. 
 
 "It beats a free show for results and expense," said Pain- 
 less Porter. "All you got to have is the tents and the Japs 
 and the Willie-off-the-yacht togs." He sighed. "There 
 ought to be some advantages," he concluded, "to drag a 
 man so far from the street lights." 
 
 "Then this isn't much of a pleasure trip ?" asked Bob with 
 some amusement. 
 
 "Pleasure, hell!" snorted Painless, helping himself to a 
 drink. "Say, honest, how do you fellows that have business 
 up here stick it out ? It gives me the willies!" 
 
 One of the Japanese peered into the tent and made a sign. 
 
 Painless Porter dropped his voice. 
 
 "A dope already," said he. He put on his air, and went 
 out. As Bob and Baker crossed the enclosed space, they 
 saw him in conversation with a gawky farm lad from the 
 plains. 
 
 "I shore do hate to trouble you, doctor," the boy was 
 saying, "and hit Sunday, too. But I got a tooth back 
 here " 
 
 Painless Porter was listening with an air of the deepest 
 and gravest attention. 
 
VII 
 
 THE charlatan had babbled; but without knowing 
 it he had given Bob what he sought. He saw all 
 the reasons for what had heretofore been obscure. 
 
 Why had he been dissatisfied with business opportuni- 
 ties and successes beyond the hopes of most young men? 
 
 How could he dare criticize the ultimate value of such 
 successes without criticizing the life work of such men as 
 Wei ton, as his own father? 
 
 What right had he to condemn as insufficient nine-tenths 
 of those in the industrial world; and yet what else but con- 
 demnation did his attitude of mind imply? 
 
 All these doubts and questionings were dissipated like 
 fog. Quite simply it all resolved itself. He was dissatis- 
 fied because this was not his work. The other honest and 
 sincere men such as his father and Welton had been 
 satisfied because this was their work. The old generation, 
 the one that was passing, needed just that kind of service 
 but the need too was passing. Bob belonged to the new 
 generation. He saw that new things were to be demanded. 
 The old order was changing. The modern young men of 
 energy and force and strong ability had a different task 
 from that which their fathers had accomplished. The 
 wilderness was subdued; the pioneer work of industry was 
 finished; the hard brute struggle to shape things to effi- 
 ciency was over. It had been necessary to get things done. 
 Now it was becoming necessary to perfect the means and 
 methods of doing. Lumber must still be cut, streams must 
 still be dammed, railroads must still be built; but now 
 (hat the pioneers, the men of fire, had blazed the way others 
 
 377 
 
378 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 could follow. Methods were established. It was all a 
 business, like the selling of groceries. The industrial rank 
 and file could attend to details. The men who thought and 
 struggled and carried the torch they must go beyond 
 what their fathers had accomplished. 
 
 Now Bob understood Amy Thome's pride in the Service. 
 He saw the true basis of his feeling toward the Supervisor as 
 opposed to his feeling toward Baker. Thorne was in the cur- 
 rent. With his pitiful eighteen hundred a year he was never- 
 theless swimming strongly in new waters. His business went 
 that little necessary step beyond. It not only earned him 
 his living in the world, but it helped the race movement of 
 his people. At present the living was small, just as at first 
 the pioneer opening the country had wrested but a scanty 
 livelihood from the stubborn wilderness; nevertheless, he 
 could feel whether he stopped to think it out or not 
 that his efforts had that coordination with the trend of 
 humanity which makes subtly for satisfaction and hap- 
 piness. Bob looked about the mill yard with an under- 
 standing eye. This work was necessary; but it was not 
 his work. 
 
 Something of this he tried to explain to his new friends 
 at headquarters when next he found an opportunity to ride 
 over. His explanations were not very lucid, for Bob was 
 no great hand at analysis. To any other audience they 
 might have been absolutely incoherent. But Thorne had 
 long since reasoned all this out for himself; so he under- 
 stood; while to California John the matter had always 
 been one to take for granted. Bob leaned forward, his 
 earnest, sun-browned young face flushed with the sincerity 
 and the embarrassment of his exposition. Amy nod- 
 ded from time to time, her eyes shining, her glance every 
 few moments seeking in triumph that of her brother. Cali- 
 fornia John smoked. 
 
 Finally Bob put it squarely to Thome. 
 
 "So you'd like to join the Service," said Thorne slowly. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 379 
 
 "I suppose you've thought of the chance you're giving up? 
 Welton will take you into partnership in time, of course." 
 
 "I know. It seems foolish. Can't make it seem any- 
 thing else," Bob admitted. 
 
 "You'd have to take your chances," Thorne persisted. 
 "I couldn't help you. A ranger's salary is ninety a month 
 now, and find yourself and horses. Have you any private 
 means?" 
 
 "Not enough to say so." 
 
 "There's another thing," Thorne went on. "This 
 forestry of our government is destined to be a tremendous 
 affair; but what we need more just now is better logging 
 methods among the private loggers. It would count more 
 than anything else if you'd stay just where you are and give 
 us model operations in your own worL" 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 "Perhaps you don't know men like Mr. Welton as well 
 as I do," said he; "I couldn't change his methods. That's 
 absolutely out oi the question. And," he went on with a 
 sudden flash of loyalty to what the old-timers had meant, 
 "I don't believe I'd want to." 
 
 "Not want to!" cried Amy. 
 
 "No," pursued Bob doggedly, "not unless he could see 
 the point himself and of his own accord. He's done a great 
 work in his time, and he's grown old at it. I wouldn't for 
 anything in the world do anything to shake his faith in what 
 he's done, even if he's doing it wrong now." 
 
 "He and his kind have always slaughtered the forests 
 shamefully 1" broke in Amy with some heat. 
 
 "They opened a new country for a new people," said Bob 
 gently. " Perhaps they did it wastefully; perhaps not. I 
 notice you've got to use lots of lubricating oil on a new 
 machine. But there was nobody else to do it any different." 
 
 "Then you'd let them go on wasting and destroying?" 
 demanded Amy scornfully. 
 
 "I don't know," hesitated Bob; "I haven't thought all 
 
380 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 this out. Perhaps I'm not very much on the think. It 
 seems to me rather this way: We've got to have lumber, 
 haven't we? And somebody has to cut it and supply it. 
 Men like Mr. Welton are doing it, by the methods they've 
 found effective. They are working for the Present; 
 we of the new generation want to work for the Future. 
 It's a fair division. Somebody's got to attend to them 
 both." 
 
 "Well, that's what I say!" cried Amy. "If they wouldn't 
 waste and slash and leave good material in the woods " 
 
 Bob smiled whimsically. 
 
 " A lumberman doesn't like to leave things in the woods," 
 said he. " If somebody will pay for the tops and the needles, 
 he'll sell them; if there's a market for cull lumber, he'll 
 supply it; and if somebody will create a demand for knot- 
 holes, he'll invent some way of getting them out! You see 
 I'm a lumberman myself." 
 
 "Why don't you log with some reference to the future, 
 then?" demanded Amy. 
 
 " Because it doesn't pay," stated Bob deliberately. 
 
 "Pay!" cried Amy. 
 
 "Yes," said Bob mildly. "Why not? The lumberman 
 fulfills a commercial function, like any one else; why shouldn't 
 he be allowed freely a commercial reward? You can't 
 lead a commercial class by ideals that absolutely conflict 
 with commercial motives. If you want to introduce your 
 ideals among lumbermen, you want to educate them; and 
 in order to educate them you must fix it so your ideals don't 
 actually spell loss! Rearrange the scheme of taxation, for 
 one thing. Get your ideas of fire protection and conserva- 
 tion on a practical basis. It's all very well to talk about 
 how nice it would be to chop up all the waste tops and pile 
 them like cordwood, and to scrape together the twigs and 
 needles and burn them. It would certainly be neat and 
 effective. But can't you get some scheme that would be just 
 as effective, but not so neat ? It's the difference between a 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 381 
 
 yacht and a lumber schooner. We can't expect everybody 
 to turn right in and sacrifice themselves to be philanthro- 
 pists because the spirit of the age tells them they ought to 
 be. We've got to make it so easy to do things right that 
 anybody at all decent will be ashamed not to. Then we've 
 got to wait for the spirit of the people to grow to new things. 
 It's coming, but it's not here yet." 
 
 California John, who had listened with the closest atten- 
 tion, slapped his knee. 
 
 "Good sense," said he. 
 
 "But you can educate people, can't you?" asked Amy, 
 a trifle subdued and puzzled by these practical considera- 
 tions. 
 
 " Some people can," agreed Thome, speaking up, "and 
 they're doing it. But Mr. Orde is right; it's only the spirit 
 of the people that can bring about new things. We think 
 we have leaders, but we have only interpreters. When 
 the time is ripe to change things, then the spirit of the people 
 rises to forbid old practices." 
 
 "That's it," said Bob; "I just couldn't get at it. Well, 
 the way I feel about it is that when all these new methods 
 and principles have become well known, then we can call a 
 halt with some authority.- You can't condemn a man for 
 doing his best, can you?" 
 
 The girl, at a loss, flushed, and almost crying, looked at 
 them all helplessly. 
 
 "But- " she cried. 
 
 "I believe it will all come about in time," said Thorne. 
 "There's sure to come a time when it will not be too much 
 off balance to require private firms to do things according 
 to our methods. Then it will pay to log the government 
 forests on an extensive scale; and private forests will have 
 to come to our way of doing things." 
 
 "What's the use of all our fights and strivings?" asked 
 Amy; "what's the use of our preaching decent woods work 
 if it can't be carried out?" 
 
382 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "It's educational," explained Thome. "It starts people 
 thinking, so that when the time comes they'll be ready." 
 
 "Furthermore," put in Bob, "it fixes it so these young 
 fellows who will then be in charge of private operations 
 will have no earthly excuse to look at it wrong, or do it 
 wrong." 
 
 " It will then be the difference between their acting accord- 
 ing to general ideas or against them," agreed Thome. 
 
 "Never lick a pup for chasin' rabbits until yore ready to 
 teach him to chase deer," put in California John. 
 
VIII 
 
 BOB found it much more difficult to approach Welton. 
 When he did, he had to contend with the older 
 man's absolute disbelief in what he was saying. 
 Welton sat down on a stump and considered Bob with a 
 humorous twinkle. 
 
 "Want to quit the lumber business!" he echoed Bob's 
 first statement. " What for ? " 
 
 "I don't think I'm cut out for it." 
 
 "No? Well, then, I never saw anybody that was. You 
 don't happen to need no more money?" 
 
 "Lord, no!" 
 
 "Of course, you know you'll have pretty good prospects, 
 here " stated Welton tentatively. 
 
 "I ^nderstand that; but the work doesn't satisfy me, 
 somehow: I'm through with it." 
 
 " Getting restless," surmised Welton. "What you need 
 is a vacation. I forgot we kept you at it pretty close all 
 last winter. Take a couple weeks off and make a trip 
 in back somewheres." 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 "It isn't that; I'm sorry. I'm just through with this. 
 I couldn't keep on at it and do good work. I know that." 
 
 "It's a vacation you need," insisted Welton chuckling, 
 " or else you're in love. Isn't that, is it ? " 
 
 "No," Bob laughed quite wholeheartedly. "It isn't that." 
 
 "You haven't got a better job, have you?" Welton joked. 
 
 Bob considered. "Yes; I believe I have," he said at 
 last; "at least I'm hoping to get it." 
 
 Welton looked at him closely; saw that he was in earnest. 
 
 383 
 
384 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "What is it?" he asked curtly. 
 
 Bob, suddenly smitten with a sense of the futility of trying 
 to argue out his point of view here in the woods, drew back. 
 
 "Can't tell just yet," said he. 
 
 Welton climbed down from the stump; stood firmly for 
 a moment, his sturdy legs apart; then moved forward down 
 the trail. 
 
 "I'll raise his ante, whatever it is," he said abruptly at 
 length. "I don't believe in it, but I'll do it. I need you." 
 
 "You've always treated me better than I ever deserved," 
 said Bob earnestly, "and I'll stay all summer, or all next 
 winter until you feel that you do not need me longer; but 
 I'm sure that I must go." 
 
 For two days Welton disbelieved the reality of his inten- 
 tion. For two days further he clung to a notion that in 
 some way Bob must be dissatisfied with something tangible 
 in his treatment. Then, convinced at last, he took alarm, 
 and dropped his facetious attitude. 
 
 "Look here, Bob," said he, "this isn't quite fair, is it? 
 This is a big piece of timber. It needs a man with a longer 
 life in front of him than I can hope for. I wanted to be 
 able to think that in a few years, when I get tired I could 
 count on you for the heavy work. It's too big a business 
 for an old man." 
 
 "I'll stay with you until you find that young man," said 
 Bob. "There are a good many, trained to the business, 
 capable of handling this property." 
 
 "But nobody like you, Bobby. I've brought you up 
 to my methods. We've grown up together at this. You're 
 just like a son to me." Welton's round, red face was puck- 
 ered to a wistful and comically pathetic twist, as he looked 
 across at the serious manly young fellow. 
 
 Bob looked away. "That's just what makes it hard," 
 lie managed to say at last; " I'd like to go on with you. We've 
 gotten on famously. But I can't. This isn't my work." 
 
 Welton laboured in vain to induce him to change his 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 385 
 
 mind. Several times he considered telling Bob the truth 
 that all this timber belonged really to Jack Orde, Bob's 
 father, and that his, Welton's interest in it was merely that 
 of the active partner in the industry. But this his friend 
 had expressly forbidden. Welton ended by saying nothing: 
 about it. He resolved first to write Orde. 
 
 "You might tell me what this new job is, though," he 
 said at last, in apparent acquiescence. 
 
 Bob hesitated. "You won't understand; and I won't be 
 able to make you understand," he said. "I'm going to enter 
 the Forest Service!" 
 
 "What I" cried Welton, in blank astonishment. "What's 
 that?" 
 
 "I've about decided to take sendee as a ranger," stated 
 Bob, his face flushing. 
 
 From that moment all Welton's anxiety seemed to van- 
 ish. It became unbearably evident that he looked on all 
 this as the romance of youth. Bob felt himself suddenly 
 reduced, in the lumberman's eyes, to the status of the small 
 boy who wants to be a cowboy, or a sailor, or an Indian 
 fighter. Welton looked on him with an indulgent eye as 
 on one who would soon get enough of it. The glamour 
 whatever it was would soon wear off; and then Bob, 
 his fling over, would return to sober, real business once 
 more. All Welton's joviality returned. From time to 
 time he would throw a facetious remark in Bob's direction, 
 when, in the course of the day's work, he happened to pass. 
 
 "It's sure going to be fine to wear a real tin star and be an. 
 officer!" 
 
 Or: 
 
 "Bob, it sure will seem scrumptious to ride out and boss; 
 the whole country on ninety a month. Guess I'll join 
 you." 
 
 Or: 
 
 "You going to make me sweep up my slashings, or will 
 a rake do, Mr. Ranger?" 
 
386 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 To these feeble jests Bob always replied good-naturedly. 
 He did not attempt to improve Welton's conception of his 
 purposes. That must come with time. To his father, how- 
 ever, he wrote at great length; trying his best to explain 
 the situation. Mr. Orde replied that a government position 
 was always honourable; but confessed himself disappointed 
 that his son had not more steadfastness of purpose. Wei- 
 ton received a reply to his own letter by the same mail. 
 
 "I shouldn't tell him anything," it read. "Let him go be 
 a ranger, or a cowboy, or anything else he wants. He's 
 still young. I didn't get my start until I was thirty; and 
 the business is big enough to wait for him. You keep peg- 
 ging along, and when he gets enough, he'll come back. 
 He's apparently got some notions of serving the public, and 
 doing good in the world, and all that. We all get it at his 
 age. By and by he'll find out that tending to his business 
 honestly is about one man's job." 
 
 So, without active opposition, and with only tacit dis- 
 approval, Bob made his change. Nor was he received 
 at headquarters with any blare of trumpets. 
 
 "I'll put you on as 'temporary' until the fall examina- 
 tions," said Thorne, "and you can try it out. Rangering 
 is hard work all kinds of hard work. It isn't just riding 
 around, you know. You'll have to make good. You can 
 bunk up with Pollock at the upper cabin. Report to-mor- 
 row morning with him." 
 
 Amy smiled at him brightly. 
 
 "Don't let him scare you," said she. "He thinks it looks 
 official to be an awful bear!" 
 
 California John met him as he rode out the gate. He 
 reached out his gnarled old hand. 
 
 " Son, we'll get him to send us sometime to Jack Main's 
 Canon," said he. 
 
 Bob, who had been feeling the least shade depressed, 
 rode on, his head high. Before him lay the great mysterious 
 country where had penetrated only the Pioneers ! Another 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 387 
 
 century would build therein the structures of its institutions. 
 Now, like Jack Main's Canon, the far country of new things 
 was to be the field of his enterprise. In the future, when 
 the new generations had come, these things would all be 
 ordered and secure, would be systematized, their value con- 
 ceded, their acceptance a matter of course. All problems 
 would be regulated; all difficulties smoothed away; all 
 opposition overcome. Then the officers and rangers of 
 that peaceful and organized service, then the public accept- 
 ing such things as they accept all self-evident truths 
 would look back on these beginnings as men look back 
 on romance. They would recall the time when, like knights 
 errant, armed men rode abroad on horses through a wilder- 
 ness, lying down under the stars, living hard, dwelling lowly 
 in poverty, accomplishing with small means, striving might- 
 ily, combating the great elemental nature and the powers 
 of darkness in men, enduring patiently, suffering contempt 
 and misunderstanding and enmity in order that the inheri- 
 tance of the people yet to come might be assured. He was 
 one of them; he had the privilege. Suddenly his svirit 
 felt freed. His old life receded swiftly. A new glory vud 
 uplift of soul swept him from his old moorings. 
 
PART FIVE 
 
NEXT morning Bob was set to work with young Jack 
 Pollock stringing barbed wire fence. He had never 
 done this before. The spools of wire weighed on 
 him heavily. A crowbar thrust through the core made 
 them a sort of axle with which to carry it. Thus they walked 
 forward, revolving the heavy spool with the greatest care 
 while the strand of wire unwound behind them. Every 
 once in a while a coil would kink, or buckle back, or strike 
 as swiftly and as viciously as a snake. The sharp barbs 
 caught at their clothing, and tore Bob's hands. Jack Pol- 
 lock seemed familiar with the idiosyncrasies of the stuff, 
 for he suffered little damage. Indeed, he even found leisure, 
 as Bob soon discovered, to scrutinize his companion with a 
 covert curiosity. In the eyes of the countryside, Bob had 
 been "fired," and had been forced to take a job rangering. 
 When the entangling strand had been laid along the ground 
 by the newly planted cedar posts, it became necessary to 
 stretch and fasten it. Here, too, young Jack proved him- 
 self a competent teacher. He showed Bob how to get a 
 tremendous leverage with the curve on the back of an ordi- 
 nary hammer by means of which the wire was held taut 
 until the staples could be driven home. It was aggravating, 
 nervous, painful work for one not accustomed to it. Bob's 
 hands were soon cut and bleeding, no matter how gingerly 
 he took hold of the treacherous wire. To all his comments, 
 heated and otherwise, Jack Pollock opposed the mountaineer's 
 determined inscrutability. He watched Bob's efforts always 
 in silence until that young man had made all his mistakes. 
 Then he spat carefully, and, with quiet patience, did it right. 
 
 391 
 
392 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Bob's sense of humour was tickled. With all his edu- 
 cation and his subsequent wide experience and training, 
 he stood in the position of a very awkward subordinate to 
 this mountain boy. The joke of it was that the matter was 
 so entirely his own choice. In the normal relations of indus- 
 try Bob would have been the boss of a hundred activities 
 <and twice that number of men; while Jack Pollock, at best, 
 Tvould be water-boy or fuel-purveyor to a donkey engine. 
 Along in the middle of the morning young Elliott passed 
 carrying a crowbar and a spade. 
 
 "How'll you trade jobs?" he called. 
 
 "What's yours?" asked Bob. 
 
 "I'm going to make two cedar posts grow where none 
 grew before," said Elliott. 
 
 At noon they knocked off and went back to the ranger 
 camp where they cooked their own meal. Most of the 
 older rangers were afield. A half-dozen of the newcomers 
 and probationers only were there. Elliott, Jack Pollock, 
 two other young mountaineers, Ware and one of the youths 
 from the valley towns had apparently passed the examin- 
 ations and filled vacancies. All, with the exception of 
 Elliott and this latter youth Curtis by name were old 
 frauds at taking care of themselves in the woods, so mat- 
 ters of their own accord fell into a rough system. Some built 
 the fire, one mixed bread, others busied themselves with 
 the rest of the provisions. Elliott rummaged about, and set 
 the rough table with the battered service. Only Curtis, 
 seated with his back against a tree, appeared too utterly 
 exhausted or ignorant to take hold at anything. Indeed, 
 he hardly spoke to his companions, ate hastily, and disap- 
 peared into his own quarters without offering to help wash 
 the dishes. 
 
 This task accomplished, the little group scattered to its 
 afternoon work. In the necessity of stringing wire without 
 cutting himself to ribbons, Bob forgot everything, even 
 the flight of time. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 393 
 
 "I reckon it's about quittin' time," Jack observed to 
 him at last. 
 
 Bob looked up in surprise. The sun was indeed drop- 
 ping low. 
 
 "We must be about half done," he remarked, measur- 
 ing the extent of the meadow with his eye. 
 
 "Two more wires to string," Pollock reminded him. 
 
 The mountaineer threw the grain sack of staples against 
 the last post, tossed his hammer and the hatchet with them. 
 
 "Hold on," said Bob. "You aren't going to leave them 
 there?" 
 
 "Shore," said Pollock. "We'll have to begin there 
 to-morrow." 
 
 But Bob's long training in handling large bodies of men 
 with tools had developed in him an instinct of tool-order- 
 liness. 
 
 "Won't do," he stated with something of his old-time 
 authority in his tones. "Suppose for some reason we 
 shouldn't get back here to-morrow? That's the way such 
 things get mislaid; and they're valuable." 
 
 He picked up the hatchet and the axe. Grumbling some- 
 thing under his breath, Pollock shouldered the staples and 
 thrust the hammer in his pocket. 
 
 "It isn't as if these things were ours," said Bob, realiz- 
 ing that he had spoken in an unduly minatory tone. 
 
 "That's right," agreed Jack more cheerfully. 
 
 In addition to the new men, they found Ross Fletcher and 
 Charley Morton at the camp. The evening meal was pre- 
 pared cheerfully and roughly, eaten under a rather dim 
 lamp. Pipes were lit, and they all began leisurely to clean 
 up. The smoke hung low in the air. One by one the men 
 dropped back into their rough, homemade chairs, or sprawled 
 out on the floor. Some one lit the fire in the stone chimney, 
 for the mountain air nipped shrewdly after the sun had 
 set. A general relaxing after the day's work, a general 
 cheerfulness, a general dry, chaffing wit took possession of 
 
394 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 them. Two played cribbage under the lamp. One wrote 
 a letter. The rest gossiped of the affairs of the service. 
 Only in the corner by himself young Curtis sat. As at noon, 
 he had had nothing to say to any one, and had not attempted 
 to offer assistance in the communal work. Bob concluded 
 he must be tired from the unaccustomed labour of the day. 
 Bob's own shoulders ached; and he was in pretty good 
 shape, too. 
 
 "What makes me mad," Ross Fletcher's voice suddenly 
 clove the murmur, "is the things we have to do. I was 
 breaking rock on a trail all day to-day. Think of that! 
 Day labourer's workl State prison work!" 
 
 Bob looked up in amazement, as did every one else. 
 
 "When a man hires out to be a ranger," Ross went on, 
 "he don't expect to be a carpenter, or a stone mason; he 
 expects to be a ranger!" 
 
 Immediately Charley Morton chimed in to the same 
 purpose. Bob listened with a rising indignation. This 
 sort of talk was old, but he had not expected to meet it here; 
 it is the talk of incompetence against authority everywhere, 
 of the sea lawyer, -the lumberjack, the soldier, the spoiled 
 subordinate in all walks of life. He had taken for granted 
 a finer sort of loyalty here; especially from such men as 
 Ross and Charley Morton. His face flushed, and he leaned 
 forward to say something. Jack Pollock jogged his elbow 
 fiercely. 
 
 "Hush up!" the young mountaineer whispered; "cain't 
 you see they're tryin' for a rise?" 
 
 Bob laughed softly to himself, and relaxed. He should 
 have been experienced enough, he told himself, to have 
 recognized so obvious and usual a trick of all campers. 
 
 But it was not for Bob, nor his like, that Ross was ang- 
 ling. In fact, he caught his bite almost immediately. For 
 the first time that day Curtis woke up and displayed some 
 interest. 
 
 "That's what I say!" he cried. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 395 
 
 The older man turned to him. 
 
 "What they been making you do to-day, son ? " asked Ross. 
 
 "I've been digging post holes up in those rocks," said 
 Curtis indignantly. 
 
 "You don't mean to tell me they put you at that?" 
 demanded Ross; "why, they're supposed to get Injins, 
 just cheap dollar-a-day Digger Injins, for that job. And 
 they put you at it!" 
 
 "Yes," said Curtis, "they did. I didn't hire out for any 
 such work. My father's county clerk down below." 
 
 "You don't say!" said Ross. 
 
 "Yes, and my hands are all blistered and my back is 
 lame, and - 
 
 But the expectant youngsters could hold in no longer. 
 A roar of laughter cut the speaker short. Curtis stared, 
 bewildered. Ross and Charley Morton were laughing 
 harder than anybody else. He started to his feet. 
 
 "Hold on, son," Ross commanded him, wiping his eyes. 
 "Don't get hostile at a little joke. You'll get used to the 
 work. Of course we all like to ride off in the mountains, 
 and do cattle work, and figure on things, and do adminis- 
 trative work; and we none of us are stuck on construction." 
 He looked around him at his audience, now quiet and atten- 
 tive. " But we've got to have headquarters, and barns, and 
 houses, and corrals and pastures. Once they're built, 
 they're built and that ends it. But they got to be built. 
 We're just in hard luck that we happen to be rangers right 
 now. The Service can't hire carpenters for us very well, 
 way up here; and somebody 1 s got to do it. It ain't as if 
 we had to do it for a living, all the time. There's a variety. 
 We get all kinds. Rangering's no snap, any more than any 
 other job. One thing," he ended with a laugh, "we get a 
 chance to do about everything." 
 
 The valley youth had dropped sullenly back into the 
 shadows, nor did he reply to this. After a little the men 
 scattered to their quarters, for they were tired. 
 
396 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Bob and Jack Pollock occupied together one of the older 
 cabins, a rough little structure, built mainly of shakes. It 
 contained two bunks, a rough table, and two stools con- 
 structed of tobacco boxes to which legs had been nailed. 
 As the young men were preparing for bed, Bob remarked: 
 
 "Fletcher got his rise, all right. Much obliged for your 
 tip. I nearly bit. But he wasted his talk in my notion. 
 That fellow is hopeless. Ross labours in vain if he tries 
 to brace him up." 
 
 "I reckon Ross knows that," replied Jack, "and I reckon 
 too, he has mighty few hopes of bracin' up Curtis. I have 
 a kind of notion Ross was just usin' that Curtis as a 
 mark to talk at. What he was talkin' to was us." 
 
II 
 
 THE week's hard physical toil was unrelieved. After 
 Bob and Jack Pollock had driven the last staple in 
 the last strand of barbed wire, they turned their 
 horses into the new pasture. The animals, overjoyed to 
 get free of the picket ropes that had heretofore confined 
 them, took long, satisfying rolls in the sandy corner, and 
 then went eagerly to cropping at the green feed. Bob, 
 leaning on the gate, with the rope still in his hand, experi- 
 enced a glow of personal achievement greater than any he 
 remembered to have felt since, as a small boy, he had unaided 
 reasoned out the problem of clear impression on his toy print- 
 ing press. He recognized this as illogical, for he had, in 
 all modesty, achieved affairs of some importance. Never- 
 theless, the sight of his own animal enjoying its liberty in 
 an enclosure created by his own two hands pleased him to 
 the core. He grinned in appreciation of Elliott's humor- 
 ous parody on the sentimental slogan of the schools " to 
 make two cedar posts grow where none grew before." There 
 was, after all, a rather especial satisfaction in that principle. 
 It next became necessary, he found, that the roof over the 
 new office at headquarters should receive a stain that would 
 protect it against the weather. He acquired a flat brush, a 
 little seat with spikes in its supports, and a can of stain whose 
 base seemed to be a very evil-smelling fish oil. Here all 
 day long he clung, daubing on the stain. When one shingle 
 was done, another awaited his attention, over and over, in 
 unvarying monotony. It was the sort of job he had always 
 loathed, but he stuck to it cheerfully, driving his brush 
 deep in the cracks in order that no crevice might remain 
 
 397 
 
398 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 for the entrance of the insidious principle of decay. Cast- 
 ing about in his leisure there for the reason of his patience, 
 he discovered it in just that; he was now at no task to be 
 got through with, to be made way with; he was engaged 
 in a job that was to be permanent. Unless he did it right, 
 it would not be permanent. 
 
 Below him the life of headquarters went on. He saw it 
 all, and heard it all, for every scrap of conversation rose to 
 him from within the office. He was amazed at the diver- 
 sity of interests and the complexity of problems that came 
 there for attention. 
 
 "Look here, Mr. Thorne," said one of the rangers, "this 
 Use Book says that a settler has a right to graze ten head 
 of stock actually in use free of grazing charge. Now there's 
 Brown up at the north end. He runs a little dairy business, 
 and has about a hundred head of cattle up. He claims 
 we ought not to charge him for ten head of them because 
 they're all ' actually in use.' How about it?" 
 
 Thorne explained that the exemption did not apply to 
 commercial uses and that Brown must pay for all. He 
 qualified the statement by saying that this was the latest 
 interpretation of which he had heard. 
 
 In like manner the policies in regard to a dozen little 
 industries and interests were being patiently defined and 
 determined dairies, beef cattle, shake makers, bees, box 
 and cleat men, free timber users, mining men, seekers for 
 water concessions, those who desired rights of way, per- 
 mits for posts, pastures, mill sites all these proffered 
 their requests and difficulties to the Supervisor. Sometimes 
 they were answered on the spot. Oftener their remarks 
 were listened to, their propositions taken under advisement. 
 Then one or another of the rangers was summoned, given 
 instructions. He packed his mule, saddled his horse, and 
 rode away to be gone a greater or lesser period of time. 
 Others were sent out to run lines about tracts, to define 
 boundaries. Still others, like Ross Fletcher, pounded drill 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 399 
 
 and rock, and exploded powder on the new trail that was 
 to make more accessible the tremendous canon of the 
 river. The men who came and went rarely represented 
 any but the smallest interests; yet somehow Bob felt their 
 importance, and the importance of the little problems 
 threshed out in the tiny, rough-finished office below him. 
 These but foreshadowed the greater things to come. And 
 these minute decisions shaped the policies and precedents 
 of what would become mighty affairs. Whether Brown 
 should be allowed to save his paltry three dollars and a half 
 or not determined larger things. To Bob's half- mystic 
 mood, up there under the mottled shadows, every tiny move 
 of this game became portentous with fate. A return of 
 the old exultation lifted him. He saw the shadows of these 
 affairs cast dim and gigantic against the mists of the future. 
 These men were big with the responsibility of a new thing. 
 It behooved them all to act with circumspection, with due 
 
 heed, with reverence 
 
 Bob applied his broad brush and the evil-smelling stain 
 methodically and with minute care as to every tiny detail 
 of the simple work. But his eyes were wide and unseeing, 
 and all the inner forces of his soul were moving slowly and 
 mightily. His personality had nothing to do with the mat- 
 ter. He painted; and affairs went on with him. His being 
 held itself passive, in suspension, while the forces and exper- 
 iences and influences of one phase of his life crystallized 
 into their foreordained shapes deep within him. Yester- 
 day he was this; now he was becoming that; and the two 
 were as different beings. New doors of insight were silently 
 swinging open on their hinges, old prejudices were closing, 
 fresh convictions long snugly in the bud were unfolding 
 like flowers. These things were not new. They had begun 
 many years before when as a young boy he had stared wide- 
 eyed, unseeing and uncomprehending, gazing down the 
 sun-streaked, green, lucent depths of an aisle in the forest. 
 Bob painted steadily on, moving his little seat nearer and 
 
400 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 nearer the eaves. When noon and night came, he hung 
 up his utensils very carefully, washed up, and tramped to 
 the rangers' camp, where he took his part in the daily tasks, 
 assumed his share of the conversation, entered into the fun, 
 and contributed his ideas toward the endless discussions. No 
 one noticed that he was in any way different from his ordi- 
 nary self. But it was as though some one outside of himself, 
 in the outer circle of his being, carried on these necessary 
 and customary things. He, drawn apart, watched by the 
 shrine of his soul. He did nothing, either by thought or 
 effort merely watched, patient and rapt, while foreor- 
 dained and mighty changes took place 
 
 He reached the edge of the roof; stood on the ladder to 
 finish the last row of the riven shingles. Slowly his brush 
 moved, finishing the cracks deep down so that the principle 
 of decay might never enter. Inside the office Thorne sat 
 dictating a letter to some applicant for privilege. The prin- 
 ciple was new hi its interpretation, and so Thorne was 
 choosing his words with the greatest care. Swiftly before 
 Bob's inner vision the prospect widened. Thorne became 
 a prophet speaking down the years; the least of these men 
 in a great new Service became the austere champions of 
 something high and beautiful. For one moment Bob 
 dwelt in a wonderful, breathless, vast, unreal country where 
 heroic figures moved in the importance of all the unborn 
 future, dim-seen, half-revealed. He drew his brush across 
 the last shingle of all. Something seemed to click. Swiftly 
 the gates shut, the strange country receded into infinite dis- 
 tance. With a rush like the sucking of water into a vacuum 
 the everyday world drew close. Bob, his faculties once more 
 in their accustomed seat, looked about him as one awakened. 
 His hour was over. The change had taken place. 
 
 Thorne was standing in the doorway with Amy, their 
 dictation finished. 
 
 "All done?" said he. "Well, you did a thorough job. 
 It's the kind that will last." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 401 
 
 "I'm right on deck when it comes to painting things red," 
 retorted Bob. " What next ? " 
 
 "Next," said Thorne, "I want you to help one of the boys 
 split some cedar posts. We've got a corral or so to make." 
 
 Bob descended slowly from the ladder, balancing the 
 remainder of the red stain. Thorne looked at him curi- 
 ously. 
 
 "How do you like it as far as you've gone?" he per- 
 mitted himself to ask. "This isn't quite up to the romantic 
 idea of rangering, is it?" 
 
 "Well," said Bob with conviction, "I suppose it may 
 sound foolish; but I never was surer of anything in my 
 life than that I've struck the right job." 
 
 As he walked home that night, he looked back on the 
 last few days with a curious bewilderment. It had all been 
 so real; now apparently it meant nothing. Thorne was 
 doing good work; these rangers were good men. But 
 where had vanished all Bob's exaltation? where his feeling 
 of the portent and influence and far-reaching significance 
 of what these men were doing? He realized its impor- 
 tance; but the feeling of its fatefulness had utterly gone. 
 Things with him were back on a work-a-day basis. He 
 even laughed a little, good-humouredly, at himself. At 
 the gate to the new pasture he once more stopped and looked 
 at his horse. A deep content came over him. 
 
 "I've sure struck the right job!" he repeated aloud with 
 conviction. 
 
 And this, could he have known it, was the outward and 
 visible and only sign of the things spiritual that had been 
 veiled. 
 
Ill 
 
 WHEN Saturday evening came the men washed and 
 shaved and put on clean garments. Bob, dog 
 tired after a hard day, was more inclined to lie 
 on his back. 
 
 "Ain't you-ali goin' over to-night?" asked Jack Pollock. 
 
 "Over where ?" 
 
 "Why," explained the younger man, "always after sup- 
 per Saturdays all the boys who are in camp go over to spend 
 the evenin' at headquarters." 
 
 Aggressively sleek and scrubbed, the little group marched 
 down through the woods in the twilight. At headquarters 
 Amy Thorne and her brother welcomed them and ushered 
 them into the big room, with the stone fireplace. In this latter 
 a fire of shake-bolts leaped and roared. The men crowded 
 in, a trifle bashfully, found boxes and home-made chairs, 
 and perched about talking occasionally in very low tones 
 to the nearest neighbour. Amy sat in a rocking chair by 
 the table lamp, sewing on something, paying little attention 
 to the rangers, save to throw out an occasional random 
 remark. Thorne had not yet entered. Finally Amy dropped 
 the sewing in her lap. 
 
 "You're all as solemn as a camp-meeting," she told them 
 severely. "How many times must I tell you to smoke up 
 and be agreeable? Here, Mr. Ware, set* them a good 
 example." 
 
 She pushed a cigar box toward the older man. Bob saw 
 it to be half full of the fine-flaked tobacco so much used in 
 the West. Thus encouraged, Ware rolled himself a cigar- 
 ette. Others followed suit. Still others produced and filled 
 
 402 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 403 
 
 black old pipes. A formidable haze eddied through the 
 apartment. Amy, still sewing, said, without looking up: 
 
 "One of you boys go rummage the store room for the 
 corn popper. The corn's in a corn-meal sack on the far 
 shelf." 
 
 Just then Thorne came in, bringing a draft of cold air 
 with him. 
 
 "Well," said he, "this is a pretty full house for this time 
 of year." 
 
 He walked directly to the rough, board shelf and from 
 it took down a book. 
 
 " This man Kipling will do again for to-night," he remarked. 
 "He knows more about our kind of fellow than most. I've 
 sent for one or two other things you ought to know, but 
 just now I want to read you a story that may remind you 
 of something you've run against yourself. We've a few 
 wild, red-headed Irishmen ourselves in these hills." 
 
 He walked briskly to the lamp, opened the volume, and 
 at once began to read. Every once in a while he looked 
 up from the book to explain a phrase in terms the men 
 would understand, or to comment pithily on some similar- 
 ity in their own experience. When he had finished, he 
 looked about at them, challenging. 
 
 "There; what did I tell you? Isn't that just about the 
 way they hand it out to us here ? And this story took place 
 the other side of the world! It's quite wonderful when 
 you stop to think about it, isn't it? Listen to this ' 
 
 He pounced on another story. This led him to a second 
 incursion on the meagre library. Bob did not recognize the 
 practical, rather hard Thorne of everyday official life. The 
 man was carried away by his eagerness to interpret the little 
 East Indian to these comrade spirits of the West. The 
 rangers listened with complete sympathy, every once in a 
 while throwing in a comment or a criticism, never hesitating 
 to interrupt when interruption seemed pertinent. 
 
 Finally Amy, who had all this time been sewing away 
 
404 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 unmoved, a half-tender, half-amused smile curving her 
 lips, laid down her work with an air of decision. 
 
 "I'll call your attention," said she, "to the fact that I'm 
 hungry. Shut up your book; I won't hear another word." 
 She leaned across the table, and, in spite of Thome's half- 
 earnest protests, took possession of the volume. 
 
 "Besides," she remarked, "look at poor Jack Pollock; 
 he's been popping corn like a little machine, and he must 
 be nearly roasted himself." 
 
 Jack turned to her a face very red from the heat of the 
 leaping pine fire. 
 
 "That's right," he grinned, "but I got about a dish- 
 pan done." 
 
 "You'll be in practice to fight fire," some one chaffed him. 
 
 " Oh, he'll fight fire all right, if there's somethin' to eat 
 the other side," drawled Charley Morton. 
 
 "It's plenty," said Amy, referring to the quantity of pop- 
 corn. 
 
 "Why," spoke up California John in an aggrieved and 
 surprised tone, "ain't there nobody going to eat popcorn 
 but me?" 
 
 Amy disappeared only to return bearing a cake frosted 
 with chocolate. The respect with which this was viewed 
 proved that the men appreciated to the full what was repre- 
 sented by chocolate cake in this altitude of tiny stoves and 
 scanty supplies. Again Amy dove into the store room. 
 This time she bore back a huge enamel-ware pitcher which 
 she set in the middle of the round table. 
 
 "There!" she cried, her cheeks red with triumph. 
 
 "What you got, Amy?" asked her brother. 
 
 Ross Fletcher leaned forward to look. 
 
 "Great guns!" he cried. 
 
 The men jostled around, striving for a glimpse, half in 
 joke, half in genuine curiosity. 
 
 "Lemonade!" cried Ware. 
 
 "None of your lime juice either," pronounced California 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 405 
 
 John; "look at the genuine article floatin' around on 
 top." 
 
 They turned to Amy. 
 
 "Where did you get them?" they demanded. 
 
 But she shook her head, smiling, and declined to tell. 
 
 They devoured the popcorn and the chocolate cake to 
 the last crumb, and emptied the pitcher of genuine lemon- 
 ade. Then they went home. It was all simple enough: 
 cheap tobacco; reading aloud; a little rude chaffing; lemon- 
 ade, cake and popcorn! Bob smiled to himself as he thought 
 of the consternation a recital of these ingredients would 
 carry to the sophisticated souls of most of his friends. Yet 
 he had enjoyed the party, enjoyed it deeply and thoroughly, 
 He came away from it glowing with good-fellowship. 
 
IV 
 
 A THESE and similar occupations the latter days of 
 June slipped by. Bob had little leisure, for the 
 Service was undermanned for the work it must do. 
 Curtis sooned resigned, to everybody's joy and relief. 
 On only one occasion did Bob gain a chance to ride over 
 to the scenes of his old activities. This was on a Sunday 
 when, by a miracle, nothing unexpected came up to tie him 
 to his duty. He had rather an unsatisfactory visit with 
 Mr. Welton. It was cordial enough on both sides, for the 
 men w r ere genuinely fond of each other; but they had lost 
 touch of each other's interests. Welton persisted in regard- 
 ing Bob with a covert amusement, as an older man regards 
 a younger who is having his fling, and will later settle down. 
 Bob asked after the work, and was answered. Neither 
 felt any real human interest in the questions nor their replies. 
 A certain constraint held them, to Bob's very genuine regret. 
 He rode back through the westering shadows vaguely uneasy 
 in his mind. 
 
 He and two of the new mountain men had been for two 
 days cutting up some dead and down trees that encumbered 
 the enclosure at headquarters. They cross-cut the trunks 
 into handy lengths; bored holes in them with a two-inch 
 augur; loaded the holes with blasting powder and a fuse, 
 and touched them off. The powder split the logs into rough 
 posts small enough to handle. These fragments they car- 
 ried laboriously to the middle of the meadow, where they 
 stacked them rack-fashion and on end. The idea was to 
 combine business with pleasure by having a grand bonfire 
 the night of the Fourth of July. 
 
 406 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 407 
 
 For this day other preparations were forward. Amy 
 promised a spread for everybody, if she could get a little 
 help at the last moment. As many of the outlying rangers 
 as could manage it would come in for the occasion. A 
 shooting match, roping and chopping contests, and other 
 sports were in contemplation. 
 
 As the time drew near, various mysteries were plainly 
 afoot. Men claimed their turns in riding down the moun- 
 tain for the mail. They took with them pack horses. These 
 they unpacked secretly and apart. Amy gave Bob to under^ 
 stand that this holiday, when the ranks were fullest and 
 conditions ripe, went far as a substitute for Christmas 
 among these men. 
 
 Then at noon of July second Charley Morton dashed 
 down the trail from the Upper Meadow, rode rapidly to 
 Headquarters, flung himself from his horse, and dove into 
 the office. After a moment he reappeared, followed by 
 Thome. 
 
 "Saddle up, boys," said the latter. "Fire over beyond 
 Baldy. Ride and gather in the men who are about here," 
 he told Bob. 
 
 Bob sprang on Charley Morton's horse and rode about 
 instructing the workers to gather. When he returned, 
 Thorne gave his instructions. 
 
 "We're short-handed," he stated, "and it'll be hard to get 
 help just at this time. Charley, you take Ware, Elliott 
 and Carroll and see what it looks like. Start a fire line, 
 and do the best you can. Orde, you and Pollock can get 
 up some pack horses and follow later with grub, blankets, 
 and so forth. I'll ride down the mountain to see what I 
 can do about help. It may be I can catch somebody by 
 phone at the Power House who can let the boys know at 
 the north end. You say it's a big fire?" 
 
 "I see quite a lot of smoke," said Charley. 
 
 "Then the boys over Jackass way and by the Cross- 
 ing ought to see it for themselves." 
 
408 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 The four men designated caught up their horses, saddled 
 them, and mounted. Thorne handed them each a broad 
 hoe, a rake and an axe. They rode off up the trail. Thorne 
 mounted on his own horse. 
 
 "Pack up and follow as fast as you can," he told the two 
 who still remained. 
 
 'What you want we should take?" asked Jack. 
 
 " Amy will tell you. Get started early as you can. You'll 
 have to follow their tracks." 
 
 Amy took direction of them promptly. While they caught 
 and saddled the pack horses, she was busy in the store- 
 room. They found laid out for them a few cooking utensils, 
 a variety of provisions tied up in strong little sacks, several 
 more hoes, axes and rakes, two mattocks, a half-dozen flat 
 files, and as many big zinc canteens. 
 
 "Now hurry!" she commanded them; "pack these, and 
 then get some blankets from your camp, and some hobbles 
 and picket ropes." 
 
 With Bob's rather awkward help everything was made 
 fast. By the time the two had packed the blankets and 
 returned to headquarters on their way to the upper trail, 
 they found Amy had changed her clothes, caught and sad- 
 dled her own horse, tied on well-filled saddle bags, and stood 
 awaiting them. She wore her broad hat looped back by 
 the pine tree badge of the Service, a soft shirtwaist of gray 
 flannel, a short divided skirt of khaki and high-laced boots. 
 A red neckerchief matched her cheeks, which were glowing 
 with excitement. Immediately they appeared, she swung 
 aboard with the easy grace of one long accustomed to the 
 saddle. Bob's lower jaw dropped in amazement. 
 
 "You going?" he gasped, unable even yet to compre- 
 hend the everyday fact that so many gently nurtured West- 
 ern girls are accustomed to those rough-and-ready bivouacs. 
 
 "I wouldn't stay away for worlds!" she cried, turning 
 her pony's head up the trail. 
 
 Beyond the upper meadow this trail suddenly began to 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 409 
 
 climb. It made its way by lacets in the dry earth, by scram- 
 bles in the rocks until, through the rapidly thinning ranks 
 of the scrubby trees, Bob could look back over all the broad 
 shelf of the mountain whereon grew the pines. It lay spread 
 before him as a soft green carpet of tops, miles of it, wrink- 
 ling and billowing gently as here and there the conformation 
 of the country changed. At some distance it dropped over 
 an edge. Beyond that, very dimly, he realized the brown 
 shimmer rising from the plain. Far to the right was a 
 tenuous smoke, a suggestion of thinning in the forest, a flash 
 of blue water. This, Bob knew, must be the mill and the 
 lake. 
 
 The trail shortly made its way over the shoulder of the 
 ridge and emerged on the wide, gentle rounding of the crest. 
 Here the trees were small, stunted and wind-blown. Huge 
 curving sheets of unbroken granite lay like armour across 
 the shoulder of the mountain. Decomposing granite shale 
 crunched under the horses' hoofs. Here and there on it 
 grew isolated tiny tufts of the hardy upland flowers. Above, 
 the sky was deeply, intensely blue; bluer than Bob had 
 ever seen a sky before. The air held in it a tang of wild- 
 ness, as though it had breathed from great spaces. 
 
 "I suppose this is the top of our ridge, isn't it?" Bob 
 asked Jack Pollock. 
 
 The boy nodded. 
 
 Suddenly the trail dipped sharp to the left into a nar- 
 row and shallow little ravine. The bed of this was carpeted 
 by a narrow stringer of fresh grass and flowers, through 
 which a tiny stream felt its hesitating way. This ravine 
 widened and narrowed, turned and doubled. Here and 
 there groups of cedars on a dry flat offered ideal shelter for 
 a camp. Abruptly the stringer burst through a screen of 
 azaleas to a round green meadow surrounded by the taller 
 trees of the eastern slope of the mountain. 
 
 In other circumstances Bob would have liked to stop for 
 a better sight of this little gem of a meadow. It was ankle 
 
4io THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 deep with new grasses, starred with flowers, bordered with 
 pink and white azaleas. The air, prisoned in a pocket, 
 warmed by the sun, perfumed heavily by the flowers, lay 
 in the cup of the trees like a tepid bath. A hundred birds 
 sang in June-tide ecstasy. 
 
 But Jack Pollock, without pause, skirted this meadow, 
 crossed the tiny silver creek that bubbled from it down the 
 slope, and stolidly mounted a little knoll beyond. The 
 trained pack horses swung along behind him, swaying 
 gently from side to side that they might carry their packs 
 comfortably and level. Bob turned involuntarily to glance 
 at Amy. Their eyes met. She understood; and smiled 
 at him brightly. 
 
 Jack led the way to the top of the knoll and stopped. 
 
 Here the edge of the mountain broke into a tiny out- 
 cropping spur that shook itself free from the pines. It con- 
 stituted a natural lookout '\, the east. Bob drew rein so 
 violently that even his well-trained mountain horse shook 
 its head in protest. 
 
 Before him, hushed with that tremendous calm of vast 
 distances, lay the Sierras he had never seen, as though 
 embalmed in the sunlight of a thousand afternoons. A 
 tremendous, deep canon plunged below him, blue with 
 distance. It climbed again to his level eventually, but by 
 that time it was ten miles away. And over against him, 
 very remote, were pine ridges looking velvety and dark and 
 ruffled and full of shadows, like the erect fur of a beast that 
 has been alarmed. From them here and there projected 
 granite domes. And beyond them bald ranges; and beyond 
 them, splintered granite with snow in the crevices; and 
 beyond this the dark and frowning Pinnacles; and still 
 beyond, other mountains so distant, so ethereal, so deli- 
 cately pink and rose and saffron that almost he expected 
 they might at any moment dissolve into the vivid sky. And, 
 strangely enough, though he realized the tremendous heights 
 and depths of these peaks and canons, the whole effect to 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 411 
 
 Bob was as something spread out broad. The sky, the 
 wonderful over-arching, very blue sky, was the most impor- 
 tant thing in the universe. Compared to its infinitudes 
 these mountains lay spread like a fair and wrinkled foot- 
 rug to a horizon inconceivably remote and mysterious. 
 
 Then his eye fell to the ridge opposite, across the blue 
 canon. From one point on it a straight column of smoke 
 rolled upward, to mushroom out and hang motionless above 
 the top of the ridge. Its base was shot by half-seen, half- 
 guessed flaming streaks. 
 
 Bob had vaguely expected to see a whole country-side 
 ablaze. This single, slender column was almost absurd. It 
 looked like a camp-fire, magnified to fit the setting, of course. 
 
 "There's the fire, all right," said Jack. "We got to get 
 across to it somehow. Trail ends here." 
 
 "Why, that doesn't amount to much!" cried Bob. 
 
 "Don't it?" said Jack. "Well, I'd call that some shakes 
 of a fire myself. It's covered mighty nigh three hundred 
 acres by now." 
 
 "Three hundred acres! Better say ten." 
 
 "You're wrong," said Jack; "I've rode all that country 
 with cattle." 
 
 "You'll find it fire enough, when you get there," put in 
 Amy. "It's right in good timber, too." 
 
 "All right," agreed Bob; "I'll believe anything after 
 this." He waved his hand abroad. "Jack," he called, 
 as that young man led the way off the edge, "can you see 
 where Jack Main's Canon is from here?" 
 
 "Jack Main's!" repeated young Pollock. "Why, if you 
 was on the top of the farthest mountain in sight, you 
 couldn't see any place you could see it from." 
 
 "Good Lord!" said Bob. 
 
 The way zigzagged down the slope of the mountain. 
 As Jack had said, there was no trail, but the tracks left 
 by the four rangers were plainly to be discerned. Bob, 
 following the pack horses, had leisure to observe how skil- 
 
412 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 fully this way had been picked out. Always it held to the 
 easy footing, but always it was evident that if certain turns 
 had not been made some distance back this easy footing 
 would have lacked. At times the tracks led far to the left 
 at nearly the same level until one, two or three little streams 
 had been crossed. Then without apparent reason they 
 turned directly down the backbone of a steep ridge exactly 
 like a half-dozen others they had passed over. But later 
 Bob saw that this ridge was the only one of the lot that 
 dipped over gently to lower levels; all the rest broke off 
 abruptly in precipitous rocks. Bob was a good woods- 
 man, but this was his first experience in that mountaineering 
 skill which noses its way by the " lay of the country." 
 
 In the meantime they were steadily descending. The 
 trees hemmed them closer. Thickets of willows and alders 
 had to be crossed. Dimly through the tree-tops they seemed 
 to see the sky darkening by degrees as they worked their 
 way down. At first Bob thought it the lateness of the after- 
 noon; then he concluded it must be the smoke of the fire; 
 finally, through a clear opening, he saw this apparent dark- 
 ening of the horizon was in reality the blue of the canon 
 wall opposite, rising as they descended. But, too, as they 
 drew nearer, the heavy smoke of the conflagration began 
 to spread over them. In time it usurped the heavens, and 
 Bob had difficulty in believing that it could appear to any 
 one anywhere as so simple a mushroom-head over a slender 
 smoke column. 
 
 By the time the horses stepped from the slope to the bed 
 of the canon, it was quite dark. Jack turned down 
 stream. 
 
 "We'll cut the trail to Burro Rock pretty quick," said he. 
 
 Within five minutes of travel they did cut it; a narrow 
 brown trough, trodden by the hoofs of many generations 
 of cattlemen bound for the back country. Almost imme- 
 diately it began to mount the slope. 
 
 Now ahead, through the gathering twilight, lights began 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 413 
 
 to show, sometimes scattered, sometimes grouped, like the 
 camp-fires of an immense army. These were the stubs, 
 stumps, down logs and the like left still blazing after all 
 the more readily inflammable material had been burned 
 away. As the little cavalcade laboured upward, stopping 
 every few minutes to breathe the horses, these flickering 
 lights defined themselves. In particular one tall dead yel- 
 low pine standing boldly prominent, afire to the top, alter- 
 nately glowed and paled as the wind breathed or died. A 
 smell of stale burning drifted down the damp night air. 
 Pretty soon Jack Pollock halted for a moment to call back: 
 
 "Here's their fire line!" 
 
 Bob spurred forward. Just beyond Jack's horse the 
 country lay blackened. The pine needles had burned down 
 to the soil; the seedlings and younger trees had been withered 
 away; the larger trees scorched; the fuel with which every 
 forest is littered consumed in the fierceness of the conflagra- 
 tion. Here and there some stub or trunk still blazed and 
 crackled, outposts of the army whose camp-fires seemed 
 to dot the hills. 
 
 The line of demarcation between the burned and the 
 unburned areas seemed extraordinarily well defined. Bob 
 looked closer and saw that this definition was due to a pecul- 
 iar path, perhaps two yards wide. It looked as though 
 some one had gone along there with a huge broom, sweeping 
 as one would sweep a path in deep dust. Only in this case 
 the broom must have been a powerful implement as well 
 as one of wide reach. The brushed marks went not only 
 through the carpet of pine needles, but through the tar- 
 weed, the snow brush, the manzanita. This was technic- 
 ally the fire line. At the sight of the positiveness with 
 which it had checked the spread of the flames, Bob's spirits 
 rose. 
 
 "They seem to have stopped it here easy enough, already," 
 he cried. 
 
 "Being as how this is the windward side of the fire, and 
 
414 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 on a down slope, I should think they might," remarked 
 Jack Pollock drily. 
 
 Bob chuckled and glanced at the girl. 
 
 "I'm finding out every day how little I know,' 7 said he; 
 "at my age, too!" 
 
 "The hard work is down wind," said Amy, 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 They entered the burned area, and climbed on up the 
 hill. Though evidently here the ferocity of the confla- 
 gration had passed, it had left its rear guard behind. Fal- 
 len trees still blazed; standing trees flamed like torches 
 but all harmlessly within the magic circle drawn by the 
 desperate quick work of the rangers. They threaded their 
 way cautiously among these isolated fires, watching lest 
 some dead giant should fall across their path. The ground 
 smoked under their feet. Against the background of a 
 faint and distant roaring, which now made itself evident, 
 the immediate surroundings seemed very quiet. The indi- 
 vidual cracklings of flames were an undertone. Only once 
 in a while a dull heavy crash smote the air as some great 
 tree gave up the unequal struggle. 
 
 They passed as rapidly as they could through this stricken 
 field. The night had fallen, but the forest was still 
 bright, the trail still plain. They followed it for an hour 
 until it had topped the lower ridge. 
 
 Then far ahead, down through the dark trunks of trees, 
 they saw, wavering, flickering, leaping and dying, a line of 
 fire. In some places it was a dozen feet high; in others it 
 sank to within a few inches of the ground but nowhere 
 could the eye discern an opening through it. A roar and 
 a crackling filled the air. Sparks were shooting upward 
 in the suction. A blast of heat rushed against Bob's cheek. 
 All at once he realized that a forest fire was not a widespread 
 general conflagration, like the burning of a city block. It 
 was a line of battle, a ring of flame advancing steadily. All 
 they had passed had been negligible. Here was the true 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 415 
 
 enemy, now charging rapidly through the dry, inflammable 
 low growth, now creeping stealthily in the needles and 
 among the rocks; always making way, always gathering 
 itself for one of its wild leaps which should lay an entire new 
 province under its ravaging. Somewhere on the other side 
 of that ring of fire were four men. They were trying to 
 cut a lane over which the fire could not leap. 
 
 Bob gazed at the wall of flame with some dismay. 
 
 "How we going to get through?" he asked. 
 
 "We got to find a rock outcrop somewheres up the ridge," 
 explained Jack, "where there'll be a break in the fire." 
 
 He turned up the side of the mountain again, leading 
 the way. After a time they came to an outcrop of the sort 
 described, which, with some difficulty and stumbling, they 
 succeeded in crossing. 
 
 Ahead, in the darkness, showed a tiny licking little fire, 
 only a few inches high. 
 
 "The fire has jumped !" cried Bob. 
 
 "No, that's their backfire," Pollock corrected him. 
 
 They found this to be true. The rangers had hastily 
 hoed and raked out a narrow path. Over this a very small 
 fire could not pass; but there could be no doubt that the 
 larger conflagration would take the slight obstacle in its 
 stride. Therefore the rangers had themselves ignited the 
 small fire. This would eat away the fuel, and automatic- 
 ally widen the path. Between the main fire and the back 
 fire were still several hundred yards of good, unburned 
 country. To Bob's expression of surprise Amy added to the 
 two principles of fire-fighting he had learned from Pollock. 
 
 "It doesn't do to try to stop a fire anywhere and every- 
 where," said she. "A good man knows his country, and he 
 takes advantage of it. This fire line probably runs along 
 the line of natural defence." 
 
 They followed it down the mountain for a long distance 
 through the eddying smoke. The flames to their right 
 shot up and died and crept. The shadows to their left 
 
4i 6 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 their own among the number leaped and fell. After a 
 while, down through the mists, they made out a small fig- 
 ure, very busy at something. When they approached, they 
 found this to be Charley Morton. The fire had leaped 
 the cleared path and was greedily eating in all directions 
 through the short, pitchy growth of tarweed. It was as 
 yet only a tiny leak, but once let it get started, the whole 
 forest beyond the fire line would be ablaze. The ranger 
 had started to cut around this a half-circle connected at 
 both ends with the main fire line. With short, quick jabs 
 of his hoe, he was tearing away at the tough tarweed. 
 
 "Hullo!" said he without looking up. "You'll find 
 camp on the bald ridge north the fire line. There's a little 
 feed there." 
 
 Having completed his defence, he straightened his back 
 to look at them. His face was grimed a dingy black through 
 which rivulets of sweat had made streaks. 
 
 "Had it pretty hot all afternoon," he proffered. "Got 
 the fire line done, though. How're those canteens full? 
 I'll trade you my empty one." He took a long draught. 
 "That tastes good. Went dry about three o'clock, and 
 haven't had a drop since." 
 
 They left him there, leaning on the handle of his hoe. 
 Jack Pollock seemed to know where the place described 
 as the camp-site was located, for after various detours and 
 false starts, he led them over the brow of a knoll to a tiny 
 flat among the pine needles where they were greeted by 
 whinnies from unseen animals. It was here very dark. 
 Jack scraped together and lit some of the pine needles. 
 By the flickering light they saw the four saddles dumped 
 down in a heap. 
 
 "There's a side hill over yander with a few bunches of 
 grass and some of these blue lupins," said Jack. "It ain't 
 much in the way of hoss-feed, but it'll have to do." 
 
 He gathered fuel and soon had enough of a fire to furnish 
 light. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 417 
 
 "It certainly does seem plumb foolish to be lightin' more 
 fires!" he remarked. 
 
 In the meantime Amy had unsaddled her own horse and 
 was busy unpacking one of the pack animals. Bob fol- 
 lowed her example. 
 
 "There," she said; "now here are the canteens, all full; 
 and here's six lunches already tied together that I put up 
 before we started. You can get them to the other boys. 
 Take your tools and run along. I'll straighten up, and be 
 ready for you when you can come back." 
 
 "What if the fire gets over to you?" asked Bob. 
 
 "I'll turn the horses loose and ride away," she said gaily. 
 
 "It won't get clost to there," put in Jack. "This little 
 ridge is rock all round it. That's why they put the camp 
 here." 
 
 "Where's water?" asked Amy. 
 
 "I don't rightly remember," confessed Pollock. "I've 
 only been in here once." 
 
 "I'll find out in the morning. Good luck!" 
 
 Jack handed Bob three of the canteens, a hoe and rake 
 and one of the flat files. 
 
 "What's this for?" asked Bob. 
 
 "To keep the edge of your hoe sharp," replied Jack. 
 
 They shouldered their implements and felt their way in 
 the darkness over the tumbled rock outcrop. As they sur- 
 mounted the shoulder of the hill, they saw once more flick- 
 ering before them the fire line. 
 
CHARLEY MORTON received the lunch with joy. 
 "Ain't had time to get together grub since we 
 came," said he, "and didn't know when I would." 
 
 "What do you want us to do?" asked Bob, 
 
 "The fire line's drawn right across from Granite Creek 
 down there in the canon over to a bald dome. We got her 
 done an hour ago, and pretty well back-fired. All we got to 
 do now is to keep her from crossing anywheres; and if she 
 does cross, to corral her before she can get away from us." 
 
 "I wish we could have got here sooner!" cried Bob, 
 disappointed that the little adventure seemed to be flatten- 
 ing out. 
 
 "So?" commented Charley drily. "Well, there's plenty 
 yet. If she gets out in one single, lonesome place, this 
 fire line of ours won't be worth a cent. She's inside now 
 if we can hold her there." He gazed contemplatively aloft 
 at a big dead pine blazing merrily to its very top. Every 
 once in a while a chunk of bark or a piece of limb came flar- 
 ing down to hit the ground with a thump. "There's the 
 trouble," said he. "What's to keep a spark or a coal from 
 that old coon from falling or rolling on the wrong side of 
 the line ? If it happens when none of us are around, why the 
 fire gets a start. And maybe a coal will roll down hill from 
 somewhere; or a breeze come up and carry sparks. One 
 spark over here," he stamped his foot on the brushed line, 
 "and it's all to do over again. There's six of us," added 
 the ranger, " and a hundred of these trees near the line. By 
 rights there ought to be a man camped down near every one 
 of them." 
 
 418 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 419 
 
 "Give us our orders," repeated Bob. 
 
 "The orders are to patrol the fire line," said Morton. 
 "If you find the fire has broken across, corral it. If it gets 
 too strong for you, shoot your six-shooter twice. Keep 
 a-moving, but take it easy and save yourself for to-morrow. 
 About two o'clock, or so, I'll shoot three times. Then you 
 can come to camp and get a little sleep. You got to be in 
 shape for to-morrow." 
 
 "Why especially to-morrow?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Fire dies in the cool of night; it comes up in the middle 
 of the day," explained Morton succinctly. 
 
 Bob took to the right, while Jack went in the opposite 
 direction. His way led down hill. He crossed a ravine, 
 surmounted a little ridge. Now he was in the worse than 
 total darkness of the almost extinct area. Embers and 
 coals burned all over the side hill like so many evil winking 
 eyes. Far ahead, down the mountain, the rising smoke 
 glowed incandescent with the light of an invisible fire beneath. 
 Bob, blinded by this glow, had great difficulty in making his 
 way. Once he found that he had somehow crept out on 
 the great bald roundness of a granite dome, and had to 
 retrace his steps. Twice he lost his footing utterly, but 
 fortunately fell but a short distance. At last he found him- 
 self in the V of a narrow ravine. 
 
 All this time he had, with one exception, kept close track 
 of the fire line. The exception was when he strayed out 
 over the dome; but that was natural, for the dome had been 
 adopted bodily as part of the system of defence. Every- 
 where the edge of the path proved to be black and dead. 
 No living fire glowed within striking distance of the inflam- 
 mable material on the hither side the path. 
 
 But here, in the bottom of the ravine, a single coal had 
 lodged, and had already started into flame the dry small 
 brush. It had fallen originally from an oak fully a hun- 
 dred feet away; and in some mysterious manner had found 
 a path to this hidden pocket. The circumstances some* 
 
420 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 what shook Bob's faith in the apparent safety of the country 
 he had just traversed. 
 
 However, there were the tiny flames, licking here and 
 there, insignificant, but nevertheless dangerous. Bob care- 
 fully laid his canteens and the rake on a boulder, and set 
 to work with his sharpened hoe. It looked to be a very 
 easy task to dig out a path around this little fire. 
 
 In the course of the miniature fight he learned consider- 
 able of the ways of fire. The brush proved unexpectedly 
 difficult. It would not stand up to the force of his stroke, 
 but bent away. The tarweed, especially, was stubborn 
 under even the most vigorous wielding of his sharpened 
 hoe. 
 
 He made an initial mistake by starting to hoe out his 
 path too near the blaze, forgetting that in the time neces- 
 sary to complete his half-circle the flames would have spread. 
 Discovering this, he abandoned his beginning and fell back 
 twenty feet. This naturally considerably lengthened the 
 line he would have to cut. When it was about half done, 
 Bob discovered that he would have to hustle to prevent 
 the fire breaking by him before he could complete his half- 
 circle. It became a race. He worked desperately. The 
 heat of the flames began to scorch his face and hands, so 
 that it was with difficulty he could face his work. Irrele- 
 vantly enough there arose before his mind the image of 
 Jack Pollock popping corn before the fireplace at head- 
 quarters. Continual wielding of the hoe tired a certain 
 set of muscles to the aching point. His mouth became dry 
 and sticky, but he could not spare time to hunt up his can- 
 teen. The thought flashed across his mind that the fire 
 was probably breaking across elsewhere, just like this. 
 The other men must be in the same fix. There were six 
 of them. Suppose the fire should break across simultane- 
 ously in seven places? The little licking flames had at 
 last, by dint of a malignant persistence, become a personal 
 enemy. He fought them absorbedly, throwing his line 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 421 
 
 farther and farther as the necessity arose, running to beat 
 down with green brush the first feeble upstartings of the 
 fire as it leaped here and there his barrier, keeping a vigi- 
 lant eye on every part of his defences. 
 
 "Well," drawled Charley Morton's voice behind him, 
 "what you think you're doing?" 
 
 "Corralling this fire, of course," Bob panted, dashing 
 at a marauding little flame. 
 
 "What for?" demanded Charley. 
 
 Bob looked up in sheer amazement. 
 
 " See that rock dike just up the hill behind you ?" explained 
 Morton. "Well, our fire line already runs up to that on 
 both sides. Fire couldn't cross it. We expected this to 
 burn." 
 
 Bob suddenly felt a little nauseated and dizzy from the 
 heat and violence of his exertions in this high altitude. 
 
 "Here's your canteen," Morton went on easily. "Take 
 a swig. Better save a little. Feel better? Let me give 
 you a pointer: don't try to stop a fire going up hill. Take 
 it on top or just over the top. It burns slower and it ain't 
 so apt to jump." 
 
 "I know; I forgot," said Bob, feeling a trifle foolish. 
 
 "Never mind; you've learned something/' said Morton 
 comfortably. "Let's go down below. There's fresh fire 
 there; and it may have jumped past Elliott." 
 
 They scrambled down. Elliott and Ware were found 
 to be working desperately in the face of the flames. The 
 fire had not here jumped the line, but it was burning with 
 great ferocity up to the very edge of it. If the rangers 
 could for a half-hour prevent the heat from igniting the 
 growths across the defence, the main fire would have con- 
 sumed its fuel and died down to comparative safety. With 
 faces averted, heads lowered, handkerchiefs over their 
 mouths, they continually beat down the new little fires which 
 as continually sprang into life again. Here the antagon- 
 ists were face to face across the narrow line. The rangers 
 
422 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 could not give back an inch, for an inch of headway on the 
 wrong side the path would convert a kindling little blaze 
 to a real fire. They stood up to their work doggedly as 
 best they might. 
 
 With entire understanding of the situation Charley 
 motioned Bob to the front. 
 
 "We'll hold her for a minute," he shouted to the others. 
 "Drop back and get a drink." 
 
 They fell back to seize eagerly their canteens. Bob 
 gripped his handful of green brush and set to work. For a 
 minute he did not think it possible to face the terrible heat. 
 His garments were literally drenched with sweat which 
 immediately dried into steam. A fierce drain sucked at 
 his strength. He could hardly breathe, and could see only 
 with difficulty. After a moment Elliott and Ware, evidently 
 somewhat refreshed, again took hold. 
 
 How they stuck it out for that infernal half-hour Bob 
 could not have told, but stick it out they did. The flames 
 gradually died down; the heat grew less; the danger that 
 the shrivelled brush on the wrong side the fire line would 
 be ignited by sheer heat, vanished. The four men fell 
 back. Their eyebrows and hair were singed; their skin 
 blackened. Bob's face felt sore, and as though it had been 
 stretched. He took a long pull at his canteen. For the 
 moment he felt as though his energy had all been drained 
 away. 
 
 "Well, that was a good little scrap," observed Charley 
 Morton cheerfully. "I certainly do wish it was always night 
 when a man had to fight fire. In a hot sun it gets to be 
 hard work." 
 
 Elliott rolled his eyes, curiously white like a minstrel's 
 in his blackened face, at Bob, but said nothing. 
 
 "We'll leave Elliott here to watch this a few minutes, 
 and go down the line," said Morton. 
 
 Bob lifted his canteen, and, to his surprise, found it empty. 
 
 "Why, I must have drunk a gallon 1" he cried. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 423 
 
 "It's dry work," said Morton. 
 
 They continued on down the fire line, pausing every 
 once in a while to rake and scrape leisurely at the heavy 
 bark beneath some blazing stub. The fierce, hard work 
 was over. All along the fire line from the dome of granite 
 over the ridge down to Granite Creek the fire had consumed 
 all the light fuel on its own side the defence. No further 
 danger was to be apprehended in the breaking across. But 
 everywhere through the now darkening forest blazed the 
 standing trees. A wind would fill the air with brands; 
 and even in the present dead calm those near the line were 
 a threat. 
 
 The men traversed the fire line from end to end a half- 
 dozen times. Bob became acquainted individually and 
 minutely with each of the danger spots. The new tempor- 
 ary features of country took on, from the effects of vigilance 
 and toil, the dignity of age and establishment. Anxiously 
 he widened the path here, kicked back glowing brands 
 there, tried to assure himself that in no possible manner 
 could the seed of a new conflagration find germination. 
 After a long time he heard three shots from up the moun- 
 tain. This, he remarked, was a signal agreed upon. He 
 shouldered his blackened implements and commenced a 
 laborious ascent. 
 
 Suddenly he discovered that he was very tired, and that 
 his legs were weak and wobbly. Stubs and sticks pro- 
 truded everywhere; stones rolled from under his feet. Once 
 on a steep shale, he fell and rolled ten feet out of sheer 
 weariness. In addition he was again very thirsty, and his 
 canteen empty. A chill gray of dawn was abroad; the 
 smell of stale burning hung in the air. 
 
 By the time he had staggered into camp the daylight 
 had come. He glanced about him wearily. Across a tiny 
 ravine the horses dozed, tied each to a short picket rope. 
 Bob was already enough of a mountaineer to notice that 
 the feed was very scant. The camp itself had been made 
 
424 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 under a dozen big yellow pines. A bright little fire flick- 
 ered. About it stood utensils from which the men were 
 rather dispiritedly helping themselves. Bob saw that the 
 long pine needles had been scraped together to make soft 
 beds, over which the blankets had been spread. Amy her- 
 self, her cheeks red, her eyes bright, was passing around 
 tin cups of strong coffee, and tin plates of food. Her horse, 
 saddled and bridled, stood nearby. 
 
 "Take a little of this," she urged Bob, "and then turn 
 in." 
 
 Bob muttered his thanks. After swallowing the coffee, 
 however, he felt his energies reviving somewhat. 
 
 "How did you leave things at the lower end?" Morton 
 was asking him. 
 
 " All out but two or three smouldering old stubs," replied 
 Bob. "Everything's safe." 
 
 "Nothing's safe," contradicted Morton. "By rights we 
 ought to watch every minute. But we got to get some rest 
 in a long fight. It's the cool of the morning and the fire 
 burns low. Turn in and get all the sleep you can. May 
 need you later." 
 
 "I'm all in," acknowledged Bob, throwing back his 
 blanket; "I'm willing to say so." 
 
 "No more fire in mine," agreed young Elliott. 
 
 The other men said nothing, but fell to their beds. Only 
 Charley Morton rose a little stiffly to his feet. 
 
 "Aren't you going to turn in too, Charley?" asked the 
 girl quickly. 
 
 "It's daylight now," explained the ranger, "and I can 
 see to ride a horse. I reckon I'd better ride down the line." 
 
 " I've thought of that," said Amy. " Of course, it wouldn't 
 do to let the fire take care of itself. See; I have Pronto 
 saddled. I'll look over the line, and if anything happens 
 I'll wake you." 
 
 "You must be about dead," said Charley. "You've been 
 up all night fixing camp and cooking " 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 425 
 
 "Up all night!" repeated Amy scornfully. "How long 
 do you think it takes me to make camp and cook a simple 
 little breakfast?" 
 
 "But the country's almighty rough riding." 
 
 "On Pronto?" 
 
 "He's a good mountain pony," agreed Charley Morton; 
 "California John picked him out himself. All right. I 
 do feel some tired." 
 
 This was about six o'clock. The men had slept but a 
 little over an hour when Amy scrambled over the rim of the 
 dike and dropped from her horse. 
 
 "Charley!" she cried, shaking the ranger by the shoul- 
 der; "I'm sorry. But there's fresh smoke about half-way 
 down the mountain. There was nothing left to burn fresh 
 inside the fire line, was there? I thought not." 
 
 Twenty minutes later all six were frantically digging, 
 hoeing, chopping, beating in a frenzy against the spread 
 of the flames. In some manner the fire had jumped the 
 line. It might have been that early in the fight a spark 
 had lodged. As long as the darkness of night held down 
 the temperature, this spark merely smouldered. When, 
 however, the rays of the sun gathered heat, it had burst into 
 flame. 
 
 This sun made all the difference in the world. Where, 
 in the cool of the night, the flames had crept slowly, now 
 they leaped forward with a fierce crackling; green brush 
 that would ordinarily have resisted for a long time, now 
 sprang into fire at a touch. The conflagration spread from 
 a single point in all directions, running swiftly, roaring in 
 a sheet of fire, licking up all before it. 
 
 The work was fierce in its intensity. Bob, in common 
 with the others, had given up trying or indeed caring 
 to protect himself. His clothes smoked, his face smarted 
 and burned, his skin burned and blistered. He breathed 
 the hot air in gasps. Strangely enough, he did not feel in 
 the least tired. 
 
426 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 He did not need to be told what to do. The only possible 
 defence was across a rock outcrop. To right and left of 
 him the other men were working desperately to tear out 
 the brush. He grubbed away trying to clear the pine need- 
 les and little bushes that would carry the fire through the 
 rocks like so many powder fuses. 
 
 He had no time to see how the others were getting on; 
 he worked on faith. His own efforts were becoming suc- 
 cessful. The fire, trying, one after another, various leads 
 through the rocks, ran out of fuel and died. The infernal 
 roaring furnace below, however, leaped ever to new trial. 
 
 Then all at once Bob found himself temporarily out of 
 the game. In trying to roll a boulder out of the way, he 
 caught his hand. A sharp, lightning pain shot up his 
 arm and into the middle of his chest. When he had suc- 
 ceeded in extricating himself, he found that his middle finger 
 was squarely broken. 
 
VI 
 
 BOB stood still for a moment, looking at the injured 
 member. Charley Morton touched him on the 
 shoulder. When he looked up, the ranger motioned 
 him back. Casting a look of regret at his half -completed 
 defences, he obeyed. To his surprise he found the other 
 four already gathered together. Evidently his being called 
 off the work had nothing to do with his broken finger, as he 
 had at first supposed. 
 
 "Well, I guess we'll have to fall back," said Morton 
 composedly. "It's got away from us." 
 
 Without further comment he shouldered his implements 
 and took his way up the hill. Bob handed his hoe and 
 rake to Jack Pollock. 
 
 "Carry 'em a minute," he explained. "I hurt my hand 
 a little." 
 
 As he walked along he bound the finger roughly to its 
 neighbour, and on both tied a rude splint. 
 
 "What's up?" he muttered to Jack, as he worked at 
 this. 
 
 " I reckon we must be goin' to start a fire line back of 
 the next cross-bridge somewheres," Jack ventured his 
 opinion. 
 
 Bob stopped short. 
 
 "Then we've abandoned the old one!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Complete," spoke up Ware, who overheard. 
 
 "And all the work we've done there is useless?" 
 
 "Absolutely." 
 
 "We've got it all to do over again from the beginning?" 
 
 "Certain sure." 
 
 427 
 
428 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Bob adjusted his mind to this new and rather overwhelm- 
 ing idea. 
 
 " I saw Senator What's-his-name from Montana 
 made a speech the other day," spoke up Elliott, "in which 
 he attacked the Service because he said it was a refuge for 
 consumptives and incompetents!" 
 
 At this moment Amy rode up draped with canteens and 
 balancing carefully a steaming pail of coffee. She was 
 accompanied by another woman similarly provided. 
 
 The newcomer was a decided-looking girl under thirty, 
 with a full, strong figure, pronounced flaxen-blond hair, 
 a clear though somewhat sunburned skin, blue eyes, and a 
 flash of strong, white teeth. Bob had never seen her before, 
 but he recognized her as a mountain woman. She rode a 
 pinto, guided by a hackamore, and was attired quite simply 
 in the universal broad felt hat and a serviceable blue calico 
 gown. In spite of this she rode astride; and rode well. 
 A throwing rope, or riata, hung in the sling at the right side 
 of her saddle pommel; and it looked as though it had been 
 used. 
 
 "Where's Charley?" she asked promptly as she rode up. 
 "Is that you? You look like a nigger. How you 
 feeling? You just mind me, and don't you try to do too 
 much. You don't get paid for overtime at this job." 
 
 "Hullo, Lou," replied Charley Morton; "I thought it 
 was about time you showed up." 
 
 The woman nodded at the others. 
 
 "Howdy, Mrs. Morton," answered Tom Carroll, Pol- 
 lock and Ware. Bob and Elliott bowed. 
 
 By now the fire had been left far in the rear. The crack- 
 ling of flames had died in the distance; even the smoke 
 cleared from the atmosphere. All the forest was peaceful 
 and cool. The Douglas squirrels scampered and barked; 
 the birds twittered and flashed or slanted in long flight 
 through the trees; the sun shone soft; a cool breeze ruffled 
 the feathery tips of the tarweed. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 429 
 
 At the top of the ridge Charley Morton called a halt. 
 
 "This is pretty easy country," said he. " We'll run the 
 line square down either side. Get busy." 
 
 "Have a cup of coffee first," urged Amy. 
 
 " Surely. Forgot that." 
 
 They drank the coffee, finding it good, and tucked 
 away the lunches Amy, with her unfailing forethought, had 
 brought them. 
 
 "Good-bye!" she called gaily; "I've got to get back to 
 camp before the fire cuts me off. I won't see you again 
 till the fire burns me out a way to get to you." 
 
 "Take my horse, too," said Mrs. Morton, dismounting. 
 "You don't need me in camp." 
 
 Amy took the lead rein and rode away as a matter of 
 course. She was quite alone to guard the horses and camp 
 equipage on the little knoll while the fire spent its fury all 
 around her. Everybody seemed to take the matter for 
 granted; but Bob looked after her with mingled feelings 
 of anxiety and astonishment. This Western breed of 
 girl was still beyond his comprehension. 
 
 The work was at once begun. In spite of the cruel throb 
 of his injured hand, Bob found the labour pleasant by sheer 
 force of contrast. The air was cool, the shade refreshing, 
 the frantic necessity of struggle absent. He raked care- 
 fully his broad path among the pine needles, laying bare 
 the brown earth; hoed and chopped in the tarweed and 
 brush. Several times Charley Morton passed him. Each 
 time the ranger paused for a moment to advise him. 
 
 "You ought to throw your line farther back," he told 
 Bob. "See that ' dead-and-down ' ahead? If you let that 
 cross your fire line, it'll carry the fire sooner or later, sure; 
 and if you curve your line too quick to go around it, the 
 fire'll jump. You want to keep your eye out 'way ahead." 
 
 Once Bob caught a glimpse of blue calico through the 
 trees. As he came nearer, he was surprised to see Mrs. 
 Morton working away stoutly with a hoe. Her skirts were 
 
430 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 turned back, her sleeves rolled up to display a while and 
 plump forearm, the neck of her gown loosened to show a 
 round and well-moulded neck. The strokes of her hoe 
 were as vigorous as those of any of the men. In watching 
 the strong, free movements of her body, Bob forgot for a 
 moment what had been intruding itself on him with more 
 and more insistance the throb of his broken hand. 
 
 In the course of an hour the fire line was well under way. 
 But now wisps of smoke began to drift down the tree aisles. 
 Birds shot past, at first by ones and twos, later in flocks. 
 A deer that must have lain perdu to let them pass bounded 
 across the ridge, his head high, his nostrils wide. The 
 squirrels ran chattering down the trees, up others, leaped 
 across the gaps, working always farther and farther to the 
 north. The cool breeze carried with it puffs of hot air. 
 Finally in distant openings could be discerned little busy, 
 flickering flames. All at once the thought gripped Bob 
 hard: the might of the fire was about to test the quality of 
 his work! 
 
 " There she comes! " gasped Charley Morton. " My Lord, 
 how she's run to-day! We got to close the line to that stone 
 dike." 
 
 By one of the lightning transitions of motive with which 
 these activities seemed to abound, the affair had become a 
 very deadly earnest sort of race. It was simple. If the 
 men could touch the dike before the fire, they won. 
 
 The realization of this electrified even the weary spirits 
 of the fire-fighters. They redoubled their efforts. The 
 hoes, mattocks and axes rose and fell feverishly. Mrs. 
 Morton, the perspiration matting her beautiful and shining 
 hair across her forehead, laboured with the best. The 
 fire, having gained the upward-rising slope, came at them 
 with the speed of an enemy charging. Soon they were 
 fairly choked by the dense clouds of smoke, fairly scorched 
 by the waves of heat. Sweat poured from them in streams. 
 Bob utterly forgot his wounded hand. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 431 
 
 And then, when they were within a scant fifty yards of 
 the dike which was intended to be their right wing, the flames 
 sprang with a roar to new life. Up the slope they galloped, 
 whirled around the end of the fire line, and began eagerly 
 to lick up the tarweed and needles of the ridge-top. 
 
 Bob and Elliott uttered a simultaneous cry of dismay. 
 The victory had seemed fairly in their grasp. Now all 
 chance of it was snatched away. 
 
 "Poor guess," said Charley Morton. The men, with- 
 out other comment, shouldered their implements and set off 
 on a dog-trot after their leader. The ranger merely fell 
 back to the next natural barrier. 
 
 "Now, let's see if we can't hold her, boys," said he. 
 
 Twice again that day were these scenes reenacted. The 
 same result obtained. Each time it seemed to Bob that 
 he could do no more. His hand felt as big as a pillow, and 
 his whole arm and shoulder ached. Besides this he was 
 tired out. Amy had been cut off from them by the fire. 
 In two days they had had but an hour's sleep. Water had 
 long since given out on them. The sun beat hot and merci- 
 less, assisting its kinsman, the fire. Bob would, if left to 
 himself, have given up the contest long since. It seemed 
 ridiculous that this little handful of men should hope to 
 arrest anything so mighty, so proud, so magnificent as this 
 great conflagration. As well expect a colony of ants to 
 stop a break in the levee. But Morton continued to fall 
 back as though each defeat were a matter of course. He 
 seemed unwearied, though beneath the smoke-black his 
 eyes were hollow. Mrs. Morton did her part with the rest, 
 strong as a man for all her feminine attraction, for all the 
 soft lines of her figure. 
 
 "I'll drop back far enough this time," Charley muttered 
 to her, as they were thrown together in their last retreat. 
 "Can't seem to get far enough back!" 
 
 "There's too few of us to handle such a big fire," his 
 wife replied. "You can't do it with six men." 
 
432 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Seven," amended Charley. " You're as good as any of 
 us. Don't you worry, Lou. Even if we don't stop her 
 and I think we will we're checking the run of her until 
 we get help. We're doing well. There's only two old 
 fire-fighters in the lot you and me. All the rest is green 
 hands. We're doing almighty well." 
 
 Overhearing this Bob plucked up heart. These des- 
 perate stands were not then so wasted as he had thought 
 them. At least the fire was checked at each defence it 
 was not permitted to run wild over the country. 
 
 "We ought to get help before long," he said. 
 
 "To-morrow, I figure," replied Charley Morton. "The 
 boys are scattered wide, finishing odds and ends before 
 coming in for the Fourth. It'll be about impossible to get 
 hold of any of 'em except by accident. But they'll all come 
 in for the Fourth." 
 
 The next defence was successfully completed before the 
 fire reached it. Bob felt a sudden rush of most extraordi- 
 nary and vivifying emotion. A moment ago he had been 
 ready to drop in his tracks, indifferent whether the fire 
 burned him as he lay. Now he felt ready to go on forever. 
 Bert Elliott found energy enough to throw his hat into the 
 air, while Jack shook his fist at the advancing fire. 
 
 "We fooled him that time!" cried Elliott. 
 
 "Bet you!" growled Pollock. 
 
 The other men and the woman stood leaning on the long 
 handles of their implements staring at the advancing flames. 
 
 Morton aroused himself with an effort. 
 
 "Do your best boys," said he briefly. "There she comes. 
 Another hour will tell whether we've stopped her. Then 
 we've got to hold her. Scatter!" 
 
 The day had passed without anybody's being aware of 
 the fact. The cool of the evening was already falling, and 
 the fierceness of the conflagration was falling in accord. 
 
 They held the line until the flames had burned themselves 
 out against it. Then they took up their weary patrol. Last 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 433 
 
 night, when Bob was fresh, this part of fire-fighting had 
 seemed the hardest kind of hard work. Now, crippled 
 and weary as he was, in contrast to the day's greater labour, 
 it had become comparatively easy. About eight o'clock 
 Amy, having found a way through, appeared leading all 
 the horses, saddled and packed. 
 
 "You boys came a long way," she explained simply, 
 "and I thought I'd bring over camp." 
 
 She distributed food, and made trips down the fire line 
 with coffee. 
 
 In this manner the night passed. The line had been 
 held. No one had slept. Sunrise found Bob and Jack 
 Pollock far down the mountain. They were doggedly beat- 
 ing back some tiny flames. The camp was a thousand 
 feet above, and their canteens had long been empty. Bob 
 raised his weary eyes. 
 
 Out on a rock inside the burned area, like a sentinel cast 
 in bronze, stood a horseman. The light was behind him, 
 so only his outline could be seen. For a minute he stood 
 there quite motionless, looking. Then he moved forward, 
 and another came up behind him on the rock. This one 
 advanced, and a third took his place. One after the other, 
 in single file, they came, glittering in the sun, their long 
 rakes and hoes slanted over their shoulders like spears. 
 
 "Look!" gasped Bob weakly. 
 
 The two stood side by side spellbound. The tiny flames 
 licked past them in the tarweed; they did not heed. The 
 horsemen rode up, twenty strong. It seemed to Bob that 
 they said things, and shouted. Certainly a half-dozen 
 leaped spryly off their horses and in an instant had confined 
 the escaping fire. Somebody took Bob's hoe from him. A 
 cheery voice shouted in his ear: 
 
 "Hop along! You're through. We're on the job. Go 
 back to camp and take a sleep." 
 
 He and Pollock turned up the mountain. Bob felt stupid. 
 After he had gone a hundred feet, he realized he was thirsty, 
 
434 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 and wondered why he had not asked for a drink. Then 
 it came to him that he might have borrowed a horse, but 
 remembered thickly after a long time the impassable dikes 
 between him and camp. 
 
 " That's why I didn't," he said aloud. 
 
 By this time it was too late to go back for the drink. He 
 did not care. The excitement and responsibility had drained 
 from him suddenly, leaving him a hollow shell. 
 
 They dragged themselves up the dike. 
 
 "I'd give a dollar and a half for a drink of water!" said 
 Pollock suddenly. 
 
 They stumbled and staggered on. A twig sufficed to 
 trip them. Pollock muttered between set teeth, over and 
 over again, his unvarying complaint: "I'd give a dollar 
 and a half for a drink of water!" 
 
 Finally, with a flicker of vitality, Bob's sense of humour 
 cleared for an instant. 
 
 "Not high enough," said he. "Make it two dollars, and 
 maybe some angel will hand you out a glass." 
 
 "That's all right," returned Pollock resentfully, "but 
 I bet there's some down in that hollow; and I'm going to 
 see!" 
 
 "I wouldn't climb down there for a million drinks," said 
 Bob; "I'll sit down and wait for you." 
 
 Pollock climbed down, found his water, drank. He filled 
 the canteen and staggered back up the steep climb. 
 
 "Here you be," said he. 
 
 Bob seized the canteen and drank deep. When he took 
 breath, he said: 
 
 "Thank you, Jack, That was an awful climb back." 
 
 "That's all right." nodded Jack shortly. 
 
 "Well, come on," said Bob. 
 
 "The helll" muttered Jack, and fell over sound asleep. 
 
 An hour later Bob felt himself being shaken violently. 
 He stirred and advanced a little way toward the light, then 
 dropped back like a plummet into the abysses of sleep. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 435 
 
 Afterward he recalled a vague, half-conscious impression 
 oi being lifted on a horse. Possibly he managed to hang on; 
 possibly he was held in the saddle that he never knew. 
 
 The next thing he seemed conscious of was the flicker 
 of a camp-fire, and the soft feel of blankets. It was night, 
 but how it came to be so he could not imagine. He was 
 very stiff and sore and burned, and his hand was very pain- 
 ful. He moved it, and discovered, to his vast surprise, 
 that it was bound tightly. When this bit of surgery had 
 been performed he could not have told. 
 
 He opened his eyes. Amy and Mrs. Morton were bend- 
 ing over cooking utensils. Five motionless forms reposed 
 in blankets. Bob counted them carefully. After some 
 moments it occurred to his dulled brain that the number repre- 
 sented his companions. Some one on horseback seemed 
 to be arriving. A glitter of silver caught his eye. He recog- 
 nized finally California John. Then he dozed off again. 
 The sound of voices rumbled through the haze of his half- 
 consciousness. 
 
 ''Fifty hours of steady fire-fighting with only an hour's 
 sleep!" he caught Thome's voice saying. 
 
 Bob took this statement into himself. He computed 
 painfully over and over. He could not make the figures. 
 He counted the hours one after the other. Finally he saw. 
 
 " Fifty hours for all but Pollock and me," he said sud- 
 denly; "forty for us." 
 
 No one heard him. As a matter of fact, he had not spoken 
 aloud; though he thought he had done so. 
 
 "We found the two of them curled up together," he next 
 heard Thorne say. " Orde was coiled around a sharp root 
 and didn't know it, and Pollock was on top of him. They 
 were out in the full sun, and a procession of red ants was dis- 
 appearing up Orde's pants leg and coming out at his col- 
 lar. Fact!" 
 
 "They're a good lot," admitted California John. "Best 
 unbroke lot I ever saw." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "We found Orde's finger broken and badly swelled. 
 Heaven knows when he did it, but he never peeped. Mor- 
 ton says he noticed his hand done up in a handkerchief 
 yesterday morning." 
 
 Bob dozed again. From time to time he caught frag- 
 ments "Four fire-lines think of it only one old- 
 timer in the lot I'm proud of my boys ' 
 
 He came next to full consciousness to hear Thorne saying: 
 
 "Mrs. Morton fought fire with the best of them. That's 
 the ranger spirit I like when as of old the women and 
 children " 
 
 "Don't praise me," broke in Mrs. Morton tartly. "I 
 don't give a red cent for all your forests, and your pesky 
 rangering. I've got no use for them. If Charley Morton 
 would quit you and tend to his cattle, I'd be pleased. I 
 didn't fight fire to help you, let me tell you." 
 
 "What did you do it for?" asked Thorne, evidently 
 amused. 
 
 "I knew I couldn't get Charley Morton home and in 
 bed and resting until that pesky fire was out; that's why!" 
 shot back Mrs. Morton. 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Morton," said Thorne composedly, "if 
 you're ever fixed so sass will help you out, you'll find it a 
 very valuable quality." 
 
 Then Bob fell into a deep sleep. 
 
VII 
 
 ON RETURNING to headquarters, as Bob was natu- 
 rally somewhat incapacitated for manual work, he 
 was given the fire patrol. This meant that every 
 day he was required to ride to four several ''lookouts" on the 
 main ridge, from which points he could spy abroad care- 
 fully over vast stretches of mountainous country. One of 
 these was near the meadow of the cold spring whence the 
 three of them had first caught sight of the Granite Creek fire. 
 Thence he turned sharp to the north along the ridge top. 
 The trail led among great trees that dropped away to right 
 and left on the slopes of the mountain. Through them he 
 caught glimpses of the blue distance, or far-off glittering 
 snow, or unexpected canon depths. The riding was smooth, 
 over undulating knolls. Every once in a while passing 
 through a " puerto suelo" he looked on either side to tiny 
 green meadows, from which streams were born. Occas- 
 ionally he saw a deer, or more likely small bands of the 
 wild mountain cattle that swung along before him, heads 
 held high, eyes staring, nostrils expanded. Then Bob felt 
 his pony's muscles stiffen beneath his thighs, and saw th 
 animal's little ears prick first forward at the cattle, then 
 back for his master's commands. 
 
 After three miles of this he came out on a broad plateau 
 formed by the joining of his ridge with that of the Baldy 
 range. Here Granite Creek itself rose, and the stream that 
 flowed by the mill. It was a country of wild, park-like 
 vistas between small pines, with a floor of granite and shale. 
 Over it frowned the steeps of Baldy, with its massive 
 domes, its sheer precipices, and its scant tree-growth cling- 
 
 437 
 
438 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 ing to its sides. Against the sky it looked very rugged, 
 very old, very formidable; and the sky, behind its yellowed 
 age, was inconceivably blue. 
 
 Sometimes Bob rode up into the pass. More often he 
 tied his horse and took the steep rough trail afoot. The 
 way was guarded by strange, distorted trees, and rocks 
 carved into fantastic shapes. Some of them were piled 
 high like temples. Others, round and squat, resembled 
 the fat and obscene deities of Eastern religions. There 
 were seals and elephants and crocodiles and allegorical 
 monsters, some of them as tiny as the grotesque Japanese 
 carvings, others as stupendous as Egypt. The trail led by 
 them, among them, between them. At their feet clutched 
 snowbush, ground juniper, the gnarled fingers of man- 
 zanita, like devotees. A foaming little stream crept and 
 plunged over bare and splintered rocks. Twisted junipers 
 and the dwarf pines of high elevations crouched like malig- 
 nant gnomes amongst the boulders, or tossed their arms 
 like witches on the crags. This bold and splintered range 
 rose from the sof jness and mystery of the great pine woods 
 on the lower ridge as a rock rises above cool water. 
 
 The pass itself was not over fifty feet wide. Either 
 side of it like portals were the high peaks. It lay like the 
 notch of a rifle sight between them. Once having gained 
 the tiny platform, Bob would sit down and look abroad 
 over the wonderful Sierra. 
 
 Never did he tire of this. At one eye-glance he could 
 comprehend a summer's toilsome travel. To reach yonder 
 snowy peak would consume the greater part of a week. 
 Unlike the Swiss alps, which he had once visited, these 
 mountains were not only high, but wide as well. They 
 had the whole of blue space in which to lie. They were 
 like the stars, for when Bob had convinced himself that 
 his eye had settled on the farthest peak, then still farther, 
 taking half-guessed iridescent form out of the blue, another 
 shone. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 439 
 
 But his business was not with these distances. Almost 
 below him, so precipitous is the easterly slope of Baldy, 
 lay canons, pine forests, lesser ridges, streams, the green 
 of meadows. Patiently, piece by piece, he must go over 
 all this, watching for that faint blue haze, that deep- 
 ening of the atmosphere, that almost imagined pearliness 
 against the distant hills which meant new fire. 
 
 " Don't look for smoke" California John had told him. 
 "When a fire gets big enough for smoke, you can't help 
 but see it. It's the new fire you want to spot before it gets 
 started. Then it's easy handled. And new fire's almighty 
 easy to overlook. Sometimes it's as hard for a greenhorn 
 to see as a deer. Look close!" 
 
 So Bob, concentrating his attention, looked close. When 
 he had satisfied himself, he turned square around. 
 
 From this point of view he saw only pine forests. They 
 covered the ridge below him like a soft green mantle thrown 
 down in folds. They softened the more distant ranges. 
 They billowed and eddied, and dropped into unguessed 
 depths, and came bravely up to eyesight again far away. 
 At last they seemed to change colour abruptly, and a brown 
 haze overcast them through which glimmered a hint of yel- 
 low. This Bob knew was the plain, hot and brown under 
 the July sun. It rose dimly through the mist to the height 
 of his eye. Thus, even at eight thousand feet, Bob seemed 
 to stand in the cup of the earth, beneath the cup of the sky. 
 
 The other two lookouts were on the edge of the lower 
 ridge. They gave an opportunity of examining various 
 coves and valleys concealed by the shoulder of the ridge 
 from the observer on Baldy. To reach them Bob rode 
 across the plateau of the ridge, through the pine forests, 
 past the mill. 
 
 Here, if the afternoon was not too far advanced, he used 
 to allow himself the luxury of a moment's chat with some 
 of his old friends. Welton, coat off, his burly face per- 
 spiring and red, always greeted him jovially. 
 
440 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Spend all your salary this month?" he would ask, 
 " Does the business keep you occupied ? " And once or twice, 
 seriously, "Bob, haven't you had enough of this confounded 
 nonsense? You're getting too old to find any great fun 
 riding around in this kid fashion pretending to do things. 
 There's big business to be done in this country, and we 
 need you boys to help. When I was a youngster I'd have 
 jumped hard at half the chance that's offered you." 
 
 But Bob never would answer seriously. He knew this 
 to be his only chance of avoiding even a deeper misunder- 
 standing between himself and this man whom he had learned 
 to admire and love. 
 
 Once he met Baker. That young man greeted him as 
 gaily as ever, but into his manner had crept the shadow of 
 a cold contempt. The stout youth's standards were his 
 own, and rigid, as is often the case with people of his type. 
 Bob felt himself suddenly and ruthlessly excluded from the 
 ranks of those worthy of Baker's respect. A hard quality 
 of character, hitherto unsuspected, stared from the fat young 
 man's impudent blue eyes. Baker was perfectly polite, 
 and suitably jocular; but he had not much time for Bob; 
 and soon plunged into a deep discussion with Welton from 
 which Bob was unmistakably excluded. 
 
 On one occasion, too, he encountered Oldham riding down 
 the trail from headquarters. The older man had nodded 
 to him curtly. His eyes had gleamed through his glasses 
 with an ill-concealed and frosty amusement, and his thin 
 lips had straightened to a perceptible sneer. All at once Bob 
 divined an enemy. He could not account for this, as he 
 had never dealt with the man; and the accident of his dis- 
 covering the gasoline pump on the Lucky Land Company's 
 creeks could hardly be supposed to account for quite so 
 malignant a triumph. Next time Bob saw Welton, he 
 asked his old employer about it. 
 
 "What have I ever done to Oldham?" he inquired. 
 "Do you know?" 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 441 
 
 "Oldham?" repeated Welton. 
 
 "Baker's land agent." 
 
 "Oh, yes. I never happened to run across him. Don't 
 know him at all." 
 
 Bob put down Oldham's manifest hatred to pettiness of 
 disposition. 
 
 Even from Merker, the philosophic storekeeper, Bob 
 obtained scant comfort. 
 
 "Men like you, with ability, youth, energy," said Merker, 
 "producing nothing, just conserving, saving. Conditions 
 should be such that the possibility of fire, of trespass, of 
 all you fellows guard against, should be eliminated. Then 
 you could supply steam, energy, accomplishment, instead 
 of being merely the lubrication. It's an economic waste.'* 
 
 Bob left the mill-yards half-depressed, haif-amused. All 
 his people had become alien. He opposed them in noth- 
 ing, his work in no way interfered with their activities; yet, 
 without his volition, and probably without their realization, 
 he was already looked upon as one to be held at arms' length. 
 It saddened Bob, as it does every right-thinking young man 
 when he arrives at setting up his own standards of con- 
 duct and his own ways of life. He longed with a great 
 longing, which at the same time he realized to be hopeless, 
 to make these people feel as he felt. It gave him real pain 
 to find that his way of life could never gain anything beyond 
 disapproval or incomprehension. It took considerable 
 fortitude to conclude that he now must build his own struc- 
 ture, unsupported. He was entering the loneliness of soul 
 inseparable from complete manhood. 
 
 After such disquieting contacts, the more uncomfortable 
 in that they defied analysis, Bob rode out to the last look- 
 out and gazed abroad over the land. The pineclad bluff 
 fell away nearly four thousand feet. Below him the country 
 lay spread like a relief map valley, lesser ranges, foot- 
 hills, far-off plain, the green of trees, the brown of grass and 
 harvest, the blue of glimpsed water, the haze of heat and 
 
442 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 great distance, the thread-like gossamer of roads, the half- 
 guessed shimmer of towns and cities in the mirage of summer, 
 all the opulence of earth and the business of human activity. 
 Millions dwelt in that haze, and beyond them, across the 
 curve of the earth, hundreds of millions more, each actu- 
 ated by its own selfishness or charity, by its own conception 
 of the things nearest it. Not one in a multitude saw or 
 cared beyond the immediate, nor bothered his head with 
 what it all meant, or whether it meant anything. Bob, sit- 
 ting on his motionless horse high up there in the world, 
 elevated above it all, in an isolation of pines, close under 
 his sky, bent his ear to the imagined faint humming of the 
 spheres. Affairs went on. The machine fulfilled its func- 
 tion. All things had their place, the evil as well as the good, 
 the waste as well as the building, balancing like the governor 
 of an engine the opposition of forces. He saw, by the soft 
 flooding of light, rather than by any flash of insight, that 
 were the shortsightedness, the indifference, the ignorance, 
 the crass selfishness to be eliminated before yet the world's 
 work was done, the energies of men, running too easily, would 
 outstrip the development of the Plan, as a machine "races" 
 without its load. A humility came to him. His not to 
 judge his fellows by the mere externals of their deeds. He 
 could only act honestly according to what he saw, as he hoped 
 others were doing. 
 
 " Just so a man isn't mean, I don't know as I have any 
 right to despise him," he summed it all up to his horse. 
 "But," he added cheerfully, "that doesn't prevent my kick- 
 ing him into the paths of righteousness if he tries to steal 
 my watch." 
 
 The sun dipped toward the heat haze of the plains. It 
 was from a golden world that Bob turned at last to ride 
 through the forest to the cheerfulness of his rude camp. 
 
VIII 
 
 BOB took his examinations, passed successfully, and 
 was at once appointed as ranger. Thorne had 
 no intention of neglecting the young man's ability. 
 After his arduous apprenticeship at all sorts of labour, Bob 
 found himself specializing. This, he discovered, was 
 becoming more and more the tendency in the personnel of 
 the Service. Jack Pollock already was being sent far afield, 
 looking into grazing conditions, reporting on the state of 
 the range, the advisable number of cattle, the trespass 
 cases. He had a natural aptitude for that sort of thing. 
 Ware, on the other hand, developed into a mighty builder. 
 Nothing pleased him more than to discover new ways 
 through the country, to open them up, to blast and dig and 
 construct his trails, to nose out bridge sites and on them to 
 build spans hewn from the material at hand. He made 
 himself a set of stencils and with them signed all the forks 
 of the trails, so that a stranger could follow the routes. 
 Always he painstakingly added the letters U. S. F. S. to indi- 
 cate that these works had been done by his beloved Service. 
 Charley Morton was the fire chief though any and all 
 took a hand at that when occasion arose. He could, as 
 California John expressed it, run a fire out on a rocky point 
 and lose it there better than any other man on the force. 
 Ross Fletcher was the best policeman. He knew the moun- 
 tains, their infinite labyrinths, better than any other; and 
 he could guess the location of sheep where another might 
 have searched all summer. 
 
 Though each and every man was kept busy enough, and 
 to spare, on all the varied business inseparable from the 
 
 443 
 
444 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 activities of a National Forest, nevertheless Thorne knew 
 enough to avail himself of these especial gifts and likings. 
 So, early in the summer he called in Bob and Elliott. 
 
 "Now," he told them, "we have plenty of work to do, 
 and you boys must buckle into it as you see fit. But this 
 is what I. want you to keep in the back of your mind: some- 
 day the National Forests are going to supply a great part 
 of the timber in the country. It's too early yet. There ; & 
 too much private timber standing, v r hich can be cut without 
 restriction. But when that is largely reduced, Uncle Sam 
 will be going into the lumber business on a big scale. Even 
 now we will be selling a few shake trees, and some small 
 lots, and occasionally a bigger piece to some of the lumber- 
 men who own adjoining timber. We've got to know what 
 we have to sell. For instance, there's eighty acres in there 
 surrounded by Welton's timber. When he comes to cut, 
 it might pay us and him to sell the ripe trees off that eighty." 
 
 "I doubt if he'd think it would pay," Bob interposed. 
 
 "He might. I think the Chief will ease up a little on 
 cutting restrictions before long. You've simply got to over- 
 emphasize a matter at first to make it carry." 
 
 "You mean ?" 
 
 "I mean this is only my private opinion, you under- 
 stand that lumbering has been done so wastefully and 
 badly that it has been necessary, merely as education, to 
 go to the other extreme. We've insisted on chopping and 
 piling the tops like cordwood, and cutting up the down trunks 
 of trees, and generally 'parking' the forest simply to get the 
 idea into people's heads. They'd never thought of such 
 things before. I don't believe it's necessary to go to such 
 extremes, practically; and I don't believe the Service will 
 demand it when it comes actually to do business." 
 
 Elliott and Bob looked at each other a little astonished. 
 
 "Mind you, I don't talk this way outside; and I don't 
 want you to do so," pursued Thorne. "But when you come 
 right down to it, all that's necessary is to prevent fire from 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 445 
 
 running and, of course, to leave a few seed-trees. Yor 
 can keep fire from running just as well by piling the debris 
 in isolated heaps, as by chopping it up and stacking it. And 
 it's a lot cheaper." 
 
 He leaned forward. 
 
 "That's coming," he continued. "Now you, Elliott, have 
 had as thorough a theoretical education as the schools can 
 give you ; and you, Orde, have had a lot of practical experi- 
 ence in logging. You ought to make a good pair. Here's 
 a map of the Government holdings hereabouts. What I 
 want is a working plan for every forty, together with a topo- 
 graphical description, an estimate of timber, and a plan for 
 the easiest method of logging it. There's no hurry about 
 it; you can do it when nothing else comes up to take you 
 away. But do it thoroughly, and to the best of your judg- 
 ment, so I can file your reports for future reference when 
 they are needed." 
 
 "Where do you want us to begin?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Welton is the only big operator," Thome pointed out, 
 "so you'd better look over the timber adjoining or sur- 
 rounded by his. Then the bas.in and ranges above the 
 Power Company are important. There's a fine body of 
 timber there, but we must cut it with a more than usual 
 attention to water supplies." 
 
 This work Bob and Elliott found most congenial. They 
 would start early in the morning, carrying with them their 
 compass on its Jacob's-staff, their chain, their field notes, 
 their maps and their axes. Arrived at the scene of opera- 
 tions, they unsaddled and picketed their horses. Then 
 commenced a search for the "corner," established nearly 
 fifty years before by the dead and gone surveyor, a copy of 
 whose field notes now guided them. This was no easy mat- 
 ter. The field notes described accurately the location, but 
 in fifty years the character of a country may change. Great 
 trees fall, new trees grow up, brush clothes an erstwhile 
 bare hillside, fire denudes a slope, even the rocks and boul- 
 
446 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 ders shift their places under the coercion of frost or aval- 
 anche. The young men separated, shoulder deep in the 
 high brakes and alders of a creek bottom, climbing tiny 
 among great trees on the open slope of a distant hill, clamb- 
 ering busily among austere domes and pinnacles, fading in 
 the cool green depths of the forest. Finally one would 
 shout loudly. The other scrambled across. 
 
 "Here we are," Bob said, pointing to the trunk of a huge 
 yellow pine. 
 
 On it showed a wrinkle in the bark, only just appreci- 
 able. 
 
 "There's our line blaze," said Bob. "Let's see if we can 
 find it in the notes." He opened his book. "'Small creek 
 three links wide, course SW,' " he murmured. " ' Sugar pine, 
 48 in. dia., on line, 48 links.' That's not it. 'Top of ridge 
 34 ch. 6 1. course NE.' Now we come to the down slope. 
 Here we are! 'Yellow pine 20 in. dia., on line, 50 chains.' 
 Twenty inches! Well, old fellow, you've grown some since! 
 Let's see your compass, Elliott." 
 
 Having thus cut the line, they established their course 
 and went due north, spying sharply for the landmarks and 
 old blazes as mentioned in the surveyor's field notes. 
 
 When they had gone about the required distance, they 
 began to look for the corner. After some search, Elliott 
 called Bob's attention to a grown-over blaze. 
 
 "I guess this is our witness tree," said he. 
 
 Without a word Bob began to chop above and below the 
 wrinkle in the bark. After ten minutes careful work, he 
 laid aside a thick slab of wood. The inner surface of this 
 was shiny with pitch. The space from which it had peeled 
 was also coated with the smooth substance. This pitch 
 had filmed over the old blaze, protecting it against the new 
 wood and bark which had gradually grown over it. Thus, 
 although the original blaze had been buried six inches in 
 the living white pine wood, nevertheless the lettering was 
 as clear and sharp as when it had been carved fifty years 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 447 
 
 before. Furthermore, the same lettering, only reversed and 
 in relief, showed on the thick slab that Bob had peeled 
 away. So the tree had preserved the record in its heart. 
 
 "Now let's see," said Bob. "This witness bears S 80 W. 
 Let's find another." 
 
 This proved to be no great matter. Sighting the given 
 directions from the two, they converged on the corner. 
 This was described by the old surveyor as: "Oak post, 4 
 in. dia., set in pile of rocks," etc. The pile of rocks was 
 now represented by scattered stones; and the oak post had 
 long since rotted. Bob, however, unearthed a fragment on 
 which ran a single grooved mark. It was like those made 
 by borers in dead limbs. Were it not for one circumstance, 
 the searchers would not have been justified in assuming that 
 it was anything else. But, as Bob pointed out, the pas- 
 sageways made by borers are never straight. The fact 
 that this was so, established indisputably that it had been 
 made by the surveyor's steel "scribe." 
 
 Having thus located a corner, it was an easy matter to 
 determine the position of a tract of land. At first hazy in 
 its general configuration and extent, it took definition as 
 the young men progressed with the accurate work of timber 
 estimating. Before they had finished with it, they knew 
 eveiy little hollow, ridge, ravine, rock and tree in it. Out 
 of the whole vast wilderness this one small patch had become 
 thoroughly known. 
 
 The work was the most pleasant of any Bob had ever 
 undertaken. Tt demanded accuracy, good judgment, knowl- 
 edge. It did not require feverish haste. The surroundings 
 were wonderfully beautiful; and if the men paused in their 
 work, as they often did, the spirit of the woods, which as 
 always had drawn aside from the engrossments of human 
 activity, came closer as with fluttering of wings. Some- 
 times, nervous and impatient from the busy, tiny clatter of 
 facts and figures and guesses, from the restless shuttle- 
 weaving of estimates and plans, Bob looked up suddenly 
 
448 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 into a deathless and eternal peace. Like the cool green 
 refreshment of waters it closed over him. When he again 
 came to the surface- world of his occupation, he was rested 
 and slowed down to a respectable patience. 
 
 Elliott was good company, interested in the work, well- 
 bred, intelligent, eager to do his share an ideal companion. 
 He and Bob discussed many affairs during their rides to 
 and from the work and during the interims of rest. As 
 time went on, and the tracts to be estimated and plotted 
 became more distant, they no longer attempted to return 
 at night to Headquarters, Small meadows offered them 
 resting places for the day or the week. They became expert 
 in taking care of themselves so expeditiously that the pro- 
 cess stole little time from their labours. On Saturday 
 afternoon they rode to headquarters to report, and to spend 
 Sunday. 
 
IX 
 
 TOWARD the end of the season they had worked 
 past the. main ridge on which were situated Wei- 
 ton's operations and the Service Headquarters. 
 Several deep canons and rocky peaks, by Thome's instruc- 
 tions, they skipped over as only remotely available as a 
 timber supply. This brought them to the ample circle of 
 a basin, well-timbered, wide, containing an unusual acre- 
 age of gently sloping or rolling table-land. Behind this 
 rose the spurs of the Range. A half-hundred streams here 
 had their origin. These converged finally in the Forks, 
 which, leaping and plunging steadily downward from a 
 height of over six thousand feet, was trapped and used again 
 and again to turn the armatures of Baker's dynamos. After 
 serving this purpose at six power houses strung down the 
 contour line of its descent, the water was deflected into wide, 
 deep ditches which forked and forked again until a whole 
 plains province was rendered fertile and productive by irri- 
 gation. 
 
 All this California John, who rode over to show them some 
 corners, explained to them. They sat on the rim of the 
 basin overlooking it as it lay below them like a green cup. 
 
 "You can see the whole of her from here," said California 
 John, "and that's why we use this for fire lookout. It 
 saves a heap of riding, for let me tell you it's a long ways 
 down this bluff. But you bet we keep a close watch on this 
 Basin. It's the most valuable, as a watershed, of any we've 
 got. This is about the only country we've managed to 
 throw a fire-break around yet. It took a lot of time to do 
 it, but it's worth while." 
 
 449 
 
450 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "This is where the Power Company gets its power," 
 remarked Bob. 
 
 "Yes," replied California John, drily. "Which same 
 company is putting up the fight of its life in Congress to 
 keep from payin' anything at all for what it gets." 
 
 They gave themselves to the task of descending into the 
 Basin by a steep and rough trail. At the end of an hour, their 
 horses stepped from the side of the hill to a broad, pleasant 
 flat on which the tall trees grew larger than any Bob had 
 seen on the ridge. 
 
 "What magnificent timber!" he cried. "How does it 
 happen this wasn't taken up long ago?" 
 
 "Well," said California John, "a good share of it is 
 claimed by the Power Company; and unless you come up the 
 way we did, you don't see it. From below, all this looks 
 like part of the bald ridge. Even if a cruiser in the old 
 days happened to look down on this, he wouldn't realize 
 how good it was unless he came down to it it's all just 
 trees from above. And in those days there were lots of trees 
 easier to come at." 
 
 "It's great timber!" repeated Bob. "That 'sugar's 7 
 eight feet through if it's an inch!" 
 
 "Nearer nine," said California John. 
 
 "It'll be some years' work to estimate and plot all this," 
 mused Bob. "If it's so important a watershed, what do 
 they want it plotted for? They'll never want to cut it." 
 
 "There ain't so much of it left, as you'll see when you look 
 at your map. The Power Company owns most. Anyway, 
 government cutting won't hurt the watershed," stated Cali- 
 fornia John. 
 
 As they rode forward through the trees, a half-dozen deer 
 jumped startled from a clump of low brush and sped away. 
 
 " That's more deer than I've seen in a bunch since I left 
 Michigan," observed Bob. 
 
 "Nobody ever gets into this place," explained California 
 John. "There ain't been a fire here in years, and we don't 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 451 
 
 none of us have any reason to ride down. She's too hard 
 to get out of, and we can see her too well from the lookout. 
 The rest of the country feels pretty much the same way." 
 
 "How about sheep?" inquired Elliott. 
 
 "They got to get in over some trail, if they get in at all, 1 ' 
 California John pointed out, "and we can circle the Basin." 
 
 By now they were riding over a bed of springy pine needles 
 through a magnificent open forest. Undergrowth abso- 
 lutely lacked; even the soft green of the bear clover was 
 absent. The straight columns of the trees rose grandly 
 from a swept floor. Only where tiny streams trickled and 
 sang through rocks and shallow courses, grew ferns and the 
 huge leaves of the saxifrage. In this temple-like austerity 
 dwelt a silence unusual to the Sierra forests. The lack of 
 undergrowth and younger trees implied a scarcity of insects; 
 and this condition meant an equal scarcity of birds. Only 
 the creepers and the great pileated woodpeckers seemed to 
 inhabit these truly cloistral shades. The breeze passed 
 through branches too elevated to permit its whisperings to 
 be heard. The very sound of the horses' hoofs was muf- 
 fled in the thick carpet of pine needles. 
 
 Califorina John led them sharp to the right, however, 
 and in a few moments they emerged to cheerful sunlight, 
 alders, young pines among the old, a leaping flashing stream 
 of some size, and multitudes of birds, squirrels, insects and 
 butterflies. 
 
 "There's a meadow, and a good camping place just 
 up-stream," said he. " It's easy riding. You'd better spread 
 your blankets there. Now, here's the corner to 34. We 
 reestablished it four years ago, so as to have something 
 to go by in this country. You can find your way about from 
 there. That bold cliff of rock you see just through the trees 
 there you can climb. From the top you can make out the 
 lookout. If you're wanted at headquarters we'll hang out 
 a signal. That will save a hard ride down. Let's see; 
 how long you got grub for?" 
 
452 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "I guess there's enough to last us ten days or so," replied 
 Elliott. 
 
 "Well, if you keep down this stream until you strike a 
 big bald slide rock, you'll run into an old trail that takes 
 you to the Flats. It's pretty old, and it ain't blazed, but 
 you can make it out if you'll sort of keep track of the coun- 
 try. It ain't been used for years." 
 
 California John, anxious to make a start at the hard 
 climb, now said good-bye and started back. Bob and Elli- 
 ott, their pack horse following, rode up the flat through 
 which ran the river. They soon found the meadow. It 
 proved to be a beautiful spot, surrounded by cedars, warm 
 with the sun, bright with colour, alive with birds. A fringe 
 of azaleas, cottonwoods and quaking asps screened it com- 
 pletely from all that lay outside its charmed circle. A 
 cheerful blue sky spread its canopy overhead. Here Bob 
 and Elliott turned loose their horses and made their camp. 
 After lunch they lay on their backs and smoked. Through 
 a notch in the trees showed a very white mountain against 
 a very blue sky. The sun warmed them gratefully. Birds 
 sang. Squirrels scampered. Their horses stood dozing, 
 ears and head down-looped, eyes half -closed, one hind 
 leg tucked up. 
 
 "Confound it!" cried Elliott suddenly, following his 
 unspoken thought. "I feel like a bad little boy stealing 
 jam! By night I'll be scared. If those woods over behind 
 that screen aren't full of large, dignified gods that disap- 
 prove of me being so cheerful and contented and light-minded 
 and frivolous, I miss my guess!" 
 
 "Same here!" said Bob with, a short laugh. "Let's get 
 busy." 
 
 They started out that very afternoon from the corner 
 California John had showed them. It took all that day 
 and most of the following to define and blaze the bounda- 
 ries of the first tract they intended to estimate. In the 
 accomplishment of this they found nothing out of the ordi- 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 453 
 
 nary; but when they began to move forward across the 
 forty, they were soon brought to a halt by the unexpected. 
 
 "Look here!" Bob shouted to his companion; " here's 
 a brand new corner away off the line." 
 
 Elliott came over. Bob showed him a stake set neatly 
 in a pile of rocks. 
 
 "It's not a very old one, either," said Bob. "Now what 
 do you make of that?" 
 
 Elliott had been spying about him. 
 
 "There's another just like it over on the hill," said he. 
 "I should call it the stakes of a mining claim. There ought 
 to be a notice somewhere." 
 
 They looked about and soon came across the notice hi 
 question. It was made out in the name of a man neither 
 Bob nor Elliott had ever heard of before. 
 
 "I suppose that's his ledge," remarked Elliott, kicking 
 a little outcrop, "but it looks like mighty slim mining to 
 me!" 
 
 They proceeded with their estimating. In due time they 
 came upon another mining claim, and then a third. 
 
 "This is getting funny!" remarked Elliott. "Looks as 
 though somebody expected to make a strike for fair. More 
 timber than mineral here, I should say." 
 
 "That's it!" cried Bob, slapping his leg; "I'd just about 
 forgotten! This must be what Baker was talking about 
 one evening over at camp. He had some scheme for getting 
 some timber and water rights somewhere under the min- 
 eral act. I didn't pay so very much attention to it at the 
 time, and it had slipped my mind. But this must be it!" 
 
 "Do you mean to say that any man was going to take 
 this beautiful timber away from us on that kind of a tech- 
 nicality?" 
 
 "I believe that's just what he did." 
 
 Two days later Elliott straightened his back after a squint 
 through the compass sights to exclaim: 
 
 "I wish we had a dog!" 
 
454 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Why?" laughed Bob. " Can't you eat your share?" 
 
 "I've a feeling that somebody's hanging around these 
 woods; I've had it ever since we got here. And just now 
 while I was looking through the sights I thought I saw 
 something you know how the sights will concentrate your 
 gaze." 
 
 "It's these big woods," said Bob; "I've had the same 
 hunch before. Besides, you can easily look for tracks along 
 your line of sights." 
 
 They did so, but found nothing. 
 
 "But among these rocks a man needn't leave any tracks 
 if he didn't want to," Elliott pointed out. 
 
 "The bogy-man's after you," said Bob. 
 
 Elliott laughed. Nevertheless, as the work progressed, 
 from time to time he would freeze to an attitude of listening. 
 
 "It's like feeling that there's somebody else in a dark room 
 with you," he told Bob. 
 
 "You'll end by giving me the willy-willies, too," com- 
 plained Bob. "I'm beginning to feel the same way. Quit 
 it!" 
 
 By the end of the week it became necessary to go to town 
 after more supplies. Bob volunteered. He saddled his 
 riding horse and the pack animal, and set forth. Follow- 
 ing California John's directions he traced the length of the 
 river through the basin to the bald rock where the old trail 
 was said to begin. Here he anticipated some difficulty in 
 picking up the trail, and more in following it. To his sur- 
 prise he ran immediately into a well-defined path. 
 
 "Why, this is as plain as a strip of carpet!" muttered 
 Bob to himself. "If this is his idea of a dim trail, I'd like to 
 see a good one!" 
 
 He had not ridden far, however, before, in crossing a 
 tiny trickle of water, he could not fail to notice a clear-cut, 
 recent hoof print. The mark was that of a barefoot horse. 
 Bob stared at it. 
 
 "Now if I were real good," he reflected, "like old what- 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 455 
 
 you-may-call-him the Arabian Sherlock Holmes I'd 
 be able to tell whether this horse was loose and climbing 
 for pasture, or carrying a rider, and if so, whether the rider 
 had ever had his teeth filled. There's been a lot of travel 
 on this trail, anyway. I wonder where it all went to?" 
 He paused irresolutely. "It isn't more than two jumps back 
 to the rock," he decided; "I'll just find out what direction 
 they take anyway." 
 
 Accordingly he retraced his steps to the bald rock, and 
 commenced an examination of its circumference to deter- 
 mine where the trail led away. He found no such exit. 
 Save from the direction of his own camp the way was closed 
 either by precipitous sides or dense brush. The conclu- 
 sion was unavoidable that those who had travelled the trail, 
 had either ended their journeys at the bald rock or actually 
 taken to the bed of the river. 
 
 "Well," concluded Bob, "I'm enough of a sleuth to see 
 that that barefoot horse had a rider and wasn't just look- 
 ing pasture. No animal in its senses would hike uphill 
 and then hike down again, or wade belly deep up a stream." 
 
 Puzzling over this mystery, he again took his way down 
 the trail. He found it easy to follow, for it had been con- 
 siderably travelled. In some places the brush had been 
 cut back to open easier passage. Examining these cuttings, 
 Bob found their raw ends only slightly weathered. All 
 this might have been done by the men who had staked the 
 mineral claims, to be sure, but even then Bob found it dif- 
 ficult to reconcile all the facts. In the first place, the trail 
 had indubitably been much used since the time the claims 
 were staked. In the second place, if the prospector had 
 wished to conceal anything, it should have been the fact 
 of his going to the Basin at all, not his whereabouts after 
 arriving there. In other words, if desiring to keep his pres- 
 ence secret, he would have blinded the beginning of the 
 trail rather than its end. 
 
 He kept a sharp lookout. Near the entrance to the canon 
 
456 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 he managed to discover another clear print of the barefoot 
 horse, but headed the other way. Clearly the rider had 
 returned. Bob had hunted deer enough to recognize that 
 the track had been made within the last twenty-four hours. 
 
 At Sycamore Flats he was treated to further surprises. 
 Martin, of whom he bought his supplies, at first greeted 
 him with customary joviality. 
 
 "Hullo! hullo!" he cried; "quite a stranger! Out in 
 camp, eh?" 
 
 "Yes," said Bob, "they've got us working for a change." 
 
 "Where you located?" 
 
 "We're estimating timber up in the Basin," replied Bob. 
 
 The silence that followed was so intense that Bob looked 
 up from the bag he was tying. He met Martin's eyes fixed 
 on him. 
 
 "The Basin," repeated Martin slowly, at last. "Since 
 when?" 
 
 ^ About ten days." 
 
 41 We! Who's we?" 
 
 '"Elliott and I," answered Bob, surprised. "Why?" 
 
 Martin's gaze shifted. He plainly hesitated for a next 
 remark. 
 
 "How'd you Like it there?" he asked lamely, at length. 
 "I thought none of you fellows ever went there." 
 
 "Fine timber," answered Bob, cheerfully. "We don't 
 usually. Somebody does though. California John told 
 me that trail was old and out of use; but it's been used 
 a lot. W T ho gets up there?" 
 
 "The boys drive in some cattle occasionally," replied 
 Martin, with an effort. 
 
 Bob stared in surprise. He knew this was not so, and 
 started to speak, but thought better of it. After he had 
 left the store, he looked back. Martin was gazing after 
 him, a frown between his brows. 
 
 Before he left town a half-dozen of the mountain men had 
 asked him, with an obvious attempt to make the question 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 457 
 
 casual, how he liked the Basin, how long he thought his 
 work would keep him there. Each, as he turned away, 
 followed him with that long, speculative, brooding look. 
 Always, heretofore, his relations with these mountain people 
 had been easy, sympathetic and cordial. Now all at once, 
 without reason, they held him at arm's length and regarded 
 him with suspicious if not hostile eyes. 
 
 Puzzling over this he rode back up the road past the 
 Power House. Thence issued Oldham to hail him. He 
 pulled up. 
 
 "I hear you're estimating the timber in the Basin," said 
 the gray man, with more appearance of disturbance than 
 Bob had ever seen him display. 
 
 Bob acknowledged the accuracy of his statement. 
 
 "Indeed!" said Oldham, pulling -at bis clipped mous- 
 tache, and after a little, "Indeed!" he repeated. 
 
 So the news had run ahead of him. Bob began to think 
 the news important, but for some reason at which he could 
 not as yec guess. This conviction was strengthened by 
 the fact that from the two mountain cabins he passed on 
 his way to the beginning of the trail, men lounged out to 
 talk with him, and in each case the question, craftily ren- 
 dered casual, was put to him as to his business in the Basin. 
 Before one of these cabins stood a sweating horse. 
 
 "Look here," he demanded of the Carrolls, "why all 
 this interest about our being in the Basin? Every man- 
 jack asks me. What's the point?" 
 
 Old man Carroll stroked his long beard. 
 
 "Do they so?" he drawled comfortably. "Well, I 
 reckon little things make news, as they say, when you're in a 
 wild country. They ain't been no work done in the Basin 
 for so long that we're all just nat'rally interested; that's 
 all." 
 
 He looked Bob tranquilly in the eye with the limpid gaze 
 of innocence before which Bob's scrutiny fell abashed. For 
 a while his suspicions of anything unusual were almost 
 
458 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 lulled; the countryside was proverbially curious of any- 
 thing out of the course of events. Then, from a point 
 midway up the steep trail, he just happened to look back, 
 and just happened through an extraordinary combination 
 of openings to catch a glimpse of a rider on the trail. The 
 man was far below. Bob watched a long time, his eye fixed 
 on another opening. Nothing appeared. From some- 
 where in the canon a coyote shrilled. Another answered 
 him from up the mountain. A moment later Bob again 
 saw the rider through the same opening as before, but this 
 time descending. 
 
 "A signal !" he exclaimed, in reference to the coyote 
 howls. 
 
 On arriving at the bare rock, he dismounted and hastily 
 looked it over on all sides. Near the stream it had been 
 splashed. A tiny eddy out of reach of the current still held 
 mud in suspension. 
 
ON his arrival at camp he found Elliott much inter- 
 ested over discoveries of his own. It seemed that 
 the Easterner had spent the afternoon fishing. At 
 one point, happening to look up, he caught sight of a man 
 surveying him intently from a thicket. As he stared, the 
 man drew back and disappeared. 
 
 "I couldn't see him very plainly," said Elliott. "He had 
 a beard and an old gray hat; but that doesn't mean much 
 of course. When I got my nerve up, and had concluded 
 to investigate, I could hardly find a trace of him. He must 
 wear moccasins, I think." 
 
 In return Bob detailed his own experiences. The two 
 could make nothing of it all. 
 
 "If we were down South I'd say 'moonshiners,'" said 
 Elliott, "but the beautiful objection to that is, that we 
 aren't!" 
 
 "It's some mystery to do with the Basin," said Bob, 
 " and the whole countryside is ' on' except our boys. 
 I don't believe California John knew a thing about it." 
 
 "Didn't act so. Question: what possibly could every- 
 body in the mountains be interested in that the Forest Ser- 
 vice would object to?" 
 
 "Lots of things," replied Bob promptly, "but I don't 
 believe the mountains are unfriendly to us as a unit. I 
 know Martin isn't, and he was the first one I noticed as 
 particularly worried." 
 
 Elliott reflected. 
 
 "If he's so friendly, perhaps he was a little uneasy about 
 us" he suggested at length. "If somebody doesn't want 
 
 459 
 
460 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 the Forest Service in this neck of the woods if that some- 
 body is relying on the fact that we never come down in here 
 farther than the lookout, why then it may not be very 
 healthy here." 
 
 "Hadn't thought of that," said Bob. "That looks cheer- 
 ful. But what's the point? Nine- tenths of this timber is 
 private property anyway. There's certainly no trespass 
 sheep, timber or otherwise on the government land. 
 What in blazes is the point?" 
 
 "Give it up; but we'd better wear our guns." 
 
 Bob laughed. 
 
 " I'd have a healthy show against a man who really wanted 
 to get me with a gun. Presumably he'd be an expert, or 
 he wouldn't be sent." 
 
 It was agreed, however, " in view of the unsettled state of 
 the country," as Bob gravely characterized the situation, 
 that the young men should stick together in their 
 work. 
 
 "There's no use taking chances, of course," Bob summed 
 up, "but there's no sense in making fools of ourselves, 
 either. Lord love you, I don't mind being haunted! They 
 can spring as many mysterious apparitions as they please, 
 so long as said apparitions don't take to heaving bricks. 
 We'd look sweet and lovely, wouldn't we, to go back to 
 headquarters and tell them we'd decided to come in because 
 a bad man with whiskers who'd never been introduced 
 came and looked at us out of the trees." 
 
 In pursuance of this determination Bob and Elliott com- 
 bined forces closely in their next day's work. That this 
 was not a useless precaution early became apparent. As, 
 momentarily separated by a few feet, they passed a dense 
 thicket, Bob was startled by a low whistle. He looked up. 
 Within fifty feet of him, but so far in the shadow as to be 
 indistinguishable, a man peered at him. As he caught 
 Bob's eyes he made a violent gesture whose purport Bob 
 could not guess. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 461 
 
 "Did you whistle?" asked Elliott at his elbow. "What's 
 up?" 
 
 Bob pointed; but the man had vanished. Where he 
 had stood they found the print of moccasins. 
 
 Thrice during the day they were interrupted by this 
 mysterious presence. On each occasion Bob saw him first. 
 Always he gestured, but whether in warning or threat Bob 
 could not tell. Each time he vanished as though the earth 
 had swallowed him the instant Elliott turned at Bob's excla- 
 mation. 
 
 "I believe he's crazy!" exclaimed Elliott impatiently. 
 
 "I'd think so, too," replied Bob, "if it weren't for the way 
 everybody acted down below. Do you suppose he's try- 
 ing to warn us out or scare us off?" 
 
 "I'm going to take a crack at him next time he shows up," 
 threatened Elliott. " I'm getting sick of this." 
 
 "No, you can't do that," warned Bob. 
 
 "I'm going to tell him so anyway." 
 
 "That's all right." 
 
 For this experiment they had not long to await the oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 "Hi, there!" shouted Elliott at the place from which the 
 mysterious apparition had disappeared; "I give you fair 
 warning! Step out and declare yourself peaceably or accept 
 the consequences. If you show yourself again after five 
 minutes are up, I'll open fire!" 
 
 The empty forest gave no sign. For an hour nothing 
 happened. Then all at once, when Elliott was entangled 
 in a tiny thicket close at Bob's elbow, the latter was startled 
 by the appearance of the man not ten feet away. He leaped 
 apparently from below a rounded rock, and now stood in full 
 view of its crown. Bob had time only to catch cognizance 
 of a blue eye and a long beard, to realize that the man was 
 saying something rapidly and in a low voice, when Elliott's 
 six-shooter exploded so near his ear as almost to deafen 
 him. At the report the man toppled backward off the rock. 
 
462 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 " Good Lord! You've killed him!" cried Bob. 
 
 "I did not; I fired straight up I" panted Elliott, dashing 
 past him. " Quick ! We'll catch him I" 
 
 But catch him nor see him again they did not. 
 
 Ten minutes later while working in a wide open stretch 
 of forest, they were brought to a stand by the report of a 
 rifle. At the same instant the shock of a bullet threw a 
 shower of dead pine needles and humus over Elliott. 
 Another and another followed, until six had thudded into 
 the soft earth at the young man's feet. He stood quite 
 motionless, and though he went a little pale, his coolness 
 did not desert him. After the sixth shot silence fell abruptly. 
 Elliott stood still for some moments, then moved forward 
 a single step. 
 
 " Guess the show's over," he remarked with a curt laugh. 
 He stooped to examine the excavation the bullets had made. 
 " Quaint cuss," he remarked a trifle bitterly. " Just wanted 
 to show me how easy it would be. All right, my friend, 
 I'm obliged to you. We'll quit the gun racket; but next 
 time you show your pretty face I'll give you a run for it." 
 
 "And get shot," interposed Bob. 
 
 "If it's shoot, we'll get ours any minute. Say," went on 
 the young man in absolutely conversational tones, "don't 
 you see I'm mad?" 
 
 Bob looked and saw. 
 
 " May be you think shooting at me is one of my little 
 niece's favourite summer-day stunts?" went on Elliott. 
 "Well, uncle isn't used to it yet." 
 
 His tone was quiet, but his eyes burned and the muscles 
 around his mouth were white. 
 
 "He's probably crazy, and he's armed," Bob pointed 
 out. "For heaven's sake, go slow." 
 
 "I'm going to paddle his pantalettes, if he commands 
 a gatling," stated Elliott. 
 
 But the mysterious visitor appeared no more that after- 
 noon, and Elliott's resolutions had time to settle. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 463 
 
 That night the young men turned in rather earlier than 
 usual, as they were very tired. Bob immediately dropped 
 into a black sleep. So deep was his slumber that it seemed 
 to him he had just dropped off, when he was awakened by 
 a cool hand placed across his forehead. He opened his eyes 
 quietly, without alarm, to look full into the waning moon 
 sailing high above. His first drowsy motion was one of 
 astonishment, for the luminary had not arisen when he 
 had turned in. The camp fire had fallen to a few faintly 
 glowing coals. These perceptions came to him so gently 
 that he would probably have dropped asleep again had not 
 the touch on his forehead been repeated. Then be started 
 broad awake to find himself staring at a silhouetted man 
 leaning over him. 
 
 With a gesture of caution, the stranger motioned him to 
 arise. Bob obeyed mechanically. The man bent toward 
 him. 
 
 ; 'Put on your pants and sweater and come along," he 
 whispered guardedly. 
 
 Bob peered at him through the moonlight and recognized, 
 vaguely, the man who had been so mysteriously pursuing 
 them all day. He drew back. 
 
 "For the Lord's sake do what I tell you!" whispered 
 the man. "Here!" 
 
 His hand sought the shadow of his side, and instantly 
 gleamed with a weapon. Bob started back; but the man 
 was holding the revolver's butt to him. 
 
 "Now come on!" besought the stranger with a strange 
 note of pleading. "Don't wake your pardner!" 
 
 Yielding, with a pleasant thrill, to the adventure of the 
 situation, and it must be confessed, to a strong curiosity, 
 Bob hastily assumed his outer clothing. Then, with the 
 muzzle of the revolver, he motioned the stranger to proceed. 
 
 Stepping cautiously they gained the open forest beyond 
 the screen of brush. Here the man led the way more rap- 
 idly. Bob followed close at his heels. They threaded the 
 
464 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 forest aisles without hesitation, crossed a deep ravine where 
 the man paused to drink, and began to clamber the pre- 
 cipitous and rocky sides of Baldy. 
 
 ''That'll do for that!" growled Bob suddenly. 
 
 The man looked around as though for information. 
 
 " You needn't go so fast. Keep about three feet in front 
 of me. And when we strike your gang, you keep close to 
 me. Sabe?" 
 
 "I'm alone," expostulated the man. 
 
 Nevertheless he slackened pace. 
 
 After five minutes' climb they entered a narrow ravine 
 gashed almost perpendicularly in the side of the mountain. 
 At this point, however, it flattened for perhaps fifty paces, 
 so that there existed a tiny foothold. It was concealed 
 from every point, and nevertheless, directly to the west, 
 Bob, pausing for breath, looked out over California slum- 
 bering in the moon. On this ledge flowed a tiny stream, 
 and over it grew a score of cedar and fir trees. A fire 
 smouldered near an open camp. On this the man tossed 
 a handful of pitch pine. Immediately the flames started 
 up. 
 
 "Here we are!" he remarked aloud. 
 
 "Yes, I see we are," replied Bob, looking suspiciously 
 about him, "but what does all this mean?" 
 
 "I couldn't get to talk with you no other way, could I?" 
 said the man in tones of complaint; u I sure tried hard enough I 
 But you and your pardner stick closer than brothers." 
 
 "If you wanted to speak to me, why didn't you say so?" 
 demanded Bob, his temper rising. 
 
 "Well, I don't know who your pardner is, or whether 
 he's reliable, nor nothin'. A man can't be too careful. 
 I thought mebbe you'd make a chance yourself, so I kept 
 giving you a show to. 'Course I didn't want to be seen by 
 him." 
 
 "Not seen by him!" broke in Bob impatiently. "What 
 in blazes are you driving at! Explain yourself!" 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 465 
 
 " I showed myself plain only to you except when he 
 cut loose that time with his fool six-shooter. I thought he 
 was further in the brush. Why didn't you make a chance 
 to talk?" 
 
 "Why should I?" burst out Bob. "Will you kindly 
 explain to me why I should make a chance to talk to you; 
 and why I've been dragged out here in the dead of night?" 
 
 "No call to get mad," expostulated the man in rather 
 discouraged tones; "I just thought as how mebbe you was 
 still feeling friendiy-like. My mistake. But I reckon you 
 won't be giving me away anyhow?" 
 
 During this speech he had slowly produced from his hip 
 pocket a frayed bandana handkerchief; as slowly taken off 
 his hat and mopped his brow. 
 
 The removal of the floppy and shady old sombrero exposed 
 to the mingled rays of the fire and the moon the man's full 
 features. Heretofore, Bob had been able to see indistinctly 
 only the meagre facts of a heavy beard and clear eyes. 
 
 "George Pollock 1" he cried, dropping the revolver and 
 leaping forward with both hands outstretched. 
 
XI 
 
 POLLOCK took his hands, but stared at him puzzled. 
 " Surely 1" he said at last. His clear blue eyes 
 slowly widened and became bigger. " Honest I Didn't 
 you know me! Is that what ailed you, Bobby? I 
 thought you'd done clean gone back on me; and I sure 
 always remembered you for a friend 1" 
 
 " Know you I " shouted Bob. " Why, you eternal old fool, 
 how should I know you?" 
 
 "You might have made a plumb good guess." 
 
 " Oh, sure ! " said Bob; " easiest thing in the world. Guess 
 that the first shadow you see in the woods is a man you 
 thought was in Mexico." 
 
 "Didn't you know I was here?" demanded Pollock 
 earnestly. "Sure pop?" 
 
 "How should I know?" asked Bob again. 
 
 George Pollock's blue eyes smouldered with anger. 
 
 "I'll sure tan that promising nephew of mine!" he threat- 
 tened; "I've done sent you fifty messages by him. Didn't 
 he never give you none of them?" 
 
 "Who; Jack?" 
 
 "That's the whelp." 
 
 Bob laughed. 
 
 "That's a joke," said he; "I've been bunking with him 
 for a year. Nary message!" 
 
 "I told Carroll and Martin and one or two more to tell 
 you." 
 
 "I guess they're suspicious of any but the mountain 
 people," said Bob. "They're right. How could they 
 know?" 
 
 466 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 467 
 
 "That's right, they couldn't," agreed George reluctantly. 
 " But I done told them you was my friend. And I thought 
 you'd gone back on me sure." 
 
 "Not an inch!" cried Bob, heartily. 
 
 George kicked the logs of the fire together, filled the coffee 
 pot at the creek, hung it over the blaze, and squatted on his 
 heels. Bob tossed him a sack of tobacco which he caught. 
 
 "Thought you were bound for Mexico," hazarded Bob 
 at length. 
 
 "I went," said Pollock shortly, "and I came back." 
 
 "Yes," said Bob after a time. 
 
 "Homesick," said Pollock; "plain homesick. Wasn't 
 so bad that-a-way at first. I was desp'rit. Took a job 
 punching with a cow outfit near Nogales. Worked myself 
 plumb cut every day, and slept hard all night, and woke 
 up in the morning to work myself plumb out again." 
 
 He fished a coal from the fire and deftly flipped it atop 
 his pipe bowl. After a dozen deep puffs, he continued: 
 
 "Never noticed the country; had nothing to do with the 
 people. All I knew was brands and my hosses. Did good 
 enough cow work, I reckon. For a fact, it was mebbe 
 half a year before I begun to look around. That country 
 is worse than over Panamit way. There's no trees; there's 
 no water; there's no green grass; there's no folks; there's no 
 nothin'i The mountains look like they're made of paper. 
 After about a half year, as I said, I took note of all this, 
 but I didn't care. What the hell difference did it make to 
 me what the country was like? I hadn't no theories to 
 that. I'd left all that back here." 
 
 He looked at Bob questioningly, unwilling to approach 
 nearer his tragedy unless it was necessary. Bob nodded. 
 
 "Then I begun to dream. Things come to me. I'd 
 see places plain like the falls at Cascadell and smell 
 things. For a fact, I smelt azaleas plain and sweet once; 
 and woke up in the damndest alkali desert you ever see. I 
 thought I'd never want to see this country again; the far- 
 
468 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 ther I got away, the more things I'd forget. You under- 
 stand." 
 
 Again Bob nodded. 
 
 "It wasn't that way. The farther off I got, the more I 
 remembered. So one day I cashed in and come back." 
 
 He paused for some time, gazing meditatively on the 
 coffee pot bubbling over the fire. 
 
 "It's good to get back!" he resumed at last. "It smells 
 good; it tastes good. For a while that did me well enough. 
 ... I used to sneak down nights and look at my old 
 place. ... In summer I go back to Jim and the cattle, but 
 it's dangerous these days. The towerists is getting thicker, 
 and you can't trust everybody, even among the mountain 
 folks." 
 
 "How many know you are back here? "asked Bob. 
 
 "Mighty few; Jim and his family knows, of course, 
 and Tom Carroll and Martin and a few others. They 
 ride up trail to the flat rock sometimes bringing me grub 
 and papers. But it's plumb lonesome. I can't go on livin' 
 this way forever, and I can't leave this yere place. Since 
 I have been living here it seems like well, I ain't no call 
 as I can see it to desert my wife dead or alive!" he declared 
 stoutly. 
 
 "You needn't explain," said Bob. 
 
 George Pollock turned to him with sudden relief. 
 
 " Well, you know about such things. What am I to do ? " 
 
 "There are only two courses that I can see," answered 
 Bob, after reflection, "outside the one you're following 
 now. You can give yourself up to the authorities and 
 plead guilty. There's a chance that mitigating circum- 
 stances will influence the judge to give you a light sentence; 
 and there's always a possibility of a pardon. When all the 
 details are made known there ought to be a good show for 
 getting off easy." 
 
 "What's the other?" demanded Pollock, who had list- 
 ened with the closest attention. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 469 
 
 "The other is simply to go back home." 
 
 "They'd arrest r'ij? 
 
 "Let them," said .bob. "Plead not guilty, and take your 
 chances on the trial. Their evidence is circumstantial; you 
 don't have to incriminate yourself; I doubt if a jury would 
 agree on convicting you. Have you ever talked with any- 
 body about about that morning?" 
 
 "About me killing Plant?" supplied Pollock tranquilly. 
 "No. A man don't ask about those things." 
 
 "Not even to Jim?" 
 
 " No. We just sort of took all that for granted." 
 
 "Well, that would be all right. Then if they're called 
 on the stand, they can tell nothing. There are at least 
 no witnesses to the deed itself." 
 
 "There's you " suggested George. 
 
 Bob brought up short in his train of reasoning. 
 
 "But you won't testify agin me?" 
 
 "There's no reason why I should be called. Nobody 
 even knows I was out of bed at that time. If my name 
 happens to be mentioned which isn't at all likely 
 Auntie Belle or a dozen others will volunteer that I was in 
 bed, like the rest of the town. There's no earthly reason 
 to connect me with it." 
 
 "But if you are called?" persisted the mountaineer. 
 
 "Then I'll have to tell the truth, of course," said Bob 
 soberly; "it'll be under oath, you know." 
 
 Pollock looked at him strangely askant. 
 
 "I didn't much look to hear you talk that-a-way," said he. 
 
 "George," said Bob, "this will take money. Have you 
 any?" 
 
 "I've some," replied the mountaineer sulkily. 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 "A hundred dollars or so." 
 
 "Not enough by a long patch. You must let me help 
 you on this." 
 
 "I don't need no help," said Pollock. 
 
470 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "You let me help you once before," Bob reminded him 
 gently, "if it was only to hold a horse." 
 
 "By God, that's right!" burst out George Pollock, "and 
 I'm a fooll If they call you on the stand, don't you lie under 
 oath for me! I don't believe you'd do it for yourself; and 
 that's what I'm going to do for myself. I reckon I'll just 
 plead guilty!" 
 
 " Don't be in a hurry," Bob warned him. "It isn't a mat- 
 ter to go off half-cock on. Any man would have done what 
 you did. I'd have done it myself. That's why I stood by 
 you. I'm not sure you aren't right to take advantage of 
 what the law can do for you. Plenty do just that with only 
 the object of acquiring other people's dollars. I don't say 
 it's right in theory; but in this case it may be eternally right 
 in practice. Go slow on deciding." 
 
 "You're sure a good friend, Bobby," said Pollock simply. 
 
 "Whatever you decide, don't even mention my name to 
 any one," warned Bob. " We don't want to get me connected 
 with the case in any man's mind. Hardly let on you remem- 
 ber to have known me. Don't overdo it though. You'll 
 want a real good lawyer. I'll find out about that. And 
 the money how'll we fix it?" 
 
 George thought for a moment. 
 
 "Fix it with Jack," said he at length. "He'll stay put. 
 Tell him not to tell his own father. He won't. He's reli- 
 able." 
 
 "Sure?" 
 
 "Well, I'm risking my neck on it." 
 
 "I'll simply tell him the name of the lawyer," decided 
 Bob, "and get him actual cash." 
 
 "I'll pay that back the other I can't," said Pollock 
 with sudden feeling. "Here, have a cup of coffee." 
 
 Bob swallowed the hot coffee gratefully. Without speak- 
 ing further, Pollock arose and led the way. When finally 
 they had reached the open forest above the camp, the mount- 
 aineer squeezed Bob's fingers hard. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 471 
 
 "Good-bye," said the younger man in a guarded voice. 
 "I won't see you again. Remember, even at best it's a 
 long wait in jail. Think it over before you decide!" 
 
 "I'm in jail here," replied Pollock. 
 
 Bob walked thoughtfully to camp. He found a fire burn- 
 ing and Elliott afoot. 
 
 "Thank God, you're here!" cried that young man; "I 
 was getting scared for you. What's up?" 
 
 "You are and I am," replied Bob. "Couldn't sleep, so 
 I went for a walk. Think that bogy- man of yours had 
 got me?" 
 
 "I surely began to." 
 
 "Nothing doing. I guess I can snooze a little now." 
 
 "I can't," complained Elliott. "You've got me good and 
 waked up, confound you!" 
 
 Bob kicked off his boots, and without further disrobing 
 rolled himself into his gray blanket. As he was dropping 
 asleep two phrases flashed across his brain. They were: 
 "compounding a felony," and "accessory after the fact." 
 
 "Don't feel much like a criminal either," murmured Bob 
 to himself; and after a moment: "Poor devil!" 
 
XII 
 
 TWO days later, from the advantage of the rock desig- 
 nated by California John, Elliott reported the agreed 
 signal for their recall. Accordingly, they packed 
 together their belongings and returned to headquarters. 
 
 "We're getting short-handed, and several things have 
 come up," said Thorne. " I have work for both of you." 
 
 Having despatched Elliott, Thorne turned to Bob. 
 
 "Orde," said he, "I'm going to try you out on a very del- 
 icate matter. At the north end lives an old fellow named 
 Samuels. He and his family are living on a place inside the 
 National forests. He took it up years ago, mainly for the 
 timber, but he's one of these hard-headed old coons that's 
 'agin the Government/ on general principles. He never 
 proved up, and when his attention was called to the fact, he 
 refused to do anything. No reason why not, except that 
 'he'd always lived there and always would.' You know the 
 kind." 
 
 "Ought to put in two years in the Michigan woods," 
 said Bob. . 
 
 "Well, as a matter of fact, he gave up the claim to all 
 intents and purposes, but now that the Yellow Pine people 
 are cutting up toward him, he's suddenly come to the notion 
 that the place is worth while. So he's patched up his cabin, 
 and moved in his whole family. We've got to get a relin- 
 quishment out of him." 
 
 " If he has no right there, why not put him off ? " asked Bob. 
 
 " Well, in the first place, this Samuels is a hard old citizen 
 with a shotgun; in the second place, he has some shadow of 
 right on which he could make a fight; in the third place, the 
 
 472 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 473 
 
 country up that way ddesn't care much for us anyway, and we 
 want to minimize opposition." 
 
 "I see," said Bob. 
 
 " You'll have to go up and look the ground over, that's all. 
 Do what you think best. Here are all the papers in the mat- 
 ter. You can look them over at your leisure." 
 
 Bob tucked the bundle of papers in his cantinas, or pommel 
 bags, and left the office. Amy was rattling the stove in her 
 open-air kitchen, shaking down the ashes preparatory to the 
 fire. Bob stopped to look across at her trim, full figure in 
 its starched blue, immaculate as always. 
 
 "Hullo, Colonel!" he called. "How are the legions of 
 darkness and ignorance standing the cannonading these days ? 
 Funny paper any new jokes?" 
 
 This last was in reference to Amy's habit of reading the 
 Congressional Record in search of speeches or legislation 
 affecting the forests. Bob stoutly maintained, and nobody 
 but Amy disputed him, that she was the only living woman, 
 in or out of captivity, known to read that series of documents. 
 
 Amy shook her head, without looking up. 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked Bob solicitously. "Noth- 
 ing wrong with the Hero, nor any of the Assistant Heroes?" 
 
 Thus in their banter were designated the President, and 
 such senators as stood behind his policies of conservation. 
 
 "Then the villains must have been saying a few triumph- 
 ant ha! ha's!" pursued Bob, referring to Fulton, Clark, Hey- 
 burn and the rest of the senatorial representatives of the anti- 
 conservationists. " Or is it merely the stove ? Let me help." 
 
 Amy stood upright, and thrust back her hair. 
 
 " Please don't," said she. " I don't feel like joking to-day/' 
 
 "It is something!" cried Bob. "I do beg your pardon; 
 I didn't realize . . . you know I'd like to help, if it's 
 anything I can do." 
 
 " It is nothing to do with any of us," said Amy, seating her- 
 self for a moment, and letting her hands fall in her lap. " It's 
 just some news that made me feel sorry. Ware came up with 
 
474 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 the mail a little while ago, and he tells us that George Pollock 
 has suddenly reappeared and is living down at his own place." 
 
 "They've arrested him!" cried Bob. 
 
 "Not yet; but they will. The sheriff has been notified. 
 Of course, his friends warned him in time; but he won't go. 
 Says he intends to stay." 
 
 " Then he'll go to jail." 
 
 " And to prison. What chance has a poor fellow like that 
 without money or influence? All he has is his denial." 
 
 "Then he denies?" asked Bob eagerly. 
 
 "Says he knows nothing about Plant's killing. His wife 
 died that same morning, and he went away because he could 
 not stand it. That's his story; but the evidence is strong 
 against him, poor fellow." 
 
 "Do you believe him?" asked Bob. 
 
 Amy swung her foot, pondering. 
 
 "No," she said at last. "I believe he killed Plant; and I 
 believe he did right! Plant killed his wife and child, and 
 took away all his property. That's what it amounted to." 
 
 "There are hardships worked in any administration," 
 Bob pointed out. 
 
 Amy looked at him slowly. 
 
 " You don't believe that in this case," she pronounced at last. 
 
 "Then Pollock will perjure himself," suggested Bob, to 
 try her. 
 
 " And if he has friends worth the name, they'll perjure them- 
 selves, too!" cried Amy boldly. "They'll establish an alibi, 
 they'll invent a murderer for Plant, they'll do anything for a 
 man as persecuted and hunted as poor George Pollock!" 
 
 "Heavens!" returned Bob, genuinely aghast at this whole- 
 sale programme. "What would become of morals and 
 honour and law and all the rest of it, if that sort of thing 
 obtained?" 
 
 "Law?" Amy caught him up. "Law? It's become 
 foolish. No man lives capable of mastering it so completely 
 that another man cannot find flaws in his best efforts. Reuf 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 475 
 
 and Schmitz are guilty everybody says so, even them- 
 selves. Why aren't they in jail? Because of the law. Don't 
 talk to me of law!" 
 
 " But how about ordinary mortals? You can't surely per- 
 mit a man to lie in a court of justice just because he thinks 
 his friend's cause is just!" 
 
 "I don't know anything about it," sighed Amy, as though 
 weary all at once, " except that it isn't right. The law should 
 be a great and wise judge, humane and sympathetic. George 
 Pollock should be able to go to that judge and say: 'I killed 
 Plant, because he had done me an injury for which the per- 
 petrator should suffer death. He was permitted to do this 
 because of the deficiency of the law.' And he should be 
 able to say it in all confidence that he would be given justice, 
 eternal justice, and not a thing so warped by obscure and 
 forgotten precedents that it fits nothing but some lawyer's 
 warped notion of logic!" 
 
 "Whew!" whistled Bob, "what a lady of theory and eru- 
 dition it is!" 
 
 Amy eyed him doubtfully, then smiled. 
 
 "I'm glad you happened along," said she. "I feel better. 
 Now I believe I'll be able to do something with my biscuits." 
 
 " I could do justice to some of them," remarked Bob, " and 
 it would be the real thing without any precedents in that line 
 whatever." 
 
 "Come around later and you'll have the chance," invited 
 Amy, again addressing herself to the stove. 
 
 Still smiling at this wholesale and feminine way of leaping 
 directly to a despotically desired ideal result, Bob took the 
 trail to his own camp. Here he found Jack Pollock poring 
 over an old illustrated paper. 
 
 "Hullo, Jack!" he called cheerfully. "Not out on duty, 
 eh?" 
 
 " I come in," said Jack, rising to his feet and folding the old 
 paper carefully. He said nothing more, but stood eyeing 
 his colleague gravely. 
 
476 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "You want something of me?" asked Bob. 
 
 "No," denied Jack, "I don't know nothing I want of you. 
 But I was told to come and get a piece of paper and maybe 
 some money that a stranger was goin' to leave by our chimb- 
 ley. It ain't there. You ain't seen it, by any chance? " 
 
 " It may have got shoved among some of my things by mis- 
 take," replied Bob gravely. " I haven't had a chance of look- 
 ing. I'm just in from the Basin." At these last words he 
 looked at Jack keenly, but that young man's expression 
 remained inscrutable. " I'll look when I get back," he con- 
 tinued after a moment; "just now I've got to ride over to the 
 mill to see Mr. Welton." 
 
 Jack nodded gravely. 
 
 " If you find them, leave them by the chimbley," said he. 
 "I'm going to headquarters." 
 
 Bob rode to the mill. By the exercise of some diplomacy 
 he brought the conversation to good lawyers without arous- 
 ing Welton' s suspicions that he could have any personal 
 interest in the matter. 
 
 "Erbe's head and shoulders above the rest," said Welton. 
 "He has half the business. He's for Baker's interests, and 
 our own; and he's shrewd. Maybe you'll get into trouble 
 yourself some day, Bob. Better send for him. He's the 
 greatest criminal lawyer in the business." 
 
 Bob laughed heartily with his old employer. From Poole 
 he easily obtained currency for his personal check of two 
 hundred dollars. This would do to go on with for the time 
 being. He wrote Erbe's name and address in a disguised 
 hand on, a piece of rough brown paper. This he wrapped 
 around the money, and deposited by the alarm clock on the 
 rough log mantelpiece of his cabin. The place was empty. 
 When he had returned from his invited supper with the 
 Thornes, the package had disappeared. He did not again 
 catch sight of Jack Pollock, for next morning he started out 
 on his errand to the north end. 
 
XIII 
 
 A NO ON of the second day of a journey that led him 
 up the winding watered valleys of the lower ranges, 
 Bob surmounted a ridge higher than the rest and rode 
 down a long, wide slope. Here the character of the country 
 changed completely. Scrub oaks, young pines and chaparral 
 covered the ground. Among this growth Bob made out the 
 ancient stumps of great trees. The ranch houses were built 
 of sawn lumber, and possessed brick chimneys. In appear- 
 ance they seemed midway between the farm houses of the 
 older settled plains and the rougher cabins of the moun- 
 taineers. 
 
 Bob continued on a dusty road until he rode into a little 
 town which he knew must be Durham. Its main street con- 
 tained three stores, two saloons, a shady tree, a windmill and 
 watering trough and a dozen chair-tilted loafers. A wooden 
 sidewalk shaded by a wooden awning ran the entire length 
 of this collection of commercial enterprises. A redwood 
 hitching rail, much chewed, flanked it. Three saddle horses, 
 and as many rigs, dozed in the sun. 
 
 Bob tied his saddle horse to the rail, leaving the pack 
 animal to its own devices. Without attention to the curious 
 stares of the loafers, he pushed into the first store, and 
 asked directions of the proprietor. The man, a type of the 
 transplanted Yankee, pushed the spectacles up over his fore- 
 head, and coolly surveyed his questioner from head to foot 
 before answering. 
 
 "I see you're a ranger," he remarked drily. "Well, I 
 wouldn't go to Samuels's if I was you. He's give it out that 
 he'll kill the next ranger that sets foot on his place." 
 
 477 
 
478 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "I've heard that sort of talk before," replied Bob impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "Samuels means what he says," stated the storekeeper. 
 " He drove off the last of you fellows with a shotgun and 
 he went too." 
 
 " You haven't told me how to get there," Bob pointed out. 
 
 "All you have to do is to turn to the right at the white 
 church and follow your nose," replied the man curtly. 
 
 "How far is it?" 
 
 "About four mile." 
 
 "Thank you," said Bob, and started out. 
 
 The man let him get to the door. 
 
 "Say, you!" he called. 
 
 Bob stopped. 
 
 "You might be in better business than to turn a poor man 
 out of his house and home." 
 
 Bob did not wait to hear the rest. As he untied his saddle 
 horse, a man brushed by him with what was evidently inten- 
 tional rudeness, for he actually jostled Bob's shoulder. The 
 man jerked loose the tie rein of his own mount, leaped to the 
 saddle, and clattered away. Bob noticed that he turned to 
 the right at the white church. 
 
 The four-mile ride, Bob discovered, was almost straight 
 up. At the end of it he found himself well elevated above 
 the valley, and once more in the sugar-pine belt. The road 
 wound among shades of great trees. Piles of shakes, gleam- 
 ing and fragrant, awaited the wagon. Rude signs, daubed 
 on the riven shingles, instructed the wayfarer that this or that 
 dim track through the forest led to So-and-so's shake camp. 
 
 It was by now after four of the afternoon. Bob met 
 nobody on the road, but he saw in the dust fresh tracks which 
 he shrewdly surmised to be those of the man who had jostled 
 him. Samuels had his warning. The mountaineer would 
 be ready. Bob had no intention of delivering a frontal 
 attack. 
 
 He rode circumspectly, therefore, until he discerned an 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 479 
 
 opening in the forest. Here he dismounted. The open- 
 ing, of course, might be only that of a natural meadow, but 
 in fact proved to be the homestead claim of which Bob was 
 in search. 
 
 The improvements consisted of a small log cabin with a 
 stone and mud chimney; a log stable slightly larger in size; 
 a rickety fence made partly of riven pickets, partly of split 
 rails, but long since weathered and rotted; and what had 
 been a tiny orchard of a score of apple trees. At some remote 
 period this orchard had evidently been cultivated, but now the 
 weeds and grasses grew rank and matted around neglected 
 trees. The whole place was down at the heels. Tin cans 
 and rusty baling wire strewed the back yard; an iil-cared-for 
 wagon stood squarely in front; broken panes of glass in the 
 windows had been replaced respectively by an old straw 
 hat and the dirty remains of overalls. The supports of the 
 little verandah roof sagged crazily. Over it clambered a vine. 
 Close about drew the forest. That was it: the forest! The 
 "homestead" was a mere hovel; the cultivation a patch; 
 the improvements sketchy and ancient; but the forest, 
 become valuable for lumber where long it had been consid- 
 ered available only for shakes, furnished the real motive for 
 this desperate attempt to rehabilitate old and lapsed rights. 
 
 The place was populous enough, for all its squalor. A half- 
 dozen small children, scantily clothed, swarmed amongst the 
 tin cans; two women, one with a baby in her arms, appeared 
 and disappeared through the low doorway of the cabin; a 
 horse or two dozed among the trees of the neglected orchard; 
 chickens scratched everywhere. Square in the middle of 
 the verandah, in a wooden chair, sat an old man whom Bob 
 guessed to be Samuels. He sat bolt upright, facing the 
 front, his knees spread apart, his feet planted solidly. A 
 patriarchal beard swept his great chest; thick, white hair 
 crowned his head; bushy white brows, like thatch, over- 
 shadowed his eyes. Even at the distance, Bob could imagine 
 the deep-set, flashing, vigorous eyes of the old man. For 
 
480 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 everything about him, save the colour of his hair and beard, 
 bespoke great vigour. His solidly planted attitude in his 
 chair, the straight carriage of his back, the set of his shoulders, 
 the very poise of his head told of the power and energy 
 of an autocrat. Across his knees rested a shotgun. 
 
 As Bob watched, a tall youth sauntered around the corner 
 of the cabin. He spoke to the old man. Samuels did not 
 look around, but nodded his massive head. The young 
 man disappeared in the cabin to return after a moment, 
 accompanied by the individual Bob had seen in Durham. 
 The two spoke again to the old man; then sauntered off in the 
 direction of the barn. 
 
 Bob returned, untied his horse; and, leading that animal, 
 approached the cabin afoot. No sooner had he emerged into 
 view when the old man arose and came squarely and uncom- 
 promisingly to meet him. The two encountered perhaps 
 fifty yards from the cabin door. 
 
 Bob found that a closer inspection of his antagonist rather 
 strengthened than diminished the impression of force. The 
 old man's eyes were flashing fire, and his great chest rose 
 and fell rapidly. He held his weapon across the hollow 
 of his left arm, but the muscles of his right hand were white 
 with the power of his grip. 
 
 "Get out of here!" he fairly panted at. Bob. "I warned 
 you fellows I" 
 
 Bob replied calmly. 
 
 "I came in to see if I could get to stay for supper, and to 
 feed my horse." 
 
 At this the old man exploded in a violent rage. He ordered 
 Bob off the place instantly, and menaced him with his shot- 
 gun. Had Bob been mounted, Samuels would probably 
 have shot him; but the mere position of a horseman afoot 
 conveys subtly an impression of defencelessness that is 
 difficult to overcome. He is, as it were, anchored to the spot, 
 and at the other man's mercy. Samuels raged, but he did 
 not shoot. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 481 
 
 At the sounds of altercation, however, the whole hive 
 swarmed. The numerous children scuttled for cover like 
 quail, but immediately peered forth again. The two women 
 thrust their heads from the doorway. From the direction 
 of the stable the younger men came running. One of them 
 held a revolver in his hand. 
 
 During all this turmoil and furore Bob had stood perfectly 
 still, saying no word. Provided he did nothing to invite it, 
 he was now safe from personal violence. To be sure, 
 a very slight mistake would invite it. Bob waited 
 patiently. 
 
 He remembered, and was acting upon, a conversation he 
 had once held with Ware. The talk had fallen on gun- 
 fighting, and Bob, as usual, was trying to draw Ware out. 
 The latter was, also, as usual, exceedingly reticent and dis- 
 inclined to open up. 
 
 "What would you do if a man got your hajids up?" 
 chaffed Bob. 
 
 Ware turned on him quick as a flash. 
 
 "No man ever got my hands up!" 
 
 "No?" said Bob, hugely delighted at the success of his 
 stratagem. "What do you do, then, when a man gets the 
 cold drop on you?" 
 
 But now Ware saw the trap into which his feet were lead- 
 ing him, and drew back into his shell. 
 
 " Oh, shoot out, or blutf out," said he briefly. 
 
 "But look here, Ware," insisted Bob, "it's all very well 
 to talk like that. But suppose a man actually has his gun 
 down on you. How can you ' shoot out or bluff out' ?" 
 
 Ware suddenly became serious. 
 
 "No man," said he, "can hold a gun on you for over ten 
 seconds without his eyes flickering. It's too big a strain. 
 He don't let go for morn about the hundredth part of a 
 second. After that he has holt again for another ten seconds, 
 and will pull trigger if you bat an eyelash. But if you take 
 it when his eyes flicker, and are quick, you'll get himl" 
 
482 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "What about the other way around?" asked Bob. 
 
 "I never pulled a gun unless I meant to shoot," said Ware 
 grimly. 
 
 The practical philosophy of this Bob was now utilizing. 
 If he had ridden up boldly, Samuels would probably have 
 shot him from the saddle. Having gained the respite, Bob 
 now awaited the inevitable momentary relaxing from this 
 top pitch of excitement. It came. 
 
 "I have not the slightest intention of tacking up any 
 notices or serving any papers," he said quietly, referring to 
 the errand of the man whom Samuels had driven off at the 
 point of his weapon. "I am travelling on business; and I 
 asked for shelter and supper." 
 
 "No ranger sets foot on my premises," growled Samuels. 
 
 "Very well," said Bob, unpinning and pocketing his pine 
 tree badge. ("Oh, Pd have died rather than do that!" cried 
 A my when she heard. "I'd have stuck to my guns! " " Heroic, 
 but useless," replied her brother drily.) " I don't care whether 
 the ranger is fed or not. But I'm a lot interested in me. I 
 ask you as a man, not as an official." 
 
 "Your sort ain't welcome here; and if you ain't got sense 
 enough to see it, you got to be shown!" the youngest man 
 broke in roughly. 
 
 Bob turned to him calmly. 
 
 "I am not asking your sufferance," said he, "nor would I 
 eat where I am not welcome. I am asking Mr. Samuels 
 to bid me welcome. If he will not do so, I will ride on." He 
 turned to the old man again. " Do you mean to tell me that 
 the North End is so far behind the South End in common 
 hospitality? We've fed enough men at the Wolverine 
 Company in our time." 
 
 Bob let fly this shaft at a venture. He knew how many 
 passing mountaineers paused for a meal at the cook house, 
 and surmised it probable that at least one of his three oppo- 
 nents might at some time have stopped there. This proved 
 to be the case. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 483 
 
 "Are you with the Wolverine Company?" demanded 
 the man who had jostled him. 
 
 " I was for some years in charge of the woods." 
 
 "I've et there. You can stay to supper," said Samuels 
 ungraciously. 
 
 He turned sharp on his heel and marched back to the cabin, 
 leaving Bob to follow with his horse. The two younger men 
 likewise went about their business. Bob found himself quite 
 alone, with only this ungracious permission to act on. 
 
 Nevertheless, quite imperturbably, Bob unsaddled, led 
 his animal into the dark stable, threw it some of the wild hay 
 stacked therein, washed himself in the nearby creek, and took 
 his station on the deserted verandah. The twilight fell. 
 Some of the children ventured into sight, but remained 
 utterly unmoved by the young man's tentative advances. 
 He heard people moving about inside, but no one came near 
 him. Finally, just at dusk, the youngest man protruded his 
 head from the doorway. 
 
 "Come to supper," said he surlily. 
 
 Bob ducked his head to enter a long, low room. Its 
 walls were of the rough logs; its floor of hewn timbers; its 
 ceiling of round beams on which had been thrown untrimmed 
 slabs as a floor to the loft above. A board table stood in 
 the centre of this, flanked by homemade chairs and stools of 
 all varieties of construction. A huge iron cooking stove 
 occupied all of one end an extraordinary piece of ordnance. 
 The light from a single glass lamp cast its feeble illumination 
 over coarse dishes steaming with food. 
 
 Bob bowed politely to the two women, who stood, their 
 arms crossed on their stomachs, without deigning his salu- 
 tation the slightest attention. The children, of all sizes and 
 ages, stared at him unblinking. The two men shuffled to 
 their seats, without looking up at the visitor. Only the old 
 man vouchsafed him the least notice.. 
 
 "Set thar!" he growled, indicating a stool. 
 
 Bob found on the board that abundance and variety which 
 
484 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 always so much surprises the stranger to a Sierra mount- 
 aineer's cabin. Besides the usual bacon, beans, and bread, 
 there were dishes of canned string-beans and corn, potatoes, 
 boiled beef, tomatoes and pressed glass dishes of preserves. 
 Coffee, hot as fire, and strong as lye, came in thick china 
 cups without handles. 
 
 The meal went forward in absolute silence, which Bob 
 knew better than to interrupt. It ended for each as he or she 
 finished eating. The two women were left at the last quite 
 alone. Bob followed his host to the veranda. There he 
 silently offered the old man a cigar; the younger men had 
 vanished. 
 
 Samuels took the cigar with a grunt of thanks, srnelled it 
 carefully, bit an inch off the end, and lit it with a slow-burn- 
 ing sulphur match. Bob also lit up. 
 
 For one hour and a half two cigars apiece the two 
 sat side by side without uttering a syllable. The velvet dark 
 drew close. The heavens sparkled as though frosted with 
 light. Bob, sitting tight on what he knew was the one and 
 only plan to accomplish his purpose, began to despair of his 
 chance. Of his companion he could make out dimly only 
 the white of his hair and beard, the glowing fire of his cigar. 
 Inside the house the noises made by the inhabitants thereof 
 increased and died away; evidently the household was seek- 
 ing its slumber. A tree-toad chirped, loudest in ail the world 
 of stillness. 
 
 Suddenly, without warning, the old man scraped back his 
 chair. Bob's heart leaped. Was his one chance escaping 
 him? Then to his relief Samuels spoke. The long duel of 
 silence was at an end. 
 
XIV 
 
 WHAT might your name be?" inquired Samuels. 
 "Orde." 
 "I heerd of you . . . what might you be 
 doing up here?" 
 
 "I'm just riding through." 
 
 "Best thing any of you can do," commented the old mail 
 grimly. 
 
 "I wish you'd tell me now why you jumped on me so this 
 evening," said Bob. 
 
 "If you don't know, you're a fool," growled Samuels. 
 
 "I've knocked around a good deal," persisted Bob, "and 
 I've discovered that one side always sounds good until you 
 hear the other man's story. I've only heard one side of 
 this one." 
 
 "And that's all you're like to hear," Samuels told him. 
 "You don't get no evidence out of me against myself." 
 
 Bob laughed. 
 
 "You're mighty suspicious and I don't know as I blame 
 you. Bless your soul, what evidence do you suppose I could 
 get from you in a case like this? You've already made 
 it clear enough with that old blunderbuss of yours what you 
 think of the merits of the case. I asked you out of per- 
 sonal interest. I know the Government claims you don't 
 own this place; and I was curious to know why you think 
 you do. The Government reasoning looks pretty conclu- 
 sive to a man who doesn't know all the circumstances." 
 
 "Oh, it is, is it!" cried Samuels, stung to anger. "Well, 
 what claim do you think the Government has?" 
 
 But Bob was too wily to be put in the aggressive. 
 
 485 
 
486 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "I'm not thinking; I'm asking," said he. "They say 
 you're holding this for the timber, and never proved 
 up." 
 
 "I took it up bony-fidy," fairly shouted Samuels. "Do 
 you think a man plants an orchard and such like on a tim- 
 ber claim. The timber is worth something, of course. Well, 
 don't every man take up timber? What about that Wolver- 
 ine Company of yours? What about the Yellow Pine 
 people? What about everybody, everywhere? Ain't I got 
 a right to it, same as everybody else?" 
 
 He leaned forward, pounding his knee. A querulous and 
 sleepy voice spoke up from the interior of the cabin : 
 
 " Oh, pa, for heaven's sake don't holler so!" 
 
 The old man paused in mid-career. Over the treetops the 
 moon was rising slowly. Its light struck across the lower 
 part of the verandah, showing clearly the gnarled hand of the 
 mountaineer suspended above his sturdy knee; casting into 
 dimness the silver of his massive head. The hand descended 
 noiselessly. 
 
 "Ain't I got my rights, same as another man?" he asked, 
 more reasonably. " Just because I left out some little piece 
 of their cussed red-tape am I a-goin' to be turned out bag and 
 baggage, child, kit, and kaboodle, while fifty big men steal, 
 just plain steal, a thousand acres apiece and there ain't noth- 
 ing said ? Not if I know it ! " 
 
 He talked on. Slowly Bob came to an understanding of 
 the man's position. His argument, stripped of its verbiage 
 and self-illusion, was simplicity itself. The public domain 
 was for the people. Men selected therefrom what they 
 needed. All about him, for fifty years, homesteads had been 
 taken up quite frankly for the sake of timber. Nobody made 
 any objections. Nobody even pretended that these claims 
 were ever intended to be lived on. The barest letter of the 
 law had been complied with. 
 
 " I've seen a house, made out'n willow branches, and out'n 
 coal-oil cans, called resident buildin's under the act," said 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 487 
 
 Samuels, " and they was so lost in the woods that it needed 
 a compass to find 'em." 
 
 He, Samuels, on the other hand, had actually planted an 
 orchard and made improvements, and even lived on the place 
 for a time. Then he had let the claim lapse, and only recently 
 had decided to resume what he sincerely believed to be his 
 rights in the matter. 
 
 Bob did not at any point suggest any of the counter argu- 
 ments he might very well have used. He listened, leaning 
 back against the rail, watching the moonlight drop log by 
 log as the luminary rose above the verandah roof. 
 
 " And so there come along last week a ranger and started 
 to tack up a sign bold as brass that read: 'Property of the 
 United States.' Property of hell!" 
 
 He ceased talking. Bob said nothing. 
 
 "Now you got it; what you think?" asked the old man at 
 last. 
 
 "It's tough luck," said Bob. "There's more to be said 
 for your side of the case than I had thought." 
 
 "There's a lot more goin' to be said yet," stated Samuels, 
 truculently. 
 
 " But I'm afraid when it comes right down to the law of it, 
 they'll decide against your claim. The law reads pretty 
 plain on how to go about it; and as I understand it, you never 
 did prove up." 
 
 " My lawyer says if I hang on here, they never can get me 
 out," said Samuels, "and I'm a-goin' to hang on." 
 
 "Well, of course, that's for the courts to decide," agreed 
 Bob, "and I don't claim to know much about law nor 
 want to." 
 
 "Me neither!" agreed the mountaineer fervently. 
 
 "But I've known of a dozen cases just like yours that 
 went against the claimant. There was the Brown case in 
 Idaho, for instance, that was exactly like yours. Brown 
 had some money, and he fought it through up to the Supreme 
 Court, but they decided against him." 
 
488 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "How was that?" asked Samuels. 
 
 Bob explained at length, dispassionately, avoiding even 
 the colour of argument, but drawing strongly the parallel. 
 
 "Even if you could afford it, I'm almighty afraid you'd 
 run up against exactly the same thing," Bob concluded, " and 
 they'd certainly use the Brown case as a precedent." 
 
 "Well, I've got money!" said Samuels. "Don't you for- 
 get it. I don't have to live in a place like this. I've got a 
 good, sawn-lumber house, painted, in Durham and a gar- 
 den of posies." 
 
 "I'd like to see it," said Bob. 
 
 "Sometime you get to Durham, ask for me," invited 
 Samuels. 
 
 " Well, I see how you feel. If I were in your fix, I'd prob- 
 ably fight it too, but I'm morally certain they'd get you in 
 the courts. And it is a tremendous expense for nothing." 
 
 "Well, they've got to git me off'n here first," threatened 
 Samuels. 
 
 Bob averted the impending anger with a soft chuckle. 
 
 "I wouldn't want the job!" said be. "But if they had 
 the courts with them, they'd get you off. You can drive 
 those rangers up a tree quick enough (" You know that isn't 
 so!" cried Amy at the subsequent recital.), but this is a Fed- 
 eral matter, and they'll send troops against you, if necessary." 
 
 " My lawyer " began Samuels. 
 
 "May be dead right, or he may enjoy a legal battle at the 
 other man's expense," put in Bob. "The previous cases 
 are all dead against him; and they're the only ammuni- 
 tion." 
 
 " It's a-gittin' cold," said Samuels, rising abruptly. "Let's 
 git inside!" 
 
 Bob followed him to the main room of the cabin where 
 the mountaineer lit a tallow candle stuck in the neck of a 
 bottle. 
 
 "Oh, pa, come to bed!" called a sleepy voice, "and quit 
 your palavering." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 489 
 
 "She! up!" commanded Samuels, setting the candle in the 
 middle of the table, and seating himself by it. "Ain't there 
 no decisions the other way ? " 
 
 "I'm no lawyer," Bob pointed out, dropping into a stool 
 on the other side, so that the candle stood between them, 
 "and my opinion is of no value" the old man grunted 
 what might have been assent, or a mere indication of atten- 
 tion " but as far as I knew, there have been none. I know 
 all the leading cases, I think" he added. 
 
 "So they can put me off, and leave all these other fellows, 
 who are worse off than I be in keepin' up with what the law 
 wants!" cried Samuels. 
 
 "I hope they'll begin action against every doubtful claim," 
 said Bob soberly. 
 
 "It may be the law to take away my homestead, but it 
 ain't justice," stated the old man. 
 
 Bob ventured his first aggressive movement. 
 
 "Did you 2ver read the Homestead Law?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, as you remember, that law states pretty plainly 
 the purpose of the Homestead Act. It is to provide, out of 
 the public lands, for any citizen not otherwise provided, with 
 one hundred and sixty acres as a farm to cultivate or a home- 
 stead on which to live. When a man takes that land for any 
 other purpose whatever, he commits an injustice; and when 
 that land is recalled to the public domain, that injustice is 
 righted, not another committed." 
 
 "Injustice!" challenged the old man; "against what, for 
 heaven's sake!" 
 
 "Against the People," replied Bob firmly. 
 
 "I suppose these big lumber dealers need a home and a 
 farm tool" sneered Samuels. 
 
 "Because they did wrong is no reason you should." 
 
 "'Who dares say I done wrong?" demanded the mountain- 
 eer. "Look here! Why does the Government pick on me 
 and try to drive me off'n my little place where I'm living, 
 
4QO THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 and leave these other fellows be? What right or justice is 
 there in that?" 
 
 "I don't know the ins and out of it all," Bob reminded 
 him. "As I said before, I'm no lawyer. But they've at 
 least conformed with the forms of the law, as far as the Gov- 
 ernment has any evidence. You have not. I imagine that's 
 the reason your case has been selected first." 
 
 " To hell with a law that drives the poor man off his home 
 and leaves the rich man on his ill-got spoils!" cried Samuels. 
 
 The note in this struck Bob's ear as something alien. "I 
 wonder what that echoes from!" was his unspoken thought. 
 Aloud he merely remarked: 
 
 "But you said yourself you have money and a home in 
 Durham." 
 
 " That may be," retorted Samuels, " but ain't I got as much 
 right to the timber, I who have been in the country since '55, 
 as the next man ? " 
 
 "Why, of course you have, Mr. Samuels," r greed Bob 
 heartily. "I'm with you there." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " But you've exercised your rights to timber claims already. 
 You took up your timber claim in '89, and what is more, 
 your wife and her brother and your oldest son also took up 
 timber claims in '90. As I understand it, this is an old 
 homestead claim, antedating the others." 
 
 Samuels, rather taken aback, stared uncertainly. He had 
 been lured from his vantage ground of force to that of argu- 
 ment; how he scarcely knew. It had certainly been without 
 his intention. 
 
 Bob, however, had no desire that the old man should again 
 take his stand behind the impenetrable screen of threat 
 and bluster from which he had been decoyed. 
 
 "We've all got to get together, as citizens, to put a stop to 
 this sort of thing," he shifted his grounds. "I believe the 
 time is at hand when graft and grab by the rich and power- 
 ful will have to go. It will go only when we take hold together. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 491 
 
 Look at San Francisco With great skill he drew the 
 
 old man into a discussion of the graft cases in that city. 
 
 "Graft," he concluded, "is just the price the people are 
 willing to pay to get their politics done for them while they 
 attend to the pressing business of development and building. 
 They haven't time nor energy to do everything, so they're 
 willing to pay to have some things taken off their hands. 
 The price is graft. When the people have more time, when 
 the other things are done, then the price will be too high. 
 They'll decide to attend to their own business." 
 
 Samuels listened to this closely. "There's a good deal 
 in what you say," he agreed. " I know it's that way with us. 
 If I couldn't build a better road with less money and less 
 men than our Supervisor, Curtis, does, I'd lie down and roll 
 over. But I ain't got time to be supervisor, even if anybody 
 had time to elect me. There's a bunch of reformers down 
 our way, but they don't seem to change Curtis much." 
 
 "Reformers are no good unless the rank and file of the 
 people come to think the way they do," said Bob. "That's 
 why we've got to start by being good citizens ourselves, no 
 matter what the next man would do." 
 
 Samuels peered at him strangely, around the guttering 
 candle. Bob allowed him no time to express his thought. 
 
 " But to get back to your own case," said he. " What gets 
 me is why you destroy your homestead right for a practical 
 certainty." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" 
 
 "Why, I personally think it's a certainty that you will be 
 dispossessed here. If you wait for the law to put you off, 
 you'll have no right to take up another homestead your 
 right will be destroyed." 
 
 "What good would a homestead right do me these days?" 
 demanded Samuels. "There's nothing left." 
 
 "New lands are thrown open constantly," said Bob, "and 
 it's better, other things being equal, to have a right than to 
 want it On the other hand, if you voluntarily relinquish 
 
492 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 this claim, your right to take up another homestead is still 
 good." 
 
 At the mention of relinquishment the old mountaineer 
 shied like a colt. With great patience Bob took up the other 
 side of the question. The elements of the problem were now 
 all laid down patriotism, the certainty of ultimate loss, 
 the advisability of striving to save rights, the desire to do one's 
 part toward bringing the land grabbers in line. Remained 
 only so to apply the pressure of all these cross-motives that 
 they should finally bring the old man to the point of definite 
 action. 
 
 Bob wrestled with the demons of selfishness, doubt, 
 suspicion, pride, stubbornness, anger, acquisitiveness that 
 swarmed in the old man's spirit, as Christian with Apollyon. 
 The labour was as great. At times, as he retraced once more 
 and yet again ground already covered, his patience was over- 
 come by a great weariness; almost the elemental obstinacy 
 of the man wore him down. Then his very soul clamoured 
 within him with the desire to cut all this short, to cry out 
 impatiently against the slow stupidity or mulishness, or avari- 
 ciousness, or whatever it was, that permitted the old man 
 to agree to every one of the premises, but to balk finally at 
 the conclusion. The night wore on. Bob realized that it 
 was now or never; that he must take advantage of this 
 receptive mood a combination of skill and luck had gained 
 for him. The old man must be held to the point. The 
 candle burned out. The room grew chill. Samuels threw 
 an armful of pitch pine on the smouldering logs of the fire- 
 place that balanced the massive cook stove. By its light 
 the discussion went on. The red flames reflected strangely 
 from unexpected places, showing the oddest inconsequences. 
 Bob, at times, found himself drifting into noticing these 
 things. He stared for a moment hypnotically on the incon- 
 gruous juxtaposition of a skillet and an ink bottle. Then he 
 roused himself with a start; for, although his tongue had con- 
 tinued saying what his brain had commanded it to say, the 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 493 
 
 dynamics had gone from his utterance, and the old man was 
 stirring restlessly as though about to bring the conference 
 to a close. Warned by this incident, he forced his whole 
 powers to the front. His head was getting tired, but he must 
 continuously bring to bear against this dead opposition all 
 the forces of his will. 
 
 At last, with many hesitations, the old man signed. The 
 other two men, rubbing their eyes sleepily, put down their 
 names as witnesses, and, shivering in the night chill, crawled 
 back to rest, without any very clear idea of what they had 
 been called on to do. Bob leaned back in his chair, the 
 precious document clasped tight. The taut cords of his being 
 had relaxed. For a moment he rested. To his conscious- 
 ness dully penetrated the sound of a rooster crowing. 
 
 "Don't see how you keep chickens," he found himself 
 saying; "we can't. Coyotes and cats get 'em. I wish you'd 
 tell me." 
 
 Opposite him sat old Samuels, his head forward, motion- 
 less as a graven image. Between them the new candle, 
 brought for the signing of the relinquishment, flared and 
 sputtered. 
 
 Bob stumbled to his feet. 
 
 "Good night," said he. 
 
 Samuels neither moved nor stirred. He might have been 
 a figure such as used to be placed before the entrances of 
 wax works exhibitions, so still he sat, so fixed were his eyes, 
 so pallid the texture of his weather-tanned flesh after the 
 vigil. 
 
 Bob went out to the verandah. The chill air stirred his 
 blood, set in motion the run-down machinery of his physical 
 being. From the darkness a bird chirped loudly. Bob 
 looked up. Over the still, pointed tops of the trees the sky 
 had turned faintly gray. From the window streamed the 
 candle light. It seemed unwontedly yellow in contrast to a 
 daylight that, save by this contrast, was not yet visible. 
 
 Bob stepped from the verandah. As he passed the window, 
 
494 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 he looked in. Samuels had risen to his feet, and stood rigid, 
 his clenched fist on the table. 
 
 At the stable Bob spoke quietly to his animals, saddled 
 them, and led them out. For some instinctive reason which 
 he could not have explained, he had decided to be imme- 
 diately about his journey. The cold gray of dawn had come, 
 and objects were visible dimly. Bob led his horses to the 
 edge of the wood. There he mounted. When well within 
 the trees he looked back. Samuels stood on the edge of* 
 the verandah, peering out into the uncertain light of the dawn. 
 From the darkness of the trees Bob made out distinctly the 
 white of his mane-like hair and the sweep of his patriarchal 
 beard. Across the hollow of his left arm he carried his shot- 
 gun. 
 
 Bob touched spur to his saddle horse and vanished in the 
 depths of the forest. 
 
XV 
 
 BOB delivered his relinquishment at headquarters, 
 and received the news. 
 George Pollock had been arrested for the murder 
 of Plant, and now lay in jail. Erbe, the White Oaks lawyer, 
 had undertaken charge of his case. The evidence was as yet 
 purely circumstantial. Erbe had naturally given out no 
 intimation of what his defence would be. 
 
 Then, within a week, events began to stir in Durham 
 County. Samuels wrote a rather violent letter announcing 
 his change of mind in regard to the relinquishment. To this 
 a formal answer of regret was sent, together with an intima- 
 tion that the matter was now irrevocable. Somebody sent a 
 copy of the local paper containing a vituperative interview 
 with the old mountaineer. This was followed by other 
 copies in which other citizens contributed letters of expostula- 
 tion and indignation. The matter was commented on 
 ponderously in a typical country editorial containing such 
 phrases as "clothed in a little brief authority," "arrogant 
 minions of the law," and so forth. Tom Carroll, riding 
 through Durham on business, was treated to ugly looks and 
 uglier words. Ross Fletcher, visiting the county seat, escaped 
 a physical encounter with belligerent members of an inflamed 
 populace only by the exercise of the utmost coolness and good 
 nature. Samuels moved further by petitioning to the proper 
 authorities for the setting aside of the relinquishment and 
 the reopening of the whole case, on the ground that his signa- 
 ture had been obtained by "coercion and undue influence." 
 On the heels of this a mass meeting in Durham was called 
 and largely attended, at which a number of speakers uttered 
 
 495 
 
496 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 very inflammatory doctrines. It culminated in resolutions 
 of protest against Thorne personally, against his rangers, 
 and his policy, alleging that one and all acted " arbitrarily, 
 arrogantly, unjustly and oppressively in the abuse of their 
 rights and duties." Finally, as a crowning absurdity, the 
 grand jury, at its annual session, overstepping in its zeal the 
 limits of its powers, returned findings against "one Ashley 
 Thorne and Robert Orde, in the pay of the United States 
 Government, for arbitrary exceeding of their rights and 
 authorities; for illegal interference with the rights of citizens; 
 for oppression," and so on through a round dozen vague 
 counts. 
 
 All this tumult astonished Thorne. 
 
 " I had no idea this Samuels case interested them quite so 
 much up there; nor did I imagine it possible they would 
 raise such a row over that old long-horn. I haven't been 
 up in that country as much as I should have liked, but I 
 did not suspect they were so hostile to the Service." 
 
 "They always have been," commented California John. 
 
 " All this loud mouthing doesn't mean much," said Thorne, 
 "though of course we'll have to undergo an investigation. 
 Their charges don't mean anything. Old Samuels must 
 be a good deal of a demagogue." 
 
 "He's got a good lawyer," stated California John briefly. 
 
 "Lawyer? Who?" 
 
 "Erbe of White Oaks." 
 
 Thorne stared at him puzzled. 
 
 "Erbe? Are you sure of that? Why, the man is a big 
 man; he's generally a cut or so above cases of this sort 
 with as little foundation for them. He's more in the line of 
 fat fees. Here's two mountain cases he's undertaken." 
 
 "I never knew Johnny Erbe to refuse any sort of case 
 he'd get paid for," observed California John. 
 
 "Well, he's certainly raising a dust up north," said Thorne. 
 " Every paper all at once is full of the most incendiary stuff. 
 I hate to send a ranger up there these days." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 497 
 
 "I reckon the boys can take care of themselves!" put in 
 Ross Fletcher. 
 
 California John turned to look at him. 
 
 "Sure thing, Ross," he drawled, "and a first-class row 
 between a brutal ranger who could take care of himself 
 and an inoffensive citizen would read fine in print." 
 
 "That's the idea," approved Thorne. "We can't afford 
 a row right now. It would bring matters to a head." 
 
 "There's the Harris case, and the others," suggested Amy; 
 "what are you going to do about them, now?" 
 
 " Carry them through according to my instructions, unless 
 I get orders to the contrary," said Thorne. "It is the 
 policy of the Service throughout to clear up and settle these 
 doubtful land cases. We must get such things decided. 
 We can't stop because of a little localized popular clamour." 
 
 " Are there many such cases up in the Durham country ?" 
 asked Bob. 
 
 "Probably a dozen or so." 
 
 "Isn't it likely that those men have got behind Samuels 
 in order to discourage action on their own cases?" 
 
 "I think there's no doubt of it," answered Thorne, "but 
 the point is, they've been fighting tooth and nail from the 
 start. W r e had felt out their strength from the first, and 
 it developed nothing like this." 
 
 "That's where Erbe comes in," suggested Bob. 
 
 "Probably." 
 
 "It don't amount to nothin'," said California John. "In 
 the first place, it's only the 'nesters,'* the saloon crowd, who 
 are after you for Austin's case; and the usual muck of old- 
 timers and loafers who either think they own the country and 
 ought to have a free hand in everything just as they're used 
 to, or who are agin the Government on general principles. 
 I don't believe the people at Durham are behind this. I 
 bet a vote would give us a majority right now." 
 
 "Well, the majority stays in the house, then," observed 
 
 * "Nester " Western term meaning squatters, small settlers generally illegally such. 
 
498 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Ross Fletcher drily. "I didn't observe none of them when 
 I walked down the street." 
 
 "I believe with John," said Thome. "This crowd 
 makes an awful noise, but it doesn't mean much. The 
 Office cannot fail to uphold us. There's nobody of any 
 influence or importance behind all this." 
 
 Nevertheless, so skilfully was the campaign conducted, 
 pressure soon made itself felt from above. The usual 
 memorials and largely-signed protests were drawn up and 
 presented to the senators from California, and the repre- 
 sentatives of that and neighbouring districts. Men in the 
 employ of the saloon element rode actively in all directions 
 obtaining signatures. A signature to anything that does not 
 carry financial obligation is the easiest thing in the world to 
 get. Hundreds who had no grievance, and who listened 
 with the facile indignation of the ignorant to the represen- 
 tations of these emissaries, subscribed their names as voters 
 and constituents to a cause whose merits or demerits were 
 quite uncomprehended by them. The members of Con- 
 gress receiving these memorials immediately set them- 
 selves in motion. As Thome could not officially reply to 
 what had not as yet been officially urged, his hands were 
 tied. A clamour that had at first been merely noisy and 
 meaningless, began now to gain an effect. 
 
 Thorne confessed himself puzzled. 
 
 "If it isn't a case of a snowball growing bigger the farther 
 it rolls, I can't account for it," said he. "This thing ought 
 to have died down long ago. It's been fomented very 
 skilfully. Such a campaign as this one against us takes 
 both ability and money more of either than I thought 
 Samuels could possibly possess." 
 
 In the meantime, Erbe managed rapidly to tie up the legal 
 aspects of the situation. The case, as it developed, proved 
 to be open-and-shut against his client, but apparently 
 unaffected by the certainty of this, he persisted in the inter- 
 position of all sorts of delays. Samuels continued to live 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 499 
 
 undisturbed on his claim, which, as Thorne pointed out, 
 had a bad moral effect on the community. 
 
 The issue soon took on a national aspect. It began to be? 
 commented on by outside newspapers. Publications close 
 to the administration and thoroughly in sympathy with its 
 forest policies, began gravely to doubt the advisability of 
 pushing these debatable claims at present. 
 
 "They are of small value," said one, "in comparison with 
 the large public domain of which they are part. At a time 
 when the Forest Service is new in the saddle and as yet sub- 
 jected to the most violent attacks by the special interests on 
 the floors of Congress, it seems unwise to do anything that 
 might tend to arouse public opinion against it." 
 
 As though to give point to this, there now commenced in 
 Congress that virulent assault led by some of the Western 
 senators, aimed at the very life of the Service itself. Allega- 
 tions of dishonesty, incompetence, despotism; of depriving 
 the public of its heritage; of the curtailments of rights and 
 liberties; of folly; of fraud were freely brought forward 
 and urged with impassioned eloquence. Arguments special 
 to cattlemen, to sheepmen, to lumbermen, to cord wood men, 
 to pulp men, to power men were emphasized by all sorts 
 of misstatements, twisted statements, or special appeals to 
 greed, personal interest and individual policy. To support 
 their eloquence, senators supposedly respectable did not 
 hesitate boldly to utter sweeping falsehoods of fact. The 
 Service was fighting for its very life. 
 
 Nevertheless, persistently, the officials proceeded with 
 their investigations. Bob had conducted his campaign 
 so skilfully against Samuels that Thorne used him further 
 in similar matters. Little by little, indeed, the young man was 
 withdrawn from other work. He now spent many hours with 
 Amy in the little office going over maps and files, over copies 
 of documents and old records. When he had thoroughly 
 mastered the ins and outs of a case, he departed with his pack 
 animal and saddle horse to look the ground over in person. 
 
Soo THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Since the eclat of the Samuels case, he had little hope of 
 obtaining relinquishments, nor did he greatly care to do so. 
 A relinquishment saved trouble in the courts, but as far 
 as avoiding adverse public notice went, the Samuels affair 
 showed the absolute ineffectiveness of that method. But 
 by going on the ground he was enabled to see, with his own 
 eyes, just what sort of a claim was in question, the improve- 
 ments that had been made on it, the value both to the claim- 
 ant and the Government. Through an interview he was able 
 to gauge the claimant, to weigh his probable motives and 
 the purity of both his original and present intentions. A 
 number of cases thus he dropped, and that on no other than 
 his own responsibility. They were invariably those whose 
 issue in the courts might very well be in doubt, so that it 
 was impossible to tell, without trying them, how the decision 
 would jump. Furthermore, and principally, he was always 
 satisfied that the claimant had meant well and honestly 
 throughout, and had lapsed through ignorance, bad advice, 
 or merely that carelessness of the letter of the legal form so 
 common among mountaineers. Such cases were far more 
 numerous than he had supposed. The men had, in many 
 instances, come into the country early in its development. 
 They had built their cabins by the nearest meadow that 
 appealed to them; for, to all intents and purposes, the country 
 was a virgin wilderness whose camping sites were many 
 and open to the first comer. Only after their households 
 had been long established as squatters did these pioneers 
 awake to an imperfect understanding that further formality 
 was required before these, their homes, could be legally 
 their own. Living isolated these men, even then, blundered 
 in their applications or in the proving up of their claims. 
 Such might be legally subject to eviction, but Bob in his 
 recommendations gave them the benefit of the doubt and 
 advised that full papers be issued. In the hurried days of 
 the Service such recommendations of field inspectors were 
 often considered as final. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 501 
 
 There were other cases, however, for which Bob's sym- 
 pathies were strongly enlisted, but which presented such 
 flagrant irregularities of procedure that he could not con- 
 sistently recommend anything but a court test of the rights 
 involved. To this he added a personal note, going 
 completely into details, and suggesting a way out. 
 
 And finally, as a third class, he was able, as in Samuels's 
 case, to declare war on behalf of the Government. Men who 
 had already taken up all the timber claims to which they 
 or their families were legally entitled, nevertheless added 
 an alleged homestead to the lot. Other men were taking 
 advantage of twists and interpretations of the law to gain 
 possession of desirable tracts of land still included in the 
 National Forests. These men knew the letter of the law 
 well enough, and took pains to conform accurately to it. 
 Their lapses were of intention. The excuses were many - 
 so-called mineral claims, alleged agricultural land, all the 
 exceptions to reservation mentioned in the law; the actual 
 ends aimed at were two water rights or timber. In these 
 cases Bob reported uncompromisingly against the granting 
 of the final papers. Thousands of acres, however, had been 
 already conveyed. Over these, naturally, he had no juris- 
 diction, but he kept his eyes open, and accumulated evidence 
 which might some day prove useful in event of a serious 
 effort to regain those lands that had been acquired by 
 provable fraud. 
 
 But on the borderland between these sharply defined 
 classes lay many in the twilight zone. Bob, without know- 
 ing it, was to a certain extent exercising a despotic power. 
 He possessed a latitude of choice as to which of these involved 
 land cases should be pushed to a court decision. If the law 
 were to be strictly and literally interpreted, there could be 
 no doubt but that each and every one of these numerous 
 claimants could be haled to court to answer for his short- 
 comings. But that, in many instances, could not but work 
 an unwarranted hardship. The expenses alone, of a journey 
 
502 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 to the state capital, would strain to the breaking point the 
 means of some of the more impecunious. Insisting on the 
 minutest technicalities would indubitably deprive many an 
 honest, well-meaning homesteader of his entire worldly 
 property. It was all very well to argue that ignorance of 
 the law was no excuse; that it is a man's own fault if he 
 does not fulfill the simple requirements of taking up public 
 land. As a matter of cold fact, in such a situation as this, 
 ignorance is an excuse. Legalizing apart, the rigid and 
 invariable enforcement of the law can be tyrannical. Of 
 course, this can never be officially recognized; that would 
 shake the foundations. But it is not to be denied that the 
 literal and universal and invariable enforcement of the 
 minute letter of any law, no matter how trivial, for the space 
 of three months would bring about a mild revolution. As 
 witness the sweeping and startling effects always consequent 
 on an order from headquarters to its police to "enforce 
 rigidly"- for a time some particular city ordinance. 
 Whether this is a fault of our system of law, or a defect 
 inherent in the absolute logic of human affairs, is a matter 
 for philosophy to determine. Be that as it may, the powers 
 that enforce law often find themselves on the horns of a 
 dilemma. They must take their choice between tyranny 
 and despotism. 
 
 So, in a mild way, Bob had become a despot. That is to 
 say, he had to decide to whom a broken law was to apply, 
 and to whom not, and this without being given any touch- 
 stone of choice. The matter rested with his own experience, 
 knowledge and personal judgment. Fortunately he was a 
 beneficent despot. A man evilly disposed, like Plant, could 
 have worked incalculable harm for others and great financial 
 benefit to himself. That this is not only possible but inev- 
 itable is another defect of law or system. No sane man for 
 one single instant believes that literal enforcement of every 
 law at all times is either possible or desirable. No sane man 
 for one single instant believes that the law can be excepted 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 503 
 
 to or annulled for especial occasions without undermining 
 the public confidence and public morals.- Yet where is the 
 middle ground? 
 
 In Bob's capacity as beneficent despot, he ran against 
 many problems that taxed his powers. It was easy to say 
 that Samuels, having full intention to get what he very well 
 knew he had no right to have, and for acquiring which he 
 had no excuse save that others were allowed to do likewise, 
 should be proceeded against vigorously. It was likewise 
 easy to determine that Ward, who had lived on his mountain 
 farm, and cultivated what he could, and had himself made 
 shakes of his timber, but who had blundered his formal 
 processes, should be given a chance to make good. But 
 what of the doubtful cases? What of the cases wherein 
 apparently legality and equity took opposite sides ? 
 
 Bob had adventures in plenty. For lack of a better system, 
 he started at the north end and worked steadily south, 
 examining with patience the pedigree of each and every 
 private holding within the confines of the National Forests. 
 These were at first small and isolated. Only one large tract 
 drew his attention, that belonging to old Simeon Wright in 
 the big meadows under Black Peaks. These meadows, 
 occupying a wide plateau grown sparsely with lodgepole 
 pine, covered perhaps a thousand acres of good grazing, and 
 were held legally, but without the shadow of equity, by the 
 old land pirate who owned so much of California. In going 
 over both the original records, the newer geological survey 
 maps, and the country itself, Bob came upon a discrepancy. 
 He asked and obtained leave for a resurvey. This deter- 
 mined that Wright's early-day surveyor had made a mistake 
 no extraordinary matter in a wild country so remote from 
 base lines. Simeon's holdings were actually just one mile 
 farther north, which brought them to the top of a bald granite 
 ridge. His title to this was indubitable; but the broad and 
 valuable meadows belonged still to the Government. As the 
 case was one of fact merely, Wright had no opportunity to 
 
504 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 contest, or to exercise his undoubtedly powerful influence. 
 The affair served, however, to draw Bob's name and activities 
 into the sphere of his notice. 
 
 Among the mountain people Bob was at first held in a 
 distrust that sometimes became open hostility. He received 
 threats and warnings innumerable. The Childs boys sent 
 word to him, and spread that word abroad, that if this govern- 
 ment inspector valued his life he would do well to keep 
 off Iron Mountain. Bob promptly saddled his horse, rode 
 boldly to the Childs' shake camp, took lunch with them, and 
 rode back, speaking no word either of business or of threats. 
 Having occasion to take a meal with some poor, squalid 
 descendants of hog-raising Pike County Missourians, he 
 detected a queer bitterness to his coffee, managed unseen to 
 empty the cup into his canteen, and later found, as he had 
 suspected, that an attempt had been made to poison him. 
 He rode back at once to the cabin. Instead of taxing the 
 woman with the deed for he shrewdly suspected the man 
 knew nothing of it he reproached her with condemning 
 him unheard. 
 
 "I'm the best friend you people have," said -he. "It isn't 
 my fault that you are in trouble with the regulations. The 
 Government must straighten these matters out. Don't 
 think for a minute that the work will stop just because some- 
 body gets away with me. They'll send somebody else. 
 And the chances are, in that case, they'll send somebody who 
 is instructed to stick close to the letter of the law: and who 
 will turn you out mighty sudden. I'm trying to do the best 
 I can for you people." 
 
 This family ended by giving him its full confidence in the 
 matter. Bob was able to save the place for them. 
 
 Gradually his refusal to take offence, his refusal to debate 
 any matter save on the impersonal grounds of the Govern- 
 ment servant acting solely for his masters, coupled with his 
 willingness to take things into consideration, and his desire 
 to b absolutely fair, won for Bob a reluctant confidence. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 505 
 
 At the north end men's minds were as yet too inflamed. 
 It is a curious matter of flock psychology that if the public 
 mind ever occupies itself fully with an idea, it thereby becomes 
 for the time being blind, impervious, to all others. But in 
 other parts of the mountains Bob was not wholly unwelcome ; 
 and in one or two cases which pleased him mightily 
 men came in to him voluntarily for the purpose of asking his 
 advice. 
 
 In the meantime the Samuels case had come rapidly to a 
 crisis. The resounding agitation had resulted in the send- 
 ing of inspectors to investigate the charges against the local 
 officials. The first of these inspectors, a rather precise 
 and formal youth fresh from Eastern training, was easily 
 handled by the versatile Erbe. His report, voluminous as 
 a tariff speech, and couched in very official language, 
 exonerated Thorne and Orde of dishonesty, of course, but 
 it emphasized their "lack of tact and business ability," and 
 condemned strongly their attitude in the Durham matter. 
 This report would ordinarily have gone no farther than the 
 district office, where it might have been acted on by the 
 officers in charge to the great detriment of the Service. At 
 that time the evil of sending out as inspectors men admirably 
 trained in theory but woefully lacking in practice and the 
 knowledge of Western humankind was one of the great 
 menaces to effective personnel. Fortunately this particular 
 report came into the hands of the Chief, who happened to 
 be touring in the West. A fuller investigation exposed to 
 the sapient experience of that able man the gullibility of the 
 inspector. From the district a brief statement was issued 
 upholding the local administration. 
 
 The agitation, thus deprived of its chief hope, might very 
 well have been expected to simmer down, to die away slowly. 
 As a matter of fact, it collapsed. The newspaper attacks 
 ceased; the public meetings were discontinued; the saloons 
 and other storm centres applied their powers to a discussion 
 of the Gans-Nelson fight. Samuels was very briefly declared 
 
506 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 a trespasser by the courts. Erbe disappeared from the case. 
 The United States Marshal, riding up with a posse into a 
 supposedly hostile country, found no opposition to his 
 enforcement of the court's decree. Only old Samuels himself 
 offered an undaunted defence, but was soon dislodged and 
 led away by men who half-pitied, half- ridiculed his violence. 
 The sign " Property of the U. S. " resumed its place. Thorne 
 made of the ancient homestead a ranger's post. 
 
 "It's incomprehensible as a genuine popular movement," 
 said he on one of Bob's periodical returns to headquarters. 
 The young man now held a commission, and lived with the 
 Thornes when at home. "The opposition up there was so 
 rabid and it wilted too suddenly." 
 
 " 'The mutable many,' " quoted Amy. 
 
 But Thorne shook his head. 
 
 " It's as though they'd pricked a balloon," said he. " They 
 don't love us up there, yet; but it's no worse now than it 
 used to be here. Last week it was actually unsafe on the 
 streets. If they were so strong for Samuels then, why not now ? 
 A mere court decision could not change their minds so quickly. 
 I should have expected the real bitterness and the real resist- 
 ence when the Marshal went up to put the old man off." 
 
 " That's the way I sized it up," admitted Bob. 
 
 "It's as if somebody had turned off the steam and the 
 engine quit running," said Thorne, "and for that reason 
 I'm more than ever convinced that it was a made agitation. 
 Samuels was only an excuse." 
 
 "What for?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Struck me the same way," put in California John. 
 "Reminded me of the war. Looked like they held onto 
 this as a sort of first defence as long as they could, and then 
 just abandoned it and dropped back." 
 
 "That's it," nodded Thorne. "That's my conclusion. 
 Somebody bigger than Samuels fears investigation; and 
 they hoped to stop our sort of investigation short at Samuels. 
 Well, they haven't succeeded." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 507 
 
 Amy arose abruptly and ran to her filing cases. 
 
 "That ought to be easily determined," she cried, looking 
 over her shoulder with shining eyes. "I have the papers 
 about all ready for the whole of our Forest. Here's a list 
 of the private holdings, by whom held, how acquired and 
 when." She spread the papers out on the table. "Now 
 let's see who owns lots of land, and who is powerful enough 
 to enlist senators, and who would fear investigation." 
 
 All four bent over the list for a few moments. Then 
 Thorne made five dots with his pencil opposite as many 
 names. 
 
 "All the rest are little homesteaders," said he. "One of 
 these must be our villain." 
 
 "Or all of them," amended California John drily. 
 
XVI 
 
 THE little council of war at once commenced an eager 
 discussion of the names thus indicated. 
 " There's your own concern, the Wolverine Com- 
 pany," suggested Thorne. "What do you know about 
 the way it acquired its timber?" 
 
 " Acquired in 1879," replied Amy, consulting her notes. 
 " Partly from the Bank, that held it on mortgage, and 
 partly from individual owners." 
 
 "Welton is no crook," struck in Bob. "Even if he'd 
 strained the law, which I doubt; he wouldn't defend himself 
 at this late date with any method as indirect as this." 
 
 "I think you're right on the last point," agreed Thorne. 
 "Proceed." 
 
 "Next is the Marston N. Leavitt firm." 
 
 " They bought their timber in a lump from a broker by the 
 name of Robinson; and Robinson got it of the old Joncal* 
 Mill outfit; and heaven knows where they got it," put in 
 California John. 
 
 "How long ago?" 
 
 "'84 the last transfer," said Amy. 
 
 "Doesn't look as though the situation ought to alarm 
 them to immediate and violent action," observed Thorne. 
 "Aren't there any more recent claims?" he asked Amy. 
 
 "Here's one; the Modoc Mining Company, about one 
 thousand mineral claims, amounting to approximately 
 28,000 acres, filed 1903." 
 
 "That looks more promising. Patents issued in the reign 
 of our esteemed predecessor, Plant." 
 
 * Pronounced Hone-kal. 
 
 508 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 509 
 
 "Where are most of the claims?" asked California John. 
 
 " All the claims are in the same place," replied Amy. 
 
 "The Basin!" said Bob. 
 
 Amy recited the "descriptions" within whose boundaries 
 lay the bulk of the claims. 
 
 "That's it," said Bob. 
 
 "Is there any real mineral there?" inquired Thome. 
 
 "Not that anybody ever heard of," said California John, 
 who was himself an old miner; "but gold is where you 
 find it," he added cautiously. 
 
 "How's the timber?" 
 
 "It's the best stand I've seen in the mountains," said Bob. 
 
 "Well," observed Thorne, "of course it wouldn't do to 
 say so, but I think we've run against the source of our 
 opposition in the Samuels case." 
 
 "That explains Erbe's taking the case," put in Bob; 
 "he's counsel for most of these corporations." 
 
 "The fact that this is not a mineral country," continued 
 Thorne, "together with the additional considerations of a 
 thousand claims in so limited an area, and the recent date, 
 makes it look suspicious. I imagine the Modoc Mining 
 Company intends to use a sawmill, rather more than a stamp 
 mill." 
 
 "Who are they?" asked California John. 
 
 "We must find that out. Also we must ourselves ascer- 
 tain just what colour of mineral there is over there." 
 
 "That ought to be on the records somewhere already," 
 Amy pointed out. 
 
 "Plant's records," said Thorne drily. 
 
 " I'm ashamed to say I haven't looked up the mineral lands 
 act," confessed Bob. "How did they do it?" 
 
 "Well, it's simple enough. The company made appli- 
 cation under the law that allows mineral land in National 
 Forests to be 'freely prospected, located, developed and 
 patented.' It is necessary to show evidence of 'valuable 
 deposits' '* 
 
510 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Gold and silver?" 
 
 "Not necessarily. It may be even building stone, or fine 
 clay, limestone or slate. Then it's up to the Forest Officer 
 to determine whether the deposits are actually 'valuable' 
 or not. You can drive a horse and cart through the law; 
 and it's strictly up to the Forest Officer or has been in the 
 past. If he reports the deposits valuable, and on that report 
 a patent is issued, why that settles it." 
 
 "Even if the mineral is a fake?" 
 
 " A patent is a patent. The time to head off the fraud is 
 when the application is made." 
 
 " Cannot the title be upset if fraud is clearly proved?" 
 
 "I do not see how," replied Thorne. "Plant is dead. 
 The law is very liberal. Predetermining the value of mineral 
 deposits is laigely a matter of personal judgment. The 
 company could, as we have seen, bring an enormous influ- 
 ence to bear." 
 
 "Well," said Bob, "that land will average sixty thousand 
 feet to the acre. That's about a billion and a half feet. It's 
 a big stake." 
 
 "If the company wasn't scared, why did they try so hard 
 to head us off?" observed California John shrewdly. 
 
 "It will do us no harm to investigate," put in Bob, his 
 eye kindling with eagerness. " It won't take long to examine 
 the indications those claims are based on." 
 
 "It's a ticklish period," objected Thorne. "I hate to 
 embarrass the Administration with anything ill-timed. We 
 have much to do straightening out what we now have on 
 hand. You must remember we are short of men; we can't 
 spare many now." 
 
 "I'll tell you," suggested Amy. "Put it up to the Chief. 
 Tell him just how the matter stands. Let him decide." 
 
 "All right; I'll do that," agreed Thorne. 
 
 In due time the reply came. It advised circumspection 
 in the matter; but commanded a full report on the facts. 
 Time enough, the Chief wrote, to decide on the course to be 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 511 
 
 pursued when the case should be established in their own 
 minds. 
 
 Accordingly Thorne detached Bob and Ware to investi- 
 gate the mineral status of the Basin. The latter's long 
 experience in prospecting now promised to stand the Service 
 in good stead. 
 
 The two men camped in the Basin for three weeks, until 
 the close of which time they saw no human being. During 
 this period they examined carefully the various ledges on 
 which the mineral claims had been based. Ware pro- 
 nounced them valueless, as far as he could judge. 
 
 "Some of them are just ordinary quartz dikes," said he. 
 "I suppose they claim gold for them. There's nothing in 
 it; or if this does warrant a man developing, then every 
 citizen who lives near rock has a mine in his back yard." 
 
 Nevertheless he made his reports as detailed as possible. 
 In the meantime Bob accomplished a rough, or "cruiser's" 
 estimate of the timber. 
 
 As has been said, they found the Basin now quite deserted. 
 The trail to Sycamore Flats had apparently not been travelled 
 since George Pollock had ridden down it to give himself 
 up to authority. Their preliminary labours finished, the 
 two Forest officers packed, and were on the very point of 
 turning up the steep mountain side toward the lookout, 
 when two horsemen rode over the flat rock. 
 
 Naturally Bob and Ware drew up, after the mountain 
 custom, to exchange greetings. As the others drew nearer, 
 Bob recognized in one the slanting eyeglasses, the close- 
 clipped, gray moustache and the keen, cold features of Old- 
 ham. Ware nodded at the other man, who returned his 
 salutation as curtly. 
 
 "You're off your beat, Mr. Oldham," observed Bob. 
 
 "I'm after a deer," replied Oldham. "You are a little 
 off your own beat, aren't you?" 
 
 "My beat is everywhere," replied Bob carelessly. 
 
 "What devilment you up to now, Sal?" Ware was asking 
 
512 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 of the other man, a tall, loose- jointed, freckle-faced and 
 red-haired individual with an evil red eye. 
 
 "I'm earnin' my salary; and I misdoubt you ain't," 
 sneered the individual thus addressed. 
 
 "As what; gun man?" demanded Ware calmly. 
 
 "You may find that out sometime." 
 
 "I'm not as easy as young Franklin was," said Ware, 
 dropping his hand carelessly to his side. "Don't make any 
 mistakes when you get around to your demonstration." 
 
 The man said nothing, but grinned, showing tobacco- 
 stained, irregular teeth beneath his straggling, red moustache. 
 
 After a moment's further conversation the little groups 
 separated. Bob rode on up the trail. Ware followed for 
 perhaps ten feet, or until out of sight behind the screen of 
 willows that bordered the stream. Then, without drawing 
 rein, he dropped from his saddle. The horse, urged by a 
 gentle slap on the rump, followed in the narrow trail after 
 Bob and the pack animal. Ware slipped quietly through 
 the willows until he had gained a point commanding the 
 other trail. Oldham and his companion were riding peace- 
 fully. Satisfied, Ware returned, climbed rapidly until he 
 had caught up with his horse, and resumed his saddle. 
 Bob had only that moment noticed his absence. 
 
 "Look here, Bob," said Ware, "that fellow with Mr. 
 Oldham is a man called Saleratus Bill. He's a hard citizen, 
 a gun man, and brags of eleven killin's in his time. Mr. 
 Oldham or no one else couldn't pick up a worse citizen to go 
 deer hunting with. When you track up with him next, be 
 sure that he starts and keeps going before you stir out of 
 your tracks." 
 
 "You don't believe that deer hunting lie, do you?" asked 
 Bob. 
 
 Ware chuckled. 
 
 "I was wondering if you did," said he. 
 
 "I guess there's no doubt as to who the Modoc Mining 
 Company is." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 513 
 
 "Oldham?" 
 
 "No," said Bob; " Baker and the Power Company. Old- 
 ham is Baker's man." 
 
 Ware whistled. 
 
 "Well, I suppose you know what you're talking about," 
 said he, "but it's pretty generally understood that Oldham 
 is on the other side of the fence. He's been bucking Baker 
 in White Oaks on some franchise business. Everybody 
 knows that." 
 
 Bob opened his eyes. Casting his mind back over the 
 sources of his information, he then remembered that inti- 
 mation of the connection between the two men had come to 
 him when he had been looked on as a member of the inner 
 circle, so that all things were talked of openly before him; 
 that since Plant's day Oldham had in fact never appeared 
 in Baker's interests. 
 
 "He's up in this country a good deal," Bob observed 
 finally. "What's he say is his business?" 
 
 "Why, he's in a little timber business, as I understand it; 
 and he buys a few cattle sort of general brokerage." 
 
 "I see," mused Bob. 
 
 He rode in silence for some time, breathing his horse 
 mechanically every fifty feet or so of the steep trail. He 
 was busily recalling and piecing together the fragments of 
 what he had at the time considered an unimportant dis- 
 cussion, and which he had in part forgotten. 
 
 "It's a blind," he said at last; "Oldham is working for 
 Baker." 
 
 "What makes you think that?" 
 
 "Something I heard once." 
 
 He rode on. The Basin was dropping away beneath 
 them; the prospect to the north was broadening as peak 
 after peak raised itself into the line of ascending vision. 
 The pines, clinging to the steep, cast bars of shadow across 
 the trail, which zigzagged and dodged, taking advantage 
 of every ledge and each strip of firm earth. Occasionally 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 they crossed a singing brook, shaded with willows and 
 cottonwoods, with fragrant bay and alders, only to clamber 
 out again to the sunny steeps. 
 
 Now Bob remembered and pieced together the whole. 
 Baker had been bragging that he intended to pay nothing 
 to the Government for his water power. Bob could almost 
 remember the very words. " 'They've swiped about every- 
 thing in sight for these pestiferous reserves,' " he murmured 
 to himself, " 'but they encourage the honest prospector. 
 . . . Oldham's got the whole matter . . . ' " and 
 so on, in the unfolding of the very scheme by which these 
 acres had been acquired. "Near headwaters," he had said; 
 and that statement, combined with the fact that nothing 
 had occurred to stir indistinct memories, had kept Bob in 
 the dark. At the time "near headwaters" had meant to 
 him the tract of yellow pine near the head of Sycamore 
 Creek. So he had dismissed the matter. Now he saw 
 clearly that a liberal construction could very well name the 
 Basin as the headwaters of the drainage system from which 
 Sycamore Creek drew, if not its source, at least its main 
 volume of water. He exclaimed aloud in disgust at his 
 stupidity; which, nevertheless, as all students of psychology 
 know, typified a very common though curious phenomenon 
 in the mental world. Suddenly he sat up straight in his 
 saddle. Here, should Baker and the Modoc Mining 
 Company prove to be one and the same, was the evidence 
 of fraudulent intent! Would his word suffice? Painfully 
 reconstructing the half-forgotten picture, he finally placed 
 the burly figure of Welton. Welton was there too. His 
 corroboration would make the testimony irrefutable. 
 
 Certainties now rushed to Bob's mind in flocks. If he 
 had been stupid in the matter, it was evident that Baker 
 and Oldham had not. The fight in Durham was now 
 explained. All the demagogic arousing of the populace, 
 the heavy guns brought to bear in the newspaper world, the 
 pressure exerted through political levers, even the con- 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 515 
 
 certed attacks on the Service from the floors of Congress 
 traced, by no great stretch of probabilities, to the efforts of 
 the Power Company to stop investigation before it should 
 reach their stealings. That, as California John had said, 
 was the first defence. If all investigation could be called off, 
 naturally Baker was safe. Now that he realized the 
 investigation must, in the natural course of events, come to 
 his holdings, what would be his second line ? 
 
 Of course, he knew that Bob possessed the only testimony 
 that could seriously damage him. Even Thome's optimism 
 had realized the difficulties of pressing to a conviction 
 against such powerful interests without some evidence of a 
 fraudulent intent. Could it be that the presence of this 
 Saleratus Bill in company with Oldham meant that Baker 
 was contemplating so sinister a removal of damaging 
 testimony ? 
 
 A moment's thought disabused him of this notion, how- 
 ever. Baker was not the man to resort to violence of this 
 sort; or at least he would not do so before exhausting all 
 other means. Bob had been, in a way, the capitalist's 
 friend. Surely, before turning a gun man loose, Baker 
 would have found out definitely whether, in the first place, 
 Bob was inclined to push the case; and secondly, whether 
 he could not be persuaded to refrain from introducing his 
 personal testimony. The longer Bob looked at the state of 
 affairs, the more fantastic seemed the hypothesis that the 
 gun man had been brought into the country for such a 
 purpose. 
 
 " Why do you suppose Oldham is up there with this Saler- 
 atus Bill?" he asked Ware at length. 
 
 "Search me!" 
 
 "Is Bill good for anything beside gun work?" 
 
 "Well," said Ware, judicially, "he sure drinks without 
 an effort." 
 
 " I don't believe Oldham is interested in the liquor famine,'* 
 laughed Bob. "Anything else?" 
 
5i 6 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "They may be after deer," acknowledged Ware, reluct- 
 antly, "though I hate to think that rattlesnake is out for 
 anything legitimate. I will say he's a good hunter; and an 
 Ai trailer." 
 
 "Oh, he's a good trailer, is he?" said Bob. "Well, I 
 rather suspected you'd say that. Now I know why they're up 
 there; they want to figure out from the signs we've left just 
 what we've been up to." 
 
 "That's easy done," remarked Ware. 
 
 This explanation fitted. Bob had been in the Basin 
 before, but on the business of estimating government timber. 
 Baker knew this. Now that the Forest officer had gone in 
 for a second time, it might be possible that he was doing the 
 same thing; or it might be equally possible that he was 
 engaged in an investigation of Baker's own property. This 
 the power man had decided to find out. Therefore he had 
 sent in, with his land man, an individual expert at deducing 
 from the half-obliterated marks of human occupation the 
 activities that had left them. That Oldham and his sinister 
 companion had encountered the Forest men was a sheer 
 accident due to miscalculation. 
 
 Having worked this out to his own satisfaction, Bob 
 knew what next to expect. Baker must interview him. 
 Bob was sure the young man would take his own time to 
 the matter, for naturally it would not do to make the fact 
 of such a meeting too public. Accordingly he submitted 
 his report to Thorne, and went on about his further investi- 
 gations, certain that sooner or later he would again see the 
 prime mover of all these dubious activities. 
 
 He was not in the least surprised, therefore, to look up 
 when riding one day along the lonely and rugged trail that 
 cuts across the lower canon of the River, to see Baker 
 seated on the top of a round boulder. The incongruity, 
 however, brought a smile to his lips. The sight of the round, 
 smooth face, the humorous eyes, and the stout, city-fed 
 figure of this very urban individual on a rock in a howling 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 517 
 
 wilderness, with the eternal mountains for a background, 
 was inexpressibly comical. 
 
 "Hullo, merry sunshine!" called Baker, waving his hand 
 as soon as he was certain Bob had seen him. "Welcome to 
 our thriving little hamlet." 
 
 "Hullo, Baker," said Bob; "what are you doing 'way off 
 here?" 
 
 "Just drifting down the Grand Canal and listening to 
 the gondoliers; and incidentally, waiting for you. Climb 
 off your horse and come up here and get a tailor-made 
 cigarette." 
 
 "I'm on my way over to Spruce Top," said Bob, "and 
 I've got to keep moving." 
 
 "Haste not, hump not, hustle not," said Baker, with the 
 air of one quoting a hand-illuminated motto. "It will 
 only get you somewhere. Come, gentle stranger, I would 
 converse with thee; and I've come a long way to do it." 
 
 "I live nearer home than this," grinned Bob. 
 
 "I wanted to see you in your office," grinned back Baker 
 appreciatively, "and this is strictly business." 
 
 Bob dismounted, threw the reins over his horse's head, 
 and ascended to the top of the boulder. 
 
 "Fire ahead," said he; "I keep union hours." 
 
XVII 
 
 UNION hours suit me," said Baker. "Why work 
 while papa has his health ? What I want to know is, 
 how high is the limit on this game anyway?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "This confounded so-called 'investigation' of yours? 
 In other words, do you intend to get after me?" 
 
 "As how?" 
 
 Baker's shrewd eyes looked at him gravely from out his 
 smiling fat face. 
 
 "Modoc Mining Company's lands." 
 
 "Then you are the Modoc Mining Company?" asked 
 Bob. 
 
 Baker eyed him again. 
 
 "Look here, my angel child," said he in a tone of good- 
 humoured pity, " I can make all that kind of talk in a witness 
 box if necessary. In any case, I didn't come 'way out here 
 to exchange that sort with you. You know perfectly well 
 I'm the Modoc Mining Company, and that I've got a fine 
 body of timber under the mineral act, and all the rest of it. 
 You know ail this not only because you've got some sense, 
 but because I told you so before a competent witness. It 
 stands to reason that I don't mind telling you again where 
 there are no witnesses. Now smoke up and join the King's 
 Daughters let's have a heart-to-heart and find out how 
 we stand." 
 
 Bob laughed, and Baker, with entirely whole-hearted enjoy- 
 ment, laughed too. 
 
 "You're next on the list," said Bob, "and, personally, I 
 think " 
 
 518 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 519 
 
 Baker held up his hand. 
 
 "Let's not exchange thinks," said he. "I've got a few 
 thinks coming myself, you know. Let's stick to facts. 
 Then the Government is going to open up on us?'*' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "On the grounds of fraudulent entry, I suppose." 
 
 "That's it." 
 
 "Well, they'll never win " 
 
 "Let's not exchange thinks," Bob reminded him. 
 
 " Right ! I can see that you're acting under orders, and the 
 suit must be brought. Now I tell you frankly, as one Mod- 
 ern Woods-pussy of the World to another, that you're the 
 only fellow that has any real testimony. What I want to 
 know is, are you going to use it?" 
 
 Bob looked at his companion steadily. 
 
 "I don't see why, even without witnesses, I should give 
 away government plans to you, Baker." 
 
 Baker sighed, and slid from the boulder. 
 
 "I'm practically certain how the cat jumps, and I've long 
 since made my plans accordingly. Whatever you say does 
 not alter my course of action. Only I hate to do a man an 
 injustice without being sure. You needn't answer. Your 
 last remark means that you are. I have too much sense to do 
 the little Eva to you, Orde. You've got the gray stuff in your 
 head, even if it is a trifle wormy. Of course, it's no good 
 telling you that you're going back on a friend, that you'll be 
 dragging Welton into the game when he hasn't got a chip to 
 enter with, that you're betraying private confidence well, 
 I guess the rest is all 'thinks." 
 
 "I'm sorry, Baker," said Bob, "and I suppose I must 
 appear to be a spy in the matter. But it can't be helped." 
 
 Baker's good-humoured, fat face had fallen into grave 
 lines. He studied a distant spruce tree for a moment. 
 
 "Well," he roused himself at last, "I wish this particular 
 attack of measles had passed off before you bucked up against 
 us. Because, you know, that land's ours, and we don't 
 
520 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 expect to give it up on account of this sort of fool agitation. 
 We'll win this case. I'm sorry you're mixed up in it." 
 
 "Saleratus Bill?" hinted Bob. 
 
 Baker's humorous expression returned. 
 
 "What do you take me for?" he grinned. "No, that's 
 Oldham's bodyguard. Thinks he needs a bodyguard these 
 days. That's what comes from having a bad conscience, I 
 tell him. Some of those dagoes he's sold bum farms to are 
 more likely to show up with a desire to abate him, than that 
 anything would happen to him in these hills. Now let's 
 get this straight; the cases go on?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you testify?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And call Welton in for corroboration?" 
 
 "I hardly think that's necessary." 
 
 "It will be, as you very well know. I just wanted to be 
 sure how we stood toward each other. So long." 
 
 He turned uncompromisingly away, and stumped off down 
 the trail on his fat and sturdy legs. 
 
 Bob looked after him amazed, at this sudden termination 
 of the interview. He had anticipated argument, sophistry, 
 appeal to old friendship, perhaps a more dark and doubtful 
 approach. Though conscious throughout of Baker's con- 
 tempt for what the promoter would call his childish imprac- 
 ticability, his disloyalty and his crankiness, Bob realized that 
 all of this had been carefully subdued. Baker's manner at 
 parting expressed more of regret than of anger or annoyance. 
 
XVIII 
 
 TO this short and inconclusive interview, however, 
 Baker did not fail to add somewhat through Oldham. 
 The agent used none of the circumspection Baker 
 had considered necessary, but rode openly into camp and 
 asked for Bob. The latter, remembering Oldham's reputed 
 antagonism to Baker, could not but admire the convenience 
 of the arrangement. The lank and sinister figure of Saler- 
 atus Bill was observed to accompany that of the land agent, 
 but the gun man, at a sign from his principal, did not dis- 
 mount. He greeted no one, but sat easily across his saddle, 
 holding the reins of both horses in his left hand, his jaws 
 working slowly, his evil, little eyes wandering with sardonic 
 interest over the people and belongings at headquarters. Ware 
 nodded to him. The man's eyes half closed and for an instant 
 the motion of his jaw quickened. Otherwise he made no sign. 
 
 Oldham drew Bob one side. 
 
 "I want to talk, to you where we won't be interrupted," 
 he requested. 
 
 "Talk on," said Bob, seating himself on a log. "The 
 open is as good a place as another; you can see your eaves- 
 droppers there." 
 
 Oldham considered this a moment, then nodded his head, 
 and took his place by the young man's side. 
 
 "It's about those Modoc lands," said he. 
 
 "I suppose so," said Bob. 
 
 "Mr. Baker tells me you fully intend to prosecute a suit 
 for their recovery." 
 
 "I believe the Government intends to do so. I am, of course, 
 only the agent of the Government in this or any other matter. " 
 
 5" 
 
522 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "In other words, you have received orders to proceed ?" 
 
 " I would hardly be acting without them, would I?" 
 
 " Of course; I see. Mr. Baker is sometimes hasty. Assum- 
 ing that you cared to do so, is there no way you could avoid 
 this necessity ?" 
 
 " None that I can discover. I must obey orders as long as 
 I'm a government officer." 
 
 "Exactly," said Oldham. "Now we reach the main 
 issue. What if you were not a government officer?" 
 
 "But I am." 
 
 "Assume that you were not." 
 
 "Naturally my successor would carry out the same orders." 
 
 "But," suggested Oldham, "it might very well be that 
 another man would not be well, quite so qualified to carry 
 out the case " 
 
 "You mean I'm the only one who heard Baker say he was 
 going to cheat the Government," put in Bob bluntly. 
 
 "You and Mr. Welton and Mr. Baker were the only ones 
 present at a certain interview," he amended. "Now, in 
 the event that you were not personally in charge of the case 
 would you feel it necessary to volunteer testimony unsus- 
 pected by anybody but you three?" 
 
 " If I were to resign,! should volunteer nothing," stated Bob. 
 
 Oldham's frosty eyes gleamed with satisfaction behind 
 their glasses. 
 
 "That's good! "he cried. 
 
 "But I have no intention of resigning," Bob concluded. 
 
 "That is a matter open to discussion," Oldham took him 
 up. "There are a great many reasons that you have not 
 yet considered." 
 
 "I'm ready to hear them," said Bob. 
 
 "Look at the case as it stands. In the first place, you 
 cannot but admit that Mr. Baker and the men associated with 
 him have done great things for this country. When they 
 came into it, it was an undeveloped wilderness, supplying 
 nothing of value to civilization, and supporting only a scat- 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 523 
 
 tered and pastoral people. The valley towns went about 
 their business on horse cars; they either paid practically a 
 prohibitive price for electricity and gas, or used oil and 
 candles; they drank well water and river water. The sur- 
 rounding country was either a desert given over to sage brush 
 and jack rabbits, or raised crops only according to the 
 amount of rain that fell. You can have no conception, Mr. 
 Orde, of the condition of the country in some of these 
 regions before irrigation. In place of this the valley people 
 now enjoy rapid transportation, not only through the streets 
 of their towns, but also by trolley lines far out in all direc- 
 tions. They have cheap and abundant electric light and 
 power. They possess pure drinking water. Above all they 
 raise their certain crops irrespective of what rains the heavens 
 may send." 
 
 Bob admitted that electricity and irrigation are good things. 
 
 "These advantages have drawn people. I am not going 
 to bore you with a lot of statistics, but the population of all 
 White Oaks County, for instance, is now above fifty thousand 
 people, where before was a scant ten. But how much agri- 
 cultural wealth do you suppose these people export each year ? 
 Not how much they produce, but their net exportations ? " 
 
 " Give it up." 
 
 "Fifty million dollars worth! That's a marvellous per 
 capita." 
 
 "It is indeed," said Bob. 
 
 "Now," said Oldham impressively, "that wealth would 
 be absolutely non-existent, that development could not 
 have taken place, did not take place, until men of Mr. 
 Baker's genius and courage came along to take hold. I have 
 personally the greatest admiration for Mr. Baker as a type of 
 citizen without whom our resources and possibilities would 
 be in the same backward condition as obtains in Canada." 
 
 " I'm with you there," said Bob. 
 
 " Mr. Baker has added a community to the state, cities to 
 the commonwealth, millions upon millions of dollars to the 
 
524 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 nation's wealth. He took long chances, and he won out. 
 Do not you think in return the national resources should in 
 a measure reward him for the advantages he has conferred 
 and the immense wealth he has developed? Mind you, Mr. 
 Baker has merely taken advantage of the strict letter of 
 the law. It is merely open to another interpretation. He 
 needs this particular body of timber for the furtherance of one 
 of his greatest quasi-public enterprises; and who has a better 
 right in the distribution of the public domain than the man 
 who uses it to develop the country? The public land has 
 always been intended for the development of resources, and 
 has always been used as such.'' 
 
 Oldham talked fluently and well. He argued at length 
 along the lines set forth above. 
 
 " You have to use lubricating oil to overcome friction on a 
 machine," he concluded. "You have to subsidize a railroad 
 by land grants to enter a new country. By the same immut- 
 able law you must offer extraordinary inducements to extraor- 
 dinary men. Otherwise they will not take the risks.'* 
 
 "I've nothing to do with the letter of the law," Bob replied; 
 "only with its spirit and intention. The main idea of the 
 mineral act is to give legitimate miners the timber they need 
 for legitimate mining. Baker does not pretend, except offi- 
 cially, that he ever intends to do anything with his claims. 
 He certainly has done a great work for the country. I'll 
 agree to everything you say there. But he came into Cali- 
 fornia worth nothing, and he is now reputed to be worth 
 ten millions and to control vast properties. That would 
 seem to be reward enough for almost anybody. He does 
 not need this Basin property for any of his power projects, 
 except that its possession would let him off from paying a 
 very reasonable tax on the waterpower he has been accus- 
 tomed to getting free. Cutting that timber will not develop 
 the country any further. I don't see the value of your argu- 
 ment in the present case." 
 
 "Mr. Baker has invested in this project a great many mil- 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 525 
 
 lions of dollars," said Oldham. "He must be adequately 
 safeguarded. To further develop and even to maintain 
 the efficiency of what he has, he must operate to a large extent 
 on borrowed capital. Borrowing depends on credit; and 
 credit depends on confidence. If conditions are proved to 
 be unstable, capital will prove more than cautious in risking 
 itself. That is elementary. Surely you can see that 
 point." 
 
 "I can see that, all right," admitted Bob. 
 
 "Well," went on Oldham, taking heart, "think of the 
 responsibility you are assuming in pushing forward a mere 
 technicality, and a debatable technicality at that. You are 
 not only jeopardizing a great and established business I 
 will say little of that but you are risking the prosperity of 
 a whole countryside. If Mr. Baker's enterprises should quit 
 this section, the civilization of the state would receive a seri- 
 ous setback. Thousands of men would be thrown out of 
 employment, not only on the company's works, but all along 
 the lines of its holdings; electric light and power would 
 increase in price a heavy burden to the consumer; the 
 country trolley lines must quit business, for only with water- 
 generated power can they compete with railroads at all; 
 fertile lands would revert to desert " 
 
 " I am not denying the value of Mr. Baker's enterprises," 
 broke in Bob; "but what has a billion and a half of timber 
 to do with all this?" 
 
 "Mr. Baker has long been searching for an available 
 supply for use in the enterprises," said Oldham, eagerly 
 availing himself of this opening. "You probably have a 
 small idea of the immense lumber purchases necessary for 
 the construction of the power plants, trolley lines, and roads 
 projected by Mr. Baker. Heretofore the company has been 
 forced to buy its timber in the open market." 
 
 "This would be cheaper," suggested Bob. 
 
 "Much." 
 
 "That would increase net profits, of course. I suppose 
 
526 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 that would result in increased dividends. Or, perhaps, the 
 public would reap the benefit in decreased cost of service." 
 
 "Undoubtedly both. Certainly electricity and transpor- 
 tation would cheapen." 
 
 "The same open markets can still supply the necessary 
 timber?" 
 
 "At practically prohibitive cost," Oldham reminded. 
 
 " Which the company has heretofore afforded and still 
 paid its dividends," said Bob calmly. "Well, Mr. Oldham, 
 even were I inclined to take all you say at its face value; even 
 were I willing to admit that unless Mr. Baker were given 
 this timber his business would fail, the country would be 
 deprived of the benefits of his enterprise, and the public 
 seriously incommoded, I would still be unable to follow the 
 logic of your reasoning. Mind you, I do not admit anything 
 of the kind. I do not anticipate any more dire results than 
 that the dividends will remain at their present per cent. But 
 even supposing your argument to be well founded, this tim- 
 ber belongs to the people of the United States. It is part of 
 John Jones's heritage, whether John Jones lives in White 
 Oaks or New York. Why should I permit Jones of New 
 York to be robbed in favour of Jones of White Oaks 
 especially since Jones of New York put me here to look 
 after his interests for him? That's the real issue; and 
 it's very simple." 
 
 "You look at the matter from a wrong point of view " 
 
 began Oldham, and stopped. The land agent was shrewd, 
 and knew when he had come to an impasse. 
 
 "I always respect a man who does his duty," he began 
 again, "and I can see how you're tied up in this matter. 
 But a resignation could be arranged for very easily. Mr. 
 Baker knows thoroughly both your ability and experience, 
 and has long regretted that he has not been able to avail 
 himself of them. Of course, as you realize, the great future 
 of all this country is not along the lines even of such great 
 industries as lumber manufacture, but in agriculture and 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 527 
 
 in waterpower engineering. Here, more than anywhere 
 else in the world, Water is King!" 
 
 A recollection tickled Bob. He laughed outright. Old- 
 ham glanced at him sharply. 
 
 " Oh, the Lucky Lands," said he at last; "I'd forgotten you 
 had ever been there. Well, the saying is as true now as it 
 was then. The great future for any young man is along 
 those lines. I am sure in fact, I am told to say with 
 authority that Mr. Baker would be only too pleased to have 
 you come in with him on this new enterprise he is opening up." 
 
 "As how?" 
 
 " As stockholder to the extent of ten thousand shares pre- 
 ferred, and a salaried position in the field, of course. But, 
 that is a small matter compared with the future opportun- 
 ities " 
 
 "It's cheering to know that I'm worth so much," inter- 
 rupted Bob. "Shares now worth par?" 
 
 "A fraction over." 
 
 " One hundred thousand and some odd dollars," observed 
 Bob. "It's a nice tidy bribe; and if I were any sort of a 
 bribe taker at all, I'd surely feel proud and grateful. Only 
 I'm not. So you might just as well have made it a million, 
 and then I'd have felt still more set up over it." 
 
 "I hope you don't think I'm a bribe giver, either," said 
 Oldham. "I admit my offer was not well-timed; but it has 
 been long under contemplation, and I mentioned it as it 
 occurred to me." 
 
 Having thus glided over this false start, the land agent 
 promptly opened another consideration. 
 
 "Perhaps we are at fatal variance on our economics," 
 said he; "but how about the justice of the thing? When 
 you get right down to cases, how about the rest of them? 
 I'll venture to say there are not two private timber holdings 
 of any size in this country that have been acquired strictly 
 within the letter of the law. Do you favour general con- 
 fiscation?" 
 
528 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "I believe in the law," declared Bob, "and I do not believe 
 your statement." 
 
 Oldham rose. 
 
 "I tell you this, young man," he said coldly: "you can 
 prosecute the Modoc Company or not, as you please or, 
 perhaps, I should say, you can introduce your private tes- 
 timony or not, as you please. We are reasonable; and we 
 know you cannot control government prosecutions. But 
 the Modoc Company intends that you play no favourites." 
 
 "I do not understand you," said Bob with equal coldness. 
 
 "If the Modoc Company is prosecuted, we will make it 
 our business to see that every great land owner holding title 
 in this Forest is brought into the courts for the same offence. 
 If the letter of the law is to be enforced against us, we'll 
 see that it is enforced against all others." 
 
 Bob bowed. " Suits me," said he. 
 
 "Does it?" sneered Oldham. He produced a bundle 
 of papers bound by a thick elastic. "Well, I've saved you 
 some trouble in your next case. Here are certified copies 
 of the documents for it, copied at Sacramento, and subscribed 
 to before a notary. Of course, you can verify them; but 
 you'll find them accurate." 
 
 He handed them to Bob, who took them, completely puz- 
 zled. Oldham's next speech enlightened him. 
 
 "You'll find there," said the older man, tapping the papers 
 in Bob's hand, "the documents in full relating to the Wolver- 
 ine Company's land holdings, and how they were acquired. 
 After looking them over, we shall expect you to bring suit 
 If you do not do so, we will take steps to force you to do 
 so or, failing this, to resign!" 
 
 With these words, Oldham turned square on his heel and 
 marched to where Saleratus Bill was stationed with the 
 horses. Bob stared after him, the bundle of papers in his 
 hand. When Oldham had mounted, Bob looked down on 
 these papers. 
 
 "The second line of defence!" said he. 
 
XIX 
 
 BOB'S first interest was naturally to examine these 
 documents. He found them, as Oldham had said, 
 copies whose accuracy was attested by the copyist 
 before a notary. They divided themselves into two classes. 
 The first traced the titles by which many small holdings had 
 come into the hands of the corporation known as the Wol- 
 verine Company. The second seemed to be some sort of 
 finding by an investigating commission. This latter was in 
 the way of explanation of the title records, so that by refer- 
 ring from one to the other, Bob was able to trace out the 
 process by which the land had been acquired. This had been 
 by " colonizing," as it was called. According to Federal law, 
 one man could take up but one hundred and sixty acres of 
 government land. It had, therefore, been the practice to 
 furnish citizens with the necessary capital so to do; after 
 which these citizens transferred their land to the parent com- 
 pany. This was, of course, a direct evasion of the law; 
 as direct an evasion as Baker's use of the mineral lands 
 act. 
 
 For a time Bob was unable to collect his reasoning powers 
 adequately to confront this new fact. His thoughts were in 
 a whirl. The only thing that stood out clearly was the differ- 
 ence in the two cases. He knew perfectly that after Baker's 
 effort to lift bodily from the public domain a large block of 
 its wealth every decent citizen should cry, "Stop thief!" 
 Instinctively he felt, though as yet he could not analyze the 
 reasons for so feeling, that to deprive the Wolverine Com- 
 pany of its holdings would work a crying injustice. Yet, 
 to all intents and purposes, apparently, the cases were on all 
 
 529 
 
530 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 fours. Bot ... Welton and Baker had taken advantage of a 
 technicality. 
 
 When Bob began to think more clearly, he at first laid this 
 difference to a personal liking, and was inclined to blame 
 himself for letting his affections cloud his sense of justice. 
 Baker was companionable, jolly, but at the same time was 
 shrewd, cold, calculating and unscrupulous in business. He 
 could be as hard as nails. Welton, on the other hand, while 
 possessing all of Baker's admirable and robust qualities, had 
 with them an endearing and honest bigness of purpose, 
 limited only though decidedly by his point of view 
 and the bounds of his practical education. Baker would steal 
 land without compunction; Welton would take land illegally 
 without thought of the illegality, only because everybody 
 else did it the same way. 
 
 But should the mere fact of personality make any difference 
 in the enforcing of laws ? That one man was amiable and the 
 other not so amiable had nothing to do with eternal justice. 
 If Bob were to fulfil his duty only against those he disliked, 
 and in favour of his friends, he had indeed slipped back to 
 the old days of henchman politics from which the nation 
 was slowly struggling. He reared his head at this thought. 
 Surely he was man enough to sink private affairs in the face 
 of a stern public duty ! 
 
 This determined, Bob thought the question settled. After 
 a few minutes, it returned as full of interrogation points as 
 ever. Leaving Baker and Welton entirely out of the ques- 
 tion, the two cases still drew apart. One was just, the other 
 unjust. Why? On the answer depended the peace of 
 Bob's conscience. Of course he would resign rather than be 
 forced to prosecute Welton. That was understood, and 
 Bob resolutely postponed contemplation of the necessity. 
 He loved this life, this cause. It opened out into wider and 
 more beautiful vistas the further he penetrated into it. He 
 conceived it the only life for which he was particularly fitted 
 by temperament and inclination. To give it up would be 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 531 
 
 to cut himself off from all that he cared for most in active life; 
 and would be to cast him into the drudgery of new and uncon- 
 genial lines. That sacrifice must be made. It's contem- 
 plation and complete realization could wait. But a deeper 
 necessity held Bob, the necessity of resolving the question of 
 equities which the accident of his personal knowledge of 
 Welton and Baker had evoked. He had to prove his instincts 
 right or wrong. 
 
 He was not quite ready to submit the matter officially, but 
 he wished very much to talk it over with some one. Glanc- 
 ing up he caught sight of the glitter of silver and the satin 
 sheen of a horse. Star was coming down through the trees, 
 resplendent in his silver and carved leather trappings, glossy 
 as a bird, stepping proudly and daintily under the curbing of 
 his heavy Spanish bit. In the saddle lounged the tall, 
 homely figure of old California John, clad in faded blue 
 overalls, the brim of his disreputable, ancient hat flopped 
 down over his lean brown face, and his kindly blue eyes. 
 Bob signalled him. 
 
 "John!" he called, "come here! I want to talk with 
 you!" 
 
 The stately, beautiful horse turned without any apparent 
 guiding motion from his master, stepped the intervening 
 space and stopped. California John swung from the saddle. 
 Star, his head high, his nostril wide, his eye fixed vaguely on 
 some distant vision, stood like an image. 
 
 "I want a good talk with you," repeated Bob. 
 
 They sat on the same log whereon Oldham and Bob had 
 conferred. 
 
 "John," said Bob, "Oldham has been here, and I don't 
 know what to do." 
 
 California John listened without a single word of comment 
 while Bob detailed all the ins and outs of the situation. 
 When he had finished, the old man slowly drew forth his 
 pipe, filled it, and lit it. 
 
 "Son," said he, "I'm an old man, and I've lived in this 
 
532 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 state since the early gold days. That means I've seen a lot of 
 things. In all that time the two most valuable idees I've 
 dug up are these : in the first place, it don't never do to go off 
 half-cock ; and in the second place, if you want to know about 
 a thing, go to headquarters for it." 
 
 He removed his pipe and blew a cloud. 
 
 "Half of that's for me and the other half's for you," he 
 resumed. "I ain't going to give you my notions until I've 
 thought them over a little; that's for me. As for you, if I 
 was you, I'd just amble over and talk the whole matter over 
 with Mr. Welton and see what he thinks about his end of it." 
 
XX 
 
 THIS advice seemed so good that Bob acted upon it at 
 his earliest opportunity. He found Welton riding 
 his old brindle mule in from the bull donkey where 
 he had been inspecting the work. The lumberman's red, jolly 
 face lit up with a smile of real affection as he recognized 
 Bob, an expression quickly changed, however, as he caught 
 sight of the young man's countenance. 
 
 " What's up, Bobby?" he inquired with concern; " any- 
 thing happened?" 
 
 "Nothing yet; but I want to talk with you." 
 
 Welton immediately dismounted, with the laborious 
 clumsiness of the man brought up to other means of loco- 
 motion, tied Jane to a tree, and threw himself down at the 
 foot of a tall pine. 
 
 "Let's have it," said he. 
 
 "There have come into my hands some documents," said 
 Bob, " that embarrass me a great deal. Here they are." 
 
 He handed them to Welton. The lumberman ran them 
 through in silence. 
 
 "Well," he commented cheerfully, "they seem to be all 
 right. What's the matter?" 
 
 "The matter is with the title to the land," said Bob. 
 
 Welton looked the list of records over more carefully. 
 
 "I'm no lawyer," he confessed at last; "but it don't need 
 a lawyer to see that this is all regular enough." 
 
 "Have you read the findings of the commission?" 
 
 "That stuff? Sure! That don't amount to anything. 
 It's merely an expression of opinion; and mighty poor opin- 
 ion at that." 
 
 533 
 
534 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Don't you see what I'm up against?" insisted Bob. "It 
 will be in my line of duty to open suit against the Wolverine 
 Company for recovery of those lands." 
 
 "Suit!" echoed Welton. "You talk foolish, Bob. This 
 company has owned these lands for nearly thirty years, and 
 paid taxes on them. The records are all straight, and the 
 titles clear." 
 
 " It begins to look as if the lands were taken up contrary 
 to law," insisted Bob; " and, if so, I'll be called upon to prose- 
 cute." 
 
 "Contrary to your grandmother," said Welton contempt- 
 uously. " Some of your young squirts of lawyers have been 
 reading their little books. If these lands were taken up con- 
 trary to law, why so were every other timber lands in the 
 state." 
 
 "That may be true, also," said Bob. "I don't know." 
 
 "Well, will you tell me what's wrong with them?" asked 
 Welton. 
 
 "It appears as though the lands were 'colonized,'" said 
 Bob; "or, at least, such of them as were not bought from the 
 bank." 
 
 "I guess you boys have a new brand of slang," confessed 
 Welton. 
 
 " Why, I mean the tract was taken direct from many small 
 holders in hundred- and-sixty-acre lots," explained Bob. 
 
 Welton stared at him. 
 
 "Well, will you tell me how in blazes you were going to 
 get together a piece of timber big enough to handle in any 
 other way?" he demanded at last. "All one firm could take 
 up by itself was a quarter section, and you're not crazy enough 
 to think any concern could afford to build a plant for the sake 
 of cutting that amount! That's preposterous! A man cer- 
 tainly has a right under the law to sell what is his to whom- 
 ever he pleases." 
 
 "But the 'colonists,'" said Bob, "took up this land merely 
 for the purpose of turning it over to the company. The 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 535 
 
 intention of the law is that the timber is for the benefit of the 
 original claimant." 
 
 'Well, it's for his benefit, if he gets paid for it, ain't it?" 
 demanded Welton ingenuously. "You can't expect him to 
 cut it himself." 
 
 "That is the intent of the law," insisted Bob, "and that's 
 what I'll be called upon to do. What shall I do about it?" 
 
 "Quit the game!" said Welton, promptly and eagerly. 
 "You can see yourself how foolish it is. That crew of young 
 squirts just out of school would upset the whole property 
 values of the state. Besides, as I've just shown you, it's fool- 
 ish. Come on back in a sensible business. We'd get on fine ! " 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 " Then go ahead ; bring your case," said Welton. " I don't 
 mind." 
 
 "I do," said Bob. "It looks like a strong case to me." 
 
 " Don't bring it. You don't need to report in your evidence 
 as you call it. Just forget it." 
 
 "Even if I were inclined to do so," said Bob, "I wouldn't 
 be allowed. Baker would force the matter to publicity." 
 
 " Baker," repeated Welton ; " what has he got to do with it ? " 
 
 " It's in regard to the lands in the Basin. He took them up 
 under the mineral act, and plainly against all law and decency. 
 It's the plainest case of fraud I know about, and is a direct 
 steal right from under our noses." 
 
 "I think myself he's skinning things a trifle fine," admit- 
 ted Welton; "but I can't see but what he's complied with the 
 law all right. He don't have any right to that timber, I'll 
 agree with you there; but it looks to me like the law had a hole 
 in it." 
 
 " If he took that land up for other purposes than an honest 
 intention to mine on it, the title might be set aside," said Bob. 
 
 "You'd have a picnic proving anything of the sort one way or 
 another about what a man intends to do," Welton pointed out. 
 
 "Do you remember one evening when Baker was up at 
 camp and was kicking on paying water tolls ? It was about 
 
536 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 the time Thorne first came in as Supervisor, and just before I 
 entered the Service." 
 
 " Seems to me I recall something of the sort." 
 
 "Well, you think it over. Baker told us then that he had 
 a way of beating the tolls, and mentioned this very scheme 
 of taking advantage of the mineral laws. At the time he 
 had a notion of letting us in on the timber." 
 
 "Sure! I remember!" cried Welton. 
 
 "Well, if you and I were to testify as to that conversation, 
 we'd establish his intent plainly enough." 
 
 "Sure as you're a foot high!" said Welton slowly. 
 
 "Baker knows this; and he's threatened, if I testify against 
 him, to bring the Wolverine Company into the fight. Now 
 what should I do about it?" 
 
 Welton turned on him a troubled eye. 
 
 "Bob," said he, "there's more to this than you think. I 
 didn't have anything to do with this land until just before we 
 came out here. One of the company got control of it thirty 
 year ago. All that flapdoodle," he struck the papers, "didn't 
 mean nothing to me when I thought it came from your 
 amatoore detectives. But if Baker has this case looked up 
 there's something to it. Go slow, son." 
 
 He studied a moment. 
 
 "Have you told your officers of your own evidence against 
 Baker?" 
 
 "Not yet." 
 
 " Or about these ?" he held up the papers. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, that's all right. Don't." 
 
 "It's my duty " 
 
 "Resign!" cried Welton energetically; "then it won't be 
 your duty. Nobody knows about what you know. If you're 
 not called on, you've nothing to say. You don't have to tell 
 all you know." 
 
 A vision swept before Bob's eyes of a noble forest supposedly 
 safe for all time devoted by his silence to a private greed. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 537 
 
 " But concealing evidence is as much of a perjury as falsi- 
 fying it " he began. A second vision flashed by of a 
 
 ragged, unshorn fugitive, now in jail, whom his testimony 
 could condemn. He fell silent. 
 
 "Let sleeping dogs lie," said Welton, earnestly. "You 
 don't know the harm you may do. Your father's reelection 
 comes this fall, you know, and even if it's untrue, a suit of this 
 character He in his turn broke off. 
 
 "I don't see how this could hurt father's chances either 
 way," said Bob, puzzled. 
 
 "Well, you know how I think about it," said Welton curtly, 
 rising. "You asked me." 
 
 He stumped over to Jane, untied the rope with his thick 
 fingers, clambered aboard. From the mule's back he looked 
 down on Bob, his kindly, homely face again alight with affec- 
 tion. 
 
 "If you never have anything worse on your conscience 
 than keeping your face shut to protect a friend from injustice, 
 Bobby," he said, "I reckon you won't lose much sleep." 
 
 With these words he rode away. Bob, returning to camp, 
 unsaddled, and, very weary, sought his cabin. His cabin 
 mate was stolidly awaiting him, seated on the single door step. 
 
 " My friend that was going to leave me some money in my 
 bunk was coming to-day," said Jack Pollock. "It ain't in 
 your bunk by mistake?" 
 
 "Jack," said Bob, weariedly throwing all the usual pre- 
 tence aside, "I'm ashamed to say I clean forgot it; I had 
 such a job on hand. I'll ride over and get it now." 
 
 "Don't understand you," said Jack, without moving a 
 muscle of his face. 
 
 Bob smiled at the serious young mountaineer, playing 
 loyally his part even to his fellow-conspirator. 
 
 "Jack," said he, "I guess your friend must have been 
 delayed. Maybe he'll get here later." 
 
 " Quite like," nodded Jack gravely. 
 
XXI 
 
 BOB made the earliest chance to obtain California 
 John's promised advice. The old man was unlet- 
 tered, but his understanding was informed by a 
 broad and gentle spirit and long experience of varied things. 
 On this the head ranger himself touched. 
 
 " Bob," he began, " I'm an old man, and I've lived through 
 a lot. When I come into this state the elk and deer and 
 antelope was running out on the plains like sheep. I mined 
 and prospected up and down these mountains when nobody 
 knew their names. There's hardly a gold camp you can 
 call over that I ain't been in on; nor a set of men that had 
 anything to do with making the state that I ain't tracked 
 up with. Most of the valley towns wasn't in existence those 
 days, and the rest was little cattle towns that didn't amount 
 to anything. The railroad took a week to come from 
 Chicago. There wasn't any railroad up the coast. They 
 hadn't begun to irrigate much. Where the Redlands and 
 Riverside orange groves are there was nothing but dry 
 washes and sage-brush desert. It cost big money to send 
 freight. All that was shipped out of the country in a season 
 wouldn't make up one shipment these days. I suppose to 
 folks back East this country looked about as far off as Africa. 
 Even to folks living in California the country as far back as 
 these mountains looked like going to China. They got all 
 their lumber from the Coast ranges and the lower hills. 
 This back here was just wilderness, so far off that nobody 
 rightly thought of it as United States at all. 
 
 " Of course, by and by the country settled up a little more 
 but even then nobody ever thought of timber. You see, 
 
 538 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 539 
 
 there was no market to amount to anything out here; and 
 a few little jerk-water mills could supply the whole layout 
 easy. East, the lumber in Michigan and Wisconsin and 
 Minnesota never was going to give out. In those days you 
 could hardly give away land up in this country. The fellow 
 that went in for timber was looked on as a lunatic. It took 
 a big man with lots of sand to see it at all." 
 
 Bob nodded, his eye kindling with the beginnings of 
 understanding. 
 
 "There was a few of them. They saw far enough ahead, 
 and they come in here and took up some timber. Other folks 
 laughed at them; but I guess they're doing most of the 
 laughing now. It took nerve, and it took sense, and it took 
 time, and it took patience." California John emphasized 
 each point with a pat of his brown, gnarled hand. 
 
 "Now those fellows started things for this country. If 
 they hadn't had the sheer nerve to take up that timber, 
 nobody would have dared do anything else not for years 
 anyhow. But just the fact that the Wolverine Company 
 bought big, and other big men come in why it give 
 confidence to the people. The country boomed right ahead. 
 If nobody had seen the future of the country, she'd have 
 been twenty year behind. Out West that means a hell of a 
 lot of value, let me tell you!" 
 
 "The timber would have belonged to the Government," 
 Bob reminded him. 
 
 "I'm a Forest officer," said California John, "and what's 
 more, I was a Forest officer for a good many years when 
 there was nothin' to it but kicks. There can't nobody beat 
 me in wishing a lot of good forest land was under the Service 
 instead of being due to be cut up by lumbermen. But I've 
 lived too long not to see the point. You can't get benefits 
 without paying for 'em. The United States of America 
 was big gainers because these old fellows had the nerve 
 just to come in and buy. It ain't so much the lumber they 
 saw and put out where it's needed though that's a good 
 
540 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 deal: and it ain't so much the men they bring into the 
 country and give work to though that's a lot, too. It's 
 the confidence they inspire, it's the lead they give. That's 
 what counts. All the rest of these little operators, and work- 
 men, and storekeepers, and manufacturers wouldn't have 
 found their way out here in twenty years if the big fellows 
 hadn't led the way. If you should go over and buy ten 
 thousand acres of land by Table Mountain to-morrow, next 
 year there' d be a dozen to follow you in and do whatever 
 you'd be doing. And while it's the big fellow that gives the 
 lead, it's the little fellow that makes the wealth oj the country!" 
 
 Bob stared at the old man in fascinated surprise. This 
 was a new California John, this closely reasoning man, 
 with, clear, earnest eyes, laying down the simple doctrine 
 taught by a long life among men. 
 
 "The Government gives alternate sections of land to rail- 
 roads to bring them in the country," went on California John. 
 " In my notion all this timber land in private hands is 
 where it belongs. It's the price the Government paid for 
 wealth.'" 
 
 "And the Basin " cried Bob. 
 
 "What the hell more confidence does this country need 
 now?" demanded California John fiercely; "what with its 
 mills and its trolleys, its vineyards and all its big projects. 
 What right has this man Baker to get pay for what he ain't 
 done?" 
 
 The distinction Bob had sensed, but had not been able 
 to analyze, leaped at him. The equities hung in equal 
 balance. On one side he saw the pioneer, pressing forward 
 into an unknown wilderness, breaking a way for those that 
 could follow, holding aloft a torch to illumine dark places, 
 taking long and desperate chances, or seeing with almost 
 clairvoyant power beyond the immediate vision of men; 
 waiting in faith for the fulfillment of their prophecies. On 
 the other he saw the plunderer, grasping for a wealth that 
 did not belong to him, through values he had not made. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 541 
 
 This fundamental difference could never again, in Bob's 
 mind, be gainsaid. 
 
 Nevertheless though a difference in deeper ethics, it did 
 not extend to the surface of things by which men live. It 
 explained; but did it excuse, especially in the eye of abstract 
 ethics? Had not these men broken the law, and is not the 
 upholding of the law important in its moral effect on those 
 that follow? 
 
 " Just the same," he voiced this thought to California 
 John, "the laws read then as they do to-day." 
 
 "On the books, yes," replied the old man, slowly; "but 
 not in men's ideas. You got to remember that those fellows 
 held pretty straight by what the law says. They got other 
 men to take up the timber, and then had it transferred to 
 themselves. That's according to law. A man can do what 
 he wants with his own. You know." 
 
 "But the intention of the law is to give every man a " 
 
 "That's what we go by now," interrupted California 
 John. 
 
 "What other way is there to go by?" 
 
 "None now. But in those days that was the settled 
 way to get timber land. They didn't make any secret of it. 
 They just looked at it as the process to go through with, like 
 filing a deed, or getting two witnesses. It was a nuisance, 
 and looked foolish, but if that was the way to do it, why 
 they'd do it that way. Everybody knew that. Why, if a 
 man wanted to get enough timber to go to operating on, his 
 lawyer would explain to him how to do it ; any of his friends 
 that was posted would show him the ropes; and if he'd take 
 the trouble to go to the Land Office itself, the clerk would 
 say: 'No, Mr. Man, I can't transfer to you, personally, 
 more'n a hundred and sixty acres, but you can get some of 
 your friends to take it up for you.'* Now will you tell me 
 how Mr. Man could get it any straighter than that?" 
 
 Bob was seeing a great light. He nodded. 
 
 * A fact. 
 
542 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "They've changed the rules of the game!" said California 
 John impressively, "and now they want to go back thirty 
 year and hold these fellows to account for what they did 
 under the old rules. It don't look to me like it's fair." 
 
 He thought a moment. 
 
 "I suppose," he remarked reflectively, going off on one of 
 his strange tangents, and lapsing once more into his cus- 
 tomary picturesque speech, "that these old boys that burned 
 those Salem witches was pretty well thought of in Salem - 
 deacons in the church, and all such; p'ticular elect, and held 
 up to the kids for high moral examples? had the plumb 
 universal approval in those torchlight efforts of theirn?" 
 
 "So I believe," said Bob. 
 
 "Well," drawled California John, stretching his lank 
 frame, "suppose one of those old bucks had lived to now - 
 of course, he couldn't, but suppose he did and was enjoy- 
 ing himself and being a good citizen. And suppose some 
 day the sheriff touched him on the shoulder and says : ' Old 
 boy, we're rounding up all the murderers. I've just got 
 Saleratus Bill for scragging Franklin. You come along, too. 
 Don't you know that burnin' witches is murder?'" Cali- 
 fornia John spat with vigour. " Oh, hell!" said he. 
 
 "Now, Baker," he went on, after a moment, "is Saleratus 
 Bill because he knows he's agin what the people knows is 
 the law; and the other fellows is old Salem because they 
 lived like they were told to. Even old Salem would know 
 that he couldn't burn no witches nowadays. These old 
 timers ain't the ones trying to steal land now, you notice. 
 They're too damn honest. You don't need to tell me that 
 you believe for one minute when he took up this Wolverine 
 land, that your father did anything that he, or anybody else, 
 courts included, thought was off-colour." 
 
 "My father!" cried Bob. 
 
 "Why, yes," said California John, looking at him curi- 
 ously; "you don't mean to say you didn't know he is the 
 Wolverine Company!" 
 
XXII 
 
 WELL," said California John, after a pause, " after 
 you've made your jump there ain't much use in 
 trying to turn back. If you didn't know it, why- 
 it was evident you wasn't intended to know it. But I was 
 in the country when your father bought the land, so I hap- 
 pened to know about it." 
 
 Bob stared at the old man so long that the latter felt called 
 upon to reassure him. 
 
 "I wouldn't take it so hard, if I was you, son," said he. 
 "I really don't think all these bluffs of Baker's amount to 
 much. The findings of that commission ain't never been 
 acted on, which would seem to show that it didn't come to 
 nothing at the time; and I don't have the slightest notion in 
 the world but what the whole thing will blow up in smoke." 
 
 "As far as that is concerned, I haven't either," said Bob; 
 "though you never can tell, and defending such a suit is always 
 an expensive matter. But here's the trouble; my father is 
 Congressman from Michigan, he's been in several pretty 
 heavy fights this last year, and has some powerful enemies; 
 he is up for reelection this fall." 
 
 "Suffering cats!" whistled California John. 
 
 "A lot could be made of a suit of that nature," said Bob, 
 "whether it had any basis, or not." 
 
 "I've run for County Supervisor in my time," said Cali- 
 fornia John simply. 
 
 "Well, what is your advice?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Son, I ain't got none," replied the old man. 
 
 That very evening a messenger rode over from the mill 
 bringing a summons from Welton. Bob saddled up at 
 
 543 
 
544 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 once. He found the lumberman, not in the comfortable sit- 
 ting room at his private sleeping camp, but watching the 
 lamp alone in the office. As Bob entered, his former asso- 
 ciate turned a troubled face toward the young man. 
 
 "Bob," said he at once, "they've got the old man cinched, 
 unless you'll help out." 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 "You remember when we first came in here how Plant 
 closed the road and the flume right-of-way on us because we 
 didn't have the permit?" 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "Now, Bob, you remember how we was up against it, 
 don't you ? If we hadn't gone through that year we'd have 
 busted the business absolutely. It was just a case of hold-up 
 and we had to pay it. You remember?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well!" burst out Welton, bringing his fist down, "now 
 this hound, Baker, sends up his slick lawyer to tell me 
 that was bribery, and that he can have me up on a criminal 
 charge!" 
 
 " He's bluffing," said Bob quietly. "I remember all about 
 that case. If I'd known as much then of inside workings 
 as I do now, I'd have taken a hand. But Baker himself 
 ran the whole show. If he brings that matter into court, 
 he'll be subject to the same charge; for, if you remember, he 
 paid the money." 
 
 "Will he!" shouted Welton. "You don't know the low- 
 lived skunk! Erbe told me that if this suit was brought and 
 you testified in the matter, that Baker would turn state's 
 evidence against me! That would let him off scot-free." 
 
 "What!" said Bob incredulously. "Brand himself pub- 
 licly as a criminal and tell-tale just to get you into trouble! 
 Not likely. Think what that would mean to a man in his 
 position! It would be every bit as bad as though he were 
 to take his jail sentence. He's bluffing again." 
 
 "Do you really think so?" asked Welton, a gleam of relief 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 545 
 
 lightening the gloom of his red, good-natured face. "I'll 
 agree to handle the worst river crew you can hand out to me; 
 but this law business gets me running in circles." 
 
 "It does all of us," said Bob with a sigh. 
 
 "I concluded from Erbe's coming up here that you had 
 decided to tell about what you knew. That ain't so, is it?" 
 
 "I don't know; I can't see my duty clearly yet." 
 
 "For heaven's sake, Bobby, what's it to you!" demanded 
 Welton exasperated. 
 
 But Bob did not hear him. 
 
 "I think the direct way is the best," he remarked, by way 
 of thinking aloud. "I'm going to keep on going to head- 
 quarters. I'm going to write father and put it straight to him 
 how he did get those lands and tell him the whole situation; 
 and I'm going down to interview Baker, and discover, if I can, 
 just how much of a bluff he is putting up." 
 
 "In the meantime- said Welton apparently not 
 
 noting the fact that Bob had become aware of the senior 
 Orde's eonnection with the land. 
 
 "In the meantime I'm going to postpone action if I 
 can." 
 
 "They're summoning witnesses for the Basin trial." 
 
 "I'll do the best I can," concluded Bob. 
 
 Accordingly he wrote the next day to his father. In this 
 letter he stated frankly the situation as far as it affected the 
 Wolverine lands, but said nothing about the threatened 
 criminal charges against Welton. That was another matter. 
 He set out the great value of the Basin lands and the methods 
 by which they had been acquired. He pointed out his duty, 
 both as a forest officer and as a citizen, but balanced this by 
 the private considerations that had developed from the 
 situation. 
 
 This dispatched, he applied for leave. 
 
 "This is the busy season, and we can spare no one," said 
 Thorne. "You have important matters on hand." 
 
 "This is especially important," urged Bob. 
 
546 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 " It is absolutely impossible. Come two months later, and 
 I'll be glad to lay you off as long as I can." 
 
 " This particular affair is most urgent business." 
 
 "Private, of course?" 
 
 4t 'Not entirely." 
 
 "Couldn't be considered official?" 
 
 " It might become so." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "That I am not at liberty to tell you." 
 
 Thorne considered. 
 
 "No; I'm sorry, but I don't see how I can spare you." 
 
 "In that case," said Bob quietly, "you will force me to 
 tender my resignation." 
 
 Thorne looked up at him quickly, and studied his face. 
 
 "From anybody else, Orde," said he, "I'd take that as a 
 threat or a hold-up, and fire the man on the spot. From 
 you I do not. The matter must be really serious. You 
 may go. Get back as soon as you can." 
 
 "Thank you," said Bob. "It is serious. Three days 
 will do me." 
 
 He set about his preparations at once, packing a suit case 
 with linen long out of commission, smoothing out the tailored 
 clothes he had not had occasion to use for many a day. He 
 then transported this and himself down the mountain 
 on his saddle horse. At Auntie Belle's he changed his clothes. 
 The next morning he caught the stage, and by the day fol- 
 lowing walked up the main street of Fremont. 
 
 He had no trouble in finding Baker's office. The Sycamore 
 Creek operations were one group of many. As one of 
 Baker's companies furnished Fremont with light and power, 
 it followed that at night the name of that company blazed 
 forth in thousands of lights. The sign was not the less 
 legible, though not so fiery, by day. Bob walked into exten- 
 sive ground-floor offices behind plate-glass windows. Here 
 were wickets and railings through which and over which the 
 public business was transacted. A narrow passageway 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 547 
 
 sidled down between the wall and a row of ground-glass 
 doors, on which were lettered the names of various officers 
 of the company. At a swinging bar separating this passage 
 from the main office sat a uniformed boy directing and stamp- 
 ing envelopes. 
 
 Bob wrote his name on a blank form offered by this youth. 
 The young man gazed at it a moment superciliously, then 
 sauntered with an air of great leisure down the long corridor. 
 He reappeared after a moment's absence behind the last 
 door, to return with considerably more alacrity. 
 
 "Come right in, sir," he told Bob, in tones which mingled 
 much deference with considerable surprise. 
 
 Bob had no reason to understand how unusual was the 
 circumstance of so prompt a reception of a visitor for whom 
 no previous appointment had been made. He entered the 
 door held open for him by the boy, and so found himself in 
 Baker's presence. 
 
XXIII 
 
 THE office was expensively but plainly furnished in 
 hardwoods. A thick rug covered the floor, easy 
 chairs drew up by a fireplace, several good pictures 
 hung on the wall. Near the windows stood a small desk for 
 a stenographer, and a wide mahogany table. Behind this 
 latter, his back to the light, sat Baker. 
 
 The man's sturdy figure was absolutely immobile, and the 
 customary facetiously quizzical lines of his face had given 
 place to an expression of cold attention. When he spoke, 
 Bob found that the picturesque diction too had vanished. 
 
 At Bob's entrance, Baker inclined his head coldly in greet- 
 ing, but said nothing. Bob deliberately crossed the room 
 and rested his two fists, knuckle down, on the polished desk- 
 top. Baker waited stolidly for him to proceed. Bob jerked 
 his head toward the stenographer. 
 
 " I want to talk to you in private," said he. 
 
 The stenographer glanced toward her employer. The 
 latter nodded, whereupon she gathered a few stray leaves of 
 paper and departed. Bob looked after her until the door had 
 closed behind her. Then, quite deliberately, he made a tour 
 of the office, trying doors, peering behind curtains and por- 
 tieres. He ended at the desk, to find Baker's eye fixed 
 on him with sardonic humour. "Melodramatic, useless 
 and ridiculous," he said briefly. 
 
 " If I have any evidence to give, it will be in court, not in 
 a private office," replied Bob composedly. 
 
 " What do you want ? " demanded Baker. 
 
 "I have come this far solely and simply to get a piece of 
 information at first hand. I was told you had threatened 
 
 548 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 549 
 
 to become a blackmailer, and I wanted to find out if it 
 is true?" 
 
 "In a world of contrary definitions, it is necessary to 
 come down to facts. What do you mean by blackmailer ?" 
 
 " It has been told me that you intend to aid criminal pro- 
 ceedings against Mr. Welton in regard to the right-of-way 
 trouble and the 'sugaring' of Plant." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "And that in order to evade your own criminal respon- 
 sibility in the matter you intended to turn state's evidence." 
 
 "Well?" repeated Baker. 
 
 " It seemed inconceivable to me that a man of your social 
 and business standing would not only confess himself a 
 petty criminal, but one who shelters himself by betrayal of his 
 confederate." 
 
 "I do not relish any such process," stated Baker formally, 
 " and would avoid it if possible. Nevertheless, if the situa- 
 tion comes squarely up to me, I shall meet it." 
 
 "I suppose you have thought what decent men ' 
 
 Baker held up one hand. This was the first physical move- 
 ment he had made. 
 
 "Pardon me," he interrupted. "Let us understand, once 
 and for all, that I intend to defend myself when attacked. 
 Personally I do not think that either Mr. Welton or myself are 
 legally answerable for what we have done. I regret to 
 observe that you, among others, think differently. If the 
 whole matter were to be dropped at this point, I should rest 
 quite content. But if the matter is not dropped" - at 
 last he let his uplifted hand fall, "if the matter is not 
 dropped," he repeated, "my sense of justice is strong enough 
 to feel that every one should stand on the same footing. If 
 I am to be dragged into court, so must others." 
 
 Bob stood thoughtful for a moment. 
 
 "I guess that's all," said he, and walked out. 
 
 As the door closed behind him, Baker reached forward 
 to touch one of several buttons. To the uniformed mes- 
 
550 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 senger who appeared he snapped out the one word, "Old- 
 ham!" A moment later the land agent stood before the wide 
 mahogany desk. 
 
 "Orde has just been here," stated Baker crisply. "He 
 wanted to know if I intended to jail Wei ton on that old 
 bribery charge. I told him I did." 
 
 " How did he take it?" 
 
 " As near as I can tell he is getting obstinate. You claimed 
 very confidently you could head off his testimony. Up to 
 date you haven't accomplished much. Make good." 
 
 "Til head him off," stated Oldham grimly, "or put him 
 where he belongs. I've saved a little persuasion until all 
 the rest had failed." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "That I'll tell you in time, but not now. But I don't 
 mind telling you that I've no reason to love this Orde or 
 any other Orde and I intend to get even with him on my 
 own account. It's a personal and private matter, but I have 
 a club that will keep him." 
 
 "Why the secrecy?" 
 
 "It's an affair of my own," insisted Oldham, "but I have 
 it on him. If he attempts to testify as to the Basin lands, 
 I'll have him in the penitentiary in ten days." 
 
 "And if he agrees?" 
 
 "Then," said Oldham quietly, "I'll have him in the pen 
 a little later after the Basin matter is settled once and for 
 all." 
 
 Baker considered this a little. 
 
 "My judgment might be worth something as to handling 
 this," he suggested. 
 
 "The matter is mine," said Oldham firmly, "and I must 
 choose my own time and place." 
 
 "Very well," Baker acquiesced; "but I'd advise you to 
 tackle Orde at once. Time is short. Try out your club to 
 see if it will work." 
 
 " It will work!" stated Oldham confidently. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 551 
 
 " Of course," remarked Baker, relaxing abruptly his atti- 
 tude, physical and mental, and lighting a cigar, " of course, 
 it is all very well to yank the temples down around the merry 
 Philistines, but it doesn't do your Uncle Samson much good. 
 We can raise hell with Welton and Orde and a half-dozen 
 others, and we will, if they push us too hard but thai 
 don't keep us the Basin if this crazy reformer testifies and 
 pulls in Welton to corroborate him. I'd rather keep the 
 Basin. If we could stop Orde " 
 
 "I'll stop him," said Oldham. 
 
 "I hope," said Baker impressively, "that you have more 
 than one string to your bow. I am not inquiring into your 
 methods, you understand" his pause was so significantly 
 long at this point, that Oldham nodded " but your sole job is 
 to keep Orde out of court" 
 
 Baker looked his agent squarely in the eye for fifteen 
 seconds. Then abruptly he dropped his gaze. 
 
 "That's all," said he, and reached for some papers. 
 
XXIV 
 
 OLDHAM obeyed his principal's orders by joining Bob 
 on the train back to the city. He dropped down 
 by the young man's side, produced a cigar which he 
 rolled between his lips, but did not light, and at once opened 
 up the subject of his negotiations. 
 
 "I wish to point out to you, with your permission," he 
 began, "just where you stand in this matter. In the con- 
 fusion and haste of a busy time you may not have cast up 
 your accounts. First," he checked off the point on his long, 
 slender forefinger, " in injuring Mr. Baker in this ill-advised 
 fashion you are injuring your old-time employer and friend, 
 Mr. Welton, and this in two ways: you are jeopardizing his 
 whole business, and you are rendering practically certain 
 his conviction on a criminal charge. Mr. Welton is an old 
 man, a simple man, and a kindly man; this thing is likely to 
 kill him." Oldham glanced keenly at the young man's som- 
 bre face, and went on. "Second" he folded back his 
 middle finger "you are injuring your own father, also in 
 two ways: you are bringing his lawful property into danger, 
 and you are giving his political enemies the most effective 
 sort of a weapon to swing in his coming campaign. And 
 do not flatter yourself they will not make the best of it. It 
 happens that your father has stood strongly with the Con- 
 servation members in the late fight in Congress. This would 
 be a pretty scandal. Third," said Oldham, touching his ring 
 finger, "you are injuring yourself. You are throwing away 
 an opportunity to get in on the ground floor with the biggest 
 man in the West; you are making for yourself a powerful 
 enemy; and you are indubitably preparing the way for your 
 
 552 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 553 
 
 removal from office if removal from such an office can 
 conceivably mean anything to any one." He removed the 
 cigar from his mouth, gazed at the wetted end, waited a 
 moment for the young man to comment, then replaced i% and 
 resumed. "And fourth," he remarked closing his fist so that 
 all fingers were concealed. There he stopped until Bob was 
 fairly compelled to start him on again. 
 
 "And fourth " he suggested, therefore. 
 
 "Fourth," rapped out Oldham, briskly, "you injure 
 George Pollock." 
 
 "George Pollock!" echoed Bob, trying vainly to throw a 
 tone of ingenuous surprise into his voice. 
 
 "Certainly; George Pollock," repeated Oldham. "I 
 arrived in Sycamore Flats at the moment when Pollock mur- 
 dered Plant. I know positively that you were an eye-wit- 
 ness to the deed. If you testify in one case, I shall certainly 
 call upon you to testify in the other. Furthermore," he 
 turned his gray eyes on Bob, and for the second time the 
 young man was permitted to see an implacable hostility, 
 " although not on the scene itself, I can myself testify, and will, 
 that you held the murderer's horse during the deed, and 
 assisted Pollock to escape. Furthermore, I can testify, and 
 can bring a competent witness, that while supposed to be 
 estimating Government timber in the Basin, you were in 
 communication with Pollock." 
 
 "Saleratus Bill!" cried Bob, enlightened as to the trailer's 
 recent activities in the Basin. 
 
 "It will be easy to establish not only Pollock's guilt, but 
 your own as accessory. That will put you hard and fast 
 behind the bars where you belong." 
 
 In this last speech Oldham made his one serious mistake of 
 the interview. So long as he had appealed to Bob's feel- 
 ings for, and sense of duty toward, other men, he had suc- 
 ceeded well in still further confusing the young man's decision. 
 But at the direct personal threat, Bob's combative spirit 
 flared. Suddenly his troubled mind was clarified, as though 
 
554 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Oldham's menace had acted as a chemical reagent to pre- 
 cipitate all his doubts. Whatever the incidental hardships, 
 right must prevail. And, as always, in the uprooting of evil, 
 some inlucky innocent must suffer. It is the hardship of life, 
 inevitable, not to be blinked at if a man is to be a man, and 
 do a man's part. He leaned forward with so swift a move- 
 ment that Oldham involuntarily dodged back. 
 
 "You tell your boss," said Bob, "that nothing on God's 
 earth can keep me out of court." 
 
 He threw away his half-smoked cigar and went back 
 to the chair car. The sight of Oldham was intolerable to 
 him. 
 
 The words were said, and the decision made. In his heart 
 he knew the matter irrevocable. For a few moments he 
 experienced a feeling of relief and freedom, as when a swim- 
 mer first gets his head above the surf that has tumbled him. 
 These fine-spun matters of ethical balance had confused and 
 wearied his spirit. He had become bewildered among such 
 varied demands on his personal decision. It was a comfort 
 to fall back on the old straight rule of right conduct no matter 
 what the consequences. The essentials of the situation were 
 not at all altered: Baker was guilty of the rankest fraud; 
 Welton was innocent of every evil intent and should never 
 be punished for what he had been unwillingly and doubtfully 
 persuaded to permit; Orde senior had acquired his lands quite 
 according to the customs and ideas of the time; George 
 Pollock should have been justified a thousand times over in 
 sight of God and man. Those things were to Bob's mind 
 indisputable. To deprive the one man of a very small por- 
 tion of his fraudulently acquired property, it was apparently 
 necessary to punish three men who should not be punished. 
 These men were, furthermore, all dear to Bob personally. 
 It did not seem right that his decision should plunge them 
 into undeserved penalties. But now the situation was 
 materially altered. Bob also stood in danger from his action. 
 He, too, must suffer with the others. All were in the same 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 555 
 
 boat. The menace to his own liberty justified his course. 
 The innocent must suffer with the guilty; but now the fact 
 that he was one of those who must so suffer, raised his decis- 
 ion from a choice to a necessity. Whatever the conse- 
 quences, the simplest, least perplexing, most satisfying course 
 was to follow the obvious right. The odium of ingratitude, 
 of lack of affection, of disloyalty, of self-reproach was lifted 
 from him by the very fact that he, too, was one of those who 
 must take consequences. In making the personal threat 
 against the young man's liberty, Oldham had, without know- 
 ing it, furnished to his soul the one valid reason for going 
 ahead, conscience-clear. 
 
 Though naturally Oldham could not follow out this psychol- 
 ogy, he was shrewd enough to understand that he had failed. 
 This surprised him, for he had entertained not the slightest 
 doubt that the threat of the penitentiary would bring Bob 
 to terms. 
 
 On arriving in the city, Oldham took quarters at the 
 Buena Vista and sent for Saleratus Bill, whom he had sum- 
 moned by wire as soon as he had heard from that individual 
 of Bob's intended visit to Fremont. 
 
 The spy arrived wearing a new broad, black hat, a cellu- 
 loid collar, a wrinkled suit of store clothes, and his same 
 shrewd, evil leer. Oldham did not appear, but requested 
 that the visitor be shown into his room. There, having 
 closed the transom, he issued his instructions. 
 
 " I want you to pay attention, and not interrupt," said he. 
 " Within a month a case is coming up in which Orde, the 
 Forest man, is to appear as witness. He must not appear. 
 I leave that all to you, but, of course, I want no more than 
 necessary violence. He must be detained until after the 
 trial, and for as long after that as I say. Understand?" 
 
 "Sure," said Saleratus Bill. "But when he comes back, 
 he'll fix you just the same." 
 
 " I'll see to that part of it. The case will never be reopened. 
 Now, mind you, no shooting " 
 
556 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "There might be an accident," suggested Saleratus Bill, 
 opening his red eyes and staring straight at his principal. 
 
 "Accidents," said Oldham, speaking slowly and judicially, 
 "are always likely to happen. Sometimes they can't be 
 helped." He paused to let these words sink in. 
 
 Saleratus Bill wrinkled his eyes in an appreciative laugh. 
 "Accidents is of two kinds: lucky and unlucky," he remarked 
 briefly, by way of parenthesis. 
 
 "But, of course, it is distinctly understood," went on Old- 
 ham, as though he had not heard, "that this is your own 
 affair. You have nothing to expect from me if you get into 
 trouble. And if you mention my name, you'll merely get 
 jugged for attempted blackmail." 
 
 Saleratus Bill's eyes flared. 
 
 "Cut it," said he, with a rasp in his voice. 
 
 "Nevertheless, that is the case," repeated Oldham, 
 unmoved. 
 
 The flame slowly died from Saleratus Bill's eyes. 
 
 "I'll want a little raise for that kind of a job," said he. 
 
 "Naturally," agreed Oldham. 
 
 They entered into discussion of ways and means. 
 
 In the meantime Bob had encountered an old friend. 
 
XXV 
 
 BOB always stayed at the Monterosa Hotel when in 
 town; a circumstance that had sent Oldham to the 
 Buena Vista. Although it wanted but a few hours 
 until train time, he drifted around to his customary stopping 
 place, resolved to enjoy a quiet smoke by the great plate- 
 glass windows before which the ever-varying theatre crowds 
 stream by from Main Street cars. He had been thus settled 
 for some time, when he heard his name pronounced by the 
 man occupying the next chair. 
 
 "Bob Orde!" he cried; "but this is luck!" 
 
 Bob looked around to see an elderly, gray-haired, slender 
 man, of keen, intelligent face, pure white hair and moustache, 
 in whom he recognized Mr. Frank Taylor, a lifelong friend 
 of his father's and one of the best lawyers his native state 
 had produced. He sprang to his feet to grasp the older man's 
 hand. The unexpected meeting was especially grateful, for 
 Bob had been long enough without direct reminders of his 
 old home to be hungry for them. Ever since he could remem- 
 ber, the erect, military form of Frank Taylor had been one 
 of the landmarks of memory, like the sword that had belonged 
 to Georgie Cathcart's father, or like the kindly, homely, gray 
 figure of Mr. Kincaid in his rickety, two-wheeled cart 
 the man who had given Bob his first firearm. 
 
 After first greetings and inquiries, the two men sank back 
 to finish their smoke together, 
 
 " It's good to see you again," observed Bob, "but I'm sorry 
 your business brings you out here at this time of year. This 
 is our dry season, you know. Everything is brown. I like 
 it myself, as do most Californians, but an Easterner has to 
 
 557 
 
558 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 get used to it. After the rains, though, the country is won- 
 derful." 
 
 "This isn't my first trip," said Taylor. "I was out here 
 for some months away back in I think it was '79. I 
 remember we went in to Santa Barbara on a steamer that 
 fired a gun by way of greeting! Strangely enough, the same 
 business brings me here now." 
 
 "You are out here on father's account?" hazarded Bob, 
 to whom the year 1879 now began to have its significance. 
 
 "Exactly. Didn't you get your father's letter telling of 
 my coming?" 
 
 "I've been from headquarters three days," Bob explained. 
 
 "I see. Well, he sent you this message: 'Tell Bob to go 
 ahead. I can take care of myself.'" 
 
 "Bully for dad!" cried Bob, greatly heartened. 
 
 " He told me he did not want to advise you, but that in the 
 old days when a fight was on, the spectators were supposed to 
 do their own dodging." 
 
 "I'd about come to that conclusion," said Bob, "but it 
 surely does me good to feel that father's behind me in it." 
 
 "My trip in '79 or whenever it was was exactly on 
 this same muss-up." Mr. Taylor went on: "Your father 
 owned this timber land then, and wanted to borrow money on 
 it. At the time a rascally partner was trying to ruin him ; and, 
 in order to prevent his getting this money, which would save 
 him, this partner instigated investigations and succeeded 
 temporarily in clouding the title. Naturally the banks 
 declined to lend money on doubtful titles; which was all this 
 partner wanted.* Perhaps you know all this ? " 
 
 Bob shook his head. "I was a little too young to know 
 anything of business." 
 
 "Your father sent me out to straighten things. The whole 
 matter was involved in endless red tape, obscured in every 
 ingenious way possible. Although there proved to be noth- 
 ing to the affair, to prove that fact took time, and time was 
 
 *See "The Rirerman." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 559 
 
 what your father's partner was after. As a matter of fact, he 
 failed ; but that was not the result of miscalculation. Now I 
 strongly suspect that your friend Baker, or his lawyers, have 
 dug up a lot of this old evidence en the records and are going 
 to use it to annoy us. There is nothing more in it now than 
 there was at the beginning, but it's colourable enough to 
 start a noisy suit on, and that's all these fellows are after." 
 
 "But if it was decided once, how can they bring it up 
 again?" Bob objected. 
 
 " It was never brought to court. When the delay had been 
 gained or rather, when I unravelled the whole matter 
 it was dropped." 
 
 " I see," said Bob. "Then the titles are all right ? " 
 
 "Every bit of that tract is as good as gold," said Taylor 
 impressively. "Your father bought only from men who 
 had taken up land with their own money. He paid as high 
 as fifteen or sixteen hundred dollars for claims where by 
 straight 'colonizing' he could have had them for three or 
 four hundred." 
 
 "I'm glad to hear that," said Bob. "But are you sure 
 you can handle this?" 
 
 "As for a suit, they can never win this in the world," said 
 Taylor. "But that isn't the question. What they want 
 is a chance for big headlines." 
 
 "Well, can you head them off?" 
 
 "I'm going to try, after I look over the situation. If I 
 can't head it off completely, I'll at least be in a position to 
 reply publicly at once. It took me three months to dig 
 this thing out, but it won't take me half an hour to get it in the 
 papers." 
 
 "I should think they'd know that." 
 
 "I don't think their lawyer really knows about it. As I 
 say, it took me three months to dig it all out. My notion 
 is that while they have no idea they can win the case, they 
 believe that we did actually colonize the lands. In other 
 words, they think they have it on us straight enough. The 
 
560 THE 1 RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 results of my investigations will surprise them. I'll keep 
 the thing out of court if I can; but in any case we're ready. 
 It will be a trial in the newspapers." 
 
 " Well," said Bob, " you want to get acquainted then. West- 
 ern newspapers are not like those in the East. They 
 certainly jump in with both feet on any cause that enlists them 
 one way or another. It is a case of no quarter to the enemy, 
 in headlines, subheads, down to the date reading matter, 
 of course. They have a powerful influence, too, for they are 
 very widely read." 
 
 "Can they be bought?" asked Taylor shrewdly. 
 
 Bob glanced at him. 
 
 "I was thinking of the Power Company," explained 
 Taylor. 
 
 "Blessed if I know," confessed Bob; "but I think not. I 
 disagree with them on so many things that I'd like to think 
 they are bought. But they are more often against those apt 
 to buy, than for them. They lambaste impartially and with 
 a certain Irish delight in doing the job thoroughly. I must 
 say they are not fair about it. They hit a man just as hard 
 when he is down. What you want to do is to be better news 
 than Baker." 
 
 "I'll be all of that," promised Taylor, "if it comes to 
 a newspaper trial." 
 
 Bob glanced at his watch and jumped to his feet with an 
 exclamation of dismay. 
 
 "I've five minutes to get to the station," he said. " Good- 
 bye." 
 
 He rushed out of the hotel, caught a car, ran a block 
 and arrived in time to see the tail lights slipping away. He 
 had to wait until the morning train, but that mattered little 
 to him now. His wait and the journey back to the mountains 
 were considerably lightened by this partial relief of the situa- 
 tion. At the first sign of trouble his father had taken the 
 field to fight out his own fights. That much responsibility 
 was lifted from Bob's shoulders. He might have known! 
 
 Of the four dangerous elements of his problem one was 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 561 
 
 thus unexpectedly, almost miraculously, relieved. Re- 
 mained, however, poor Welton's implication in the brib- 
 ery matter, and Pollock's danger. Bob could not count in 
 himself. If he could only relieve the others of the conse- 
 quences of his action, he could face his own trouble with a 
 stout heart. 
 
 At White Oaks he was forced to wait for the next stage. 
 This put him twenty-four hours behind, and he was inclined 
 to curse his luck. Had he only known it, no better fortune 
 could have fallen him. The news came down the line that 
 the stage he would have taken had been held up by a lone 
 highwayman just at the top of Flour Gold grade. As the 
 vehicle carried only an assortment of perishable fruit and 
 three Italian labourers, for the dam, the profits from the 
 transaction were not extraordinary. The sheriff and a posse 
 at once set out in pursuit. Their efforts at overtaking the 
 highwayman were unavailing, for the trail soon ran out over 
 the rocky and brushy ledges, and the fugitive had been 
 clever enough to sprinkle some of his tracks liberally with 
 red pepper to baffle the dogs. The sheriff made a hard push 
 of it, however, and for one day held closely enough on the 
 trail. Bob's journey to Sycamore Flats took place on this 
 one day during which Saleratus Bill was too busy dodg- 
 ing his pursuers to resume a purpose which Bob's delay had 
 frustrated. 
 
 On arriving at Auntie Belle's, Bob resolved to push on 
 up the mountain that very night, instead of waiting as usual 
 until the following morning. Accordingly, after supper, he 
 saddled his horse, collected the camp mail, and set himself 
 in motion up the steep road. 
 
 Before he had passed Fern Falls, the twilight was falling. 
 Hermit thrushes sang down through the cooling forest. 
 From the side hill, exposed all the afternoon to the California 
 summer sun, rose tepid odours of bear-clover and snowbush, 
 which exhaled out into space, giving way to the wandering, 
 faint perfumes of night. Bob took off his hat, and breathed 
 
562 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 deep, greatly refreshed after the long, hot stage ride of the 
 day. Darkness fell. In the forest the strengthening moon- 
 light laid its wand upon familiar scenes to transform them. 
 New aisles opened down the woodlands, aisles at the end of 
 which stood silvered, ghostly trees thus distinguished by the 
 moonbeams from their unnumbered brethren. The whole 
 landscape became ghostly, full of depths and shadows, mys- 
 teries and allurements, heights and spaces unknown to the 
 more prosaic day. Landmarks were lost in the velvet dark; 
 new features sprang into prominence. Were it not for the 
 wagon trail, Bob felt that in this strange, enchanted, unfamil- 
 iar land he might easily have become lost. His horse plodded 
 mechanically on. One by one he passed the homely roadside 
 landmarks, exempt from the necromancies of the moon 
 the pile of old cedar posts, split heaven knows when, by 
 heaven knows whom, and thriftlessly abandoned; the water 
 trough, with the brook singing by; the S turn by the great 
 boulders; the narrow defile of the Devil's Grade and then, 
 still under the spell of the night, Bob surmounted the ridge 
 to look out over the pine-clad plateau slumbering dead- 
 still under the soft radiance of the moon. 
 
 He rode the remaining distance to headquarters at a 
 brisker pace. As he approached the little meadow, and the 
 group of buildings dark and silent, he raised joyously the wild 
 hallo of the late-comer with mail. Immediately lights were 
 struck. A moment later, by the glimmer of a lantern, he was 
 distributing the coveted papers, letters and magazines to the 
 half-dressed group that surrounded him. Amy summoned 
 him to bring her share. He delivered it to the hand and arm 
 extended from the low window. 
 
 "You must be nearly dead," said Amy, "after that long 
 stage ride to come right up the mountain." 
 
 "It's the finest sort of a night," said Bob. "I wouldn't 
 have missed it for anything. It's H-O-T, hot. down at the 
 Flats. This ride just saved my life." 
 
 This might have been truer than Bob had thought, for at 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 563 
 
 almost that very moment Saleratus Bill, having success- 
 fully shaken off his pursuers, was making casual and guarded 
 inquiries at Austin's saloon. When he heard that Orde 
 had arrived at the Flats on the evening's stage, he mani- 
 fested some satisfaction. The next morning, however, that 
 satisfaction vanished, for only then he learned that the young 
 man must be already safe at headquarters. 
 
XXVI 
 
 IN delivering his instructions to Oldham, Baker had, of 
 course, no thought of extreme measures. Indeed, 
 had the direct question been put to him, he would most 
 strongly and emphatically have forbidden them. Neverthe- 
 less, he was glad to leave his intentions vague, feeling that 
 in thus wilfully shutting his eyes he might avoid personal 
 responsibility for what might happen. He had every con- 
 fidence that Oldham a man of more than average cultiva- 
 tion while he might contemplate lawlessness, was of too 
 high an order to consider physical violence. Baker was 
 inclined to believe that on mature reflection Bob would yield 
 to the accumulation of influence against him. If not, Old- 
 ham intimated with no uncertain confidence, that he pos- 
 sessed information of a sort to coerce the Forest officer into 
 silence. If that in turn proved unavailing a contingency, 
 it must be remembered that Baker hardly thought worth 
 entertainment why, then, in some one of a thousand per- 
 fectly legal ways Oldham could entangle the chief witness 
 into an enforced absence from the trial. This sort of man- 
 oeuvre was, later, actually carried out in the person of Mr. 
 Fremont Older, a witness in the graft prosecutions of San 
 Francisco. In short, Baker's intentions, while desperately 
 illegal, contemplated no personal harm to their victim. He 
 gave as general orders to his subordinate: "Keep Orde's 
 testimony out of court"; and shrugged off minute responsi- 
 bilities. 
 
 This command, filtered through a second and inimical 
 personality, gained in strength. Oldham was not of a tem- 
 perament to contemplate murder. His nerves were too 
 
 564 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 565 
 
 refined; his training too conventional; his imagination too 
 developed. He, too, resolutely kept his intentions a trifle 
 vague. If Orde persisted, then he must be kidnapped for a 
 time. 
 
 But Saleratus Bill, professional gun-man, well paid, took 
 his instructions quite brutally. In literal and bald state- 
 ment he closed the circle and returned to Baker's very words : 
 "Keep Orde's testimony out of court." Only in this case 
 Saleratus Bill read into the simple command a more sinister 
 meaning. 
 
 The morning after his return from the lower country, 
 Bob saddled up to ride over to the mill. He wished to tell 
 Welton of his meeting Taylor; and to consult him on the best 
 course to pursue in regard to the bribery charges. With 
 daylight many of his old perplexities had returned. He rode 
 along so deep in thought that the only impression reaching 
 him from the external world was one of the warmth of the sun. 
 
 Suddenly a narrow shadow flashed by his eyes. Before his 
 consciousness could leap from its inner contemplation, his 
 arms were pulled flat to his sides, a shock ran through him as 
 though he had received a heavy blow, and he was jerked 
 backward from his horse to hit the ground with great 
 violence. 
 
 The wind was knocked from his body, so that for five 
 seconds, perhaps, he was utterly confused. Before he could 
 gather himself, or even comprehend what had happened, a 
 heavy weight flung itself upon him. The beginnings of 
 his feeble struggles were unceremoniously subdued. When, 
 in another ten seconds, his vision had cleared, he found him- 
 self bound hand and foot. Saleratus Bill stood over him, 
 slowly recoiling the riata, or throwing rope, with which he 
 had so dexterously caught Bob from behind. After contem- 
 plating his victim for a moment, Saleratus Bill mounted his 
 own animal, and disappeared. 
 
 Bob, his head humming from the violence of its impact with 
 the ground, listened until the hoof beats had ceased to jar 
 
566 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 the earth. Then with a methodical desperation he began to 
 wrench and work at his bonds. All his efforts were useless; 
 Saleratus Bill understood "hog- tying" too well. When, 
 finally, he had convinced himself that he could not get away, 
 Bob gave over his efforts. The forest was very still and 
 warm. After a time the sun fell upon him, and he began 
 to feel its heat uncomfortably. The affair was inexplicable. 
 He began to wonder whether Saleratus Bill intended leaving 
 him there a prey to what fortune chance might bring. 
 Although the odds were a hundred to one against his being 
 heard, he shouted several times. About as he had begun once 
 more to struggle against his bonds, his captor returned, 
 leading Bob's horse, and cursing audibly over the difficulty 
 he had been put to in catching it. 
 
 Ignoring Bob's indignant demands, the gun-man loosed 
 his ankles, taking, however, the precaution of throwing the 
 riata over the young man's shoulders. 
 
 "Climb your horse," he commanded briefly. 
 
 "How do you expect me to do that, with my hands tied 
 behind me?" demanded Bob. 
 
 "I don't know. Just do it, and be quick," replied Saler- 
 atus Bill. 
 
 Bob's horse was nervous and restive. Three times he 
 dropped his master heavily to earth. Then Saleratus Bill, 
 his evil eye wary, extended a helping hand. This was what 
 Bob was hoping for; but the gun-man was too wily and 
 experienced to allow himself within the captive's fettered 
 reach. 
 
 When Bob had finally gained his saddle, Saleratus Bill, 
 leading the horse, set off at a rapid pace cross country. To 
 all of Bob's questions and commands he turned a deaf ear, 
 until, finally, seeing it was useless to ask, Bob fell silent. 
 Only once did he pause, and then to breathe and water the 
 horses. The country through which they passed was unfa- 
 miliar to Bob. He knew only that they were going north, 
 and were keeping to westward of the Second Ranges. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 567 
 
 Late that evening Saleratus Bill halted for the night at a 
 little meadow. He fed Bob a thick sandwich, and offered 
 him a cup of water; after which he again shackled the young 
 man's ankles, bound his elbows, and attached the helpless 
 form to a tree. Bob spent the night in this case, covered only 
 by his saddle blanket. The cords cut into his swelled flesh, 
 the retarded circulation pricked him cruelly. He slept little. 
 At early dawn his captor offered him the same fare. By sun- 
 up they were under way again. 
 
 All that day they angled to the northwest, The pine 
 forests gave way to oaks, buckthorn, chaparral, as they 
 entered lower country. Several times Saleratus Bill made 
 long detours to avoid clearings and ranches. Bob, in spite 
 of his strength and the excellence of his condition, reeled 
 from sheer weariness and pain. They made no stop at 
 noon. 
 
 At two o'clock, or so, they left the last ranch and began 
 once more leisurely to climb. The slope was gentle. A 
 badly washed and eroded wagon grade led them on. It had 
 not been used for years. The horses, now very tired, plodded 
 on dispiritedly. 
 
 Then, with the suddenness of a shift of scenery, they 
 topped what seemed to be a trifling rounded hill. On the 
 other side the slope dropped sheer away. Opposite and to 
 north and south were the ranks of great mountains, some 
 dark with the blue of atmosphere before pines, others glitter- 
 ing with snow. Directly beneath, almost under him, Bob 
 saw a valley. 
 
 It was many thousand feet below, mathematically round, 
 and completely surrounded by lofty mountains. Indeed, 
 already evening had there spread its shadows, although to 
 the rest of the world the sun was still hours high. Through 
 it flowed a river. From the height it looked like a piece of 
 translucent green glass in the still depths; like cotton-wool 
 where the rapids broke; for the great distance robbed it of all 
 motion. This stream issued from a gorge and flowed into 
 
568 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 another, both so narrow that the lofty mountains seemed 
 fairly to close them shut. 
 
 Through the clear air of the Sierras this valley looked 
 like a toy, a miniature. Every detail was distinct. Bob 
 made out very plainly the pleasant trees, and a bridge over 
 the river, and the roofs of many houses, and the streets of a 
 little town. 
 
 To the left the wagon road dropped away down the steep 
 side of the mountain. Bob's eye could follow it, at first a 
 band, then a ribbon, finally a tiny white thread, as it wound 
 and zigzagged, seeking its contours, until finally it ran out on 
 the level and rested at the bridge end. Opposite, on the other 
 mountain, he thought to make out here and there faint 
 suggestions of another way. 
 
 Though his eye thus embraced at a glance the whole 
 length of the route, Bob found it a two-hours' journey down. 
 Always the walls of the mountains rose higher and higher 
 above him, gaining in majesty and awe as he abandoned 
 to them the upper air. Always the round valley grew larger, 
 losing its toy-like character. Its features became, not more 
 distinct, but more detailed. Bob saw the streets of the town 
 were pleasantly shaded by cotton woods and willows; he dis- 
 tinguished dwelling houses, a store, an office building, a mill 
 building for crushing of ore. The roar of the river came up to 
 him more clearly. As though some power had released the 
 magic of the stream, the water now moved. Rushing foam 
 and white water tumbled over the black and shining rocks: 
 deep pools eddied, dark and green, shot with swirls. 
 
 As it became increasingly evident that the road could lead 
 nowhere but through this village, Bob's spirits rose. The 
 place was well built. Bob caught the shimmer of ample 
 glass in the windows, the colour of paint on the boards, and 
 even the ordered rectangles of brick chimneys! Evidently 
 these things must have been freighted in over the devious 
 steep grade he was at that moment descending. Bob well 
 knew that, even nearer the source of supplies, such mining 
 

 Bob found it two hours' journey down 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 569 
 
 camps as this appeared to be were most often but a collec- 
 tion of rude, unpainted shanties, huddled together for a tem- 
 porary need. The orderly, well-kept, decent appearance of 
 this hamlet, more like a shaded New England village than 
 a Western camp, argued old establishment, prosperity, and 
 self-respect. The inhabitants could be no desperate fly-by- 
 nights, such as Saleratus Bill would most likely have sought 
 as companions. Bob made up his mind that the gun-man 
 would shortly try to threaten him into a temporary secrecy 
 as to the condition of affairs. This Bob instantly resolved 
 to refuse. 
 
 Saleratus Bill, however, rode on in an unbroken silence. 
 Long after the brawl of the river had become deafening, the 
 road continued to dip and descend. It is a peculiar phe- 
 nomenon incidental to the descent of the sheer canons of the 
 Sierra Nevada that the last few hundred feet down seem 
 longer than the thousands already passed. This is prob- 
 ably because, having gained close to the level of the tree-tops, 
 the mind, strung taut to the long descent, allows itself pre- 
 maturely to relax its attention. Bob turned in his saddle 
 to look back at the grade. He could not fail to reflect on how 
 lucky it was that the inhabitants of this village could haul 
 their materials and supplies down the road. It would have 
 been prohibitively difficult to drag anything up. 
 
 After a wearisome time the road at last swung out on the 
 flat, and so across the meadow to the bridge. Feed was 
 belly deep to the horses. The bridge proved to be a sus- 
 pension affair of wire cables, that swung alarmingly until 
 the horses had to straddle in order to stand at all. Below 
 it boiled the river, swirling, dashing, turning lazily and 
 mysteriously over its glass-green depths, the shimmers and 
 folds of eddies rising and swaying like air currents made 
 visible. 
 
 They climbed out on solid ground. The road swung to 
 the left and back, following a contour to the slight elevation 
 on which the houses stood. Saleratus Bill, however, turned 
 
570 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 up a brief short-cut, which landed them immediately on the 
 main street. 
 
 Bob saw two stores, an office building and a small hotel, 
 shaded by wooden awnings. Beyond them, and opposite 
 them, were substantial bunk houses and dwelling nouses, 
 painted red, each with its elevated, roofed verandah. Large 
 trees, on either side, threw a shade fairly across the thorough- 
 fare. An iron pump and water trough in front of the hotel 
 saved the wayfarer from the necessity of riding his animals 
 down to the river. The vista at the end of the street showed 
 a mill building on a distant mountain side, with the rabbit- 
 burrow dumps of many shafts and prospect holes all about it. 
 
 They rode up the street past two or three of the houses, 
 the hotel and the office. Bob, peering in through the win- 
 dows, saw tables and chairs, old chromos and newer litho- 
 graphs on the walls. Under the tree at the side of the hotel 
 hung a water olla with a porcelain cup atop. Near the back 
 porch stood a screen meat safe. 
 
 But not a soul was in sight. The street was deserted, 
 the houses empty, the office unoccupied. As they proceeded 
 Bob expected from one moment to the next to see a door open, 
 a figure saunter around a corner. Save for the jays and 
 squirrels, the place was absolutely empty. 
 
 For some minutes the full realization of this fact was slow 
 in coming. The village exhibited none of the symptoms of 
 abandonment. The window glass was whole; the furniture 
 of such houses as Bob had glanced into while passing stood 
 in its accustomed places. A few strokes of the broom might 
 have made any one of them immediately fit for habitation. 
 The place looked less deserted than asleep; like one of the 
 enchanted palaces so dear to tales of magic. It would not 
 have seemed greatly wonderful to Bob to have seen the 
 town spring suddenly to life in obedience to some spell. If 
 the mill stamps in the distant crusher had creaked and begun 
 to pound; if dogs had rushed barking around corners and 
 from under porches; if from the hotel mine host had emerged, 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 571 
 
 yawning and rubbing his eyes; if from the shops and offices 
 and houses had issued the slow, grumbling sounds of life 
 awakening, it would all have seemed natural and to be 
 expected. Under the influence of this strange effect a deathly 
 stillness seemed to fall, in spite of the bawling and roaring 
 of the river, and the trickle of many streamlets hurrying down 
 from the surrounding hills. 
 
 So extraordinary was this effect of suspended animation 
 that Bob again essayed his surly companion. 
 
 "What place do you call this?" he inquired. 
 
 Saleratus Bill had dismounted, and was stretching his long, 
 lean arms over his head. Evidently he considered this the 
 end of the long and painful journey, and as evidently he was, 
 in his relief, inclined to be better natured. 
 
 11 Busted minin' camp called Bright's Cove," said he; 
 " they took about ten million dollars out of here before she 
 bust." 
 
 "How long ago was that?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Ten year or so." 
 
 The young man gazed about him in amazement. The 
 place looked as though it might have been abandoned the 
 month before. In his subsequent sojourn he began more 
 accurately to gauge the reasons for this. Here were no small 
 boys to hurl the casual pebble through the delightfully shim- 
 mering glass; here was no dust to be swirled into crevices 
 and angles, no wind to carry it; to this remote cove pene- 
 trated no vandals to rob, mutilate or wantonly disfigure; and 
 the elevation of the valley's floor was low enough even to 
 avoid the crushing weights of snow that every winter brought 
 to the peaks around it. Only the squirrels, the birds and the 
 tiny wood rats represented in their little way the forces of 
 destruction. Furthermore, the difficulties of transportation 
 absolutely precluded moving any of the small property whose 
 absence so strongly impresses the desertion of a building. 
 When Bright's Cove moved, it had merely to shut the front 
 door. In some cases it did not shut the front door. 
 
572 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Saleratus Bill assisted Bob from the saddle. This had 
 become necessary, for the long ride in bonds had so cramped 
 and stiffened the young man that he was unable to help him- 
 self. Indeed, he found he could not stand. Saleratus Bill, 
 after looking at him shrewdly, untied his hands. 
 
 "I guess you're safe enough for now," said he. 
 
 Bob's wrists were swollen, and his arms so stiff he could 
 hardly use them. Saleratus Bill paused in throwing the 
 saddles off the wearied animals. 
 
 "Look here," said he gruffly; "if you pass yore word you 
 won't try to get away or make no fight, I'll turn you loose." 
 
 "I'll promise you that for to-night, anyway," returned 
 Bob quickly. 
 
 Saleratus Bill immediately cast the ropes into a corner 
 of the verandah. 
 
XXVII 
 
 THE shadows of evening were falling when Saleratus 
 Bill returned from pasturing the wearied horses. 
 Bob had been too exhausted to look about him, even 
 to think. From a cache the gun-man produced several bags of 
 food and a side of bacon. Evidently Bright's Cove was one 
 of his familiar haunts. After a meal which Bob would have 
 enjoyed more had he not been so dead weary, his captor 
 motioned him to one of the bunks. Only too glad for an 
 opportunity to rest, Bob tumbled in, clothes and all. 
 
 About midnight he half roused, feeling the mountain chill. 
 He groped instinctively; his hand encountered a quilt, 
 which he drew around his shoulders. 
 
 When he awoke it. was broad daylight. A persistent dis- 
 comfort which had for an hour fought with his drowsiness 
 for the ascendancy, now disclosed itself as a ligature tying his 
 elbows at the back. Evidently Saleratus Bill had taken this 
 precaution while the young man slept. Bob could still use 
 his hands and wrists, after a fashion; he could walk about 
 but he would be unable to initiate any effective offence. The 
 situation was admirably analogous to that of a hobbled horse. 
 Moreover, the bonds were apparently of some broad, soft 
 substance like sacking or harness webbing, so that, after 
 Bob had moved from his constrained position, they did not 
 excessively discommode him. 
 
 He had no means of guessing what the hour might be, 
 and no sounds reached him from the other parts of the house. 
 His muscles were sore and bruised. For some time he was 
 quite content to lie on his side, thinking matters over. 
 
 From his knowledge of the connection between Baker and 
 
 573 
 
574 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Oldham, Oldham and his captor, Bob had no doubt as to the 
 purpose of his abduction; nor did he fail to guess that now, 
 with the chief witness out of the way, the trial would be hur- 
 ried where before it had been delayed. Personally he had 
 little to fear beyond a detention unless he should 
 attempt to escape, or unless a searching party might blunder 
 on his traces. Bob had already made up his mind to use his 
 best efforts to get away. As to the probabilities of a rescue 
 blundering on this retreat, he had no means of guessing; but 
 he shrewdly concluded that Saleratus Bill was taking no 
 chances. 
 
 That individual now entered ; and, seeing his captive awake, 
 gruffly ordered him to rise. Bob found an abundant break- 
 fast ready, to which he was able to do full justice. In the 
 course of the meal he made several attempts on his jailer's 
 taciturnity, but without success. Saleratus Bill met all his 
 inquiries, open and guarded, with a sullen silence or evasive, 
 curt replies. 
 
 "It don't noways matter why you're here, or how you're 
 here. You are here, and that's all there's to it." 
 
 "How long do I stay?" 
 
 "Until I get ready to let you go." 
 
 "How can you get word from Mr. Oldham when to let me 
 off? "asked Bob. 
 
 But Saleratus Bill refused to rise to the bait. 
 
 " I'll let you go when I get ready," he repeated. 
 
 Bob was silent for some time. 
 
 "You know this lets me off from my promise," said he, 
 nodding backward toward his elbows. "I'll get away if I 
 can." 
 
 Saleratus Bill, for the first time, permitted himself a smile. 
 
 "There's two ways out of this place," said he "where 
 we come in, and over north on the trail. You can see every 
 inch both ways from here. Besides, don't make no 
 mistakes. I'll shoot you if you make a break." 
 
 Bob nodded. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 575 
 
 " I believe you," said he. 
 
 As though to convince Bob of the utter helplessness of 
 any attempt, Saleratus Bill, leaving the dishes unwashed, 
 led the way in a tour of the valley. Save where .the wagon 
 road descended and where the steep side hill of the north 
 wall arose, the boundaries were utterly precipitous. From 
 a narrow gorge, flanked by water-smoothed rock aprons, the 
 river boiled between glassy perpendicular cliffs. 
 
 " There ain't no swimming-holes in that there river,''' 
 remarked Saleratus Bill grimly. 
 
 Bob, leaning forward, could just catch a glimpse of the 
 torrent raging and buffeting in the narrow box canon, above 
 which the mountains rose tremendous. No stream growths 
 had any chance there. The place was water and rock 
 nothing more. In the valley itself willows and alders, 
 well out of reach of high water, offered a partial screen to- 
 soften the savage vista. 
 
 The round valley itself, however, was beautiful. Ripen- 
 ing grasses grew shoulder high. Shady trees swarmed with 
 birds. Bees and other insects hummed through the sun- 
 warmed air. 
 
 In vain Bob looked about him for the horses, or for signs 
 of them. They were nowhere to be seen. Saleratus Bill, 
 reading his perplexity, grinned sardonically. 
 
 "Yore friends might come in here," said he, evidently not 
 unwilling to expose to Bob the full hopelessness of the latter's 
 case. "And if so, they can trail us in; and then trail us 
 out again!" He pointed to the lacets of the trail up the 
 north wall. He grinned again. "You and I'd just crawl 
 down a mile of mine shaft." 
 
 Having thus, to his satisfaction, impressed Bob with the 
 utter futility of an attempt to escape, Saleratus Bill led the 
 way back to the deserted village. There he turned delib- 
 erately on his captive. 
 
 "Now, young feller, you listen to me," said he. "Don't 
 you try no monkey business. There won't be no ques- 
 
576 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 tions asked, none whatever. As long as you set and look at 
 the scenery, you won't come to no harm; but the minute you 
 make even a bluff at gettin' funny even if yore sorry the 
 next minute I'll shoot. And don't you never forget 
 and try to get nearer to me than three paces. Don't forget 
 that! I don't rightly want to hurt you; but I'd just as leave 
 shoot you as anybody else." 
 
 To this view of the situation Bob gave the expected 
 assent. 
 
 The next three days were ones of routine. Saleratus Bill 
 spent his time rolling brown-paper cigarettes at a spot that 
 commanded both trails. Bob was instructed to keep in sight. 
 He early discovered the cheering fact that trout were to be 
 had in the glass-green pools; and so spent hours awkwardly 
 manipulating an improvised willow pole equipped with the 
 short line and the Brown Hackle without which no moun- 
 taineer ever travels the Sierras. His bound elbows and the 
 crudity of his tackle lost him many fish. Still, he caught 
 enough for food; and his mind was busy. 
 
 Canvassing the possibilities, Bob could not but admit that 
 Saleratus Bill knew his job. The river was certain death, 
 and led nowhere except into mysterious and awful granite 
 gorges; the outlets by roads were well in sight. For one 
 afternoon Bob seriously contemplated hazarding a personal 
 encounter. He conceived that in some manner he could get 
 rid of his bonds at night; that Saleratus Bill must necessarily 
 sleep ; and that there might be a chance to surprise the gun- 
 man then. But when night came, Saleratus Bill disappeared 
 into the outer darkness; nor did he return until morning. 
 He might have spent the hours camped under the trees of 
 the more remote meadow, whence in the brilliant moonlight 
 he could keep tabs on the trails, or he might be lying near at 
 hand; Bob had no means of telling. Certainly, again the 
 young man reluctantly acknowledged to himself, Saleratus 
 Bill knew his job! 
 
 Nevertheless, as the days slipped by, and Bob's physical 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 577 
 
 strength returned in its full measure, his active and bold 
 spirit again took the initiative. A slow anger seized posses- 
 sion of him. The native combative stubbornness of the 
 race asserted itself, the necessity of doing something, the 
 inability tamely to submit to imposed circumstances. Bob's 
 careful analysis of the situation as a whole failed to discover 
 any feasible plan. Therefore he abandoned trying to plan 
 ahead, and fell back on those always- ready and comfortable 
 aphorisims of the adventurous "sufficient unto the day is 
 the evil thereof," and "one thing at a time." Obviously, the 
 first thing to do was to free his arms ; after that he would see 
 what he would see. 
 
 Every evening Saleratus Bill took the candle and departed, 
 leaving Bob to find his own way to his bunk. This was the 
 time to cut his bonds; if at all. Unfortunately Bob could 
 find nothing against which to cut them. Saleratus Bill had 
 carefully removed every abrasive possibility in the two rooms. 
 Bob very wisely relinquished the idea of passing the thresh- 
 old in search of a suitable rock or piece of tin. He had no 
 notion of risking a bullet until something was likely to be 
 gained by it. 
 
 Finally his cogitations brought him an idea. Saleratus 
 Bill was attentive enough to such of the simple creature com- 
 forts as were within his means. Bob's pipe had been well 
 supplied with tobacco. On the fourth evening Bob filled it 
 just as his jailor was about to take away the candle for the 
 night. 
 
 " Just a minute," said Bob. "Let me have a light." 
 
 Bill set the candle on the table again, and retired the three 
 paces which he never forgot rigidly to maintain between 
 himself and his captive. Bob thereupon lit his pipe and 
 nodded his thanks. As soon as Saleratus Bill had well 
 departed, however, he retired to his bunk room, shutting the 
 door carefully after him. There, with great care, he delib- 
 erately set to work to coax into flame a small fire on the old 
 hearth, using as fuel the rounds of a broken chair, and as 
 
578 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 ignition the glowing coal in the bowl of his pipe. Before 
 the hearth he had managed to hang the heavy quilt from 
 his bunk, so that the flicker of the flames should not be visi- 
 ble from the outside. 
 
 The little fire caught, blazed for a few moments, and fell 
 to a steady glow. Bob fished out one of the chair rungs, 
 jammed the cool end firmly in one of the open cracks between 
 the timbers of the room, turned his back, and deliberately 
 pressed the band around his elbows against the live coal. 
 
 A smell of burning cloth immediately filled the air. After 
 a moment the coal went out. Bob replaced the charred rung 
 in the fire, extracted another, and repeated the operation. 
 
 It was exceedingly difficult to gauge the matter accurately, 
 as Bob soon found out to his cost. He managed to burn 
 more holes in his garment and himself than in the 
 bonds. However, he kept at it, and after a half hour's steady 
 and patient effort he was able to snap asunder the last strands. 
 He stretched his arms over his head in an ecstasy of physical 
 freedom. 
 
 That was all very well, but what next? Bob was sud- 
 denly called to a decision which had up to that moment 
 seemed inconceivably remote. Heretofore, an apparent 
 impossibility had separated him from it. Now that impos- 
 sibility was achieved. 
 
 A moment's thought convinced him of the senseless hazard 
 of attempting to slip out through any of the doors or windows. 
 The moon was bright, and Saleratus Bill would have taken 
 his precautions. Bob attacked the floor. Several boards 
 proved to be loose. He pried them up cautiously, and so 
 was enabled to drop through into the open space beneath the 
 house. Thence it was easy to crawl away. Saleratus Bill's 
 precautions were most likely taken, Bob argued to himself, 
 with a view toward a man bound at the elbows, not to a man 
 with two hands. In this he was evidently correct, for after a 
 painful effort, he found himself among the high grasses of 
 the meadow. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 579 
 
 There were now, as he recognized, two courses open to him: 
 he could either try to discover Saleratus Bill's sleeping place 
 and by surprise overpower that worthy as he slept; or he 
 could make the best of the interim before his absence was 
 discovered to get as far away as possible. Both courses had 
 obvious disadvantages. The most immediate to the first 
 alternative was the difficulty, failing some clue, of finding 
 Saleratus BilPs sleeping place without too positive a risk of 
 discovery; the most immediate to the second was the diffi- 
 culty of getting to the other side of the river. As Saleratus 
 Bill might" be at any one of a thousand places, in or out of 
 doors; whereas the river could be crossed only by the bridge. 
 Bob, without hesitation, chose the latter. 
 
 Therefore he made his way cautiously to that structure. 
 It proved to be lying in broad moonlight. As it constituted 
 the only link with the outside world to the south, Bob could 
 not doubt that his captor had arranged to keep it in sight. 
 
 The bridge was, as has been said, suspended across a strait 
 between two rocks by means of heavy wire cables. Slipping 
 beneath these rocks and into the shadow, Bob was rejoiced 
 to find that between the stringers and the shore, smaller cables 
 had been bent to act as guy lines. If he could walk " hand 
 over hand," the distance comprised by the width of the stream 
 he could pass the river below the level of the bridge floor. 
 He measured the distance with his eye. It did not look far- 
 ther than the length of the gymnasium at college. He seized 
 the cable and swung himself out over the waters. 
 
 Immediately the swift and boiling current, though twenty 
 feet below, seemed to suck at his feet. The swirling and 
 flashing of the water dizzied his brain with the impression of 
 falling upstream. He had to fix his eyes on the black flooring 
 above his head. The steel cable, too, was old and rusted and 
 harsh. Bob's hands had not for many years grasped a rope 
 strongly, and in that respect he found them soft. His mus- 
 cles, cramped more than he had realized by the bonds of his 
 captivity, soon began to drag and stretch. When halfway 
 
580 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 across, suspended above a ravening torrent; confronted, tired, 
 by an effort he had needed all his fresh energies to put forth, 
 Bob would have given a good deal to have been able to clam- 
 ber aboard the bridge, risk or no risk. It was, however, a clear 
 case of needs must. He finished the span on sheer nerve 
 and will power; and fell thankfully on the rocks below the 
 farther abutment. For a half minute he lay there, stretch- 
 ing slowly his muscles and straightening his hands, which 
 had become cramped like claws. Then he crept, always in 
 the shadow, to the level of the meadow. 
 
 Bob was learning to be a mountaineer. Therefore, on the 
 way down, he had subconsciously noted that from the head 
 of the meadow a steep dry wash climbed straight up to inter- 
 sect the road. The recollection came to the surface of his 
 mind now. If he could make his way up this wash, he 
 would gain three advantages: he would materially shorten 
 his journey by cutting off a mile or so of the road-grade's 
 twists and doublings; he would avoid the necessity of show- 
 ing himself so near the Cove in the bright moonlight; and he 
 would leave no tracks where the road touched the valley. 
 Accordingly he turned sharp to the left and began to pick his 
 way upstream, keeping in close to the river and treading as 
 much as possible on the water-worn rocks. The willows 
 and elders protected him somewhat. In this manner he pro- 
 ceeded until he had come to the smooth rock aprons near the 
 gorge from which the river flowed. Here, in accordance with 
 his intention of keeping close in the shadow of the mountain, 
 he was to turn to the right until he should have arrived at the 
 steep "chimney" of the wash. He was about to leave the 
 shelter of the last willows when he looked back. As his eyes 
 turned, a flash of moonlight struck them full, like the helio- 
 graphing of a mirror. He fixed his gaze on the bushes from 
 which the flicker had come. In a moment it was repeated. 
 Then, stooping low, a human figure hurried across a tiny 
 opening, and once again the moonlight reflected from the 
 worn and shining revolver in its hand. 
 
XXVIII 
 
 IN SOME manner Saleratus Bill had discovered the young 
 man's escape, and had already eliminated the other 
 possibilities of his direction of flight. Bob shuddered 
 at this evidence of the rapidity with which the expert trailer 
 had arrived at the correct conclusion. He could not now 
 skirt the mountain, as he had intended, for that would at once 
 expose him in full view ; he could not return by the way he 
 had come, for that would bring him face to face with his 
 enemy. It would avail him little to surrender, for the gun- 
 man would undoubtedly make good his threats; fidelity to 
 such pledges is one of the few things sacred to the race. With 
 some vague and desperate idea of defence, Bob picked up a 
 heavy branch of driftwood. Then, as the man drew nearer, 
 Bob scrambled hastily over the smooth apron to the tiny 
 beach that the eddies had washed out below the precipice. 
 
 Here for the moment he was hidden, but he did not flatter 
 himself he would long remain so. He cast his eyes about 
 him for a way of escape. To the one side was the river, in 
 front of him was the rock apron with his enemy, to the other 
 side and back of him was a sheer precipice. In his perplex- 
 ity he looked down. A gleam of metal caught his eye. He 
 stooped and picked up the half of a worn horseshoe. Even 
 in his haste of mind, he cast a passing wonderment on how 
 it had come there. 
 
 If Bob had not been trained by his river work in the ways 
 of currents, he might sooner have thought of the stream. 
 But well he knew that Saleratus Bill had spoken right when 
 he had said that there were "no swimming holes" here. 
 The strongest swimmer could not have taken two strokes in 
 
582 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 that cauldron of seething white water. But now, as Bob 
 looked, he saw that a little back eddy along the perpendicu- 
 larity of the cliff slowed the current close to the sheer rock. 
 It might be just possible, with luck, to win far enough along 
 this cliff to lie concealed behind some outjutting boulder until 
 Saleratus Bill had examined the beach and gone his way. 
 Bob was too much in haste to consider the unexplained 
 tracks he must leave on the sand. 
 
 He thrust the branch he carried into the still black water. 
 To his surprise it hit bottom at a foot's depth. Promptly 
 he waded in. Sounding ahead, he walked on. The under- 
 water ledge continued. The water never came above his 
 knees. Out of curiosity he tapped with his branch until he 
 had reached the edge of the submerged shelf. It proved to 
 be some four feet wide. Beyond it the water dropped off 
 sheer, and the current nearly wrenched the staff from Bob's 
 hand. 
 
 In this manner he proceeded cautiously for perhaps a hun- 
 dred feet. Then he waded out on another beach. 
 
 He found himself in a pocket of the cliffs, where the preci- 
 pice so far drew back as to leave a clear space of four or five 
 acres in the river bottom. Such pockets, or " coves, " are by 
 no means unusual in the inaccessible depths of the great box 
 canons of the Sierras. Often the traveller can look down on 
 them from above, lying like green gems in their settings of 
 granite, but rarely can he descend to examine them. Thank- 
 fully Bob darted to one side. Here for a moment he might 
 be safe, for surely no one not driven by such desperation as 
 his own would dream of setting foot in the river. 
 
 A loud snort almost at his elbow, and a rush of scurrying 
 shapes, startled him almost into crying aloud. Then out 
 into the moonlight from the shadow of the cliffs rushed two 
 horses. And Bob, seeing what they were, sprang from his 
 fancied security into instant action, for in a flash he saw the 
 significance of the broken horseshoe on the beach, the sunken 
 ledge, and the secret of the horses' pasture. By sheer 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 583 
 
 chance he had blundered on one of Saleratus Bill's outlaw 
 retreats. 
 
 Hastily he skirted the walls of the tiny valley. They were 
 unbroken. The river swept by tortured and tumbled. He 
 ran to the head of the cove. No sunken ledge there rewarded 
 him. Instead, the river at that point swept inward, so that the 
 full force of the current washed the very shores. 
 
 Bob searched the prospect with eager eye. Twelve or 
 fifteen feet upstream, and six or seven feet out from the cliff, 
 stood a huge round boulder. That alone broke the shadowy 
 expanse of the river, which here rushed down with great 
 velocity. Manifestly it was impossible to swim to this 
 boulder. Bob, however, conceived a daring idea. At 
 imminent risk and by dint of frantic scrambling he worked 
 his way along the cliff until he had gained a point opposite 
 the boulder and considerably above it. Then, without 
 hesitation, he sprang as strongly as he was able sidewise from 
 the face of the cliff. 
 
 He landed on the boulder with great force, so that for a 
 moment he feared he must have broken some bones. Cer- 
 tainly his breath was all but knocked from his body. Spread 
 out flat on the top of the rock, he moved his limbs cautiously. 
 They seemed to work all right. He backed cautiously until 
 he lay outspread on the upstream slope of the boulder. At 
 just this moment he caught the sinister figure of Saleratus 
 Bill moving along the sunken ledge. 
 
 For the first time Bob remembered the tracks he must 
 have left and the man's skill at trailing. A rapid review of 
 his most recent actions reassured him at one point; in order 
 to gain to the first of the minor cliff projections by means 
 of which he had spread-eagled along the face of the rock, 
 he had been forced to step into the very shallow water at the 
 stream's edge. Thus his last footprints led directly into the 
 river. 
 
 The value of this impression, conjoined with the existence 
 of a ledge below over which he had already waded safely, 
 
584 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 was not lost on Bob's perception. As has been stated, his 
 earlier experience in river driving had given him an inti- 
 mate knowledge of the action of currents. Casting his eye 
 hastily down the moonlit river, he seized his hat from his head 
 and threw it low and skimming toward an eddy opposite him 
 as he lay. The river snatched it up, tossed it to one side or 
 another, and finally carried it, as Bob had calculated, within 
 ,a few feet of the ledge along which Saleratus Bill was still 
 making his way. 
 
 The gun-man, of course, caught sight of it, and even made 
 .an attempt to capture it as it floated past, but without avail. 
 It served, however, to prepossess his mind with the idea that 
 Bob had been swept away by the river, so that when, after a 
 careful examination of the tiny cove, he came to the trail 
 leading into the water, he was prepared to believe that the 
 young man had been carried off his feet in an attempt to 
 wade out past the cliff. He even picked up a branch, with 
 which he poked at the bottom. A short and narrow rock 
 projection favoured his hypothesis, for it might very well 
 happen that merely an experimental venture on so slant- 
 ing and slippery a footing would prove fatal. Saleratus 
 Bill examined again for footprints emerging; threw his branch 
 into the river, and watched the direction of its course; and 
 then, for the first time, slipped the worn and shiny old revolver 
 into its holster. He spent several moments more reexamin- 
 ing the cove, glanced again at the river, and finally dis- 
 appeared, wading slowly back around the sunken ledge. 
 
 Bob's next task was to regain solid land. For some min- 
 utes he sat astride the boulder, estimating the force and 
 directions of the current. Then he leaped. As he had cal- 
 culated, the stream threw him promptly against the bank 
 below. There his legs were immediately sucked beneath the 
 overhanging rock that had convinced Saleratus Bill of his 
 captive's fate. It seemed likely now to justify that convic- 
 tion. Bob clung desperately, until his muscles cracked, but 
 was unable so far to draw his legs from underneath the rock 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 585 
 
 as to gain a chance to struggle out of water. Indeed, he 
 might very well have hung in that equilibrium of forces until 
 tired out, had not a slender, water-washed alder root offered 
 itself to his grasp. This frail shrub, but lightly rooted, never- 
 theless afforded him just the extra support he required. 
 Though he expected every instant that the additional ounces 
 of weight he from moment to moment applied to it would 
 tear it away, it held. Inch by inch he drew himself from the 
 clutch of the rushing water, until at length he succeeded in 
 getting the broad of his chest against the bank. A few vigor- 
 ous kicks then extricated him. 
 
 For a moment or so he lay stretched out panting, and 
 considering what next was to be done. There was a chance, 
 of course and, in view of Saleratus Bill's shrewdness, a 
 very strong chance that the gun-man would add to his 
 precautions a wait and a watch at the entrance to the cove. 
 If Bob were to wade out around the ledge, he might run 
 fairly into his former jailer's gun. On the other hand, Saler- 
 atus Bill must be fairly well convinced of the young man's 
 destruction, and he must be desirous of changing his wet 
 clothes. Bob's own predicament, in this chill of night, made 
 him attach much weight to this latter consideration. Besides, 
 any delay in the cove meant more tracks to be noticed when 
 the gun-man should come after the horses. Bob, his teeth 
 chattering, resolved to take the chance of instant action. 
 
 Accordingly he waded back along the sunken ledge, glided 
 as quickly as he could over the rock apron, and wormed his 
 way through the grasses to the dry wash leading up the side 
 of the mountains. Here fortune had favoured him, and by 
 a very simple, natural sequence. The moon had by an hour 
 sailed farther to the west; the wash now lay in shadow. 
 
 Bob climbed as rapidly as his wind would let him, and in 
 that manner avoided a chill. He reached the road at a broad 
 sheet of rock whereon his footsteps left no trace. After a 
 moment's consideration, he decided to continue directly up 
 the mountainside through the thick brush. This travel must 
 
586 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 be uncertain and laborious; but if he proceeded along the 
 road, Saleratus Bill must see the traces he would indubitably 
 leave. In the obscurity of the shady side of the mountain he 
 found his task even more difficult than he had thought pos- 
 sible. Again and again he found himself puzzled by impene- 
 trable thickets, impassable precipices, rough outcrops barring 
 his way. By dint of patience and hard work, however, he 
 gained the top of the mountain. At sunrise he looked back 
 into Bright's Cove. It lay there peacefully deserted, to all 
 appearance; but Bob, looking very closely, thought to make 
 out smoke. The long thread of the road was quite vacant. 
 
XXIX 
 
 BOB had no very clear idea of where he was, except 
 that it was in the unfriendly Durham country. It 
 seemed well to postpone all public appearances 
 until he should be beyond a chance that Saleratus Bill 
 might hear of him. Bob was quite satisfied that the gun- 
 man should believe him to have been swept away by the 
 current. 
 
 Accordingly, after he had well rested from his vigorous 
 climb, he set out to parallel the dim old road by which the 
 two had entered the Cove. At times this proved so difficult 
 a matter that Bob was almost on the point of abandoning 
 the hillside tangle of boulders and brush in favour of the 
 open highway. He reflected in time that Saleratus Bill 
 must come out by this route; and he shrewdly surmised the 
 expert trailer might be able from some former minute obser- 
 vation to recognize his footprints. Therefore he struggled 
 on until the road dipped down toward the lower country. 
 He remembered that, on the way in, his captor had led him 
 first down the mountain, and then up again. Bob resolved 
 to abandon the road and keep to the higher contours, trust- 
 ing to cut the trail where it again mounted to his level. To 
 be sure, it was probable that there existed some very good 
 reason why the road so dipped to the valley some dike, 
 ridge or deep canon impassable to horses. Bob knew enough 
 of mountains to guess that. Still, he argued, that might not 
 stop a man afoot. 
 
 The rest of a long, hard day he spent in proving this latter 
 proposition. The country was very broken. A dozen 
 times Bob scrambled and slid down a gorge, and out again, 
 
 S87 
 
588 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 doing thus an hour's work for a half mile gain. The sun 
 turned hot, and he had no food. Fortunately water was 
 abundant. Toward the close of the afternoon he struck 
 in to a long slope of pine belt, and conceived his difficulties 
 over. 
 
 After the heat and glare of the rocks, the cool shadows of 
 the forest were doubly grateful. Bob lifted his face to the 
 wandering breezes, and stepped out with fresh vigour. The 
 way led at first up the narrow spine of a "hogback," but 
 soon widened into one of the ample and spacious parks 
 peculiar to the elevations near the summits of the First 
 Rampart. Occasional cattle tracks meandered here and 
 there, but save for these Bob saw no signs of man's activities 
 no cuttings, no shake-bolts, no blazes on the trees to mark 
 a way. Nevertheless, as he rose on the slow, even swell of 
 the mountain the conviction of familiarity began to force 
 its way in him. The forest was just like every other forest; 
 there was no outlook in any direction; but all the same, with 
 that instinct for locality inherent in a natural woodsman, he 
 began to get his bearings, to "feel the lay of the country," 
 as the saying is. This is probably an effect of the sub- 
 conscious mind in memory; a recognition of what the eye 
 has seen without reporting to the conscious mind. How- 
 ever that may be, Bob was not surprised when toward sun- 
 set he came suddenly on a little clearing, a tiny orchard, 
 and a house built rudely of logs and shakes. 
 
 Relieved that he was not to spend the night without food 
 and fire, he vaulted the "snake" fence, and strode to the 
 back door. A woman was frying venison steaks. 
 
 "Hullo, Mrs. Ward," Bob shouted at her. "That smells 
 good to me; I haven't had a bite since last night I" 
 
 The woman dropped her pan and came to the door. A 
 lank and lean Pike County Missourian rose from the 
 shadows and advanced. 
 
 "Light and rest yo' hat, Mr. Ordel" he called before he 
 came well into view. "But yo' already lighted, and you 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 589 
 
 ain't go no hat!" he cried in puzzled tones. "Whar yo'- 
 allfrom?" 
 
 "Came from north," Bob replied cheerfully, " and I lost 
 my horse down a canon, and my hat in a river." 
 
 "And yere yo' be plumb afoot!" 
 
 "And plumb empty," supplemented Bob. "Maybe Mrs. 
 Ward will make me some coffee," he suggested with a side 
 glance at the woman who had once tried to poison him. 
 
 She turned a dull red under the tan of her sallow com- 
 plexion. 
 
 "Shore, Mr. Orde " she began. 
 
 "We didn't rightly understand each other," Bob reas- 
 sured her. "That was all." 
 
 "Did she-all refuse you coffee onct?" asked Ward. 
 "What yo' palaverin' about?" 
 
 " She isn't refusing to make me some now," said Bob. 
 
 He spent the night comfortably with his new friends who 
 a few months ago had been ready to murder him. The next 
 morning early, supplied with an ample lunch, he set out. 
 Ward offered him a riding horse, but he declined. 
 
 "I'd have to send it back," said he, "and, anyway, I'd 
 neither want to borrow your saddle nor ride bareback. I'd 
 rather walk." 
 
 The old man accompanied him to the edge of the 
 clearing. 
 
 "By the way," Bob mentioned, as he said farewell, "if 
 some one asks you, just tell them you haven't seen me." 
 
 The old man stopped short. 
 
 "What-for a man?" he asked. 
 
 "Any sort." 
 
 A frosty gleam crept into the old Missourian's eye. 
 
 "I'll keep hands off," said he. He strode on twenty feet. 
 "I got an extra gun " said he. 
 
 "Thanks," Bob interrupted. "But I'll get organized 
 better when I get home." 
 
 "Hope you git him," said the old man by way of farewell. 
 
5QO THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "He won't git nothing out of me," he shot back over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 Bob now knew exactly where he was going. Reinvigorated 
 by the food, the night's rest, and the cool air of these higher 
 altitudes, he made good time. By four o'clock of the after- 
 noon he at last hit the broad, dusty thoroughfare over which 
 were hauled the supplies to Baker's upper works. Along 
 this he swung, hands in pockets, a whistle on his lips, the 
 fine, light dust rising behind his footsteps. The slight down 
 grade released his tired muscles from effort. He was enjoy- 
 ing himself. 
 
 Then he came suddenly around a corner plump against a 
 horseman climbing leisurely up the grade. Both stopped. 
 
 If Bob had entertained any lingering doubt as to Old- 
 ham's complicity in his abduction, the expression on the land 
 agent's face would have removed it. For the first time in 
 public Oldham's countenance expressed a livelier emotion 
 than that of cynical interest. His mouth fell open and his 
 eyeglasses dropped off. He stared at Bob as though that 
 young man had suddenly sprung into visibility from clear 
 atmosphere. Bob surveyed him grimly. 
 
 " Delighted to see me, aren't you ? " he remarked. A slow 
 anger surged up within him. "Your little scheme didn't 
 work, did it? Wanted me out of the way, did you? 
 Thought you'd keep me out of court! Well, I'm here, just 
 as I said I'd be here. You can pay your villainous tool 
 or kick him out, as you please. He's failed, and he won't 
 get another chance. You miserable whelp!" 
 
 But Oldham had recovered his poise. 
 
 " Get out of my way. I don't know what you are talking 
 about. I'll land you in the penitentiary a week after you 
 appear in court. You're warned." 
 
 " Oh, I've been warned for some time. But first I'll land 
 you." 
 
 "Really! How?" 
 
 "Right here and now," said Bob stepping forward. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 591 
 
 Oldham reined back his horse, and drew from his side 
 pocket a short, nickel-plated revolver. 
 
 "Let me pass!" he commanded harshly. He presented 
 the weapon, and his gray eyes contracted to pin points. 
 
 "Throw that thing away," said Bob, laying his hand on 
 the other man's bridle. u Pm going to give you the very 
 worst licking you ever heard tell ojl" 
 
 The young man's muscles were tense with the expectation 
 of a shot. To his vast astonishment, at his last words Old- 
 ham turned deadly pale, swayed in the saddle, and the 
 revolver clattered past his stirrup to fall in the dust. With 
 a snarl of contempt at what he erroneously took for a mere 
 physical cowardice, Bob reached for his enemy and dragged 
 him from the saddle. 
 
 The chastisement was brief, but effective. Bob's anger 
 cooled with the first blow, for Oldham was no match for his 
 younger and more vigorous assailant. In fact, he hardly 
 offered any resistance. Bob knocked him down, shook him 
 by the collar as a terrier shakes a ground squirrel, and cast 
 him fiercely in the dust. Oldham sat up, his face bleeding 
 slightly, his eyes bewildered with the suddenness of the 
 onslaught. The young man leaned over him, speaking 
 vehemently to rivet his attention. 
 
 "Now you listen to me," said he. "You leave me alone. 
 If I ever hear any gossip, even, about what you will or will 
 not do to me, I'll know where it started from. The first 
 word I hear from any one anywhere, I'll start for you." 
 
 He looked down for a moment at the disorganized man 
 seated in the thick, white dust that was still floating lazily 
 around him. Then he turned abruptly away and resumed 
 his journey. 
 
XXX 
 
 FOR ten seconds Oldham sat as Bob had left him. His 
 hat and eyeglasses were gone, his usually immacu- 
 late irongray hair rumpled, his clothes covered with 
 dust. A thin stream of blood crept from beneath his close- 
 clipped moustache. But the most striking result of the 
 encounter, to one who had known the man, was in the con- 
 vulsed expression of his countenance. A close friend would 
 hardly have recognized him. His lips snarled, his eyes 
 flared, the muscles of his face worked. Ordinarily repressed 
 and inscrutable, this crisis had thrown him so far off his 
 balance that, as often happens, he had fallen to the other 
 extreme. Sniffling and half-sobbing, like a punished school- 
 boy, he dragged himself to where his revolver lay forgotten 
 in the dust. Taking as deliberate aim as his condition per- 
 mitted, he pulled at the trigger. The hammer refused to 
 rise, or the cylinder to revolve. Abandoning the self-cocking 
 feature of the arm, he tried to cock it by hand. The mechan^ 
 ism grated sullenly against the grit from the road. Oldham 
 worked frantically to get the hammer to catch. By the 
 time he had succeeded, his antagonist was out of reach. 
 With a half-scream of baffled rage, he hurled the now useless 
 weapon in the direction of the young man's disappearance. 
 Then, as Oldham stood militant in the dusty road, a change 
 came over him. Little by little the man resumed his old 
 self. A full minute went by. Save for the quicker breath- 
 ing, a spectator might have thought him sunk in reverie. 
 At the end of that time the old, self-contained, reserved, 
 cynical Oldham stepped from his tracks, and set methodically 
 to repair damages. 
 
 592 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 593 
 
 First he searched for and found his glasses, fortunately 
 unbroken. At the nearest streamlet he washed his face, 
 combed his hair, brushed off his clothes. The saddle horse 
 browsed not far away. Finally he walked down the road, 
 picked up the revolver, cleaned it thoroughly of dust, tested 
 it and slipped it into his pocket. Then he resumed his 
 journey, outwardly as self-possessed as ever. 
 
 Near the upper dam he had another encounter. The dust 
 of some one approaching warned him some time before the 
 traveller came in sight. Oldham reined back his horse until 
 he could see who it was; then he spurred forward to meet 
 Saleratus Bill. 
 
 The gun-man was lounging along at peace with all the 
 world, his bridle rein loose, his leg slung over the pommel of 
 his saddle. At the sight of his employer, he grinned 
 cheerfully. 
 
 Oldham rode directly to him. 
 
 "Why aren't you attending to your job?" he demanded 
 icily. 
 
 "Out of a job," said Saleratus Bill cheerfully. 
 
 "Why haven't you kept your man in charge?" 
 
 "I did until he just naturally had one of those unavoidable 
 accidents." 
 
 " Explain yourself." 
 
 "Well. I ain't never been afraid of words. He's dead; 
 that's what." 
 
 "Indeed," said Oldham, "Then I suppose I met 
 his ghost just now; and that a spirit gave me this cut 
 Up." 
 
 Saleratus Bill swung his leg from the saddle horn and 
 straightened to attention. 
 
 " Did he have a hat on?" he demanded keenly. 
 
 "Yes no I believe not. No, I'm sure he didn't." 
 
 "It's him, all right." He shook his head reflectively, "I 
 can't figure it." 
 
 Oldham was staring at him with deadly coldness. 
 
594 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Perhaps you'll be good enough to explain," he sneered 
 "five hundred dollars' worth at any rate." 
 
 Saleratus Bill detailed what he knew of the whole affair. 
 Oldham listened to the end. His cynical expression did not 
 change; and the unlighted cigar that he held between his 
 swollen lips never changed its angle. 
 
 "And so he just nat'rally disappeared," Saleratus Bill 
 ended his recital. "I can't figure it out." 
 
 Then Oldham spat forth the cigar. His calm utterly 
 deserted him. He thrust his livid countenance out at his 
 man. 
 
 "Figure it out!" he cried. "You pin-headed fool! You 
 had an unarmed man tied hand and foot, in a three- thousand- 
 foot hole, and you couldn't keep him! And one of the small- 
 est interests involved is worth more than everything your 
 worthless hide can hold! I picked you out for this job 
 because I thought you reliable. And now you come to me 
 with 'I can't figure it out!' That's all the explanation or 
 excuse you bring! You miserable, worthless cur!" 
 
 Saleratus Bill was looking at him steadily from his evil, 
 red-rimmed eyes. . 
 
 "Hold on," he drawled. "Go slow. I don't stand such 
 talk." 
 
 Oldham spurred up close to him. 
 
 "Don't you try any of your gun-play or intimidation on 
 me," he fairly shouted. "I won't stand for it. You'll hear 
 what I've got to say, just as long as I choose to say it." 
 
 He eyed the gun-man truculently. Certainly even Bob 
 could not have accused him of physical cowardice at that 
 moment. 
 
 Saleratus Bill stared back at him with the steady, venomous 
 glare of a rattlesnake. Then his lips, under his straggling, 
 sandy moustache, parted in a slow grin. 
 
 "Say your say," he conceded. "I reckon you're mad; I 
 reckon that boy man-handled you something scand'lous." 
 
 At the words Oldham' s face became still more congested. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 595 
 
 " But you look a-here," said Saleratus Bill, suddenly lean- 
 ing across from his saddle and pointing a long, lean finger. 
 "You just remember this: I took this yere job with too many 
 strings tied to it. I mustn't hurt him; and I must see no 
 harm comes to him; and I must be noways cruel to mama's 
 baby. You had me hobbled, and then you cuss me out 
 because I can't get over the rocks. If you'd turned me 
 loose with no instructions except to disappear your man, 
 I'd have earned my money." 
 
 He dropped his hand to the butt of his six-shooter, and 
 looked his principal in the eye. 
 
 "I'm just as sorry as you are that he rnaue this get-away," 
 he continued slowly. "Now I got to pull up stakes and 
 get out. Nat' rally he'll make it too hot for me here. Then 
 I could use that extry twenty-five hundred that was coming 
 to me on this job. But it ain't too late. He's got away 
 once; but he ain't in court yet. I can easy keep him out, 
 if the original bargain stands. Of course, I'm sorry he 
 punched your face." 
 
 "Damn his soul!" burst out Oldham. 
 
 "Just let me deal with him my way, instead of yours," 
 repeated Saleratus Bill. 
 
 "Do so," snarled Oldham; "the sooner the better." 
 
 " That's all I want to hear," said the gun-man, and touched 
 spurs to his horse. 
 
XXXI 
 
 BOB'S absence had occasioned some speculation, but 
 no uneasiness, at headquarters. An officer of the 
 Forest Service was too often called upon for sudden 
 excursions in unexpected emergencies to make it possible for 
 his chiefs to keep accurate track of all his movements. A 
 day's trip to the valley might easily be deflected to a week's 
 excursion to the higher peaks by any one of a dozen circum- 
 stances. The report of trespassing sheep, a tiny smoke 
 above distant trees, a messenger sent out for arbitration in 
 a cattle dispute, are samples of the calls to which Bob must 
 have hastened no matter on what errand he had been bound. 
 
 He arrived at headquarters late in the afternoon. Already 
 a thin wand of smoke wavered up through the trees from 
 Amy's little, open kitchen. The open door of the shed 
 office trickled forth a thin clicking of typewriters. Otherwise 
 the camp seemed deserted. 
 
 At Bob's halloo, however, both Thorne and old California 
 John came to the door. In two minutes he had all three 
 gathered about the table under the three big firs. 
 
 "In the first place, I want to say right now," he began, 
 "that I have the evidence to win the land case against the 
 Modoc Mining Company." 
 
 "How?" demanded Thorne, leaning forward eagerly. 
 
 " Baker has boasted, before two witnesses, that his mineral 
 entries were fraudulent and made simply to get water rights 
 and timber." 
 
 " Those witnesses will testify?" 
 
 "They will." 
 
 "Who are they?" 
 
 S96 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 597 
 
 "Mr. Welton and myself." 
 
 " Glory be!" cried Thome, springing to his feet and clap- 
 ping Bob on the back. "We've got him!" 
 
 "So that's what you've been up to for the past week!" 
 cried Amy. "We've been wondering where you had dis- 
 appeared to!" 
 
 "Well, not precisely," grinned Bob; "I've been in durance 
 vile." 
 
 In response to their questionings he detailed a semi- 
 humorous account of his abduction, detention and escape. 
 His three auditors listened with the deepest attention. 
 
 As the recital progressed to the point wherein Bob described 
 his midnight escape, Amy, unnoticed by the others, leaned 
 back and closed her eyes. The colour left her face for a 
 moment, but the next instant had rushed back to her cheeks 
 in a tide of deeper red. She thrust forward, her eyes snap- 
 ping with indignation. 
 
 " They are desperate; there's no doubt of it," was Thome's 
 comment. "And they won't stop at this. I wish the trial 
 was to-morrow. We must get your testimony in shape 
 before anything happens." 
 
 Amy was staring across the table at them, her lips parted 
 with horror. 
 
 "You don't think they'll try anything worse!" she gasped. 
 
 Bob started to reassure her, but Thorne in his matter-of- 
 fact way broke in. 
 
 "I don't doubt they'll try to get him proper, next time. 
 We must get out papers and the sheriff after this Saleratus 
 Bill." 
 
 "He'll be almighty hard to locate," put in California John. 
 
 "And I think we'd better not let Bob, here, go around 
 alone any more." 
 
 " I don't think he ought to go around at all! " Amy amended 
 this vigorously. 
 
 Bob shot at her an obliquely humorous glance, before 
 which her own fell. Somehow the humour died from his. 
 
598 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "Bodyguard accepted with thanks," said he, recovering 
 himself. "I've had enough Wild West on my own account." 
 His words and the expression of his face were facetious, but his 
 tones were instinct with a gravity that attracted even Thome's 
 attention. The Supervisor glanced at the young man curi- 
 ously, wondering if he were going to lose his nerve at the last. 
 But Bob's personal stake was furthest from his mind. Some- 
 thing in Amy's half-frightened gesture had opened a new door 
 in his soul. The real and insistent demands of the situation 
 had been suddenly struck shadowy while his forces adjusted 
 themselves to new possibilities. 
 
 "Ware's your man," suggested California John. "He's 
 a gun-man, and he's got a nerve like a saw-mill man." 
 
 "Where is Ware?" Thorne asked Amy. 
 
 "He's over at Fair's shake camp. He will be back 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "That's settled, then. How about Welton? Is he 
 warned? You say he'll testify?" 
 
 "If he has to," replied Bob, by a strong effort bringing 
 himself back to a practical consideration of the matter in 
 hand. "At least he'll never perjure himself, if he's called. 
 Welton' s case is different. Look here; it's bound to come 
 out, so you may as well know the whole situation." 
 
 He paused, glancing from one to another of his hearers. 
 Thome's keen face expressed interest of the alert official; 
 California John's mild blue eye beamed upon him with a 
 dawning understanding of the situation; Amy, intuitively 
 divining a more personal trouble, looked across at him with 
 sympathy. 
 
 "John, here, will remember the circumstance," said Bob. 
 "It happened about the time I first came out here with Mr. 
 Welton. It seems that Plant had assured him that every- 
 thing was all arranged so our works and roads could cross 
 the Forest, so we went ahead and built them. In those days 
 it was all a matter of form, anyway. Then when we were 
 ready to go ahead with our first season's work, up steps 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 599 
 
 Plant and asks to see our permission, threatening to shut 
 us down! Of course, all he wanted was money." 
 
 "And Welton gave it to him?" cried Amy. 
 
 "It wasn't a case of buy a privilege," explained Bob, "but 
 of life itself. We were operating on borrowed money, and 
 just beginning our first year's operations. The season is 
 short in these mountains, as you know, and we were under 
 heavy obligations to fulfil a contract for sawed lumber. A 
 delay of even a week meant absolute ruin to a large enter- 
 prise. Mr. Welton held of to the edge of danger, I remem- 
 ber, exhausting every means possible here and at Washington 
 to rush through the necessary permission." 
 
 11 Why didn't he tell the truth expose Plant ? Surely no 
 department would endorse that," put in Amy, a trifle sub- 
 dued in manner. 
 
 "That takes time," Bob pointed out. "There was no time." 
 
 "So Welton came through," said Thorne drily. "What 
 has that got to do with it?" 
 
 "Baker paid the money for him," said Bob. 
 
 "Well, they're both in the same boat," remarked Thorne 
 tranquilly. "I don't see that that gives him any hold on 
 Welton." 
 
 "He threatens to turn state's evidence in the matter, and 
 seems confident of immunity on that account." 
 
 "He can't mean it!" cried Amy. 
 
 "Sheer bluff," said Thorne. 
 
 "I thought so, and went to see him. Now I am sure not. 
 He means it; and he'll do it when this case against the Modoc 
 Company is pushed." 
 
 "I thought you said Welton would testify?" observed 
 Thorne. 
 
 "He will. But naturally only if he is summoned." 
 
 "Then what " 
 
 "Oh, I see. Baker never thought he could keep Welton 
 from telling the truth, but knew perfectly well he would not 
 volunteer the evidence. He used his hold over Welton to 
 
6oo THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 try to keep me from bringing forward this testimony. Sort 
 of relied on our intimacy and friendship." 
 
 "But you will testify?" 
 
 "I think I see my duty that way," said Bob in a troubled 
 voice. 
 
 " Quite right," saidThorne, dispassionately; "I'm sorry." 
 He arose from the table. " This is most important. I don't 
 often issue positive prohibitions in my capacity of superior 
 officer; but in this instance I must. I am going to request 
 you not to leave camp on any errand unless accompanied 
 by Ranger Ware." 
 
 Bob nodded a little impatiently. California John paused 
 before following his chief into the office. 
 
 "It's good sense, boy," said he, "and nobody gives a darn 
 for your worthless skin, you know. It's just the informa- 
 tion you got inside it." 
 
 "Right," laughed Bob, his brow clearing. "I forgot." 
 
 California John nodded at him, and disappeared into the 
 office. 
 
 Bob turned to Amy with a laughing comment that died on 
 his lips. The girl was standing very straight on the other 
 side of the table. One little brown hand grasped and 
 crushed the edge of her starched apron; her black brows 
 were drawn in a straight line of indignation beneath which her 
 splendid eyes flashed; her rounded bosom, half -denned by the 
 loose, soft blue of her simple gown, rose and fell rapidly. 
 
 "And you're going to do it?" she threw across at him. 
 
 Bob, bewildered, stared at her. 
 
 "You're going to deliver over your friend to prison?" 
 She moved swiftly around the table to stand close to him. 
 "Surely you can't mean to do that! You've worked with 
 him, and lived with him and he's a dear, jolly old man!" 
 
 "Hold on!" cried Bob, recovering from the first shock, 
 and beginning to enjoy the situation. "You don't under- 
 stand. If I don't give my testimony, think what the Service 
 will lose in the Basin." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 60 1 
 
 "Lose!" she cried indignantly. "What of it? Do you 
 think if I had a friend who was near and dear to me I'd sacri- 
 fice him for all the trees in the mountains? How can you!" 
 
 "Et tu Brute!" said Bob a little wearily. "Where is all 
 the no-compromise talk I've heard at various times, and 
 the high ideals, and the loyalty to the Service at any cost, 
 and all the rest of it? You're not consistent." 
 
 Amy eyed him a little disdainfully. 
 
 " You've got to save that poor old man," she stated. " It's 
 all very easy for you to talk of duty and the rest of it, but the , 
 fact remains that you're sending that poor old man to prison 
 for something that isn't his fault, and it'll break his heart." 
 
 "He isn't there yet," Bob pointed out. "The case isn't 
 decided." 
 
 "It's all very well for you to talk that way," said Amy, 
 " for all you have to do is to satisfy your conscience and bear 
 your testimony. But if testifying would land you in danger 
 of prison, you might feel differently about it." 
 
 Bob thought of George Pollock, and smiled a trifle bitterly. 
 Welton might get off with a fine, or even suspended sentence. 
 There was but one punishment for those accessory before 
 the fact to a murder. Amy was eyeing him reflectively. 
 The appearance of anger had died. It was evident that she 
 was thinking deeply. 
 
 "Why doesn't Mr. Welton protect himself?" she inquired 
 at length. "If he turned state's evidence before that man 
 Baker did, wouldn't it work that way around?" 
 
 "I don't believe it would," said Bob. "Baker was not 
 the real principal in the offence, only an accessory. Besides, 
 even if it were possible, Mr. Welton would not do such a 
 thing. You don't know Welton." 
 
 Amy sank again to reflection, her eyes losing themselves 
 in a gaze beyond the visible world. Suddenly she threw up 
 her head with a joyous chuckle. 
 
 "I believe I have it!" she cried. She nodded her head 
 several times as though to corroborate with herself certain 
 
602 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 points in her plan. " Listen ! " she said at last. " As I under- 
 stand it, Baker is really liable on this charge of bribing Plant 
 as much as Mr. Welton is." 
 
 "Yes; he paid the money. 7 ' 
 
 " So that if it were not for the fact that he intends to gain 
 immunity by telling what he knows, he would get into as 
 much trouble as Mr. Welton." 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "Well, don't you know enough about it all to testify? 
 Weren't you there?" 
 
 Bob reflected. 
 
 "Yes, I believe I was present at all the interviews." 
 
 "Then," cried Amy triumphantly, "you can issue 
 complaint against both Baker and Mr. V/elton on a charge of 
 bribery, and Baker can't possibly wriggle out by turning 
 state's evidence, because your evidence will be enough." 
 
 "Do you expect me to have Mr. Welton arrested on this 
 charge?" cried Bob. 
 
 "No, silly! But you can go to Baker, can't you, and say 
 to him: 'See here, if you try to bring up this old bribery 
 charge against Welton, I'll get in ahead of you and have you 
 both up. I haven't any desire to raise a fuss, nor start any 
 trouble; but if you are bound to get Mr. Welton in on this, 
 I might as well get you both in.' He'd back out, you see!" 
 
 "I believe he would!" cried Bob. "It's a good bluff to 
 make." 
 
 "It mustn't be a bluff," warned Amy. "You must mean 
 it. I don't believe he wants to face a criminal charge just 
 to get Mr. Welton in trouble, if he realizes that you are both 
 going to testify anyway. But if he thinks you're bluffing, 
 he'll carry it through." 
 
 "You're right," said Bob slowly. "If necessary, we must 
 carry it through ourselves." 
 
 Amy nodded. 
 
 "I'll take down a letter for you to Baker," she said, "and 
 type it out this evening. We'll say nothing to anybody." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 603 
 
 "I must tell Welton of our plan," said Bob; "I wouldn't 
 for the world have to spring this on him unprepared. What 
 would he think of me?" 
 
 "We'll see him to-morrow no, next day; we have to 
 wait for Ware, you know." 
 
 "Am I forgiven for doing my plain duty?" asked Bob a 
 trifle mischievously. 
 
 " Only if our scheme works," declared Amy. Her manner 
 changed to one of great seriousness. "I know your way is 
 brave and true, believe me I do. And I know what it costs 
 you to follow it. I respect and admire the quality in men 
 that leads them so straightly along the path. But I could 
 not do it. Ideas and things are inspiring and great and to 
 be worked for with enthusiasm and devotion, I know. No 
 one loves the Service more than I, nor would make more 
 personal sacrifices for her. But people are warm and living, 
 and their hearts beat with human life, and they can be sorry 
 and glad, happy and broken-hearted. I can't tell you quite 
 what I mean, for I cannot even tell myself. I only feel it. 
 I could turn my thumbs down on whole cohorts of senators 
 and lawyers and demagogues that are attacking us in Wash- 
 ington and read calmly in next day's paper how they had 
 been beheaded recanting all their sins against us. But I 
 couldn't get any nearer home. Why, the other day Ashley 
 told me to send a final and peremptory notice of dispossession 
 to the Main family, over near Bald Knob, and I couldn't do 
 it. I tried all day. I knew old Main had no business there, 
 and is worthless and lazy and shiftless. But I kept remem- 
 bering how his poor old back was bent over. Finally I 
 made Ashley dictate it, and tried to keep thinking all the 
 time that I was nothing but a machine for the transmission 
 of his ideas. When it comes to such things I'm useless, 
 and I know I fall short of all higher ideals of honour and 
 duty and everything else." 
 
 "Thank God you do," said Bob gravely. 
 
XXXII 
 
 WARE returned to headquarters toward evening 
 of the next day. He had ridden hard and 
 long, but he listened to Thome's definition 
 of his new duties with kindling eye, and considerable 
 appearance of quiet satisfaction. Bob met him outside 
 the office. 
 
 "You aren't living up to your part, Ware," said he, with 
 mock anxiety. " According to Hoyle you ought to draw 
 your gun, whirl the cylinder, and murmur gently, Aha!" 
 
 "Why should I do that?" asked Ware, considerably 
 mystified. 
 
 "To see if your weapon is in order, of course." 
 
 "How would a fool trick like that show whether my gun's 
 in shape?" 
 
 "Hanged if I know," confessed Bob, "but they always do 
 that in books and on the stage." 
 
 "Well, my gun will shoot," said Ware, shortly. 
 
 It was then too late to visit Welton that evening, but at 
 a good hour the following morning Bob announced his 
 intention of going over to the mill. 
 
 "If you're going to be my faithful guardian, 
 you'll have to walk," he told Ware. "My horse is 
 up north somewhere, and there isn't another saddle in 
 camp." 
 
 "I'm willing," said Ware; "my animals are plumb needy 
 of a rest." 
 
 At the last moment Amy joined them. 
 
 "I have a day off instead of Sunday," she told them, 
 "and you're the first humans that have discovered what 
 
 604 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 605 
 
 two feet are made for. I never can get anybody to walk 
 two steps with me," she complained. 
 
 "Never tried before you acquired those beautiful gray 
 elkskin boots with the ravishing hobnails in 'em," chaffed 
 Bob. 
 
 Amy said nothing, but her cheeks burned with two red 
 spots. She chatted eagerly, too eagerly, trying to throw into 
 the expedition the air of a holiday excursion. Bob responded 
 to her rather feverish gaiety, but Ware looked at her with 
 an eye in which comprehension was slowly dawning. He 
 had nothing to add to the rapid-fire conversation. Finally 
 Amy inquired with mock anxiety, over his unwonted silence. 
 
 "I'm on my job," replied Ware briefly. 
 
 This silenced her for a moment or so, while she examined 
 the woods about them with furtive, searching glances as 
 though their shadows might conceal an enemy. 
 
 To Bob, at least, the morning conduced to gaiety, for the 
 air was crisp and sparkling with the wine of early fall. 
 Down through the sombre pines, here and there, flamed 
 the delicate pink of a dogwood, the orange of the azaleas, 
 or the golden yellow of aspens ripening already under the 
 hurrying of early frosts. The squirrels, Stellar's jays, wood- 
 peckers, nuthatches and chickadees were very busy scur- 
 rying here and there, screaming gossip, or moving dili- 
 gently and methodically as their natures were. All the 
 rest of the forest was silent. Not a breath of wind stirred 
 the tallest fir-tip or swayed the most lofty pine branch. 
 Through the woodland spaces the sunlight sparkled with 
 the inconceivable brilliance of the higher levels, as though 
 the air were filled with glittering particles in suspension, 
 like the mica snowstorms of the peep shows inside a child's 
 candy egg. 
 
 They dipped into the canon of the creek and out agaiK 
 through the yellow pines of the other side. They skirted 
 the edge of the ancient clearing for the almost prehistoric mill 
 that had supplied early settlers with their lumber, and thence 
 
606 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 looked out through trees to the brown and shimmering plain 
 lying far below. 
 
 "My, I'm glad I'm not there!'' exclaimed Amy fervently: 
 "I always say that," she added. 
 
 "A hundred and eleven day before yesterday, Jack Pol- 
 lock says," remarked Bob. 
 
 So at last they gained the long ridge leading toward the 
 mill and saw a hundred feet away the mill road, and the 
 forks where their own wagon trail joined it. 
 
 At this point they again entered the forest, screened by 
 young growth and a thicket of alders. 
 
 "Look there," Amy pointed out. "See that dogwood, up 
 by the yellow pine. It's the most splendiferous we've seen 
 yet. Wait a minute. I'm going to get a branch of it for 
 Mr. Welton's office. I don't believe anybody ever picks 
 anything for him." 
 
 "Let me ' began Bob; but she was already gone, 
 
 calling back over her shoulder. 
 
 "No; this is my treat!" 
 
 The men stopped in the wagon trail to wait for her. Bob 
 watched with distinct pleasure her lithe, active figure mak- 
 ing its way through the tangle of underbrush, finally emerg- 
 ing into the clear and climbing with swift, sure movements 
 to the little elevation on which grew the beautiful, pink- 
 leaved dogwoods. She turned when she had gained the 
 level of the yellow pine, to wave her hand at her companions. 
 Even at the distance, Bob could make out the flush of her 
 cheeks and divine the delighted sparkle of her eyes. 
 
 But as she turned, her gesture was arrested in midair, 
 and almost instantly she uttered a piercing scream. Bob 
 had time to take a half step forward. Then a heavy blow 
 on the back of his neck threw him forward. He stumbled 
 and fell on his face. As he left his feet, the crash of two 
 revolver shots in quick succession rang in his ears. 
 
XXXIII 
 
 OLDHAM'S cold rage carried him to the railroad and 
 into his berth. Then, with the regular beat and 
 throb of the carwheeis over the sleepers, other 
 considerations forced themselves upon him. Consequences 
 demanded recognition. 
 
 The land agent had not for many years permitted him- 
 self to act on impulse. Therefore this one lapse from 
 habit alarmed him vaguely by the mere fact that it was a 
 lapse from habit. He distrusted himself in an unaccus- 
 tomed environment of the emotions. 
 
 But superinduced on this formless uneasiness were graver 
 considerations. He could not but admit to himself that 
 he had by his expressed order placed himself to some extent 
 in Saleratus Bill's power. He did not for a moment doubt 
 the gun-man's loyal intentions. As long as things went 
 well he would do his best by his employer if merely to 
 gain the reward promised him only on fulfillment of his 
 task. But it is not easy to commit a murder undetected. 
 And if detected, Oldham had no illusions as to Saleratus 
 Bill. The gun-man would promptly shelter himself behind 
 his principal. 
 
 As the night went on, and Oldham found himself unable 
 to sleep in the terrible heat, the situation visualized itself. 
 Step by step he followed out the sequence of events as they 
 might be, filling in the minutest details of discovery, expo- 
 sure and ruin. Gradually, in the tipped balance of after 
 midnight, events as they might be became events as they 
 surely would be. Oldham began to see that he had made 
 a fearful mistake. No compunction entered his mind 
 
 607 
 
6o8 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 that he had condemned a man to death; but a cold fear 
 gripped him lest his share should be discovered, and he 
 should be called upon to face the consequences. Oldham 
 enjoyed and could play only the game that was safe so far 
 as physical and personal retribution went. 
 
 So deeply did the guilty panic invade his soul that after 
 a time he arose and dressed. The sleepy porter was just 
 turning out from the smoking compartment. 
 
 "What's this next station?" Oldham demanded. 
 
 "Mo-harvey," blinked the porter. 
 
 "I get off there," stated Oldham briefly. 
 
 The porter stared at him. 
 
 "I done thought you went 'way through," he confessed. 
 "I'se scairt I done forgot you." 
 
 "All right," said Oldham curtly, and handing him a 
 tip. "Never mind that confounded brush; get my suit 
 case." 
 
 Ten seconds later he stood on the platform of the little 
 station in the desert while the tail lights of the train dimin- 
 ished slowly into the distance. 
 
 The desert lay all about him like a calmed sea on which 
 were dim half-lights of sage brush or alkali flats. On a 
 distant horizon slept black mountain ranges, stretched low 
 under a brilliant sky that arched triumphant. In it the 
 stars flamed steadily like candles, after the strange desert 
 fashion. Although by day the heat would have scorched 
 the boards on which he stood, now Oldham shivered in 
 the searching of the cool insistent night wind that breathed 
 across the great spaces. 
 
 He turned to the lighted windows of the little station where 
 a tousled operator sat at a telegraph key. A couch in the 
 comer had been recently deserted. The fact that the oper- 
 ator was still awake and on duty argued well for another 
 train soon. Oldham proffered his question. 
 
 "Los Angeles express due now. Half-hour late," replied 
 the operator wearily, without looking up. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 609 
 
 Oldham caught the train, which landed him in White 
 Oaks about noon. There he hired a team, and drove the sixty 
 miles to Sycamore Flats by eleven o'clock that night. The 
 fear was growing in his heart, and he had to lay on himself 
 a strong retaining hand to keep from lashing his horses 
 beyond their endurance and strength. Sycamore Flats was, 
 of course, long since abed. In spite of his wild impatience 
 Oldham retained enough sense to know that it would not 
 do to awaken any one for the sole purpose of inquiring 
 as to the whereabouts of Saleratus Bill. That would too 
 obviously connect him with the gun-man. Therefore he 
 stabled his horses, roused one of the girls at Auntie Belle's, 
 and retired to the little box room assigned him. 
 
 There nature asserted herself. The man had not slept 
 for two nights; he had travelled many miles on horseback, 
 by train, and by buckboard; he had experienced the most 
 exhausting of emotions and experiences. He fell asleep, 
 and he did not awaken until after sun-up. 
 
 Promptly he began his inquiries. Saleratus Bill had 
 passed through the night before; he had ridden up the 
 mill road. 
 
 Oldham ate his breakfast, saddled one of the team horses, 
 and followed. Ordinarily, he was little of a woodsman, 
 but his anxiety sharpened his wits and his eyes, so that a 
 quarter mile from the summit he noticed where a shod 
 horse had turned off from the road. After a moment's 
 hesitation he turned his own animal to follow the trail. 
 The horse tracks were evidently fresh, and Oldham sur- 
 mised that it was hardly probable two horsemen had as yet 
 that morning travelled the mill road. While he debated, 
 young Elliott swung down the dusty way headed toward 
 the village. He greeted Oldham. 
 
 " Is Orde back at headquarters yet?" the latter asked, 
 on impulse. 
 
 "Yes, he got back day before yesterday," the young 
 ranger replied; "but you won't find him there this morn- 
 
6 io THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 ing. He walked over to the mill to see Welton. You'd 
 probably get him there." 
 
 Oldham waited only until Elliott had rounded the next 
 corner, then spurred his horse up the mountain. The sig- 
 nificance of the detour was now no longer in doubt, for he 
 remembered well how and where the wagon trail from 
 headquarters joined the mill road. Saleratus Bill would 
 leave his horse out of sight on the hog-back ridge, sneak 
 forward afoot, and ambush his man at the forks of the road. 
 
 And now, in the clairvoyance of this guilty terror, Old- 
 ham saw as assured facts several further possibilities. 
 Saleratus Bill was known to have ridden up the mill road; 
 he, Oldham, was known to have been inquiring after both 
 Saleratus Bill and Orde in short, out of wild improba- 
 bilities, which to his ordinary calm judgment would have 
 meant nothing at all, he now wove a tissue of danger. He 
 wished he had thought to ask Elliott how long ago Orde 
 had started out from headquarters. 
 
 The last pitch up the mountain was by necessity a fear- 
 ful grade, for it had to surmount as best it could the ledge 
 at the crest of the plateau. Horsemen here were accustomed 
 to pause every fifty feet or so to allow their mounts a gulp 
 of air. Oldham plied lash and spur. He came out from 
 his frenzy of panic to find his horse, completely blown, 
 lying down under him. The animal, already weary from 
 its sixty-mile drive of yesterday, was quite done. After a 
 futile effort to make it rise, Oldham realized this fact. He 
 pursued his journey afoot. 
 
 Somewhat sobered and brought to his senses by this 
 accident, Oldham trudged on as rapidly as his wind would 
 allow. As he neared the crossroads he slackened his pace, 
 for he saw that no living creature moved on the headquar- 
 ters fork of the road. As a matter of fact, at that precise 
 instant both Bob and Ware were within forty yards of him, 
 standing still waiting for Amy to collect her dogwood leaves. 
 A single small alder concealed them from the other road. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 6n 
 
 If they had not happened to have stopped, two seconds 
 would have brought them into sight in either direction. 
 Therefore, Oldham thought the road empty, and himself 
 came to a halt to catch his breath and mop his brow. 
 
 As he replaced his hat, his eye caught a glimpse of a man 
 crouching and gliding cautiously forward through the low 
 concealment of the snowbush. His movements were quick, 
 his head was craned forward, every muscle was taut, his 
 eyes fixed on some object invisible to Oldham with an inten- 
 sity that evidently excluded from the field of his vision every- 
 thing but that toward which his lithe and snake-like advance 
 was bringing him. In his hand he carried the worn and 
 shining Colts 45 that was always his inseparable compan- 
 ion. 
 
 Oldham made a single step forward. At the same moment 
 somewhere above him on the hill a woman screamed. The 
 cry was instantly followed by two revolver shots. 
 
XXXIV 
 
 WARE was an expert gun-man who had survived 
 the early days of Arizona, New Mexico, and the 
 later ruffianism of the border on Old Mexico. 
 His habit was at all times alert. Now, in especial, behind 
 his casual conversation, he had been straining his finer 
 senses for the first intimations of danger. For perhaps six 
 seconds before Amy cried out he had been aware of an 
 unusual faint sound heard beneath rather than above the 
 cheerful and accustomed noises of the forest. It baffled 
 him. If he had imposed silence on his companion, and had 
 set himself to listening, he might have been able to identify 
 and localize it, but it really presented nothing alarming 
 enough. It might have been a squirrel playfully spasmodic, 
 or the leisurely step forward of some hidden and distant 
 cow browsing among the bushes. Ware lent an attentive 
 ear to the quiet sounds of the woodland, but continued to 
 stand at ease and unalarmed. 
 
 The scream, however, released instantly the springs of his 
 action. With the heel of his left palm he dealt Bob so violent 
 a shoving blow that the young man was thrown forward 
 off his feet. As part of the same motion his right hand 
 snatched his weapon from its holster, threw the muzzle over 
 his left shoulder, and discharged the revolver twice in the 
 direction from which Ware all at once realized the sound 
 had proceeded. So quickly did the man's brain act, so 
 instantly did his muscles follow his brain, that the scream, 
 the blow, and the two shots seemed to go off together as 
 though fired by one fuse. 
 
 Bob bounded to his feet. Ware had whirled in his tracks, 
 
 612 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 613 
 
 had crouched, and was glaring fixedly across the openings 
 at the forks. The revolver smoked in his hand. 
 
 " Oh, are you hurt ? Are you hurt ?" Amy was crying over 
 and over, as, regardless of the stiff manzanita and the spiny 
 deer brush, she tore her way down the hill. 
 
 "All right! All right!" Bob found his breath to assure 
 her. 
 
 She stopped short, clenched her hands at her sides, and 
 drew a deep, sobbing breath. Then, quite collectedly, she 
 began to disentangle herself from the difficulties into which 
 her haste had precipitated her. 
 
 "It's all right," she called to Ware. "He's gone. He's 
 run." 
 
 Still tense, Ware rose to his full height. He let down the 
 hammer of his six-shooter, and dropped the weapon back 
 in its holster. 
 
 "What was it, Amy?" he asked, as the girl rejoined 
 them. 
 
 "Saleratus Bill," she panted. "He had his gun in his 
 hand." 
 
 Bob was looking about him a trifle bewildered. 
 
 " I thought for a minute I was hit," said he. 
 
 "I knocked you down to get you down," explained Ware. 
 " If there's shooting going on, it's best to get low." 
 
 "Thought I was shot," confessed Bob. "I heard two 
 shots." 
 
 "I fired twice," said Ware. "Thought sure I must have 
 hit, or he'd have fired back. Otherwise I'd a' kept shoot- 
 ing. You say he run ? " 
 
 " Immediately. Didn't you see him ? " 
 
 "I just cut loose at the noise he made. Why do you sup- 
 pose he didn't shoot ? " 
 
 "Maybe he wasn't gunning for us after all," suggested 
 Bob. 
 
 "Maybe you've got another think coming," said Ware. 
 
 During this short exchange they were all three moving 
 
6 14 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 down the wagon trail. Ware's keen old eyes v/ere glancing 
 to right, left and ahead, and his ears fairly twitched. In 
 spite of his conversation and speculations, he was fully alive 
 to the possibilities of further danger. 
 
 "He maybe's laying for us yet," said Bob, as the thought 
 finally occurred to him. " Better have your gun handy." 
 
 "My gun's always handy," said Ware. 
 
 "You're bearing too far south," interposed the girl. "He 
 v;as more up this way." 
 
 "Don't think it," said Ware. 
 
 "Yes," she insisted. "I marked that young fir near 
 where I first saw him; and he ran low around that clump 
 of manzanita." 
 
 Still skeptical, Ware joined her. 
 
 "That's right," he admitted, after a moment. "Here's 
 his trail. I'd have swore he was farther south. That's 
 where I fired. I only missed him by about a hundred yards, ' ' 
 he grinned. "He sure made a mighty tall sneak. I'm still 
 figuring why he didn't open fire." 
 
 "Waiting for a better chance, maybe," suggested 
 Amy. 
 
 "Must be. But what better chance does he want, unless 
 he aims to get Bob here, with a club?" 
 
 They followed the tracks left by Saleratus Bill until it was 
 evident beyond doubt that the gun-man had in reality 
 departed. Then they started to retrace their steps. 
 
 "Why not cut across?" asked Bob. 
 
 "I want to see whereabouts I was shooting," said Ware. 
 
 "We'll cut across and wait for you on the road." 
 
 "All right," Ware agreed. 
 
 They made their short-cut, and waited. After a minute 
 or so Ware shouted to them. 
 
 "Hullo!" Bob answered. 
 
 "Come here!" 
 
 They returned down the dusty mill road. Just beyond 
 the forks Ware was standing, looking down at some object. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 615 
 
 As they approached he raised his face to them. Even under 
 its tan, it was pale. 
 
 "Guess this is another case of innocent bystander," said 
 he gravely. 
 
 Flat on his back, arms outstretched in the dust, lay Old- 
 ham, with a bullet hole accurately in the middle of his 
 forehead. 
 
XXXV 
 
 GOOD HEAVENS!" cried Amy. "What an awful 
 thing!" 
 "Yes, ma'am," said Ware; "this is certainly 
 tough. But I can't see but it was a plumb accident. 
 Who'd have thought he'd be coming along the road just at 
 that minute. " 
 
 "Of course, you're not to blame," Amy reassured him 
 quickly. "We must get help. Of course, he's quite dead." 
 
 Ware nodded, gazing down at his victim reflectively. 
 
 "I was shootin' a little high," he remarked at last. 
 
 Up to this moment Bob had said nothing. 
 
 "If it will relieve your mind, any," he told Ware, "it 
 isn't such a case of innocent bystander as you may think. 
 This man is the one who hired Saleratus Bill to abduct me 
 in the first place; and probably to kill me in the second. I 
 have a suspicion he got what he deserved." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Amy, looking at him reproachfully. 
 
 "It's a fact," Bob insisted. "I know his connection with 
 all this better than you do, and his being on this road was no 
 accident. It was to see his orders carried out." 
 
 Ware was looking at him shrewdly. 
 
 "That fits," he declared. "I couldn't figure why my 
 old friend Bill didn't cut loose. But he's got a head on 
 him." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Why, when he see Oldham dropped, what use was there 
 of going to shooting ? It would just make trouble for him 
 and he couldn't hope for no pay. He just faded." 
 
 " He's a quick thinker, then," said Bob. 
 
 616 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 617 
 
 "You bet you!" 
 
 The two men laid Oldham's body under the shade. As 
 they disposed it decently, Bob experienced again that haunt- 
 ing sense of having known him elsewhere that had on several 
 occasions assailed his memory. The man's face was familiar 
 to him with a familiarity that Bob somehow felt antedated his 
 California acquaintance. 
 
 " We must get to the mill and send a wagon for him," Ware 
 was saying. 
 
 But Amy suddenly turned faint, and was unable to pro- 
 ceed. 
 
 "It's perfectly silly of me!" she cried indignantly. "The 
 idea of my feeling faint! It makes me so angry 1" 
 
 "It's perfectly natural," Bob told her. "I think you've 
 shown a heap of nerve. Most girls would have flopped 
 over." 
 
 The men helped her to a streamlet some hundreds of 
 yards away. Here it was agreed that Ware should proceed 
 in search of a conveyance; and that Bob and Amy should 
 there await his return. 
 
XXXVI 
 
 WARE disappeared rapidly up the dusty road, Bob 
 and Amy standing side by side in silence, watch- 
 ing him go. When the lean, long figure of the old 
 mountaineer had quite disappeared, and the light, eddying 
 dust, peculiar to the Sierra country, had died, Amy closed 
 her eyes, raised her hand to her heart, and sank slowly to the 
 bank of the little creek. Her vivid colour, which had for a 
 moment returned under the influence of her strong will and 
 her indignation over her weakness, had again ebbed from her 
 cheeks. 
 
 Bob, with an exclamation of alarm, dropped to her side 
 and passed his arm back of her shoulders. As she felt the 
 presence of his support, she let slip the last desperate holdings 
 of physical command, and leaned back gratefully, breathing 
 hard, her eyes still closed. 
 
 After a moment she opened them long enough to smile 
 palely at the anxious face of the young man. 
 
 "It's all right," she said. "I'm all right. Don't be 
 alarmed. Just let me rest a minute. I'll be all right." 
 
 She closed her eyes again. Bob, watching, saw the colour 
 gradually flowing up under her skin, and was reassured. 
 
 The girl lay against his arm limply. At first he was con- 
 cerned merely with the supporting of the slight burden; 
 careful to hold her as comfortably as possible. Then the 
 warmth of her body penetrated to his arm. A new emotion 
 invaded him, feeble in the beginning, but gaining strength 
 from instant to instant. It mounted his breast as a tide 
 would mount, until it had shortened his breath, set his heart 
 to thumping dully, choked his throat. He looked down at 
 
 618 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 619 
 
 her with troubled eyes, following the curve of her upturned 
 face, the long line of her throat exposed by the backward 
 thrown position of her head, the swell of her breast under the 
 thin gown. The helplessness of the pose caught at Bob's 
 heart. For the first time Amy the vivid, self-reliant, cap- 
 able, laughing Amy appealed to him as a being demand- 
 ing protection, as a woman with a woman's instinctive crav- 
 ing for cherishing, as a delicious, soft, feminine creature, 
 calling forth the tendernesses of a man's heart. In the nor- 
 mal world of everyday association this side of her had never 
 been revealed, never suspected; yet now, here, it rose up to 
 throw into insignificance all the other qualities of the girl he 
 had known. Bob spared a swift thought of gratitude to the 
 chance that had revealed to him this unguessed, intimate 
 phase of womanhood. 
 
 And then the insight with which the significant moment 
 had endowed him leaped to the simple comprehension of 
 another thought that this revelation of intimacy, of the 
 woman-appeal lying unguessed beneath the comradeship of 
 everyday life, was after all only a matter of chance. It had 
 been revealed to him by the accident of a moment's faint- 
 ness, by which the conscious will of the girl had been driven 
 back from the defences. In a short time it would be over. 
 She would resume her ordinary demeanour, her ordinary 
 interest, her ordinary bright, cheerful, attractive, matter-of- 
 fact, efficient self. Everything would be as before. But 
 and here Bob's breath came quickest in the great good- 
 ness of the world lay another possibility; that sometime, at 
 the call of some one person, for that one and no other, this 
 inner beautiful soul of the feminine appeal would come forth 
 freely, consciously, willingly. 
 
 Amy opened her eyes, sat up, shook herself slightly, and 
 laughed. 
 
 "I'm all right now," she told Bob, "and certainly very 
 much ashamed." 
 
 "Amy!" he stammered. 
 
620 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 She shot a swift look at him, and immediately arose to her 
 feet. 
 
 "We will have to testify at a coroner's inquest, I presume," 
 said she, in the most matter-of-fact tones. 
 
 " I suppose so," agreed Bob morosely. It is impossible to 
 turn back all the strongly set currents of life without at least 
 a temporary turmoil. 
 
 Amy glanced at him sideways, and smiled a faint, wise smile 
 to herself. For in these matters, while men are more analytical 
 after the fact, women are by nature more informed. She 
 said nothing, but stooped to the creek for a drink. When 
 she had again straightened to her feet, Bob had come to him- 
 self. The purport of Amy's last speech had fully penetrated 
 his understanding, and one word of it the word testify 
 had struck him with an idea. 
 
 "By Jove!" he cried, "that lets out Pollock!" 
 
 "What?" said Amy. 
 
 "This man Oldham was the only witness who could have 
 convicted George Pollock of killing Plant." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Amy, leaning forward inter- 
 estedly. "Was he there? How do you know about it?' 7 
 
 A half -hour before Bob would have hesitated long before 
 confiding his secret to a fourth party; but now, for him, the 
 world of relations had shifted. 
 
 "I'll tell you about it," said he, without hesitation; "but 
 this is serious. You must never breathe even a word of 
 it to any one!" 
 
 "Certainly not!" cried Amy. 
 
 " Oldham wasn't an actual witness of the killing; but I was, 
 and he knew it. He could have made me testify by inform- 
 ing the prosecuting attorney." 
 
 Bob sketched rapidly his share in the tragedy: how he 
 had held Pollock's horse, and been in a way an accessory 
 to the deed. Amy listened attentively to the recital of the 
 facts, but before Bob had begun to draw his conclusions, she 
 broke in swiftly. 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 621 
 
 " So Oldham offered to let you off, if you would keep out 
 of this Modoc Land case," said she. 
 
 Bob nodded. 
 
 "That was it." 
 
 "But it would have put you in the penitentiary," she 
 pointed out. 
 
 "Well, the case wasn't quite decided yet." 
 
 She made her quaint gesture of the happily up-thrown 
 hands. 
 
 " Just what you said about Mr. Welton!" she cried. " Oh, 
 I'm glad you told me this! I was trying so hard to think 
 you were doing a high and noble duty in ignoring the conse- 
 quences to that poor old man. But I could not. Now 
 I see!" 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Bob curiously, as she 
 paused. 
 
 "You could do it because your act placed you in worse 
 danger," she told him. 
 
 "Too many for me," Bob disclaimed. "I simply wasn't 
 going to be bluffed out by that gang!" 
 
 "That was it," said Amy wisely. "I know you better 
 than you do yourself. You don't suppose," she cried, as 
 a new thought alarmed her, "that Oldham has told the 
 prosecuting attorney that your evidence would be valu- 
 able." 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 "The trial is next week," he pointed out. "In case the 
 prosecution had intended calling me, I should have been 
 summoned long since. There's dust; they are coming. 
 You'd better stay here." 
 
 She agreed readily to this. After a moment a light wagon 
 drove up. On the seat perched Welton and Ware. Bob 
 climbed in behind. 
 
 They drove rapidly down to the forks, stopped and hitched 
 the team. 
 
 "Ware's been telling me the whole situation, Bobby," said 
 
622 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Welton. "That gang's getting pretty desperate! I've 
 heard of this man Oldham around this country for a long 
 while, but I always understood he was interested against the 
 Power Company." 
 
 "Bluff," said Bob briefly. "He's been in their employ 
 from the first, but I never thought he'd go in for quite this 
 kind of strong-arm work. He doesn't look it, do you 
 think?" 
 
 "I never laid eyes on him," replied Welton. "He's never 
 been near the mill, and I never happened to run across him 
 anywhere else." 
 
 By this time they had secured the team. Ware led the way 
 to the tree under which lay the body of the land agent. 
 Welton surveyed the prostrate figure for some time in silence. 
 Then turned to Bob, a curious expression on his face. 
 
 "It wasn't an accident that I never met him," said he. 
 "He saw to it. Don't you remember this man, Bobby?" 
 
 " I saw him in Los Angeles some years ago." 
 
 " Before that in Michigan many years ago." 
 
 "His face has always seemed familiar to me," said Bob 
 slowly. " I can't place it yes hold on!" 
 
 A picture defined itself from the mists of his boyhood 
 memories. It was of an open field, with a fringe of beech 
 woods in the distance. A single hickory stood near its centre, 
 and under this a group lounged, smoking pipes. A man, 
 perched on a cracker box, held a blank book and pencil. 
 Another stood by a board, a gun in his hand. The smell of 
 black powder hung in the atmosphere. Little glass balls 
 popped into the air, and were snuffed out. He saw Oldham 
 distinctly, looking younger and browner, but with the same 
 cynical mouth, the same cold eyes, the same slanted eye- 
 glasses. Even before his recollections reproduced the 
 scorer's drawling voice calling the next contestant, his mem- 
 ory supplied the name. 
 
 "It's Newmark!" he cried aloud. 
 
 "Joe Newmark, your father's old partner! He hasn't 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 623 
 
 changed much. He disappeared from Michigan when you 
 were about eight years old; didn't he! Nobody ever knew 
 how or why, but everybody had suspicions. . . . Well; 
 let's get him in." 
 
 They disposed the body in the wagon, and drove back up 
 the road. At the little brook they stopped to let off Ware. 
 It was agreed that all danger to Bob was now past, and that 
 the gun-man would do better to accompany Amy back to 
 headquarters. Of course, it would be necessary to work the 
 whole matter out at the coroner's inquest, but in view of 
 the circumstances, Ware's safety was assured. 
 
 At the mill the necessary telephoning was done, the 
 officials summoned, and everything put in order. 
 
 "What I really started over to see you about," then said 
 Bob to Welton, "is this matter of the Modoc Company." 
 He went on to explain fully Amy's plan for checkmating 
 Baker. "You see, if I get in my word first, Baker is as 
 much implicated as you are, and it won't do him any good 
 to turn state's evidence." 
 
 "I don't see as that helps me," remarked Welton gloomily. 
 
 " Baker might be willing to put himself in any position," 
 said Bob; "but I doubt if he'll care to take the risk of crim- 
 inal punishment. I think this will head him off completely; 
 but if it doesn't, every move he makes to save his own skin 
 saves yours too." 
 
 "It may do some good," agreed Welton. "Try it." 
 
 "I've already written Baker. But I didn't want you to 
 think I was starting up the bloodhounds against you without 
 some blame good reason." 
 
 " I'd know that anyway, Bobby," said Welton kindly. He 
 stared moodily at the stovepipe. "This is getting too thick 
 for an old-timer," he broke out at last. "I'm just a plain, 
 old-fashioned lumberman, and all I know is to cut lumber, 
 I pass this mess up. I wired your father he'd better come 
 along out." 
 
 "Is he coming?" asked Bob eagerly. 
 
624 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 " I just got a message over the 'phone from the telegraph 
 office. He'll be in White Oaks as fast as he can get there. 
 Didn't I tell you?" 
 
 "Wire him aboard train to go through to Fremont, and 
 that we'll meet him there," said Bob instantly. "It's get- 
 ting about time to beard the lion in his den." 
 
XXXVII 
 
 THE coroner's inquest detained Bob over until the 
 week following. In it Amy's testimony as to the 
 gun-man's appearance and evident intention was 
 quite sufficient to excuse Ware's shooting; and the fact that 
 Oldham, as he was still known, instead of Saleratus Bill, 
 received the bullet was evidently sheer unavoidable accident. 
 Bob's testimony added little save corroboration. As soon 
 as he could get away, he took the road to Fremont. 
 
 Orde was awaiting his son at the station. Bob saw the 
 straight, heavy figure, the tanned face with the snow-white 
 moustache, before the train had come to a stop. Full of 
 eagerness, he waved his hat over the head of the outraged 
 porter barricaded on the lower steps by his customary accum- 
 ulation of suit cases. 
 
 "Hullo, dad! Hullo, there!" he shouted again and again, 
 quite oblivious to the amusement of the other passengers over 
 this tall and bronzed young man's enthusiasm. 
 
 Orde caught sight of his son at last; his face lit up, and he, 
 too, swung his hat. A moment later they had clasped hands. 
 
 After the first greetings, Bob gave his suit case in charge 
 to the hotel bus-man. 
 
 " We'll take a little walk up the street and talk things over," 
 he suggested. 
 
 They sauntered slowly up the hill and down the side 
 streets beneath the pepper and acacia trees of Fremont's 
 beautiful thoroughfares. So absorbed did they become that 
 they did not realize in the slightest where they were going, 
 so that at last they had topped the ridge and, from the stretch 
 of the Sunrise Drive, they looked over into the canon. 
 
 625 
 
6 26 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 "So you've been getting into trouble, have you?" chaffed 
 Orde, as they left the station. 
 
 "I don't know about that," Bob rejoined. "I do know 
 that there are quite a number of people in trouble." 
 
 Orde laughed. 
 
 "Tell me about this Welton difficulty," said he. "Frank 
 Taylor has our own matters well in hand. The opposition 
 won't gain much by digging up that old charge against the 
 integrity of our land titles. We'll count that much wiped off 
 the slate." 
 
 "I'm glad to hear it," said Bob heartily. "Well, the 
 trouble with Mr. Welton is that the previous administration 
 held him up " He detailed the aspects of the threat- 
 ened bribery case; while Orde listened without comment. 
 "So," he concluded, "it looked at first as if they rather had 
 him, if I testified. It had me guessing. I hated the thought 
 of getting a man like Mr. Welton in trouble of that sort over a 
 case in which he was no way interested." 
 
 "What did you decide?" asked Orde curiously. 
 
 "I decided to testify." 
 
 'That's right." 
 
 " I suppose so. I felt a little better about it, because they 
 had me in the same boat. That let me out in my own feel- 
 ings, naturally." 
 
 "How?" asked Orde swiftly. 
 
 "There had been trouble up there between Plant you 
 remember I wrote you of the cattle difficulties?" 
 
 "With Simeon Wright? I know all that." 
 
 "Well, one of the cattlemen was ruined by Plant's meth- 
 ods; his wife and child died from want of care on that account. 
 He was the one who killed Plant; you remember that." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I happened to be near and I helped him escape." 
 
 " And some one connected with the Modoc Company was 
 a witness," conjectured Orde. "Who was it?" 
 
 "A man who went under the name of Oldham. A cer- 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 627 
 
 tain familiarity puzzled me for a long time. Only the other 
 day I got it. He was Mr. Newmark." 
 
 " Newmark!" cried Orde, stopping short and staring fixedly 
 at his son. 
 
 "Yes; the man who was your partner when I was a very 
 small boy. You remember?" 
 
 " Remember 1" repeated Orde; then in tones of great 
 energy: "He and I both have reason to remember well 
 enough! Where is he now? I can put a stop to him in 
 about two jumps!" 
 
 "You won't need to," said Bob quietly; "he's dead 
 shot last week." 
 
 For some moments nothing more was said, while the two 
 men trudged beneath the hanging peppers near the entrance 
 to Sunrise Drive. 
 
 " I always wondered why he had it in for me, and why he 
 acted so queerly," Bob broke the silence at last. " He seemed 
 . to have a special and personal enmity for me. I always felt 
 it, but I couldn't make it out." 
 
 " He had plenty of reasons for that. But it's funny Welton 
 didn't recognize the whelp." 
 
 "Mr. Welton never saw him," Bob explained "that is, 
 until Newmark was dead. Then he recognized him instantly. 
 What was it all about?" 
 
 Orde indicated the bench on the canon's edge. 
 
 "Let's sit," said he. "Newmark and I made our start 
 together. For eight years we worked together and built up 
 a very decent business. Then, all at once, I discovered 
 that he was plotting systematically to do me out of every 
 cent we had made. It was the most cold-blooded proposition 
 I ever ran across." 
 
 "Couldn't you prove it on him?" asked Bob. 
 
 "I could prove it all right; but the whole affair made me 
 sick. He'd always been the closest friend, in a way, I had 
 ever had; and the shock of discovering what he really was 
 drove everything else out of my head. I was young then. 
 
628 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 It seemed to me that all I wanted was to wipe the whole 
 affair off the slate, to get it behind me, to forget it so I let 
 him go." 
 
 " I don't believe I'd have done that. Seems to me I'd have 
 had to blow off steam," Bob commented. 
 
 Orde smiled reminiscently. 
 
 "I blew off steam,"* said he. "It was rather fantastic; 
 but I actually believe it was one of the most satisfactory 
 episodes in my life. I went around to his place he lived 
 rather well in bachelor quarters, which was a new thing in 
 those days and locked the door and told him just why I 
 was going to let him off. It tickled him hugely for about 
 a minute. Then I finished up by giving him about the very 
 worst licking he ever heard tell of." 
 
 "Was that what you told him?" cried Bob. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Did you say those words to him? 'I'm going to give 
 you the very worst licking you ever heard tell of ' ?" 
 
 "Why, I believe I did." 
 
 Bob threw back his head and laughed. 
 
 "So did I!" he cried; and then, after a moment, more 
 soberly. "I think, incidentally, it saved my life." 
 
 "Now what are you driving at?" asked Orde. 
 
 "Listen, this is funny: Newmark had me kidnapped by 
 one of his men, and lugged off to a little valley in the mount- 
 ains. The idea was to keep me there until after the trial, 
 so my testimony would not appear. You see, none of our 
 side knew I had that testimony. I hadn't told anybody, 
 because I had been undecided as to what I was going to do." 
 
 Orde whistled. 
 
 " I got away, and had quite a time getting home. I'll tell 
 you all the details some other time. On the road I met 
 Newmark. I was pretty mad, so I lit into him stiff-legged. 
 After a few words he got scared and pulled a gun on me. I 
 was just mad enough to keep coming, and I swear I believe 
 
 *See "The Riverman." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 629 
 
 he was just on the point of shooting, when I said those very 
 same words: 'I'm going to give you the very worst licking 
 you ever heard tell of.' He turned white as a sheet and 
 dropped his gun. I thought he was a coward; but I guess 
 it was conscience and luck. Now, wouldn't that come and 
 get you?" 
 
 "Did you?" asked Orde. 
 
 "Did I what?" 
 
 "Give him that licking?" 
 
 "I sure did start out to; but I couldn't bring myself to 
 more than shake him up a little." 
 
 Orde rose, stretching his legs. 
 
 "What are your plans now?" 
 
 "To see Baker. I'm going to tell him that on the first 
 indications of his making trouble I'm going to enter com- 
 plaint for bribery against both him and Mr. Welton, You 
 see, I was there too. Think it'll work?" 
 
 "The best way is to go and see." 
 
 "Come on," said Bob. 
 
XXXVIII 
 
 THE two men found Baker seated behind his flat- top 
 desk. He grinned cheerfully at them; and, to Bob's 
 surprise, greeted him with great joviality. 
 
 "All hail, great Chief!" he cried. "I've had my scalp 
 nicely smoke-tanned for you, so you won't have to bother 
 taking it." He bowed to Orde. " I'm glad to see you, sir/' 
 said he. " Know you by your picture. Please be seated." 
 
 Bob brushed the levity aside. 
 
 "I've come," said he, "to get an explanation from you as 
 to why, in the first place, you had me kidnapped; and why, 
 in the second place, you tried to get me murdered." 
 
 Baker's mocking face became instantly grave; and, lean- 
 ing forward, he hit the desk a thump with his right fist. 
 
 "Orde," said he, "I want you to believe me in this: I 
 never was more sorry for anything in my life! I wouldn't 
 have had that happen for anything in the world! If I'd had 
 the remotest idea that Oldham contemplated something of 
 that sort, I should have laid very positive orders on him. He 
 said he had something on you that would keep your mouth 
 shut, but I never dreamed he meant gun play." 
 
 "I don't suppose you dreamed he meant kidnapping 
 either," observed Bob. 
 
 Baker threw himself back with a chuckle. 
 
 " Being kidnapped is fine for the health," said he. " Babies 
 thrive on it. No," he continued, again leaning forward 
 gravely, "Oldham got away from his instructions com- 
 pletely. Shooting or that kind of violence was absurd in 
 such a case. You mustn't lay that to me, but to his personal 
 grudge." 
 
 630 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 631 
 
 "What do you know of a personal grudge?" Bob flashed 
 back. 
 
 " Ab-so-lute-ly nothing; but I suspected. It's part of 
 my job to be a nifty young suspector and to use what I 
 guess at. He just got away from me. As for the rest of it, 
 that's part of the game. This is no croquet match; you 
 must expect to get your head bumped if you play it. I 
 play the game." 
 
 "I play the game, too," returned Bob, "and I came here 
 to tell you so. I'll take care of myself, but I want to say 
 that the moment you offer any move against Welton, I shall 
 bring in my testimony against both of you on this bribery 
 matter." 
 
 "Sapient youth!" said Baker, amused; "did that aspect of 
 it just get to you? But you misinterpreted the spirit of my 
 greeting when you came in the room. In words of one syl- 
 lable, you've got us licked. We lie down and roll over. We 
 stick all four paws in the air. We bat our august forehead 
 against the floor. Is that clear?" 
 
 "Then you drop this prosecution against Welton?" 
 
 "Nary prosecution, as far as I am concerned." 
 
 " But the Modoc Land case ' 
 
 "Take back your lands," chaffed Baker dramatically. 
 "Kind of bum lands, anyway. No use skirmishing after 
 the battle is over. Your father would tell you that." 
 
 "Then you don't fight the suit?" 
 
 "That," said Baker, "is still a point for compromise. 
 You've got us, I'm willing to admit that. Also that you are 
 a bright young man, and that 1 underestimated you. You've 
 lifted my property, legally acquired, and you've done it by 
 outplaying my bluff. I still maintain the points of the law 
 are with me we won't get into that," he checked himself. 
 "But criminal prosecution is a different matter. I don't 
 intend to stand for that a minute. Your gang don't slow- 
 step me to any bastiles now listed in the prison records. 
 Nothing doing that way. I'll fight her to a fare-ye-well on 
 
632 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 that." His round face seemed to become square-set and 
 grim for an instant, but immediately reassumed its cus- 
 tomary rather careless good-nature. "No, we'll just call 
 the whole business off." 
 
 "That is not for me to decide," said Bob. 
 
 "No; but you've got a lot to say about it and I'll see to 
 the little details; don't fret. By the way," mentioned Baker, 
 "just as a matter of ordinary curiosity, did Oldham have any- 
 thing on you, or was he just a strong-arm artist?" He 
 threw back his head and laughed aloud at Bob's face. At 
 the thought of Pollock the young man could not prevent 
 a momentary expression of relief from crossing his counte- 
 nance. " There's a tail-holt on all of us," Baker observed. 
 
 He flipped open a desk drawer and produced a box of 
 expensive-looking cigars which he offered to his visitors. 
 Orde lit one; but Bob, eyeing the power-man coldly, refused. 
 Baker laughed. 
 
 "You'll get over it," he observed "youth, I mean. 
 Don't mix your business and your personal affairs. That 
 came right out of the copy book, page one, but it's true. 
 I'm the one that ought to feel sore, seems to me." He lit his 
 own cigar, and puffed at it, swinging his bulky form to the 
 edge of the desk. "Look here," said he, shaking the butt 
 at the younger man. "You're making a great mistake. 
 The future of this country is with water, and don't you for- 
 get it. Fuel is scarce; water power is the coming force. 
 The country can produce like a garden under irrigation; and 
 it's only been scratched yet, and that just about the big 
 cities. We are getting control; and the future of the state 
 is with us. You're wasting yourself in all this toy work. 
 You've got too much ability to squander it in that sort of thing. 
 Oldham made you an offer from us, didn't he?" 
 
 "He tried to bribe me, if that's what you mean," said Bob. 
 
 "Well, have it your way; but you'll admit there's hardly 
 much use of bribing you now. I repeat the offer. Come in 
 with us on those terms." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 633 
 
 "Why?" demanded Bob. 
 
 "Well," said Baker quaintly, "because you seem to have 
 licked me fair and square; and I never want a man who 
 can lick me to remain where he is likely to do so." 
 
 At this point Orde, who had up to now remained quietly 
 a spectator, spoke up. 
 
 "Bob," said he, "is already fairly intimately connected 
 with certain interests, which, while not so large as water 
 power, are enough to keep him busy." 
 
 Baker turned to him joyously. 
 
 "List' to the voice of reason!" he cried. "I'm sorry he 
 won't come with us; but the next best thing is to put him 
 where he won't fight us. I didn't know he was going back 
 to your timber " 
 
 Bob opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again at a 
 gesture from his father. 
 
 Baker glanced at the clock. 
 
 "Well," he remarked cheerfully, "come over to the Club 
 with me to lunch, anyway." 
 
 Bob stared at him incredulously. Here was the man who 
 had employed against him every expedient from blackmail 
 to physical violence; who had but that instant been worsted 
 in a bald attempt at larceny, nevertheless, cheerfully invit- 
 ing him out to lunch as though nothing had happened! 
 Furthermore, his father, against whose ambitions one of the 
 deadliest blows had been aimed, was quietly reaching for 
 his hat. Baker looked up and caught Bob's expression. 
 
 "Come, come!" said he; "forget it! You and I speak the 
 language of the same tribe, and you can't get away from it. 
 I'm playing my game, you're playing yours. Of course, 
 we want to win. But what's the use of cutting out lots of 
 bully good people on that account?" 
 
 "You don't stick to the rules," insisted Bob stoutly. 
 
 "I think I do," said Baker. "Who's to decide? You 
 believe one way, I believe another. I know what you think 
 of my methods in business; and I'd hate to say what I think 
 
634 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 of you as the blue ribbon damn fool in that respect. But I 
 like you, and I'm willing to admit you've got stuff in you; 
 and I know damn well you and your father and I can have 
 a fine young lunch talking duck-shooting and football. And 
 with all my faults you love me still, and you know you do." 
 He smiled winningly, and hooked his arm through Bob's on 
 one side and his father's on the other. "Come on, you 
 old deacon; play the game!" he cried. 
 Bob laughed, and gave in. 
 
XXXIX 
 
 BOB took his father with him back to headquarters. 
 They rode in near the close of day; and, as usual, 
 from the stovepipe of the roofless kitchen a brave 
 pillar of white smoke rose high in the shadows of the firs. 
 Amy came forth at Bob's shout, starched and fresh, her 
 cheeks glowing with their steady colour, her intelligent eyes 
 alight with interest under the straight, serene brows. At 
 sight of Orde, the vivacity of her manner quieted somewhat, 
 but Bob could see that she was excited about something. 
 He presented his father, who dismounted and greeted her 
 with a hearty shake of the hand. 
 
 "We've heard of you, Miss Thorne," said he simply, but 
 it was evident he was pleased with the frankness of her man- 
 ner, the clear steadiness of her eye, the fresh daintiness of her 
 appearance, and the respect of her greeting. On the other 
 hand, she looked back with equal pleasure on the tanned, 
 sturdy old man with the white hair and moustache, the clear 
 eyes, and the innumerable lines of quaint good-humour about 
 them. After they had thus covertly surveyed each other 
 for a moment, the aforesaid lines about Orde's eyes deep- 
 ened, his eyes twinkled with mischief, and he thrust forth 
 his hand for the second time. "Shake again!" he offered. 
 Amy gurgled forth a little chuckle of good feeling and under- 
 standing, and laid her fingers in his huge palm. 
 
 After this they turned and walked slowly to the hitch rails 
 where the men tied their horses. 
 
 "Where's the Supervisor?" Bob asked of Amy. 
 
 "In the office," she replied; and then burst out excitedly: 
 "I've the greatest news!" 
 
636 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 " So have I," returned Bob, promptly. " Best kind." 
 
 "Oh, what is it?" she cried, forgetting all about her own. 
 "IsitMr.Welton?" 
 
 "It'll take some time to tell mine," said Bob, "and we 
 must hunt up Mr. Thorne. Yours first." 
 
 "Pollock is free!" 
 
 "Pollock free!" echoed Bob. "How is that? I thought 
 his trial was not until next week!" 
 
 " The prosecuting attorney quashed the indictment 
 or whatever it is they do. Anyhow, he let George go for 
 lack of evidence to convict." 
 
 " I guess he was relying on evidence promised by Oldham, 
 which he never got," Bob surmised. 
 
 "And never will," Orde cautioned them. "You two 
 young people must be careful never to know anything of this." 
 
 Bob opened his mouth to say something; was suddenly 
 struck by a thought, and closed it again. 
 
 "Why do you say that?" he asked at last. "Why do you 
 think Miss Thorne must know of this?" 
 
 But Orde only smiled amusedly beneath his white mous- 
 tache. 
 
 They found Ashley Thorne, and acquainted him with 
 the whole situation. He listened thoughtfully. 
 
 "The matter is over our heads, of course; but we must 
 do our best. Of course, by all rights the man ought to be 
 indicted; but there can be no question that there is a common 
 sense that takes the substance of victory and lets the shadow 
 go." 
 
 Orde stayed to supper and over night. In the course of 
 the evening California John drifted in, and Ware, and Jack 
 Pollock, and such other of the rangers as happened to be in 
 from the Forest. Orde was at his best; and ended, to Bob's 
 vast pride, in getting himself well liked by these conservative 
 and quietly critical men of the mountains. 
 
 The next morning Bob and his father saddled their horses 
 and started early for the mill, Bob having been granted a 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 637 
 
 short leave of absence. For some distance they rode in 
 silence. 
 
 "Father," said Bob, "why did you stop me from contra- 
 dicting Baker the other day when he jumped to the con- 
 clusion that I was going to quit the Service?" 
 
 "I think you are." 
 
 "But " 
 
 " Only if you want to, Bob. I don't want to force you in 
 any way; but both Welton and I are getting old, and we need 
 younger blood. We'd rather have you." Bob shook his head. 
 " I know what you mean, and I realize how you feel about 
 the whole matter. Perhaps you are right. I have nothing 
 to say against conservation and forestry methods theo- 
 retically. They are absolutely correct. I agree that the 
 forests should be cut for future growths, and left so that fire 
 cannot get through them; but it is a grave question in my 
 mind whether, as yet, it can be done." 
 
 "But it is being done!" cried Bob. "There is no diffi- 
 culty in doing it." 
 
 "That's for you to prove, if you want to," said Orde. 
 " If you care to resign from the Service, we will for two years 
 give you full swing with our timber, to cut and log according 
 to your ideas or rather the ideas of those over you. In 
 that time you can prove your point, or fail. Personally," 
 he repeated, "I have grave doubts as to whether it can be 
 done at present; it will be in the future of course." 
 
 "Why, what do you mean?" asked Bob. "It is being 
 done every day! There's nothing complicated about it. 
 It's just a question of cutting and piling the tops, and - 
 
 "I know the methods advocated," broke in Orde. "But 
 it is not being done except on Government holdings where 
 conditions as to taxation, situation and a hundred othei 
 things are not like those of private holdings; or on private 
 holdings on an experimental scale, or in conjunction with 
 older methods. The case has not been proved on a large 
 private tract. Now is your chance so to prove it." 
 
638 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 Bob's face was grave. 
 
 "That means a pretty complete about-face for me, sir," 
 said he. " I fought this all out with myself some years back. 
 I feel that I have fitted myself into the one thing that is worth 
 while for me." 
 
 "I know," said Orde. "Don't hurry. Think it over. 
 Take advice. I have a notion you'll find this if its 
 handled right, and works out right will come to much the 
 same thing." 
 
 He rode along in silence for some moments. 
 
 "I want to be fair," he resumed at last, "and do not desire 
 to get you in this on mistaken premises. This will not be a 
 case of experiment, of plaything, but of business. However 
 desirable a commercial theory may be, if it's commercial, 
 it must pay! It's not enough if you don't lose money; or 
 even if you succeed in coming out a little ahead. You must 
 make it pay on a commercial basis, or else it's as worthless 
 in the business world as so much moonshine. That is not 
 sordid; it is simply common sense. We all agree that it 
 would be better to cut our forests for the future; but can it 
 be done under present conditions?" 
 
 u There is no question of that," said Bob confidently. 
 
 "There is quite a question of it among some of us old 
 fogies, Bobby," stated Orde good-humouredly. "I suppose 
 we're stupid and behind the times; but we've been brought 
 up in a hard school. We are beyond the age when we origi- 
 nate much, perhaps; but we're willing to be shown." 
 
 He held up his hand, checking over his fingers as he talked. 
 
 "Here's the whole proposition," said he. "You can 
 consider it. Welton and I will turn over the whole works to 
 you, lock, stock and barrel, for two years. You know the 
 practical side of the business as well as you ever will, and 
 you've got a good head on you. At the end of that time, 
 turn in your balance sheet. We'll see how you come out, 
 and how much it costs a thousand feet to do these things out- 
 side the schoolroom." 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 639 
 
 " If I took it up, I couldn't make it pay quite as well as by 
 present methods," Bob warned. 
 
 "Of course not. Any reasonable man would expect to 
 spend something by way of insurance for the future. But 
 the point is, the operations must pay. Think it over!" 
 
 They emerged into the mill clearing. Welton rolled out 
 to greet them, his honest red face aglow with pleasure over 
 greeting again his old friend. They pounded each other on 
 the back, and uttered much facetious and affectionate abuse. 
 Bob left them cursing each other heartily, broad gring 
 illuminating their weatherbeaten faces. 
 
XL 
 
 BOB'S obvious course was to talk the whole matter over 
 with his superior officer, and that is exactly what he 
 intended to do. Instead, he hunted up Amy. He 
 justified this course by the rather sophistical reflection that 
 in her he would encounter the most positive force to the con- 
 trary of the proposition he had just received. Amy stood 
 first, last and all the time for the Service; her heart was 
 wholly in its cause. In her opinion he would gain the advan- 
 tage of a direct antithesis to the ideas propounded by his 
 father. This appeared to Bob an eminently just arrange- 
 ment, but failed to account for a certain rather breathless 
 excitement as he caught sight of Amy's sleek head bending 
 over a pan of peas. 
 
 "Amy," said he, dropping down at her feet, "I want your 
 advice." 
 
 She let fall her hands and looked at him with the refresh- 
 ing directness peculiarly her own. 
 
 "Father wants me to take charge of the Wolverine Com- 
 pany's operations," he began. 
 
 "Well?" she urged him after a pause. 
 
 "What do you think of it?" 
 
 " I thought you had worked that all out for yourself some 
 time ago." 
 
 "I had. But father and Mr. Welton are getting a little 
 too old to handle such a proposition, and they are looking 
 to me " he paused. 
 
 "That situation is no different than it has been," she sug- 
 gested. "What else?" 
 
 Bob laughed. 
 
 640 
 
THE RULES OF THE GAME 041 
 
 "You see through me very easily, don't you? Well, the 
 situation is changed. I'm being bribed." 
 
 "Bribed!" Amy cried, throwing her head back. 
 
 "Extra inducements offered. They make it hard for me 
 to refuse, without seeming positively brutal. They offer me 
 complete charge to do as I want. I can run the works 
 absolutely according to my own ideas. Don't you see how 
 I am going to hurt them when I refuse under such circum- 
 stances?" 
 
 "Refuse!" cried Amy. "Refuse! What do you mean!" 
 
 "Do you think I ought to leave the Service?" stammered 
 Bob blankly. 
 
 "Why, it's the best chance the Service has ever had!" 
 said Amy, the words fairly tumbling over one another. 
 "You must never dream of refusing. It's your chance 
 it's our chance. It's the one thing we've lacked, the oppor- 
 tunity of showing lumbermen everywhere that the thing can 
 be made to pay. It's the one thing we've lacked. Oh, 
 what a chance!" 
 
 "But but," objected Bob "it means giving up the 
 Service after these years and all the wide interests 
 ind the work " 
 
 "You must take it," she swept him away, "and you mmt 
 do it with all your power and all the ability that is in you. 
 You must devote yourself to one idea make money, make 
 it pay!" 
 
 "This from you," said Bob sadly. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad!" cried Amy. "Your father is a dear! 
 it's the one fear that has haunted me lest some visionary 
 incompetent should attempt it, and should fail dismally, and 
 all the great world of business should visit our methods with 
 the scorn due only his incompetence. It was our great dan- 
 ger! And now it is no longer a danger! You can do it, 
 Bob; you have the knowledge and the ability and the energy 
 and you must have the enthusiasm. Can't you see it? 
 You mustl" 
 
642 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 She leaned over, her eyes shining with the excitement of 
 her thought, to shake him by both shoulders. The pan of 
 peas promptly deluged him. They both laughed. 
 
 "I'd never looked at it that way," Bob confessed 
 
 "It's the only way to look at it." 
 
 "Why!" cried Bob, in the sudden illumination of a new 
 idea. " The more money I make, the more good I'll do 
 that's a brand new idea for you!" 
 
 He rose to his feet, slowly, and stood for a moment lost in 
 thought. Then he looked down at her, a fresh admiration 
 shining in his eyes. 
 
 "Yours is the inspiration and the insight as always," 
 he said humbly. "It has always been so. I have seemed 
 to myself to have blundered and stumbled, groping for a way; 
 and you have flown, swift as a shining arrow, straight to the 
 mark." 
 
 "No, no, no, no!" she disclaimed, coming close to him in 
 the vigour of her denial. "You are unfair." 
 
 She looked up into his face, and somehow in the earnest- 
 ness of her disclaimer, the feminine soul of her rose to her 
 eyes, so that again Bob saw the tender, appealing helpless- 
 ness, and once more there arose to full tide in his breast the 
 answering tenderness that would care for her and guard her 
 from the rough jostling of the world. The warmth of her 
 young body tingled in recollection along his arm, and then, 
 strangely enough, without any other direct cause wnatever, 
 the tide rose higher to flood his soul. He drew her to him, 
 crushing her to his breast. For an instant she yielded to him 
 utterly; then drew away in a panic. 
 
 "My dear, my dear I" she half whispered; "not here!" 
 
XLI 
 
 OB rode home through the forest, singing at the top 
 of his voice. When he met his father, near the 
 lower meadow, he greeted the older man boisterously. 
 
 "That," said Orde to him shrewdly, "sounds to me 
 mighty like relief. Have you decided for or against ? " 
 
 "For," said Bob. "It's a fine chance for me to do just 
 what I've always wanted to do to work hard at what 
 interests me and satisfies me." 
 
 "Go to it, then," said Orde. "By the way, Bobby, how 
 old are you now?" 
 
 "Twenty-nine." 
 
 " Well, you're a year younger than I was when I started in 
 with Newmark. You're ahead of me there. But in other 
 respects, my son, your father had a heap more sense; he got 
 married, and he didn't waste any time on it. How long have 
 you been living around in range of that Thorne girl, any- 
 way? Somebody ought to build a fire under you." 
 
 Bob hesitated a moment; but he preferred that his good 
 news should come to his father when Amy could be there, too. 
 
 "I'm glad you like her, father," said he quietly. 
 
 Orde looked at his son, and his voice fell from its chaffing 
 tone. "Good luck, boy," said he, and leaned from his 
 saddle to touch the young man on the shoulder. 
 
 They emerged into the clearing about the mill. Bob 
 looked on the familiar scene with the new eyes of a great 
 spiritual uplift. The yellow sawdust and the sawn lumber; 
 the dark forest beyond; the bulk of the mill with its tall pines; 
 the dazzling plume of steam against the very blue sky, all 
 these appealed to him again with many voices, as they had 
 
 643 
 
644 THE RULES OF THE GAME 
 
 years before in far-off Michigan. Once more he was 
 back where his blood called him; but under conditions which 
 his training and the spirit of the new times could approve. 
 His heart exulted at the challenge to his young manhood. 
 
 As he rode by the store he caught sight within its depths 
 of Merker methodically waiting on a stolid squaw. 
 
 "No more economic waste, Merker!" he could not for- 
 bear shouting; and then rocked in his saddle with laughter 
 over the man's look of slow surprise. " It's his catchword," 
 he explained to Orde. "He's a slow, queer old duck, but a 
 mighty good sort for the place. There's Post, in from the 
 woods. He's woods foreman. I expect I'll have lively times 
 with Post at first, getting him broken into new ways. But 
 he's a good sort, too." 
 
 "Everybody's a good sort to-day, aren't they, son?" 
 smiled Orde. 
 
 Welton met them, and expressed his satisfaction over the 
 way everything had turned out. 
 
 "I'm going duck shooting for fair," said he, "and I'm 
 going fishing at Catalina. Out here," he explained to Orde, 
 "you sit in nice warm sun and let the ducks insult you into 
 shooting at 'em! No freeze-your-fingers-and-break-the-ice 
 early mornings! I'm willing to let the kid go it! He can't 
 bust me in two years, anyway." 
 
 Later, when the two were alone together, he clapped Bob 
 on the back and wished him success. 
 
 "I'm too old at the game to believe much in new methods 
 to what I've been brought up to, Bob," said he; "but I believe 
 in you. If anybody can do it, you can; and I'd be tickled 
 to see you win out. Things change; and a man is foolish to 
 act as though they didn't. He's just got to keep playing along 
 according to the rules of the game. And they keep changing, 
 too. It's good to have lived while they're making a country. 
 I've done it. You're going to." 
 
 THE END 
 
A FEW OF 
 
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 detective story. 
 
 LIKE ANOTHER HELEN. By George Horton. Illus- 
 trated by C. M. Relyea. 
 
 Mr. Horton s powerful romance stands in a new field and brings 
 an almost unknown world in reality before th reader th world 
 of conflict between Greek and Turk on the Island of Cret*. The 
 " Helen " of the story is a Greek, beautiful, desolate, defiant pure 
 as snow. 
 
 There is a certain new force about the story, a kind of master- 
 craftsmanship and mental dominance that holds the reader. 
 THE MASTER OF APPLEBY. By Francis Lynde. 
 Illustrated by T. de Thulstrup. 
 
 "A novel tale concerning itself in part with the great struggle in 
 , the two Carolinas, but chiefly with the adventures therein of two 
 gentlemen who loved one and the same lady. 
 
 A strong, masculine and persuasive story. 
 A MODERN MADONNA. By Caroline Abbot Stanley. 
 
 A story of American life, founded on facts as they existed some 
 rears ago in the District of Columbia. The theme is the maternal 
 love and splendid courage of a woman, 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK 
 
GROSSET & DUNLAP'S 
 
 DRAMATIZED NOVELS 
 
 Original, sincere and courageous often amusing the 
 kind that are making theatrical history. 
 
 MADAME X. By Alexandra Bisson and J. W. McCon- 
 aughy. Illustrated with scenes from the play. 
 A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her hus- 
 band would not forgive an error of her youth. Her love for 
 her son is the great final influence in her career, A tremen- 
 dous dramatic success. 
 
 THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. 
 
 An unconventional English woman and an inscrutable 
 stranger meet and love in an oasis of the Sahara. Staged 
 this season with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. 
 
 THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By Lew. Wallace. 
 
 A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, presenting 
 with extraordinary power the siege of Constantinople, and 
 lighting its tragedy with the warm underglow of an Oriental 
 romance. As a play it is a great dramatic spectacle. 
 
 TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace 
 Miller White. Illust. by Howard Chandler Christy. 
 A girl from the dregs of society, loves a young Cornell Uni- 
 versity student, and it works startling changes in her life and 
 ehe lives of those about her. The dramatic version is one of 
 the sensations of the season. 
 
 YOUNG WALLINGFORD. By George Randolph 
 
 Chester. Illust. by F. R. Gruger and Henry Raleigh, 
 
 A series of clever swindles conducted by a cheerful young 
 
 man, each of which is just on the safe side of a State's prison 
 
 offence. As "Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford," it is probably 
 
 the most amusing expose of money manipulation ever seen 
 
 on the stage. 
 
 THE INTRUSION OF JIMMY. By P. G. Wode- 
 
 house. Illustrations by Will Grefe. 
 Social and club life in London and New York, an amateur 
 burglary adventure and a love story. Dramatized under the 
 title of "A Gentleman of Leisure," it furnishes hours of 
 laughter to the play-goers. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK 
 
KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN'S 
 STORIES OF PURE DELIGHT 
 
 Full of originality and humor, kindliness and cheer 
 
 THE OLD PEABODY PEW. Large Octavo. Decorative 
 text pages, printed in two colors. Illustrations by Alice 
 Barber Stephens. 
 
 One of the prettiest romances that has ever come from this 
 author's pen is made to bloom on Christmas Eve in the sweet 
 freshness of an old New England meeting house. 
 
 PENELOPE'S PROGRESS. Attractive cover design in 
 colors. 
 
 Scotland is the background for the merry doings of three very 
 clever and original American girls. Their adventures hi adjusting 
 themselves to the Scot and his land are full of humor. 
 
 PENELOPE'S IRISH EXPERIENCES. Uniform in style 
 with "Penelope's Progress." 
 
 The trio of clever girls who rambled over Scotland cross the bor- 
 der to the Emerald Isle, and again they sharpen their wits against 
 new conditions, and revel in the land of laughter and wit. 
 
 REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM. 
 
 One of the most beautiful studies of childhood Rebecca's artis- 
 tic, unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand cut midst a circle 
 of austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phe- 
 nomenal dramatic record, 
 
 KEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA. With illustrations 
 by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 Some more quaintly amusing chronicles that cany Rebecca 
 through various stages to her eighteenth birthday. 
 
 ROSE O' THE RIVER. With illustrations by George 
 
 Wright. 
 
 The simple story of Rose, a country girl and Stephen a sturdy 
 young farmer, The girl's fancy for a city man interrupts their love 
 and merges the story into an emotional strain where the reader fol- 
 lows the events with rapt attention. 
 
 GB.OSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK 
 
TITLES SELECTED FROM 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAFS LIST 
 
 REALISTIC, ENGAGING PICTURES OF LIFE, 
 
 THE GARDEN OF FATE. By Roy Norton. Illustrated 
 
 by Joseph Clement Coll. 
 
 The colorful romance of an American girl in Morocco, and 
 of a beautiful garden, whose beauty and traditions of strange 
 subtle happenings were closed to the world by a Sultan's seal. 
 
 THE MAN HIGHER UP. By Henry Russell Miller. 
 
 Full page vignette illustrations by M. Leone Bracker. 
 
 The story of a tenement waii who rose by his own ingenuity 
 
 to the office of mayor of his native citv. His experiences 
 
 while "climbing," make a most interesting example of the 
 
 possibilities of human nature to rise above circumstances. 
 
 THE KEY TO YESTERDAY. By Charles Neville 
 
 Buck. Illustrated by R. Schabelitz. 
 
 Robert Saxon, a prominent artist, has an accident, while in 
 
 Paris, which obliterates his memory, and the only clue he has 
 
 to his former life is a rusty key. What door in Paris will it 
 
 unlock? He must know that before he woos the girl he loves. 
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL. By James Oliver Curwood. 
 
 Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. 
 The danger trail is over the snow-smothered North. A 
 young Chicago engineer { who is building a road through the 
 Hudson Bay region, is involved in mystery, and is led into 
 ambush by a young woman. 
 
 THE GAY LORD WARING. By Houghton Townley. 
 
 Illustrated by Will Grefe. 
 
 A story of the smart hunting set in England. A gay young 
 lord wins in love against his selfish and cowardly brother and, 
 apparently against fate itself. 
 
 BY INHERITANCE. By Octave Thanet. Illustrated 
 
 by Thomas Fogarty. Elaborate wrapper in colors. 
 
 A wealthy New England spinster with the most elaborate 
 
 plans for the education of the negro goes to visit her nephew 
 
 m Arkansas, where she learns the needs of the colored race 
 
 first hand and begins to lose her theories. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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U. C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES 
 
 Format Numbers: 36-40 
 
 Program \ 
 
 912975 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY