inder."

"It's a whole lot I care then. Let her burn. Let the Government put out
the fire. Now, what's to be done about this boy?"

"I think I'd try to feel him out. Maybe he can be fixed. Boys who want
to be foresters can't be rich. Failing that--you say he's a kid who
wants to hunt and shoot--get some one to take him up on the mountain."

"See here, Stockton. This young Ward will see the timber is bein' cut
clean. If it was only a little patch I wouldn't mind. But this slash an'
this mill! He'll know. More'n that, he'll tell Leslie about the Mexican.
Dick's no fool. We're up against it."

"It's risky, Buell. You remember the ranger up in Oregon."

"Then we are to fall down on this deal all because of a fresh tenderfoot
kid?" demanded Buell.

"Not so loud.... We'll not fall down. But caution--use caution. You made
a mistake in trusting so much to the Greaser."

"I know, an' I'm afraid of Leslie. An' that other fire-ranger, Jim
Williams, he's a Texan, an' a bad man. The two of them could about trim
up this camp. They'll both fight for the boy; take that from me."

"We are sure up against it. Think now, and think quick."

"First, I'll try to fix the boy. If that won't work... we'll kidnap him.
Then we'll take no chances with Leslie. There's a cool two hundred an'
fifty thousand in this deal for us, an' we're goin' to get it."

With that Buell went into his office and closed the door; the other man,
Stockton, walked briskly down the platform. I could not resist peeping
from my hiding-place as he passed. He was tall and had a red beard,
which would enable me to recognize him if we met.

I waited there for some little time. Then I saw that by squeezing
between two plies of lumber could reach the other side of the platform.
When I reached the railing I climbed over, and, with the help of braces
and posts, soon got to where I could drop down. Once on the ground I ran
along under the platform until I saw a lane that led to the street. My
one thought was to reach the cabin where the Negro cook stayed and
ask him if Dick Leslie had come to camp. If he had not arrived, then I
intended to make a bee-line for my mustang.

VI. DICK LESLIE, RANGER

Which end of the street I entered I had no idea. The cabins were all
alike, and in my hurry I would have passed the cook's shack had it not
been for the sight of a man standing in the door. That stalwart figure I
would have known anywhere.

"Dick!" I cried, rushing at