tiveness of it, somehow."

"Wilbur," said the Supervisor seriously, "you don't want to run into the
mistake of thinking that life on a national forest is principally a
picturesque performance. It's a business that the government is running
for the benefit of the country at large. Anything that can be done to
make it efficient is tremendously important. The telephone already has
saved many a fearful night ride through bad places of the forest, has
been the means of stopping many a fire, and has saved many a life in
consequence. I think that's a little more important than
'primitiveness,' as you call it."

The boy accepted the rebuke silently. Indeed, there was nothing more to
say.

"As for grazing, there's not much to be said, except that the sheep
limits are pretty well defined. The cattle can wander up the range
without doing much harm here, for the young forest is of pretty good
growth, but the sheep must stay down where they belong. Rifle-Eye will
show you where, and sheep notices have been posted all along the limits.
And if there's anything you don't know, ask. And I guess that's about
all."

The Supervisor rose to go, but Wilbur stopped him.

"How am I to arrange about supplies?" he said.

"The tent's near a spring," was the brief but all-embracing reply.
"There's a lake near by with plenty of trout, there's flour and
groceries and canned stuff in a cache, and the Guard that was there last
year had some kind of a little garden. You can see what there is, and if
you want seeds of any kind, let me know. And there's nothing to prevent
you shooting rabbits, though they're not much good this time of year."

"I'll get along all right, Mr. Merritt," said Wilbur confidently.

"I'll ride over on Sunday and see you anyway," added the Supervisor as
he strode through the doorway, meeting McGinnis, who was waiting for him
outside. Wilbur followed him to the door.

"'Tis all the luck in the world I'm wishin' ye," shouted the big
Irishman, "an' while ye're keepin' the fires away we'll be gettin'
another nicely started for that old logjammer. Sure, we'll make it hot
enough for him."

"Good hunting," responded Wilbur with a laugh, as the two men
disappeared under the trees.

Although only a day had passed since Wilbur had met the Supervisor and
McGinnis, it seemed to him that several days must have elapsed, so much
had happened, and he found it hard to believe, when he found himself in
the saddle again beside the old