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 movement of pride.
"Those tasks in life which give a high moneyed wage, generally give only
that. Part of our compensation 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!" 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 bewildered 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 kindling, and began to rattle
the stove.

"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 Thorne 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