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 work! 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 angling. 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 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.