down his
valise. "I've bought a place at the Springs."

"Good luck to you both," said I, as he swung from the train.

THE FOREST RANGER

_--hardy son of the pioneers--representing the finer social
order of the future, rides his lonely trail, guarding with
single-hearted devotion the splendid heritage of us all._

IX

THE FOREST RANGER

I

One April day some years ago, when the rustling of cattle (a picturesque
name for stealing) was still going on in one of our central mountain
states, Abe Kitsong, a rancher on the Shellfish, meeting Hanscom, the
forest ranger of that district, called out:

"Say, mister, do you know that some feller has taken a claim in our
valley right bang up against your boundary line?"

"Yes," replied Hanscom. "I've an eye on him. He's started a cabin
already."

"I didn't know that land was open or I'd 'a' took it myself. Who is the
old chap, anyway?"

"I don't know where he comes from, but his name is
Kauffman--Pennsylvania Dutch, I reckon."

"Watson will be hot when he runs agin' the fence that feller's puttin'
up."

"Well, the man's in there and on the way to a clear title, so what are
you going to do about it?"

"I don't plan for to do anything, but Watson will sure be sore,"
repeated Kitsong.

The ranger smiled and rode on. He was a native of the West, a
plain-featured, deliberate young fellow of thirty who sat his horse
with the easy grace which marks the trailer, while Abe Kitsong, tall,
gaunt, long-bearded, and sour-faced, was a Southerner, a cattleman of
bad reputation with the alfalfa farmers farther down the valley. He was
a notable survivor of the "good old days of the range," and openly
resented the "punkin rollers" who were rapidly fencing all the lower
meadows. Watson was his brother-in-law, and together they had controlled
the upper waters of the Shellfish, making a last stand in the secluded
valley.

The claim in question lay in a lonely spot at the very head of a narrow
canyon, and included a lovely little meadow close clasped by a corner of
the dark robe of forest which was Hanscom's especial care, and which he
guarded with single-hearted devotion. The new cabin stood back from the
trail, and so for several weeks its owner went about his work in
undisturbed tranquillity. Occasionally he drove to town for supplies,
but it soon appeared that he was not seeking acquaintance with his
neighbors, and in one way or another he cont