I gasped and stared, and could scarcely believe my ears. But he was not joking; he was as serious as if he had addressed himself to one of his officers. I looked at them all, standing interested and expectant. **** was as grave and erect as a deacon. Jim seemed much impressed. But old Hiram Bent, standing somewhat back of the others, deliberately winked at me.
But for that wink I never could have seized my opportunity. It made me remember my talks with Hiram. So I boiled down all that I had learned and launched it on the Chief. Whether I was brief or not, I was out of breath when I stopped. He appeared much surprised.
"Thank you," he said, finally. "You certainly have been observant." Then he turned to his officers. "Gentlemen, here's a new point of view from first-hand observation. I call it splendid conservation. It's in the line of my policy. It considers the settler and lumberman instead of combating him."
He shook hands with me again. "You may be sure I'll not lose sight of you.
Of course you will be coming West next summer, after your term at college?"
"Yes, sir, I want to--if ****--"
He smiled as I hesitated. That man read my mind like an open book.
"Mr. Leslie goes to the Coconina Forest as head forest ranger. Mr. Williams goes as his assistant. And I have appointed Mr. Bent game warden in the same forest. You may spend next summer with them."
I stammered some kind of thanks, and found myself going out and down-stairs with my friends.
"Oh, ****! Wasn't he fine? ... Say, where's Coconina Forest?"
"It's over across the desert and beyond the Grand Canyon of Arizona.
Penetier is tame compared to Coconina. I'm afraid to let you come out there."
"I don't have to ask you, Mr. ****," I replied.
"Lad, I'll need a young fellar bad next summer," said old Hiram, with twinkling eyes. "One as can handle a rope, an' help tie up lions an' sich."
"Oh! my bear cub! I'd forgotten him. I wanted to take him home."
"Wal, thar weren't no sense in thet, youngster, fer you couldn't do it. He was a husky cub."
"I hate to give up my mustang, too. ****, have you heard of the Greaser?"
"Not yet, but he'll be trailing into Holston before long."
Jim Williams removed his pipe, and puffed a cloud of white smoke.
"Ken, I shore ain't fergot Greaser," he drawled with his slow smile. "Hev you any pertickler thing you want did to him?"
"Jim, don't kill him!" I burst out, impetuously, and then paused, frightened out of speech. Why I was afraid of him I did not know, he seemed so easy-going, so careless--almost sweet, like a woman; but then I had seen his face once with a look that I could never forget.
"Wal, Ken, I'll dodge Greaser if he ever crosses my trail again."
That promise was a relief. I knew Greaser would come to a bad end, and certainly would get his just deserts; but I did not want him punished any more for what he had done to me.
Those last few hours sped like winged moments. We talked and planned a little, I divided my outfit among my friends, and then it was time for the train. That limited train had been late, so they said, every day for a week, and this day it was on time to the minute. I had no luck.
My friends bade me good-bye as if they expected to see me next day, and I said good-bye calmly. I had my part to play. My short stay with them had made me somehow different. But my coolness was deceitful. **** helped me on the train and wrung my hand again.
"Good-bye, Ken. It's been great to have you out. . . . Next year you'll be back in the forests!"
He had to hurry to get off. The train started as I looked out of my window.
There stood the powerful hunter, his white head bare, and he was waving his hat. Jim leaned against a railing with his sleepy, careless smile. I caught a gleam of the blue gun swinging at his hip. ****'s eyes shone warm and blue; he was shouting something. Then they all passed back out of sight. So my gaze wandered to the indistinct black line of Penetier, to the purple slopes, and up to the cold, white mountain-peaks, and ****'s voice rang in my ears like a prophecy: "You'll be back in the forests."
