ve 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. Dick
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 Dick--"

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, Dick! 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. Dick," 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. Dick, 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 d