acDonald, why don't you take out your naturalization papers so you
can vote at election? In the eyes of the law, you're still an alien."

"Alien? What has _that_ to do with paying grazing fees for sheep on
the Forest Range?" MacDonald's black eyes closed to a tiny slit of
shiny light. "Mr. Senator," he said tersely, "how much do you want?"

Mr. Senator refused to be perturbed by the edge of that question.

"You ask Wayland how much the grazing fee is. You know it's my belief
there ought to be no grazing fee. We stockmen can take care of
ourselves without Washington worrying--"

"Yes," interrupted Williams, "you took such good care of the sheep
herders last spring, some of you put them to eternal sleep."

"We're not living in Paradise or Utopia," assented Moyese. "We can
take care of our own. Men who won't listen to warning must look out
for stronger arguments; and it's a great deal quicker than carrying
long-drawn legal cases up to the Supreme Court. You sheepmen are
asking us to take care of you. I'm asking MacDonald to vote so he can
take care of us. Majority rules. What I'm trying to get at is which
side you are on! We're not taking care of neutrals and aliens--"

"Aliens." The low tense voice bit into the word like acid. "And I
suppose you're not taking care of pea-nut politicians either. My
ancestors have lived in this country since 1759. Mr. Senator, how many
generations have your people lived in this country?"

Eleanor became conscious that a question had been asked fraught with
explosion; but the Senator smiled the big soft voiceless smile down in
his waist-coat as if not one of the group knew that memories of the
ghetto had not faded from his own generation.

"We're not strong on ancestry out West," he rubbed his whiskerless
chin. "It goes back too often to--" he looked up quietly at MacDonald,
"to bow and arrow aristocracy, scalps, in fact; but as for myself," if
a little oily, still the smile remained genial, "for myself, from what
my name means in French, I should judge we were Hugenots--what do you
call 'em?--Psalm singing lot that came over in that big boat, growing
bigger every year; boat that brought all the true blues over here;
Mayflower--that's what I'm trying to say--all our ancestors came over
in the Mayflower--"

The sheep rancher's thin lips slowly curled in a contemptuous smile.
"Then I guess my ancestors on one side of the house were chanting war
whoops to welcome you-