oblems; nor
compromise on them; nor enter on any treaty of peace but the peace that
is a victory. Brydges was Uncle Sam; and he thought one way. The
Ranger was Uncle Sam; and he thought another way. One was fighting for
the vested rights of the few. The other was fighting for the vested
rights of the many. It would have to be fought out, the fight would
have to come; and this coal case, like the Range War, was one of the
preliminary skirmishes to the Great National Contest. Would the
people, who were paying fifty cents, a dollar, a dollar-and-a-half
extra for every ton of coal bought, because the coal areas were being
brought under the domination of one Ring, understand and waken up and
rally to the fight? Or was it as Moyese had declared with the most
open and genial cynicism that "the public did not give one damn"?

The Ranger crossed over to the telephone and called up the MacDonald
Ranch.

"That you, Mr. MacDonald? Matthews back yet? Oh, gone across to the
Mission School? No, nothing wrong: better not pay any attention to the
little Irish kid's babble of trouble at the mine! They'd hardly dare
that! Yes, I know they did on the Rim Rocks; but that was daring only
you and Williams: this would be daring the great Government of the
greatest Nation in the world! Oh, that doesn't bother me! The point
is--they haven't given me time to get a Government expert up here; and
this fellow is evidently a toady for Moyese. I want an extra witness
on the quality of that coal: want a witness to prove it's being used
and shipped and sold. Oh, no, not both of you, one will do, either you
or Matthews! All right; will you go down by the early stage? Better
not go down with me! I'm going to set out now; ride down the Forest
Service trail, camp in the woods and expect to reach Smelter City about
ten in the morning. If you leave by the six o'clock morning stage,
that will be plenty of time. All right, either one of you! Much
obliged! Good-by!"

An hour from the time Eleanor had left him, the Ranger was on his
horse. He did not go down the Ridge Trail. He followed the National
Forest Trail along the edge of the Ridge away from the Holy Cross Peak,
down the forested back of a long foot-hill sloping and flanking the
Valley almost to Smelter City. Locally, the sloping hill was known as
"a hog's back"; and it was where the hog's back poked its nose into the
Valley far below, that the tangle had occurred between