ervice."

And thereafter, with considerable bluntness, he told us to "git," and
quickly. Our arguments were in vain. The fact that it was dark, that we
were played out, that there was no other horse feed near, availed not at
all. With him it was no case for logic. Like a good and faithful servant
he always came back to the beginning with the statement, "Them's the
rules and I gotter enforce 'em."

But in the meantime the coffee boiled and the horses wandered farther
from us. The ranger became exasperated.

"You're trespassing," he expostulated. "This is private property
and----"

"Whose property?" My partner hit the nail on the head. But the ranger
didn't see the rocks ahead.

"Property of the Forest Service, of course," said he.

"And who is the Forest Service?"

"Why, it's--it's--" the ranger stuttered a bit, seeking adequate
explanation. "It's the Government, of course."

The ranger swelled with pride--after all, hadn't he demonstrated himself
the representative of our omnipotent nation? But pride precedeth falls.

"And who is the Government?" persisted my partner, as he poured his cup
full of coffee from the battered pot.

But before an Armageddon of violence was reached I interrupted and
dispelled the threatened storm. For as it happened we were privileged
characters, of a sort, and our note from the District Supervisor
extending the special courtesies of the Service turned the rising wrath
of our ranger into the essence of hospitality. We never again heard of
the rules from him.

However, my friend had expressed a monumental conclusion. Our pasture
was the property of the Forest Service, the Service was a part of the
Government, and the Government is of and for the people--us common
people. Therefore that pasture was ours--Q.E.D.! Of course the principle
doesn't work out in practice, because the Service, in the proper conduct
of its affairs, must have strict property rights like any other
organization or individual. But, broadly speaking, that is the truth of
the matter. And in justice to the new spirit of the Forest Service, and
the aims and methods of its employees of to-day, it is well to state
that the ranger in question was of the old school, which regarded its
reserves as its own sacred property and operated somewhat on the
antedated motto of some railroads of the past, "The public be damned."

For whatever one's feeling regarding the economic phase of national
forests, from the casual camper'