've run this range afore you had any Forest Reserves, afore you came
into this country, Henry Plant, and our fathers and our grandfathers!
We've built up our business here, and we've built our ranches and we've
made our reg'lations and lived up to 'em! We ain't going to be run off
our range without knowin' why!"

"Just because you've always hogged the public land is no reason why you
should always continue to do so," said Plant cheerfully.

"Who's the public? Simeon Wright? or the folks up and down the
mountains, who lives in the country?"

"You've got the same show as Wright or anybody else."

"No, we ain't," interposed Jim Pollock, "for we're playin' a different
game."

"Well, what is it you want me to do, anyway?" demanded Plant. "The man
has his permit. You can't expect me to tell him to get to hell out of
there when he has a duly authorized permit, do you?"

The Pollocks looked at each other.

"No," hesitated Jim, at last. "But we're overstocked. Don't issue no
such blanket permits next year. The range won't carry no more cattle
than it always has."

"Well, I'll have it investigated," promised Plant. "I'll send out a
grazing man to look into the matter."

He nodded a dismissal, and the two men, rising slowly to their feet,
prepared to mount. They looked perplexed and dissatisfied, but at a
loss. Plant watched them sardonically. Finally they swung into the
saddle with the cowman's easy grace.

"Well, good day," said Jim Pollock, after a moment's hesitation.

"Good day," returned Plant amusedly.

They rode away down the forest aisles. The pack mule fell in behind
them, ringing his tiny, sweet-toned bell, his long ears swinging at
every step.

Plant watched them out of sight.

"Most unreasonable people in the world," he remarked to Bob and Oldham.
"They never can be made to see sense. Between them and these confounded
sheepmen--I'd like to get rid of the whole bunch, and deal only with
_business_ men. Takes too much palaver to run this outfit. If they gave
me fifty rangers, I couldn't more'n make a start." He was plainly out of
humour.

"How many rangers do you get?" asked Bob.

"Twelve," snapped Plant.

Bob saw eight of the twelve in sight, either idle or working on such
matters as the steps hewed from the section of pine log. He said
nothing, but smiled to himself.

Shortly after he took his leave. Plant, his good humour entirely
recovered, bellowed after him a dozen jokes and invitations.