drama of
which he was a vital part had taken place, resembled a crumpled carpet
of dull gold and olive-green, and for the first time in his experience
L. J. Hanscom, wilderness trailer, acknowledged a definite
dissatisfaction with his splendid solitude.

"What does my life amount to?" he bitterly inquired. "What am I headed
for? Where is my final camping-place? I can't go on as I'm going. If I
were sure of some time getting a supervisor's job, or even an assistant
supervisor's position, the outlook would not be so hopeless. But to get
even that far means years of work, years of riding." And then, as he
thought of his lonely cabin, so unsuited to a woman's life, he said:
"No, I must quit the service; that's sure."

Returning to the hotel, he wrote out his resignation with resolute hand
and dropped it into the mail-box. "There," he told himself, "now you're
just naturally obliged to hustle for a new job," and, strange to say, a
feeling of elation followed this decisive action.

Kauffman was afoot and dressing with slow and painful movements as
Hanscom re-entered, saying, cheerily, "Well, uncle, how do you feel by
now?"

With a wan smile the old man answered: "Much bruised and very painful,
but I am not concerned about myself. I am only afraid for you. I hope
you will not come to harm by reason of your generous aid to us."

"Don't you fret about me," responded Hanscom, sturdily. "I'm hard to
kill; and don't make the mistake of thinking that the whole country is
down on you, for it isn't. Abe and his gang are not much better than
outlaws in the eyes of the people down here in the valley, and as soon
as the town understands the case the citizens will all be with
you--and--Helen." He hesitated a little before speaking her name, and
the sound of the word gave him a little pang of delight--brought her
nearer, someway. "But let's go down to breakfast; you must be hungry."

The old man did not reply as cheerily as the ranger expected him to do.
On the contrary, he answered, sadly: "No, I do not feel like eating, but
I will go down with you. Perhaps I shall feel better for it."

The dining-room was filled with boarders, and all betrayed the keenest
interest in Kauffman. It was evident also that the ranger's punishment
of Kitsong was widely known, for several spoke of it, and Simpson
warningly said:

"Abe intends to have your hide. He's going to slap a warrant on you as
soon as you're out of Carmody's hands and have you s