ough. I don't promise anything. Come
in at noon and sign the letter. Then you might drop in in about two
weeks; say Saturday morning. We'll have heard something by then."

Bud beamed. "I'll do that. And while I'm waitin' I'll ride over some of
that country up there and look around."

Torrance leaned forward. "There's one more thing, Bud. I know this job
offers a temptation to a man to favor his friends. So far as this office
is concerned, I don't want you to have any friends. I want things run
straight. I've given the best of my life to the Service. I love it. I
have dipped into my own pocket when Washington couldn't see the need for
improvements. I have bought fire-fighting tools, built trails, and paid
extra salaries at times. Now I will be where I can back you up. Keep
things right up to the minute. If you get stuck, wire me. Here's your
territory on this map. You know the country, but you will find this
system of keeping track of the men a big help. The pins show where each
man is working. We can go over the office detail after we have heard
from headquarters."

Bud perspired, blinked, shuffled his feet. "I ain't goin' to say thanks,
John. You know it."

"That's all right, Bud. Your thanks will be just what you make of this
work when I leave. There has been a big shake-up in the Service. Some of
us stayed on top."

"Congratulations, John. Saturday, come two weeks, then."

And Bud heaved himself up. The Airedale, Bondsman, thumped the floor
with his tail. Bud turned a whimsical face to the supervisor. "Now
listen to that! What does he say? Well, he's tellin' me he sabes I got a
chanct at a job and that he'll keep his mouth shut about what you said,
like me. And that it's about time I quit botherin' folks what's busy and
went back to the hotel so he can watch things go by. That there dog
bosses me around somethin' scandalous."

Torrance smiled, and waved his hand as Bud waddled from the office, with
Bondsman at his heels.

About an hour later, as Torrance was dictating a letter, he glanced up.
Bud Shoop, astride a big bay horse, passed down the street. For a moment
Torrance forgot office detail in a general appreciation of the Western
rider, who, once in the saddle, despite age or physical attributes,
bears himself with a subconscious ease that is a delight to behold, be
he lean Indian, lithe Mexican, or bed-rock American with a girth, say,
of fifty-two inches and weighing perhaps not less than two hundred an