“Uh-uh.  Well, Lorry, I just been sweatin’ out a letter tellin’ John Torrance that I’ve quit.  I’m goin’ to run for State Senator.”

“I knew they would land you.  Everybody knew it.”

“So we’re both leavin’ the Service.  And we’re leavin’ a mighty good job; mebby not such big pay, but a man’s job, that has been the makin’ of some no-account boys.  For no fella can work for the Service without settin’ up and ridin’ straight.  Now, when I was a young buster chasin’ cow-tails over the country I kind of thought the Forestry Service was a joke.  It ain’t.  It’s a mighty big thing.  You’re leaving it with a clean record.  Mebby some day you’ll want to get back in it.  Were you goin’ on up?”

“I figured to straighten up things at the cabin.”

“All right.  When you come down you can get your check.  Give my regards to Bronson and the little missy.”

“You bet I will!”

Bud rose and proffered his hand.  Lorry, rather embarrassed, shook hands and turned to go.  “See you later,” he said.

“I was going over to Stacey,” said Shoop.  “Mebby I’ll be out when you get back.  But your check’ll be here all right.  You sure look like you was walkin’ on sunshine this mawnin’.  Gosh, what a whoopin’ fine place this here world is when you are young—­and—­kind of slim!  Now, Bondsman and me—­we was young onct.  When it comes to bein’ young or State Senator—­you can have the politics and give me back my ridin’ legs.  You’re ridin’ the High Trail these days.

“If I could just set a hoss onct, with twenty years under my hide, and look down on this here country, and the sage a-smellin’ like it used to and the sunshine a-creepin’ across my back easy and warm, with a sniff of the timber comin’ down the mawnin’ breeze; and ’way off the cattle a-lookin’ no bigger’n flies on a office map—­why, I wouldn’t trade that there seat in the saddle for a million in gold.  But I reckon I would ‘a’ done it, them days.  Sometimes I set back and say ‘Arizona’ just to myself.  I’m a-lovin’ that name.  Accordin’ to law, I’m livin’ single, and if I ain’t married to Arizona, she’s my best gal, speakin’ general.  ’Course, a little lady give me a watch onct.  And say, boy, if she sets a lot of store by you—­why, you—­why, git out of this here office afore I make a dam’ fool of myself!”

And the genial Bud waved his arm, blustering and swearing heartily.

Bondsman leaped up.  A ridge of hair rose along his neck.  For some unknown reason his master had ordered Lorry to leave the office—­and at once.  But Lorry was gone, and Bud was patting the big Airedale.  It was all right.  Nothing was going to happen.  And wasn’t it about time for the stage to arrive?

Bondsman trotted to the doorway, gazed up and down the street, and came back to Shoop.  The stage had arrived, and Bondsman was telling Shoop so by the manner in which he waited for his master to follow him into the sunlight.  Bud grinned.