“I know it.  I was coming to that.  The grazing-leases are the most important items just now.  You know cattle, and you know something about the Service.  You have handled men.  I am not joking.”

“Well, this is like a hobo gettin’ up his nerve to ask for a san’wich, and havin’ the lady of the house come runnin’ with a hot apple pie.  I’ll tackle anything.”

“Well, the Department has confidence enough in me to suggest that I name a successor, subject to their approval.  Do you think that you could hold down this job?”

“If settin’ on it would hold it down, it would never get up alive, John.  But I ain’t no author.”

“Author?”

“Uh-uh.  When it comes to facts, I aim to brand ’em.  But them reports to headquarters—­”

The supervisor laughed.  “You would be entitled to a clerk.  The man I have would like to stay.  And another thing.  I have just had an application from young Adams, of Stacey.  He wrote from St. Johns.  He wants to get into the Service.  While we are at it, what do you know about him?”

“Nothin’.  But his mother runs a right comf’table eatin’-house over to Stacey.  She’s a right fine woman.  I knew her when she was wearin’ her hair in a braid.”

“I have stopped there.  It’s a neat place.  Would you take the boy on if you were in my place?”

Bud coughed and studied the ends of his blunt fingers.  “Well, now, John, if I was in your place, I could tell you.”

Torrance was amused and rather pleased.  Bud’s careful evasion was characteristic.  He would do nothing hastily.  Moreover, with Shoop as supervisor, it was safe to assume that the natives would hesitate to attempt their usual subterfuges in regard to grazing-leases.  Bud was too well known for that.  Torrance had had trouble with the cattlemen and sheepmen.  He knew that Shoop’s mere name would obviate much argument and bickering.

“The White Mountain Apaches are eating a lot of beef these days,” he said suddenly.

Shoop grinned.  “And it ain’t all Gov’ment beef, neither.  The line fence crost Still Canon is down.  They’s been a fire up on the shoulder of Ole Baldy—­nothin’ much, though.  Your telephone line to the lookout is saggin’ bad over by Sheep Crossin’.  Some steer’ll come along and take it with him in a hurry one of these days.  A grizzly killed a yearlin’ over by the Milk Ranch about a week ago.  I seen your ranger, young Winslow, day before yesterday.  He says somebody has been grazin’ sheep on the posted country, west.  He was after ’em.  The grass is pretty good on the Blue.  The Apaches been killin’ wild turkey on the wrong side of their line.  I seen their tracks—­and some feathers.  They’s some down timber along the north side of the creek over on the meadows.  And a couple of wimmin was held up over by the Notch the other day.  I ain’t heard the partic’lars.  Young Adams—­”

“Where do you get it all, Bud?  Only two of the things you mentioned have been reported in to this office.”