“Then you’ll be sending in a good report,” said California John, solely by way of conversation.  “I suspicion that last fellow gave me an awful roast.”

“I’m not an inspector,” replied Thorne.

“That so?  You used to be before you resigned; so I thought sure you must be now.  What’s your job?”

“I’ll tell you when we have more time,” said Thorne.

For three days they rode together.  The Supervisor was a very busy man.  He had errands of all sorts to accomplish.  Thorne simply went along.  Everywhere he found good feeling, satisfactory conditions.

At the end of the third day as the two men sat before the rough stone fireplace at headquarters, Thorne abruptly broke the long silence.

“John,” said he, “I’ve got a few things to say that are not going to be pleasant either for you or for me.  Nevertheless, I am going to say them.  In fact, I asked the Chief for the privilege rather than having you hear through the regular channels.”

California John had not in the least changed his position, yet all at once the man seemed to turn still and watchful.

“Fire ahead,” said he.

“You asked me the other day what my job is.  It is Supervisor of this district.  They have appointed me in your place.”

“Oh, they have,” said California John.  He sat for some time, his eyes narrowing, looking straight ahead of him.  “I’d like to know why!” he burst out at last.  A dull red spot burned on each side his weather-beaten cheeks.

“I—­”

“You had nothing to do with it,” interrupted California John sharply; “I know that.  But who did?  Why did they do it?  By God,” he brought his fist down sharply, “I intend to get to the bottom of this!  I’ve been in the Service since she started.  I’ve served honest.  No man can say I haven’t done all my duty and been square.  And that’s been when every man-jack of them was getting his graft as reg’lar as his pay check.  And since I’ve been Supervisor is the only time this Forest has ever been in any kind of shape, if I do say it myself.  I’ve rounded her up.  I’ve stopped the graft.  I’ve fixed the ‘soldiers.’  I’ve got things in shape.  They can’t remove me without cause—­I know that—­and if they think I’m goin’ to lie down and take it without a kick, they’ve got off the wrong foot good and plenty!”

Thorne sat tight, nor offered a word of comment.

“You’ve been an inspector,” California John appealed to him.  “You’ve been all over the country among the different reserves.  Ain’t mine up to the others?”

“Things are in better shape here than in any of them,” replied Thorne decisively; “your rangers have more esprit de corps, your neighbours are better disposed, your fires have a smaller percentage of acreage, your trails are better.”

“Well?” demanded California John.

“Well,” repeated Thorne leaning forward, “just this.  What’s the use of it all?”