“We’ve heard of you, Miss Thorne,” said he simply, but it was evident he was pleased with the frankness of her manner, the clear steadiness of her eye, the fresh daintiness of her appearance, and the respect of her greeting.  On the other hand, she looked back with equal pleasure on the tanned, sturdy old man with the white hair and moustache, the clear eyes, and the innumerable lines of quaint good-humour about them.  After they had thus covertly surveyed each other for a moment, the aforesaid lines about Orde’s eyes deepened, his eyes twinkled with mischief, and he thrust forth his hand for the second time.  “Shake again!” he offered.  Amy gurgled forth a little chuckle of good feeling and understanding, and laid her fingers in his huge palm.

After this they turned and walked slowly to the hitch rails where the men tied their horses.

“Where’s the Supervisor?” Bob asked of Amy.

“In the office,” she replied; and then burst out excitedly:  “I’ve the greatest news!”

“So have I,” returned Bob, promptly.  “Best kind.”

“Oh, what is it?” she cried, forgetting all about her own.  “Is it Mr. Welton?”

“It’ll take some time to tell mine,” said Bob, “and we must hunt up Mr. Thorne.  Yours first.”

“Pollock is free!”

“Pollock free!” echoed Bob.  “How is that?  I thought his trial was not until next week!”

“The prosecuting attorney quashed the indictment—­or whatever it is they do.  Anyhow, he let George go for lack of evidence to convict.”

“I guess he was relying on evidence promised by Oldham, which he never got,” Bob surmised.

“And never will,” Orde cautioned them.  “You two young people must be careful never to know anything of this.”

Bob opened his mouth to say something; was suddenly struck by a thought, and closed it again.

“Why do you say that?” he asked at last.  “Why do you think Miss Thorne must know of this?”

But Orde only smiled amusedly beneath his white moustache.

They found Ashley Thorne, and acquainted him with the whole situation.  He listened thoughtfully.

“The matter is over our heads, of course; but we must do our best.  Of course, by all rights the man ought to be indicted; but there can be no question that there is a common sense that takes the substance of victory and lets the shadow go.”

Orde stayed to supper and over night.  In the course of the evening California John drifted in, and Ware, and Jack Pollock, and such other of the rangers as happened to be in from the Forest.  Orde was at his best; and ended, to Bob’s vast pride, in getting himself well liked by these conservative and quietly critical men of the mountains.

The next morning Bob and his father saddled their horses and started early for the mill, Bob having been granted a short leave of absence.  For some distance they rode in silence.

“Father,” said Bob, “why did you stop me from contradicting Baker the other day when he jumped to the conclusion that I was going to quit the Service?”