Bob took his father with him back to headquarters. They rode in near the
close of day; and, as usual, from the stovepipe of the roofless kitchen
a brave pillar of white smoke rose high in the shadows of the firs. Amy
came forth at Bob's shout, starched and fresh, her cheeks glowing with
their steady colour, her intelligent eyes alight with interest under the
straight, serene brows. At sight of Orde, the vivacity of her manner
quieted somewhat, but Bob could see that she was excited about
something. He presented his father, who dismounted and greeted her with
a hearty shake of the hand.
"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?"
"I think you are."
"But--"
"Only if you want to, Bob. I don't want to force you in any way; but
both Welton and I are getting old, and we need younger blood. We'd
rather have you." Bob shook his head. "I know what you mean, and I
realize how you feel about the whole matter. Perhaps you are right. I
have nothing to say against conservation and forestry methods
theoretically. They are absolutely correct. I agree that the forests
should be cut for future growths, and left so that fire cannot get
through them; but it is a grave question in my mind whether, as yet, it
can be done."
"But it is being done!" cried Bob. "There is no difficulty in doing it."
"That's for you to prove, if you want to," said Orde. "If you care to
resign from the Service, we will for two years give you full swing with
our timber, to cut and log according to your ideas--or rather the ideas
of those over you. In that time you can prove your point, or fail.
Personally," he repeated, "I have grave doubts as to whether it can be
done at present; it will be in the future of course."
"Why, what do you mean?" asked Bob. "It is being done every day! There's
nothing complicated about it. It's just a question of cutting and piling
the tops, and--"
"I know the methods advocated," broke in Orde. "But it is not being done
except on Government holdings where conditions as to taxation, situation
and a hundred other things are not like those of private holdings; or on
private holdings on an experimental scale, or in conjunction with older
methods. The case has not been proved on a large private tract. Now is
your chance so to prove it."
Bob's face was grave.
"That means a pretty complete about-face for me, sir," said he. "I
fought this all out with myself some years back. I feel that I have
fitted myself into the one thing that is worth while for me."
"I know," said Orde. "Don't hurry. Think it over. Take advice. I have a
notion you'll find this--if its handled right, and works out right--will
come to much the same thing."
He rode along in silence for some moments.
"I want to be fair," he resumed at last, "and do not desire to get you
in this on mistaken premises. This will not be a case of experiment, of
plaything, but of business. However desirable a commercial theory may
be, if it's commercial, _it must pay_! It's not enough if you don't lose
money; or even if you succeed in coming out a little ahead. You must
make it pay on a commercial basis, or else it's as worthless in the
business world as so much moonshine. That is not sordid; it is simply
common sense. We all agree that it would be better to cut our forests
for the future; but _can it be done under present conditions?_"
"There is no question of that," said Bob confidently.
"There is quite a question of it among some of us old fogies, Bobby,"
stated Orde good-humouredly. "I suppose we're stupid and behind the
times; but we've been brought up in a hard school. We are beyond the age
when we originate much, perhaps; but we're willing to be shown."
He held up his hand, checking over his fingers as he talked.
"Here's the whole proposition," said he. "You can consider it. Welton
and I will turn over the whole works to you, lock, stock and barrel, for
two years. You know the practical side of the business as well as you
ever will, and you've got a good head on you. At the end of that time,
turn in your balance sheet. We'll see how you come out, and how much it
costs a thousand feet to do these things outside the schoolroom."
"If I took it up, I couldn't make it pay quite as well as by present
methods," Bob warned.
"Of course not. Any reasonable man would expect to spend something by
way of insurance for the future. But the point is, the operations must
pay. Think it over!"
They emerged into the mill clearing. Welton rolled out to greet them,
his honest red face aglow with pleasure over greeting again his old
friend. They pounded each other on the back, and uttered much facetious
and affectionate abuse. Bob left them cursing each other heartily, broad
grins illuminating their weatherbeaten faces.