She looked at him with eyes of changing light. "You don't talk like an Englishman, and yet you are not like the men out here." "I shouldn't care to be like some of them," he answered. "My being here is quite logical. I went into the cattle business like many another, and I went broke. I served under Colonel Roosevelt in the Cuban War, and after my term was out, naturally drifted back. I love the wilderness and have some natural taste for forestry, and I can ride and pack a horse as well as most cowboys, hence my uniform. I'm not the best forest ranger in the service, I'll admit, but I fancy I'm a fair average." "And that is your badge--the pine-tree?" "Yes, and I am proud of it. Some of the fellows are not, but so far as I am concerned I am glad to be known as a defender of the forest. A tree means much to me. I never mark one for felling without a sense of responsibility to the future." Her questions came slowly, like those of a child. "Where do you live?" "Directly up the South Fork, about twenty miles." "What do you do?" He smiled. "Not much. I ride the trails, guard the game, put out fires, scale lumber, burn brush, build bridges, herd cattle, count sheep, survey land, and a few other odd chores. It's supposed to be a soft snap, but I can't see it that way." "Do you live alone?" "Yes, for the larger part of the time. I have an assistant who is with me during part of the summer months. Mostly I am alone. However, I am supposed to keep open house, and I catch a visitor now and then." They were both more at ease now, and her unaffected interest pleased him. She went on, steadily: "Don't you get very lonely?" "In winter, sometimes; in summer I'm too busy to get lonely. In the fire season I'm in the saddle every day, and sometimes all night." "Who cooks for you?" "I do. That's part of a ranger's job. We have no 'servant problem' to contend with." "Do you expect to do this always?" He smiled again. "There you touch my secret spring. I have the hope of being Chief Forester some time--I mean we all have the prospect of promotion to sustain us. The service is so new that any one with even a knowledge of forestry is in demand; by and by real foresters will arise." She returned abruptly to her own problem. "I dread to go back to my mother, but I must. Oh, how I hate that hotel! I loathe the flies, the smells, the people that eat there, the waiters--everything!" She shuddered. "Many of the evils you mention could be reformed--except, of course, some of the people who come to eat. I fear several of them have gone beyond reformation." As they started back down the street she saw the motor-stage just leaving the door of the office. "That settles one question," she said. "I can't get away till to-morrow." "Where would you go if you broke camp--back to the East?" "No; my mother thinks there is a place for me in Sulphur City."