“Oh, gee--_golly_....” His pale eyes visioned it for a dreaming instant, and then he squared his narrow shoulders. “But it isn’t as if I didn’t have my fam’ly, Ranger. Of course, I’ll be with you just as much as I can, and we’ll write each other shads of letters, won’t we? But--” And Dean Wolcott perceived that there was before him a task of extreme delicacy which must wait for a less crowded hour. It was going to be a difficult thing to save his Scout’s self-esteem alive for him, and to make his joy in the new world opening up before him outweigh his bleak sense of uselessness; the Ranger’s rage rose in him at the thought of Aunt Lizzie and Edna ... crossing the continent smugly in a tourist sleeper with food in a greasy shoebox and complacency in their hearts. But presently they arrived at the fire’s first trench and found Mateo Golinda already at work, and all lesser concerns gave way. The Spaniard was cool and capable and tireless, and almost at once he paid Dean Wolcott the supreme compliment of leaving him to work alone with the boy while he took charge of another spur of the mountain. Long before noon the heat was almost unbearable; the August sun bored down through the canopy of smoke and the smoke folded the heat about them, close and stifling, and their eyes stung and watered and their throats were parched in spite of frequent sips at the canteens. They chopped; they beat the creeping fire with wet sacks; they chopped again; then, for a while, they worked with spades; then it was time to chop once more, and then the wet sacks. They settled down into a steady, unhurried routine--digging, chopping, beating, resting for a moment or two, snatching a gulp of water; digging, chopping, beating. The boy worked gamely and the shabby Airedale stayed at his heels, yelping now and then when a spark fell on his thinly upholstered hide. He kept his tail between his legs and at intervals he put his nose in the air and howled dismally but he refused to stay behind with the horses; Dean Wolcott sent the Scout back from time to time to make sure they were safely tethered and more especially to give him a breathing space, and the dog went thankfully with him, and disapprovingly back again to the battle line. A party of deer hunters had promised to come before twelve o’clock but they did not appear. Mateo thought some one might come up from Tassajara the next day, and Dean had gotten a message through to the Chief Ranger at King’s City, but there were other bad fires in the vicinity; he might not be able to send help to them at once.