But in the meantime the coffee boiled and the horses wandered farther from us. The ranger became exasperated. "You're trespassing," he expostulated. "This is private property and----" "Whose property?" My partner hit the nail on the head. But the ranger didn't see the rocks ahead. "Property of the Forest Service, of course," said he. "And who is the Forest Service?" "Why, it's--it's--" the ranger stuttered a bit, seeking adequate explanation. "It's the Government, of course." The ranger swelled with pride--after all, hadn't he demonstrated himself the representative of our omnipotent nation? But pride precedeth falls. "And who is the Government?" persisted my partner, as he poured his cup full of coffee from the battered pot. But before an Armageddon of violence was reached I interrupted and dispelled the threatened storm. For as it happened we were privileged characters, of a sort, and our note from the District Supervisor extending the special courtesies of the Service turned the rising wrath of our ranger into the essence of hospitality. We never again heard of the rules from him. However, my friend had expressed a monumental conclusion. Our pasture was the property of the Forest Service, the Service was a part of the Government, and the Government is of and for the people--us common people. Therefore that pasture was ours--Q.E.D.! Of course the principle doesn't work out in practice, because the Service, in the proper conduct of its affairs, must have strict property rights like any other organization or individual. But, broadly speaking, that is the truth of the matter. And in justice to the new spirit of the Forest Service, and the aims and methods of its employees of to-day, it is well to state that the ranger in question was of the old school, which regarded its reserves as its own sacred property and operated somewhat on the antedated motto of some railroads of the past, "The public be damned." For whatever one's feeling regarding the economic phase of national forests, from the casual camper's standpoint there is no doubt that their conduct to-day is admirable. Viewed from this angle they are great playgrounds, and as in Oregon alone the national forests embrace an astounding total of more than sixteen million acres, their importance to the recreationist is evident. On the doors of the ranger stations are signs which read: "Property of the United States. For the use of officers of the Forest Service." Leaving off the trespass warning which concludes the text of the cloth notices, one might change the other sentence thus: "For the use of whomever enjoys out-of-doors"; then you would have the meaning of the Western forest reserves in a nutshell, so far as campers are concerned.