“Don’t accept too hastily.” He avoided my gaze. “At best it is a thankless job, this nourishing those who would rather starve that they may pay installments to California land-boosters. You’ll be no benefactor. You will find it depressing. You will be ostracized, and it may even be unsafe for you to stroll around unguarded at night.” Notwithstanding these perils, I accepted. The unwritten law, like most futile and messy things requiring the democratic knowledge of all and the wisdom of none, demanded that a solemn conclave of those to be fed was necessary in any change of the routine of it, and that a vote be taken, after devious discussion and debate. Imagine convening a group of circus lions to inform them that hereafter, at feeding time—and so on! The Chief knew that a popular vote would demonstrate the usual popular row. There are only two kinds of Indian Agents: those who compromise with everything and have interminable hell on their weakling hands, to the end that they are respected neither at home nor abroad, and those who compromise with nothing. The first sort is never defeated, and never resigns. He remains continually in service, shifted from point to point, cluttering it with his inefficiency and indecision. Neglected plants and chaotic systems are monuments, kept at national expense, to these amiable bench-warmers and trimmers. The second variety rides the waves for a season or two, and crashes down finally, as all tyrants, however benevolent, before the clamorous indignation of outraged and inefficient democracy. The Chief being one of the last sort, the electorate was disfranchised. There was no session of Parliament. The whole thing was done in much the same fashion as had cost Charles the First his head. Bulletin Beginning with the first of the coming month, and until further orders, the Chief Clerk will administer the affairs of the Mess. It was received in a grim, not to say stony, silence. Like a tenderfoot, I rushed in where an angel would have sought the cyclone cellar. Cooks were employed monthly, and it was midway in the month. That night I gave the cook her time. Now, having ended one dynasty, it behooved me to create another. I went to the Chief. “When can I have the transportation necessary to my duties as maître d’hôtel hereabouts? I’ll drive in to the railroad town.” “Do you know the road?” the Boss asked, doubtfully. “That doesn’t bother me. When do I get a team?” “To-morrow,” he replied, and left me to my fate. Now I had traversed the road but once, when coming in a month before. The doubtful tone in his voice disturbed me. Perhaps the route-finding would not be so easy as a trick with cards. I sought out the pleasantest of the range men, and asked his advice concerning the matter. “It’s as plain as the nose on your face,” he assured, and as this would have been very plain indeed, it heartened me. “Keep to the main-traveled road, and take all the turns to the right—going in.”