The hill we were on spread into a plateau of low cedars and scrubby pines; the snowy range, with Pilot Peak sticking up, was before. After we had been hiking for two or three hours, off diagonally to the left we saw a forest fire. This was thick timber country, and the fire made a tremendous smoke. It was likely to be a big fire, and we wondered if the ranger was fighting it. As for us, we were on the trail and must hurry. We watched the fire, but we were not afraid of it, yet. The plateau was too bare for it, if it came our way. The smoke grew worse--a black, rolling smoke; and we could almost see the great sheets of flame leaping. We were glad we weren't in it, and that we didn't know of anybody else who was in it. But whoever had set it had done a dreadful thing. The trail of the burros and of the horses, mixed, continued on, and left the plateau and dipped down into a wide flat, getting nearer to the timber on the slope opposite. Then out from our left, or on the fire side, a man came riding hard. He shouted and waved at us, so we stopped. He was the Ranger. I tell you, but he looked tired and angry. His eyes were red-rimmed and his face was streaked with sweat and dirt, and holes were burned in his clothes and his horse's hide. "I want you boys," he panted, as soon as he drew up. "We've got to stop that fire. See it?" Of course we'd seen it. But--it wasn't any of our business, was it? "I want you to hurry over there to a fire line and keep the fire from crossing. Quick! Savvy?" "I don't believe we can, sir," I said. "We're on the trail." "What difference does that make?" "We're after a gang who have three of our men and we want to stop them before they cross the range." "You follow me." "I'm sorry," I said; "but we're trailing. We're obeying orders." "Whose orders?" "Our Patrol leader's." "Who's he?" "General Ashley--I mean, Roger Franklin. He's another boy. But he's been captured and two of our partners. We're to follow and rescue them. We've got to go." "No, you haven't," answered the Ranger. "Not until after this fire is under control. You'll be paid for your time." "We don't care anything about the pay," said Kit Carson. "We've got to go on." "Well, I'm giving you higher orders from a higher officer, then," retorted the Ranger. "I'm giving you orders from the President of the United States. This is Government work, and I'm representing the Government. I reckon you Boy Scouts want to support the Government, don't you?" Sure we did. "If that fire goes it will burn millions of dollars' worth of timber, and may destroy ranches and people, too. It's your duty now to help the Government and to put it out. Your duty to Uncle Sam is bigger than any duty to private Scouts' affairs. And it is the law that anybody seeing a forest fire near him shall report it or aid in extinguishing it. Now, are you coming, or will you sneak off with an excuse?"