Donald kept his eyes intently on Sandy's face. "What could our government do?" he asked earnestly. "Well, it could do a good many things, and it did. First, it took about 160,000,000 acres of land as National Forests. It was no longer free pasture. It belonged to the United States." "I should think the herders would have been pretty cross about that!" "They were. You can see just how they felt. They made their living by raising stock, and to be deprived of pasturage angered them. At first the government intended to stop all herds from feeding in these National Reserves. They thought it was time to protect the forests that we might not have floods, landslides, and forest fires. They called it conserving the forests. Afterward, though, they considered that the western people made their living by raising cattle and sheep, and they worked out a plan whereby every owner who wanted to graze on the range should pay a certain sum to the United States Government for a permit, and should be allotted a particular pasture for his herd. The only restriction was that if an owner was granted a permit he must promise to obey the rules of the range. It was a wise and just arrangement. Only a certain number of sheep are now allowed to graze on a given area; there is therefore plenty of grass and no need for the flocks to eat the herbage down close and destroy it. The money for the permits, in the meantime, goes to the government, and enriches the United States treasury. Much of this money is spent in paying men to work on the range and better the conditions there, so really it comes back to the people who pay it." "I understand," Donald replied quickly, when Sandy paused for breath. "It is very interesting isn't it, father? But I do not see how they can prevent herders who have no permits from grazing on the range." "They ought not to have to prevent them!" answered Sandy, hotly. "The herders ought to be decent enough to obey the law. If you are granted a favor you ought to be a gentleman in accepting it. Now I'm born of generations of shepherds--poor country folk they were, too; but my people ever had a sense of honor--they were gentlemen." Sandy drew himself up and threw back his head as he spoke the words. "I cannot imagine a McCulloch being anything but a gentleman, Sandy," said Mr. Clark, who had been listening carefully to Sandy's story of the range. Sandy was pleased. "It's many would not think so, Mr. Clark," he replied, as he stretched out his rough, brown hands. "One can tell nothing from hands," laughed Mr. Clark. "The heart is the thing that tells the tale. A clean, honest heart makes a gentleman, and no one is a gentleman without it." "But you are not telling me how they kept the herders without permits off the range," put in Donald mischievously.