On either side of the plain, apparently walling it in with an unbroken rim, were the mountains. In the clear atmosphere they seemed to rise sheer from the valley like perpendicular walls. On them the pine forests were draped like a mantle hanging down toward the valley in irregular points and fringes, and between these points like great wedges driven up into the slope from the valley, were triangular patches of aspen marking the cañons.
At long intervals slender green threads extending down from the larger cañons to the wiggling green line in the center of the plain traced the more or less permanent water courses. It did not look very attractive to Scott and he scanned the mountains with a good deal of satisfaction in the thought that most of his work would be up there.
Scott was the only passenger to get off the train at the little town. He was thoroughly inspected by the station loafers as he shouldered his packsack and started boldly up the main street, almost the only street in the town. Like so many western towns it was built like a string of beads. To Scott’s eastern eyes the mixture of little ’dobe houses, concrete block stores, cement sidewalks and electric street lights presented a strange mixture. The complete absence of trees and the consequent glare of light almost blinded him, it was such a contrast to the darkened elm-lined streets of his old home town.
Scott did not see how he could very well get lost in a one-street town. He trudged along as though he had known the place for years and carefully inspected each building for some sign of the supervisor’s office. In the fourth block he found it. The Stars and Stripes waving from the roof caught his attention and painted on the second story window he saw the sign, “Cormorant National Forest, Supervisor’s Office.”
He ascended the stairs rather nervously, for he was entering upon his first real job, and upon entering the office found himself confronted by the clerk. The clerk sized him up, guessed who he was, but remained contemptuously silent. It was the contempt of a native son for an Eastern man.
“Mr. Ramsey?” Scott asked.
“In the next room,” growled the clerk, nodding toward an open door.
Scott dropped his packsack in a corner and walked in, curious to see what his chief would be like. He was surprised to see a man who looked little older than himself. He was dark, of middle height, broad shouldered and square of jaw. Scott noted the straight cut, thin lipped mouth and was not very favorably impressed. Here would be a hard, unsympathetic man to deal with. The supervisor looked up at the sound of his step and the clear frank look reassured him a little.
“Mr. Ramsey?” Scott inquired again.
“Yes,” said the supervisor quietly.