He smiled. “Not much. I ride the trails, guard the game, put out fires, scale lumber, burn brush, build bridges, herd cattle, count sheep, survey land, and a few other odd chores. It’s supposed to be a soft snap, but I can’t see it that way.”
“Do you live alone?”
“Yes, for the larger part of the time. I have an assistant who is with me during part of the summer months. Mostly I am alone. However, I am supposed to keep open house, and I catch a visitor now and then.”
They were both more at ease now, and her unaffected interest pleased him.
She went on, steadily: “Don’t you get very lonely?”
“In winter, sometimes; in summer I’m too busy to get lonely. In the fire season I’m in the saddle every day, and sometimes all night.”
“Who cooks for you?”
“I do. That’s part of a ranger’s job. We have no ‘servant problem’ to contend with.”
“Do you expect to do this always?”
He smiled again. “There you touch my secret spring. I have the hope of being Chief Forester some time—I mean we all have the prospect of promotion to sustain us. The service is so new that any one with even a knowledge of forestry is in demand; by and by real foresters will arise.”