Strong shook his head solemnly. "They've t-took the hills, an' I've come over here t' work fer Uncle S-sam," said he.
"Warden?"
"Uh-huh—been app'inted," Strong answered, with a look of sadness and satisfaction.
"They're very cunning—Wilbert and the rest of them," Master said. "They've put a little salve on you and sent you out of the way. You're too serious-minded for them. That dynamite trick of yours set 'em all thinking. They won't keep you here long—you're too dead in earnest. But there's room enough for you over in the Clear Lake country, and when they get ready to shove you out come and be at home with us."
A moment of silence followed. The simple mind of the woodsman was looking deep into the darkness that surrounded the throne of the great king.
"You're camp looks as if it had been struck by lightning," Master added.
Strong showed the letter containing his appointment, and told of the threat to hang him up by the heels.
"The commissioner is on the square—he means well," said Master, "but they're using him. These lumbermen intend to drive you out of the woods, and they've got you headed for the clearing. You won't stay here long. In my opinion they'll burn this valley."
Strong looked into the face of the young man.
"What makes ye think so?" he asked.