[a/]
III
One day, not over a week later, Bob working in the woods, noticed California John picking his way through the new slashing. This was a difficult matter, for the fresh-peeled logs and the debris of the tops afforded few openings for the passage of a horse. The old man made it, however, and finally emerged on solid ground, much in the fashion of one climbing a bank after an uncertain ford. He caught sight of Bob.
"You fellows can change the face of the country beyant all belief," announced the old man, pushing back his hat. "You're worse than snow that way. I ought to know this country pretty well, but when I get down into one of your pesky slashings, I'm lost for a way out!"
Bob laughed, and exchanged a few commonplace remarks.
"If you can get off, you better come over our way," said California John, as he gathered up his reins. "We're holding ranger examinations—something new. You got to tell what you know these days before you can work for Uncle Sam."
"What do you have to know?" asked Bob.
"Come over and find out."
Bob reflected.
"I believe I will," he decided. "There's nothing to keep me here."