Jim’s Test, II

Jim's Test By Elsie C. Carroll (Concluded from p. 29, November number) "Oh, I'll ride back too." "No please, don't! I'd rather spea1; to him alone." "Why, Jim, what is the matter? Why are you trying to get rid of me?" "I'll catch you again in ten minutes. But please don't come back," and he rode away and left her staring after him, a troubled look coming into her own face. "Hello, Jim," greeted Mr. Mathison cordially. Jim had al- ways felt a little in awe of Mae's father, but more so than ever during the last year since he had come to recognize what the change in his feelings toward Mae meant. "I suppose the boys have gone on to the camping ground?" Jim tried to steady himself for the ordeal, but he felt his limbs quivering. "No, I — believe they are waiting for you. Mr. Mathison — " he choked a little; then he went on with a brave effort: "There are — we counted the sheep and there are two hundred and fifty more than your permit specifies." The older man looked at him in a puzzling manner, and there was a pause before he spoke. "That so? Well, I don't suppose a hundred or two makes much difference. The feed seems specially good this spring." Jim choked again. "But — they say it does make — a difference." Jim became more wretched every second. "It's the law, you know. We are not to let any more than the permits allow onto the reserve. I had to count them, and I'll have to insist on — your taking them back," Jim persisted with a little more spirit. Then a queer look came into the older man's face. "Oh, of course. I see. You must do your duty, Jim, in the eyes of the law at least. I realize that. I had forgotten. Branson told me how to work it in order to protect my own rights and — the rangers' position. I'm sorry, Jim, to have caused you this unpleasantness. Of course, we'll take those extras right back." Jim was plainly puzzled, more by Mr. Mathison's manner even than his words. He was sure there was a double meaning in what he said, but he did not grasp it. "If you don't mind, Jim, just ride on ahead and tell Alex to take the herd on over to the bed ground and have Hal bring the extras back this way."

124 IMPROVEMENT ERA Jim rode away, still rather bewildered, but by the time he overtook Mae he had argued himself out of his misgivings. He could not conceive of Mr. Mathison doing anything that was not open and above board. That there had been extras was due to the carelessness of his men. It was his own troubled state of mind that had caused him to see anything in the interview to worry over. By the time he reached the girl his own face was as radiant as her'a had been. "You are to be my guests tonight at the station," he told her. "You don't know how I've been house cleaning and get- ting ready for you." "Oh, so you had to be conventional and invite Dad and Aunt Sarah first, did you," she pouted. "By jove, I forgot to invite them at all." But we'll leave word with Alex." When Jim had delivered his message and had helped Hal get the extra sheep started back toward the lowlands, he and Mae rode gaily toward the station cabin. He allowed the anxiety of the previous hours to slip away from him entirely and enjoyed the grandeur of the mountain with his childhood chum to the utmost. "Do you know what we are going to have for supper?" he asked as they drew nearer his quarters. "Fried venison," she replied smacking her lips and giving him a mischievous wink. "Not on your life," he retorted a bit warmly. "What kind of ranger do you take me for?" "I only supposed you were like the rest of them. Mattie Parkin said when they were out with Tom last summer that they had venison for every meal and that when they went home they took a whole sack full of turkey." "Things have changed since last summer," Jim replied sober- ly. "This reserve is being run on the square now." He felt like warming to his subject, but thought perhaps she would not un- derstand, so he said: "No, we are not going to have fried venison, but strawberry shortcake — that is, if you'll make the cake. Think of that for a camping-out dish. I spent two hours this morning picking wild strawberries down on Strawberry Flat and I've had Tad Barton's cow here for three days so I've plenty of cream saved up. You know Tad is a ranger farther over on the mountain. He's going to bring his family out soon and sent old Jersey on ahead. Come on, let's hurry and get the short cake made before the others get here." That evening at Jim's cabin was a gay one, as were many of

JIM'S TEST 125 the succeeding evenings over in the Mathison cainp at the old sawmill. Whenever his work would permit Jim would ride over in the evening to spend a few hours with Mae and her Aunt. Life had never been cpiite so well worth the living as now. One afternoon a few weeks after the arrival of the Mathisons on the reserve, Tom Parkin paid Jim another visit. "Thought maybe you'd quit before now," remarked Jim. "No, I decided to stay on just to help out in the fight." "What fight?" "Why between Norton and the people. He thinks he's going to run things just to suit himself, regardless of how much it means to the cattle and sheep men around here. Some of us have figured that if there isn't one way to get justice there's another!" "Why, what do you mean?" asked Jim groping vaguely and with rising misgivings for Tom's meaning. "Well, just for an example: When Naylors brought their cattle on my range a week or so ago the old guy came over to the drift fence where we are supposed to count them in from the winter range, just as if he couldn't trust me. Naylor and I have always been good friends. He's' helped me out many a time when a friend came in mighty handy and well, I'd given him to understand that there'd be no trouble. Well, with Norton there of course we had to count. Naylor's went a few above their allotment, just as they've always done — just as they've come to think they have a right to do as long as there's plenty of feed and decent men to deal with. But my! what a howl the big boss raised; threatened them with fines and jail and I don't know what. Naylor naturally felt pretty sore until I had a few private words with him that cheered him up considerable. "Well, he took his extras back next day as docile as even old Norton could ask; but — well we don't have to count again for gome time and well — whose fault will it be if those cattle just accidentally drift back into the herd?" Tom laughed in huge enjoyment. "George, I think I saw a bunch of 'em drifting in the next day with one of Naylor's men behind 'em. Oh, it's a great scheme we've hit on for pulling the wool over the old boy's eyes and giving justice to the people," and again Tom's laugh shook the cabin walls. Jim's eyes grew dark and troubled as Tom's meaning be- came unmistakably evident. He was indignant and shocked at the open perfidy of the thing. He had always scorned the thought of being a traitor to his friends — but well, he knew he could not carry such a secret long from his employer. Then another thought burst upon his troubled consciousness. That, then, was the meaning back of those puzzling words of Mr. Mathison on the day his sheep were counted in. Jim tried to

126 IMPROVEMENT ERA banish the thought. He could not bear to think of Mae's father as being one of the unscrupulous clique who were corrupting the forest service system: Yet, try as he would, he could not get away from the haunting fear. Jim spent a sleepless night trying to figure out just what he should do and how he should do it. Mr. Norton's grim, troubled face rose constantly before him and he felt growing sympathy for this man struggling against all odds to maintain the right. On the other hand, there was the enigma of Mr. Mathison — always considered by Jim, an ideal of honor, and Mae — he groaned in- wardly at the thought of causing her pain. The next day he went to the observation tower on his re- turn from his riding circuit. He expected to get back to the station early and go to the Mathison camp, hoping that some- thing would occur to relieve his anxiety. He had not seen Mae for three days, nor her father for more than a week. He made his customary observation from the tower, satis- fying himself that the range was free from fire, and was about to descend when a gleam of white away to the northeast caught his eye. He stood staring at it until he was sure it moved. Slowly but surely it was coming toward the north entrance of the Mathison range. A feeling of sickness crept over the boy as its possible sig- nificance came to him — the Mathison extras being brought back in. At last he arose resolutely and descended the steps. There was a possibility that he was mistaken. It could be a bunch of lost sheep from the opposite corner of his division — from Jef- feries', or Thornton's herds. There was but one way to find out — ride to the Mathison camp and count the herd. What was to happen then he did not care to think. If he had been mistaken in his suspicions, all well and good; if not — . His jaws closed with a snap and there was a new glint in his eye that told his self-battle was over. The sheep were just coming into the bedding ground as Jim rode up to the Mathison camp. Mae was standing in the cabin door. "I thought you had forgotten where we lived," she greeted him with a little pout on her pretty lips. "No, I haven't," he replied abruptly, "but I can't stop now. I've got to go down to the herd." "Wait until I get Maje and I'll go too." "I can't, I'm in a hurry." "Then I'll come to ride back with you." "Please don't," he pleaded and his face was white and set. Not until then was she sure there was a great change in him since their last meeting.

JIM'S TEST 127 "Jim!" she exclaimed, coming toward him, "what is the mat- ter? You've got to tell me. Has anything happened to Dad?" "Where is your father?" "He went down to the other herd yesterday, but was com- ing back this afternoon." "Maybe I'll stop in on my way back," Jim told her as he gathered up his reins, "and — maybe — I — won't. If I don't it will be because I'll know — you wouldn't want to — see me." "Jim! Jim! for heaven's sake tell me what all this means!" But Jim did not heed. He was galloping toward the bedding- ground, sick with the thought that in all probability he was going to send to the penitentiary the father of the girl he loved. Both Alex and Hal were with the sheep, but Mr. Mathison was not there. "Hello, boys," Jim called. "Don't bother to round the sheep in for a little. We'll count them first." "Count 'em?" drawled Hal with surprise, "Why, it hain't been more'n a month since you counted." "That's all right, but we'll count again." There was some- thing in Jim's tone and manner that made both his companions wonder. As the counting progressed Jim's hopes rose and fell, but when they were through they tallied five hundred extras. The boy felt dizzy when he realized his position. "Where is Mr. Mathison?" he inquired in a tense voice. "He just went around — oh, there he is now, just going up to the camp with the Sup. Jim looked and saw Mae's father turning into the clearing with Mr. Norton. His heart gave a great bound of relief. Then Mr. Norton had caught him and it would save a lot of unpleasantness for him. Suddenly he realized what must be happening at this very moment. And Mae would be a witness to her father's guilt. He must hasten there to comfort her. Thank heaven he need not be the accuser. He sprang into his saddle and galloped towards the house. The two men were entering as he came up. He followed in a half-daze. Why, they were laughing and chatting! What could it mean? One look into the Supervisor's face told him that Mr. Norton did not know. And one look into Mr. Mathison's clean, dignified countenance made him almost doubt his own convictions. "Why, hello, Jim," both men greeted. "What's up?" His face and manner had given him away. There was no bolting now. He would have given much for a little time. However, there was nothing for it but to do his duty no matter what the pain it cost. "Mr. Norton," he began and his voice quavered in spite of his brave effort at self-control, "I have just counted Mr. Mathi-