The Rules of the Game

by Stewart Edward White

  X

  Baker must have won his bet, for Welton never again saw his check forone thousand dollars, until it was returned to him cancelled. Nor didBaker himself return. He sent instead a note advising some one to goover to Plant's headquarters. Accordingly Bob saddled his horse, andfollowed the messenger back to the Supervisor's summer quarters.

  After an hour and a half of pleasant riding through the great forest,the trail dropped into a wagon road which soon led them to a fine, openmeadow.

  "Where does the road go to in the other direction?" Bob asked his guide.

  "She 'jines onto your road up the mountain just by the top of the rise,"replied the ranger.

  "How did you get up here before we built that road?" inquired Bob.

  "Rode," answered the man briefly.

  "Pretty tough on Mr. Plant," Bob ventured.

  The man made no reply, but spat carefully into the tarweed. Bobchuckled to himself as the obvious humour of the situation came to him.Plant was evidently finding the disputed right of way a greatconvenience.

  The meadow stretched broad and fair to a distant fringe of aspens. Oneither side lay the open forest of spruce and pines, spacious, withoutundergrowth. Among the trees gleamed several new buildings and one ortwo old and weather-beaten structures. The sounds of busy saws andhammers rang down the forest aisles.

  Bob found the Supervisor sprawled comfortably in a rude, homemade chairwatching the activities about him. To his surprise, he found there alsoOldham, the real-estate promoter from Los Angeles. Two men were nailingshakes on a new shed. Two more were busily engaged in hewing and sawing,from a cross-section of a huge sugar pine, a set of three steps. Plantseemed to be greatly interested in this, as were still two other mensquatting on their heels close by. All wore the badges of the ForestReserves. Near at hand stood two more men holding their horses by thebridle. As Bob ceased his interchange with Oldham, he overhead one ofthese inquire:

  "All right. Now what do you want us to do?"

  "Get your names on the pay-roll and don't bother me," replied Plant.

  Plant caught sight of Bob, and, to that young man's surprise, waved hima jovial hand.

  "'Bout time you called on the old man!" he roared. "Tie your horse tothe ground and come look at these steps. I bet there ain't another pairlike 'em in the mountains!"

  Somewhat amused at this cordiality, Bob dismounted.

  Plant mentioned names by way of introduction.

  "Baker told me that you were with him, but not that you were on themountain," said Bob. "Better come over and see us."

  "I'll try, but I'm rushed to get back," replied Oldham formally.

  "How's the work coming on?" asked Plant. "When you going to startfluming 'em down?"

  "As soon as we can get our permit," replied Bob.

  Plant chuckled.

  "Well, you did get in a hole there, didn't you? I guess you better goahead. It'll take all summer to get the permit, and you don't want tolose a season, do you?"

  Astonished at the effrontery of the man, Bob could with difficultycontrol his expression.

  "We expect to start to-morrow or next day," he replied. "Just as soonas we can get our teams organized. Just scribble me a temporary permit,will you?" He offered a fountain pen and a blank leaf of his notebook.

  Plant hesitated, but finally wrote a few words.

  "You won't need it," he assured Bob. "I'll pass the word. But there youare."

  "Thanks," said Bob, folding away the paper. "You seem to be comfortablyfixed here."

  Plant heaved his mighty body to its legs. His fat face beamed withpride.

  "My boy," he confided to Bob, laying a pudgy hand on the young man'sshoulder, "this is the best camp in the mountains--without anyexception."

  He insisted on showing Bob around. Of course, the young fellow,unaccustomed as yet to the difficulties of mountain transportation,could not quite appreciate to the full extent the value in forethoughtand labour of such things as glass windows, hanging lamps, enamelledtable service, open fireplaces, and all the thousand and oneconveniences--either improvised or transported mule-back--that Plantdisplayed. Nevertheless he found the place most comfortable andattractive.

  They caught a glimpse of skirts disappearing, but in spite of Plant'sroar of "Minnie!" the woman failed to appear.

  "My niece," he explained.

  In spite of himself, Bob found that he was beginning to like the fatman. There could be no doubt that the Supervisor was a great rascal;neither could there be any doubt but that his personality was mostattractive. He had a bull-like way of roaring out his jokes, his orders,or his expostulations; a smashing, dry humour; and, above all, aninvariably confident and optimistic belief that everything was goingwell and according to everyone's desires. His manner, too, was hearty,his handclasp warm. He fairly radiated good-fellowship and good humouras he rolled about. Bob's animosity thawed in spite of his half-amusedrealization of what he ought to feel.

  When the tour of inspection had brought them again to the grove wherethe men were at work, they found two new arrivals.

  These were evidently brothers, as their square-cut features proclaimed.They squatted side by side on their heels. Two good horses with theheavy saddles and coiled ropes of the stockmen looked patiently overtheir shoulders. A mule, carrying a light pack, wandered at will in thebackground. The men wore straight-brimmed, wide felt hats, shortjumpers, and overalls of blue denim, and cowboy boots armed with thelong, blunt spurs of the craft. Their faces were stubby with a week'sgrowth, but their blue eyes were wide apart and clear.

  "Hullo, Pollock," greeted Plant, as he dropped, blowing, into his chair.

  The men nodded briefly, never taking their steady gaze from Plant'sface. After a due and deliberate pause, the elder spoke.

  "They's a thousand head of Wright's cattle been drove in on our rangesthis year," said he.

  "I issued Wright permits for that number, Jim," replied Plant blandly.

  "But that's plumb crowdin' of our cattle off'n the range," protested themountaineer.

  "No, it ain't," denied Plant. "That range will keep a thousand cattlemore. I've had complete reports on it. I know what I'm doing."

  "It'll _keep_ them, all right," spoke up the younger, "which is sayingthey won't die. But they'll come out in the fall awful pore."

  "I'm using my judgment as to that," said Plant.

  "Yore judgment is pore," said the younger Pollock, bluntly. "You got tobe a cattleman to know about them things."

  "Well, I know Simeon Wright don't put in cattle where he's going tolose on them," replied Plant. "If he's willing to risk it, I'll back hisjudgment."

  "Wright's a crowder," the older Pollock took up the argument quietly."He owns fifty thousand head. Me and George, here, we have five hunderd.He just aims to summer his cattle, anyhow. When they come out in thefall, he will fat them up on alfalfa hay. Where is George and me and theMortons and the Carrolls, and all the rest of the mountain folks goingto get alfalfa hay? If our cattle come out pore in the fall, they ain'tno good to us. The range is overstocked with a thousand more cattle onit. We're pore men, and Wright he owns half of Californy. He's got amillion acres of his own without crowdin' in on us."

  "This is the public domain, for all the public----" began Plant,pompously, but George Pollock, the younger, cut in.

  "We've run this range afore you had any Forest Reserves, afore you cameinto this country, Henry Plant, and our fathers and our grandfathers!We've built up our business here, and we've built our ranches and we'vemade our reg'lations and lived up to 'em! We ain't going to be run offour range without knowin' why!"

  "Just because you've always hogged the public land is no reason why youshould always continue to do so," said Plant cheerfully.

  "Who's the public? Simeon Wright? or the folks up and down themountains, who lives in the country?"

  "You've got the same show as Wright or anybody else."

  "No, we ain't," interposed Jim Pollock, "for we're playin' a differentgame."


  "Well, what is it you want me to do, anyway?" demanded Plant. "The manhas his permit. You can't expect me to tell him to get to hell out ofthere when he has a duly authorized permit, do you?"

  The Pollocks looked at each other.

  "No," hesitated Jim, at last. "But we're overstocked. Don't issue nosuch blanket permits next year. The range won't carry no more cattlethan it always has."

  "Well, I'll have it investigated," promised Plant. "I'll send out agrazing man to look into the matter."

  He nodded a dismissal, and the two men, rising slowly to their feet,prepared to mount. They looked perplexed and dissatisfied, but at aloss. Plant watched them sardonically. Finally they swung into thesaddle with the cowman's easy grace.

  "Well, good day," said Jim Pollock, after a moment's hesitation.

  "Good day," returned Plant amusedly.

  They rode away down the forest aisles. The pack mule fell in behindthem, ringing his tiny, sweet-toned bell, his long ears swinging atevery step.

  Plant watched them out of sight.

  "Most unreasonable people in the world," he remarked to Bob and Oldham."They never can be made to see sense. Between them and these confoundedsheepmen--I'd like to get rid of the whole bunch, and deal only with_business_ men. Takes too much palaver to run this outfit. If they gaveme fifty rangers, I couldn't more'n make a start." He was plainly out ofhumour.

  "How many rangers do you get?" asked Bob.

  "Twelve," snapped Plant.

  Bob saw eight of the twelve in sight, either idle or working on suchmatters as the steps hewed from the section of pine log. He saidnothing, but smiled to himself.

  Shortly after he took his leave. Plant, his good humour entirelyrecovered, bellowed after him a dozen jokes and invitations.

  Down the road a quarter-mile, just before the trail turned off to themill, Bob and his guide, who was riding down the mountain, passed a manon horseback. He rode a carved-leather saddle, withouttapaderos.[Footnote: Stirrup hoods] A rawhide riata hung in its loop onthe right-hand side of the horn. He wore a very stiff-brimmed hatencircled by a leather strap and buckle, a cotton shirt, and beltedtrousers tucked into high-heeled boots embroidered with varied patterns.He was a square-built but very wiry man, with a bold, aggressive,half-hostile glance, and rode very straight and easy after the manner ofthe plains cowboy. A pair of straight-shanked spurs jingled at hisheels, and he wore a revolver.

  "Shelby," explained the guide, after this man had passed. "SimeonWright's foreman with these cattle you been hearing about. He ain'tnever far off when there's something doing. Guess he's come to see abouthow's his fences."