The Rules of the Game

  VIII

  The week slipped by. Welton seemed to be completely immersed in thebusiness of cutting lumber. In due time Orde senior had replied by wire,giving assurance that he would see to the matter of the crossingpermits.

  "So _that's_ settled," quoth Welton. "You bet-you Jack Orde will makethe red tape fly. It'll take a couple of weeks, I suppose--time forthe mail to get there and back. Meantime, we'll get a cut ahead."

  But at the end of ten days came a letter from the congressman.

  "Don't know just what is the hitch," wrote Jack Orde. "It ought to bethe simplest matter in the world, and so I told Russell in the LandOffice to-day. They seem inclined to fall back on their technicalities,which is all rot, of course. The man wants to be annoying for somereason, but I'll take it higher at once. Have an appointment with theChief this afternoon...."

  The next letter came by the following mail.

  "This seems to be a bad mess. I can't understand it, nor get to thebottom of it. On the face of the showing here we've just bulled aheadwithout any regard whatever for law or regulations. Of course, I showedyour letter stating your agreement and talks with Plant, but thedepartment has his specific denial that you ever approached him. Theystand pat on that, and while they're very polite, they insist on adetailed investigation. I'm going to see the Secretary this morning."

  Close on the heels of this came a wire:

  "Plant submits reports of alleged sheep trespass committed this springby your orders. Wire denial."

  "My Lord!" said Welton, as he took this. "That's why we never heard fromthat! Bobby, that was a fool move, certainly; but I couldn't turnLeejune down after I'd agreed to graze him."

  "How about these lumber contracts?" suggested Bob.

  "We've got to straighten this matter out," said Welton soberly.

  He returned a long telegram to Congressman Orde in Washington, andhimself interviewed Plant. He made no headway whatever with the fat man,who refused to emerge beyond the hard technicalities of the situation.Welton made a journey to White Oaks, where he interviewed theSuperintendent of the Forest Reserves. The latter proved to be awell-meaning, kindly, white-whiskered gentleman, named Smith, wholistened sympathetically, agreed absolutely with the equities of thesituation, promised to attend to the matter, and expressed himself asdelighted always to have these things brought to his personal attention.On reaching the street, however, Welton made a bee-line for the bankthrough which he did most of his business.

  "Mr. Lee," he asked the president, "I want you to be frank with me. I amhaving certain dealings with the Forest Reserve, and I want to know howmuch I can depend on this man Smith."

  Lee crossed his white hands on his round stomach, and looked at Weltonover his eyeglasses.

  "In what way?" he asked.

  "I've had a little trouble with one of his subordinates. I've just beenaround to state my case to Smith, and he agrees with my side of theaffair and promises to call down his man. Can I rely on him? Does hemean what he says?"

  "He means what he says," replied the bank president, slowly, "and youcan rely on him--until his subordinate gets a chance to talk to him."

  "H'm," ruminated Welton. "Chinless, eh? I wondered why he wore longwhite whiskers."

  As he walked up the street toward the hotel, where he would spend thenight before undertaking the long drive back, somebody hailed him. Helooked around to see a pair of beautiful driving horses, shyingplayfully against each other, coming to a stop at the curb. Theirharness was the lightest that could be devised--no blinders, nobreeching, slender, well-oiled straps; the rig they drew shone andtwinkled with bright varnish, and seemed as delicate and light asthistledown. On the narrow seat sat a young man of thirty, covered withan old-fashioned linen duster, wearing the wide, gray felt hat of thecountry. He was a keen-faced, brown young man, with snapping black eyes.

  "Hullo, Welton," said he as he brought the team to a stand; "when didyou get out of the hills?"

  "How are you, Mr. Harding?" Welton returned his greeting. "Just down forthe day?"

  "How are things going up your way?"

  "First rate," replied Welton. "We're going ahead three bells and ajingle. Started to saw last week."

  "That's good," said Harding. "I haven't heard of one of your teams onthe road, and I began to wonder. We've got to begin deliveries on ourLos Angeles and San Pedro contracts by the first of August, and we'redepending on you."

  "We'll be there," replied Welton with a laugh.

  The young man laughed back.

  "You'd better be, if you don't want us to come up and take your scalp,"said he, gathering his reins.

  "Guess I lay in some hair tonic so's to have a good one ready for you,"returned Welton, as Harding nodded his farewell.