Chapter 1
_ CHAPTER I
--Hardy son of the pioneers--representing the finer social order of the future, rides his lonely trail, guarding with single-hearted devotion the splendid heritage of us all.
THE FOREST RANGER

One April day some years ago, when the rustling of cattle (a picturesque name for stealing) was still going on in one of our central mountain states, Abe Kitsong, a rancher on the Shellfish, meeting Hanscom, the forest ranger of that district, called out:
"Say, mister, do you know that some feller has taken a claim in our valley right bang up against your boundary line?"
"Yes," replied Hanscom. "I‘ve an eye on him. He‘s started a cabin already."
"I didn‘t know that land was open or I‘d ‘a‘ took it myself. Who is the old chap, anyway?"
"I don‘t know where he comes from, but his name is Kauffman--Pennsylvania Dutch, I reckon."
"Watson will be hot when he runs agin‘ the fence that feller‘s puttin‘ up."
"Well, the man‘s in there and on the way

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