"Well," said California John, "strikes me that's the only way. With men
like these you got to get their confidence."
Brent peered at him.
"H'm," said he sarcastically, "do you think you have done so?"
California John flushed through his tan at the implication, but he
replied nothing.
This studied respect for his superior officer on the Supervisor's part
encouraged Brent to deliver from time to time rather priggish little
homilies on the way to run a Forest. California John listened, but with
a sardonic smile concealed beneath his sun-bleached moustache. After a
little, however, Brent became more inclined to bring home the personal
application. Then California John grew restive.
"In fact," Brent concluded his incisive remarks one day, "you run this
place entirely too much along your own lines."
California John leaned forward.
"Is that an official report?" he asked.
"What?" inquired Brent, puzzled.
"That last remark. Because if it ain't you'd better put it in writing
and make it official. Step right in and do it now!"
Brent looked at him in slight bewilderment.
"I'm willing to hear your talk," went on California John quietly.
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