"Some
of it's good talk, even if it ain't put out in no very good spirit; and
I ain't kicking on criticism--that's what I'm here for, and what you're
here for. But I ain't here for no _private_ remarks. If you've got
anything to kick on, put it down and sign it and send it on. I'll stand
for it, and explain it if I can; or take my medicine if I can't. But
anything you ain't ready and willing to report on, I don't want to take
from you private. _Sabe?_"
Brent bowed coldly, turned his back and walked away without a word.
California John looked after him.
"Well, that wasn't no act of Solomon," he told himself; "but, anyway, I
feel better."
After Brent's departure it took California John two weeks to recover his
equanimity and self-confidence. Then the importance of his work gripped
him once more. He looked about him at the grazing, the policing, the
fire-fighting, all the varied business of the reserves. In them all he
knew was no graft, and no favouritism. The trails were being improved;
the cabins built; the meadows for horse-feed fenced; the bridges built
and repaired; the country patrolled by honest and enthusiastic men.
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