Bob handed his hoe and rake to Jack Pollock.
"Carry 'em a minute," he explained. "I hurt my hand a little."
As he walked along he bound the finger roughly to its neighbour, and on
both tied a rude splint.
"What's up?" he muttered to Jack, as he worked at this.
"I reckon we must be goin' to start a fire line back of the next
cross-bridge somewheres," Jack ventured his opinion.
Bob stopped short.
"Then we've abandoned the old one!" he exclaimed.
"Complete," spoke up Ware, who overheard.
"And all the work we've done there is useless?"
"Absolutely."
"We've got it all to do over again from the beginning?"
"Certain sure."
Bob adjusted his mind to this new and rather overwhelming idea.
"I saw Senator What's-his-name--from Montana--made a speech the other
day," spoke up Elliott, "in which he attacked the Service because he
said it was a refuge for consumptives and incompetents!"
At this moment Amy rode up draped with canteens and balancing carefully
a steaming pail of coffee. She was accompanied by another woman
similarly provided.
The newcomer was a decided-looking girl under thirty, with a full,
strong figure, pronounced flaxen-blond hair, a clear though somewhat
sunburned skin, blue eyes, and a flash of strong, white teeth.
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