The supervisor shook his head. "Take a letter to Collins," he said.

The stenographer glanced up. "Senator Collins, Mr. Torrance?"

"Yes. And make an extra copy. Mark it confidential. You need not file
the copy. I'll take care of it. And if Mr. Shoop is appointed to my
place, he need know nothing about this letter."

"Yes, sir."

"Because, Evers," Said Torrance, relaxing from his official manner a
bit, "it is going to be rather difficult to get Mr. Shoop appointed
here. I want him. I can depend on him. We have had too many theorists in
this field. And remember this; stay with Shoop through thick and thin
and some day you may land a job as private secretary to a State
Senator."

"All right, sir. I didn't know that you were going into politics, Mr.
Torrance."

"You're off the trail a little, Evers. I'll never run for Senator. I'm
with the Service as long as it will have me. But if some clever
politician happens to get hold of Shoop, there isn't a man in this mesa
country that could win against him. He's just the type that the mesa
people like. He is all human.--Dear Senator Collins--"

The stenographer bent over his book.

Later, as Torrance closed his desk, he thought of an incident in Shoop's
life with which he had long been familiar. The Airedale, Bondsman, had