the laws of eternal righteousness by refusing to heed, any more than a
man could stop an avalanche by refusing to heed the law of the
snowflake_!

He heard the wordless chant that the suff of the evening wind sang;
that the storm wind of the mountains shouted in spring as from a
million trumpets; that the dream winds of the ghost mornings forerunner
of fresh life for the sons of men whispered, singing, chanting,
trumpeting the message that snowflake and avalanche told: yet beside
him on the slab seat sat a man who heard none of those voices, and knew
no law but the law of his own desire to get.

The Ranger drew a deep breath of the pervading fragrance, a tang of
resin and balsam, a barky smell of clean earth-mould and moss, an odor
as of some illusive frankincense proffered from the vesper chalices and
censer cups of the flower world.

"Great thing to be alive night like this," opened the Senator. Then he
pulled down his waist coat and pulled up his limp spine and wheeled on
the slab seat facing the Ranger. Very quietly, in a soft even voice he
was reasoning--

"We have been fighting each other for four years now?"

"We certainly have, Mr. Senator."

"You're a good fighter, Wayland! I like the way you fight! You fight
square; and you fight hard; and you never let up."

No answer from the Forest Ranger.