force that bursts its own barriers?

She had not wormed under the surface for some indirect answer that
would betray what he intended to do. She had asked exactly what she
wanted to know, with a slight accent on the--you.

"Are you going to straddle or fight?"

Wayland flicked pine needles from his mountaineering boots. He
answered his own thoughts more than her question.

"All very well to say--fight; fight for all the fellows in the Land and
Forest Service when they see a steal being sneaked and jobbed! But
suppose you do fight, and get licked, and get yourself chucked out of
the job? Suppose the follow who takes your place sells out to the
enemy--well, then; where are you? Lost everything; gained nothing!"
She laid her panama sunshade on the timbered seat that spanned between
two stumps.

"Men must decide that sort of thing every day I suppose."

"You bet they must," agreed the Ranger with a burst of boyishness
through his old-man air, "and the Lord pity the chap who has wife and
kiddies in the balance--"

"Do you think women tip the scale wrong?"

"Of course not! They'd advise right--right--right;
fight--fight--fight, just as you do; but the point is--can a fellow do
right by them if he chucks his job in a losing fight?"