Because if it ain’t you’d better
This studied respect for his superior officer on the Supervisor’s part encouraged Brent to deliver from time to time rather priggish little homilies on the way to run a Forest. California John listened, but with a sardonic smile concealed beneath his sun-bleached moustache. After a little, however, Brent became more inclined to bring home the personal application. Then California John grew restive.
"In fact," Brent concluded his incisive remarks one day, "you run this place entirely too much along your own lines."
California John leaned forward.
"Is that an official report?" he asked.
"What?" inquired Brent, puzzled.
"That last remark. Because if it ain’t you’d better put it in writing and make it official. Step right in and do it now!"
Brent looked at him in slight bewilderment.
"I’m willing to hear your talk," went on California John quietly. "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. He recalled the old days of Henry Plant’s administration under the Land-Office–the graft, the supineness, the inefficiency, the confusion.
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