CHAPTER XII 
ROUNDING THE SOUTH END 
From Tierra Blanca we moved to Donahue Canyon, 
our southernmost camping place, and a few miles 
only from the Gila Forest boundary line. The range 
dropped off quite sharply here. We were but little 
higher, in fact, than we had been at Kingston. No 
tents were erected. We had stopped near an old 
cabin which would serve for shelter in case an unex- 
pected storm came up, for the rainy season was due 
to start at any time now, 
The cabin belonged to a miner named McGee whose 
present habitation was but a short distance off. He 
came over after supper, ostensibly to borrow coffee, 
in reality to talk. 
“‘T’m glad to meet a bunch of guv’ment men,’’ he 
announced, after introducing himself. ‘‘Becuz I’m 
for ye. There’s them that’s agin’ the guv’ment an’ 
the National Forests an’ the rangers, but ye’ll usu- 
ally find it’s becuz they can’t inflooence ye to some 
devilment, like they maybe could some private 
pa-arty. Thin they raise a howl about conservation 
bein’ the ruination of th’ country, starvin’ out the 
poor man an’ drivin’ capital away. That’s humour 
for ye. Drivin’ poor timid capital away; capital 
that’s so scairt of takin’ a chance it’ll only commit 
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