Upon his unbuttoned vest was the shield of the United States Forest Service.

From under the brim of his slouch hat, he gazed at Aaron King questioningly--in angry disapproval.
Instinctively, neither of the men spoke.

A word would have been heard the other side of the cedars.

With a gesture commanding the artist to follow, the Ranger quietly, withdrew along the wagon road toward the creek.
When they were at a distance where their voices would not reach the girl in the glade, the Ranger said with angry abruptness, "Now, sir, perhaps you will tell me who you are and what you mean by spying upon a couple of women, like that." The other could not conceal his embarrassment.

"I don't blame you for calling me to account," he said.