[Illustration: THE GIANTS OF THE FOREST AND THE MEN WHO SAFEGUARD THEM. 

_Photography by U. S. Forest Service. _]

U. S. SERVICE SERIES. 

THE BOY WITH THE U. S. FORESTERS

BY FRANCIS ROLT-WHEELER

With Thirty-eight Illustrations from Photographs taken by the U. S. Forest Service

BOSTON

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 

1910

To My Son Roger's Friend

WILBUR UFFORD

PREFACE

Much of the wilderness is yet but little trod. Great stretches of virginforest still remain within whose dim recesses nothing is changed sincethe days the Indians dwelt in them. The mystery and the adventure arenot sped, the grandeur and the companionship still pulse among theglades, the "call of the wild" is an unceasing cry, and to that call theboy responds. 

But if this impulse to return to the shelter of the wilds be still sostrong, how greatly more intense does it become when we awaken to thefact that the forest needs our help even more than we need its sense offreedom. When we perceive that the fate of these great belts of untamedwilderness lies in the hands of a small group of men whose mastery isabsolute, when first we realize that national benefits--great almostbeyond the believing--are intrusted to these men, surely Desire andDuty leap to grip hands and pledge themselves to the service of theforests of our land. To breathe the magnificent spaces of the West, toreveal the wealth and beauty of our great primeval woods, to acclaim theworth of the men who administer them, and to show splendid possibilitiesto a lad of grit and initiative is the aim and purpose of

THE AUTHOR. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER IENTERING THE SERVICE

CHAPTER IIPUTTING A STOP TO GUN-PLAY

CHAPTER IIITHE FIGHT IN THE COULEE

CHAPTER IVPICKING A LIVELY BRONCHO

CHAPTER VA TUSSLE WITH A WILD-CAT

CHAPTER VIIN THE HEART OF THE FOREST

CHAPTER VIIWILBUR IN HIS OWN CAMP

CHAPTER VIIIDOWNING A GIANT LUMBERJACK

CHAPTER IXA HARD FOE TO CONQUER

CHAPTER XA FOURTH OF JULY PERIL

CHAPTER XIAMIDST A CATTLE STAMPEDE

CHAPTER XIIALMOST TRAMPLED TO DEATH

CHAPTER XIIIHOW THE FOREST WON A GREAT DOCTOR

CHAPTER XIVA ROLLING CLOUD OF SMOKE

CHAPTER XVTHE FOREST ABLAZE

CHAPTER XVIIN THE MIDST OF A SEA OF FIRE

ILLUSTRATIONS

The Giants of the Forest and the Men Who Safeguard ThemA Forest Fire out of ControlGood Forestry ManagementBad Forestry ManagementThe Tie-cutters' BoysDeforested and Washed AwayAs Bad as Anything in ChinaHow Young Forests are DestroyedWhere Sheep are AllowedCowboys at the Round-upPatrolling a Coyote FenceReducing the Wolf SupplyWhere Ben and Mickey Burned the BrushThe Cabin of the Old RangerStamping It Government PropertyWilbur's Own CampJust about Ready to ShootTrain-load from One TreeWilbur's Own BridgeWhere the Supervisor StayedMeasuring a Fair-sized TreeRunning a Telephone LineNursery for Young TreesPlantation of Young TreesSowing Pine SeedPlanting Young TreesWhat Tree-planting Will DoThe First Conservation ExpertSand Burying a Pear OrchardNo Water, No Forests. No Forests, No WaterWith Water!"That's One Painter Less, Anyhow!""Smoke! And How am I Going to Get There?""Keep It from Spreading, Boys!""Get Busy Now, When It Breaks into the Open!"

THE BOY WITH THE U. S. FORESTERS

CHAPTER I

ENTERING THE SERVICE

"Hey, Wilbur, where are you headed for?"

The boy addressed, who had just come through the swing-doors of anoffice building in Washington, did not slacken his pace on hearing thequestion, but called back over his shoulder:

"To the forest, of course. Come along, Fred. "

"But--" The second speaker stopped short, and, breaking into a run, caught up with his friend in a few steps. 

"You certainly seem to be in a mighty big hurry to get there, " he said. 

"We don't loaf on our service, " answered the boy with an air of pride. 

His friend broke into a broad grin. He had known Wilbur Loyle for sometime, and was well aware of his enthusiastic nature. 

"How long has it been 'our' service?" he queried, emphasizing thepronoun. 

"Ever since I was appointed, " rejoined Wilbur exultantly. 

"I'm glad the appointment has had time to soak in; it didn't take long, did it?" Wilbur flushed a little, and his chum, seeing this, went onlaughingly: "Don't mind my roasting, old man, only you were 'way up inthe clouds. "

The boy's expression cleared instantaneously, and he laughed in reply. 

"I suppose I was, " he said, "but it's great to feel you've got the thingyou've been working for. As you know, Fred, I've been thinking of thisfor years; in fact, I've always wanted it, and I've worked hard to getit. And then the Chief Forester's fine; he's just fine; I liked him everso much. "

"Did you have much chance to talk with him?"

"Yes, quite a lot. I thought I was likely enough to meet him, and p'rapshe would formally tell me I was appointed and then bow me out of theoffice. Not a bit of it. He told me all about the Service, showed mejust what there was in it for the country, and I tell you what--he mademe feel that I wanted to go right straight out on the street and getall the other boys to join. "

"Why?"

"Well, he showed me that the Forest Service gave a fellow a chance tomake good even better than in the army or the navy. There you have tofollow orders mainly; there's that deadly routine besides, and you don'tget much of a chance to think for yourself; but in the Forest Service achap is holding down a place of trust where he has a show to make goodby working it out for himself. "

"Sounds all right, " said the older boy. "Anyway, I'm glad if you'reglad. "

"What I like about it, " went on Wilbur, "is the bigness of the wholething and the chance a chap has to show what he's made of. Glad? You betI'm glad!"

"You weren't so sure whether you were going to like it or not when youwent in to see about it, " said Fred. 

"Oh, yes, I was. I knew I was going to like it all right. But I didn'tknow anything about where I might be sent or how I would be received. "

"I think it's just ripping, " said his friend, "that it looks so good toyou, starting out. It makes a heap of difference, sometimes, how a thingbegins. "

"It surely does. Right now, the whole thing seems too good to be true. "

"Well, " said the other, "as long as it strikes you that way I supposeyou're satisfied now for all the grind you did preparing for it. But Idon't believe it would suit me. It might be all right to be a ForestRanger, but you told me one time that you had to start in as a FireGuard, a sort of Fire Policeman, didn't you?"

"Sure!"

"Well, that doesn't sound particularly exciting. "

"Why not? What more excitement do you want than a forest fire! Isn'tthat big enough for you?"

"The fire would be all right, " answered the older boy, "but it's thewatching and waiting for it that would get me. "

"You can't expect to have adventures every minute anywhere, " saidWilbur, "but even so, you're not standing on one spot like a sailor in acrow's nest, waiting for something to happen; you're in the saddle, riding from point to point all day long, sometimes when there is atrail and sometimes when there isn't, out in the real woods, not inpoky, stuffy city streets. You know, Fred, I can't stand the city; Ialways feel as if I couldn't breathe. "

"All right, Wilbur, " said the other, "it's your own lookout, I suppose. Me for the city, though. "

Just then, and before Fred could make any further reply, a hand was laidon Wilbur's shoulder, and the lad, looking around, found the ChiefForester walking beside them. 

"Trying to make converts already, Loyle?" he asked with a smile, noddingpleasantly to the lad's companion. 

"I was trying to, sir, " answered the boy, "but I don't believe Fredwould ever make one of us. "

The Chief Forester restrained all outward trace of amusement at thelad's unconscious coupling of the head of the service and the newest andyoungest assistant, and, turning to the older boy, said questioningly:

"Why not, Fred?"

"I was just saying to Wilbur, sir, " he replied in a stolid manner, "thata Forest Guard's life didn't sound particularly exciting. It might beall right when a fire came along, but I should think that it would bepretty dull waiting for it, week after week. "

"Not exciting enough?" The boys were nearly taken off their feet by theenergy of the speaker. "Not when every corner you turn may show yousmoke on the horizon? Not when every morning finds you at a differentpart of the forest and you can't get there quick enough to convinceyourself that everything is all right? Not when you plunge down ravines, thread your way through and over fallen timber, and make up time by asharp gallop wherever there's a clearing, knowing that every cabin youpass is depending for its safety on your care? And then that is only asmall part of the work. If you can't find excitement enough in that, youcan't find it in anything. "

"Yes--" began Fred dubiously, but the Chief Forester continued:

"And as for the responsibility! I tell you, the forest is the place forthat. We need men there, not machines. On the men in the forest millionsof dollars' worth of property depends. More than that, on the care ofthe Forest Guards hangs perhaps the stopping of a forest fire thatotherwise would ravage the countryside, kill the young forest, denudethe hills of soil, choke with mud the rivers that drain the denudedterritory, spoil the navigable harbors, and wreck the prosperity of allthe towns and villages throughout that entire river's length. "

"I hadn't realized there was so much in it, " replied Fred, evidentlystruck with the Forester's earnestness. 

"You haven't any idea of how much there is in it. Not only for the workitself, but for you. Wild horses can't drag a man out of the Serviceonce he's got in. It has a fascination peculiarly its own. The eagerexpectancy of vast spaces, the thrill of adventure in riding off toparts where man seldom treads, and the magnificent independence of thefrontiersman, all these become the threads of which your daily life ismade. "

"It sounds fine when you put it that way, sir, " said Fred, his eyeskindling at the picture. "But it's hardly like that at first, is it?"

"Certainly it is! Does the life of a fireman in a big city firedepartment strike you as being interesting or exciting?"

"Oh, yes, sir!"

"It isn't to be compared with that of the Forest Guard. A city firemanis only one of a company huddled together in a little house, notgreatly busy until the fire telegraph signal rings. But suppose therewere only one fireman for the whole city, that he alone were responsiblefor the safety of every house, that instead of telegraphic signaling hemust depend on his trusty horse to carry him to suitable vantage points, and on his eyesight when there; suppose that he knew there was alikelihood of fire every hour out of the twenty-four, and that duringthe season he could be sure of two or three a week, don't you think thatfireman would have a lively enough time of it?"

"He surely would, " said Wilbur. 

"Aside from the fact that there are not as many people involved, that'snot unlike a Forest Guard's position. I tell you, he's not sittingaround his shack trying to kill time. " Then, turning sharply to theolder boy, the Chief Forester continued:

"What do you want to be?"

"I had wanted to be a locomotive engineer, sir, " was the boy's reply, "but now I think I'll stay in the city. "

"It was the excitement of the life that appealed to you, was it?"

"Yes, sir. I guess so. "

"True, there's a good deal of responsibility there, when you stand withyour hand on the throttle of a fast express, knowing that the lives ofthe passengers are in your hand. There's a good deal of pride, too, insteering a vessel through a dangerous channel or in a stormy sea;there's a thrill of power when you sight a big gun and know that if youwere in warfare the defense of your country might lie in your skill andaim. But none of these is greater than the sense of power and trustreposing in the men of the Forest Service, to whom Uncle Sam gives theguardianship and safe-keeping of millions of acres of his property andthe lives of thousands of his citizens. "

The Chief Forester watched the younger of his companions, who wasstriding along the Washington street, and casting rapid glances frombuilding to building as he went along, as though he expected to seeflame and smoke pouring from every window, and that the city's safetylay in his hands. Smiling slightly, very slightly, and addressinghimself to the older boy, although it was for the benefit of his newassistant that he was speaking, the Forester continued:

"It's really more like the work of a trusted army scout than anythingelse. In the old days of Indian warfare, "--both boys gave a quick startof increased attention--"the very finest men and the most to be trustedwere the scouts. They were men of great bravery, of undaunted loyalty, of great wariness, and filled with the spirit of dashing adventure. Theywere men who took their lives in their own hands. Going before the mainbody of the army, single-handed, if need be, they would stave off theattacks of Indian foes and would do battle with outposts and pickets. Ifthe force were too great, they would map out the lay of the land anddevise a strategical plan of attack, then, without rest or food often, would steal back to the main body, and, laying their information in thehands of the general, would act as guides if he ordered a forwardmovement. "

"But how--" interrupted Fred. 

"I was just coming to that, " replied the Forester in response to hishalf-uttered query. "A Forest Guard is really a Forest Scout. There havebeen greater massacres at the hands of the Fire Tribe than from anyIndian tribe that ever roamed the prairies. Hundreds, yes, thousands oflives were lost in the days before the Forest Service was in existenceby fires which Forest Scouts largely could have prevented. Why, I myselfcan recall seeing a fire in which nearly a thousand and a half personsperished. "

"In one fire?"

"Just in one fire. What would you think if you were told that in aforest in front of you were several thousand savages, all with theirwar-paint on, waiting a chance to break forth on the villages of theplain, that you had been chosen for the post of honor in guarding thatstrip of plain, and that the lives of those near by depended on youralertness? If they had picked you out for that difficult and importantpost, do you think that you would go and stand your rifle up against atree and look for some soft nice mossy bank on which to lie down and goto sleep?"

"I'd stay on the job till I dropped, " answered Wilbur quickly andaggressively. 

"There's really very little difference between the two positions, " saidthe Chief Forester. "No band of painted savages can break forth from aforest with more appalling fury than can a fire, none is more difficultto resist, none can carry the possibility of torture to its haplessvictims more cruelly, none be so deaf to cries of mercy as a fire. Instead of keeping your ears open for a distant war-whoop, you have tokeep your eyes open for the thin up-wreathing curl of smoke by day, orthe red glow and flickering flame at night, which tells that the timehas come for you to show what stuff you are made of. On the instant mustyou start for the fire, though it may be miles away, crossing, it maybe, a part of the forest through which no trail has been made, plungingthrough streams which under less urgency would make you hesitate to trythem, single-handed and 'all on your own, ' to fight Uncle Sam's battlesagainst his most dangerous and most insistent foe. "

"But if you can't put it out?" suggested Fred. 

"It has got to be put out, " came the sharp reply, with an insistence ofmanner that told even more than the words. "There isn't anything else toit. If you have to get back to headquarters or send word there, if allthe Rangers in the forest have to be summoned, if you have to ride toevery settlement, ranch, and shack on the range, yes, if you have torouse up half the State, this one thing is sure--the fire has got to beput out. "

"But can you get help?"

"Nearly always. In the first place, the danger is mutual and everybodynear the forest or in it will suffer if the fire spreads. In thesecond place, the Service is ready to pay men a fair wage for the timeconsumed in putting out a fire, and even the Ranger has the right toemploy men to a limited extent. Sometimes the blaze can be stoppedwithout great difficulty, at other times it will require all theresources available under the direction of the Forest Supervisor, but inthe first resort it depends largely upon the Guard. A young fellow whois careless in such a post as that is as great a traitor to his countryas a soldier would be who sold to the enemy the plans of the fort he wasdefending, or a sailor who left the wheel while a battle-ship wasthreading a narrow and rocky channel. "

"What starts these forest fires, sir?" asked Fred. 

"All sorts of things, but most of them arise from one commoncause--carelessness. There are quite a number of instances in whichfires have been started by lightning, but they are few in number ascompared with those due to human agency. The old tale of fires beingcaused by two branches of a dead tree rubbing against each other is, ofcourse, a fable. "

"But I should think any one would know enough not to start a forestfire, " exclaimed the older boy. "I'm not much on the woods, but I thinkI know enough for that. "

"It isn't deliberate, it's careless, " repeated the Forester. "Sometimesa camper leaves a little fire smoldering when he thinks the last sparkis out; sometimes settlers who have to burn over their clearings allowthe blaze to get away from them; when Indians are in the neighborhoodthey receive a large share of the blame, and the hated tramp is alwaysquoted as a factor of mischief. In earlier days, sparks from locomotiveswere a constant danger, and although the railroad companies use a greatmany precautions now to which formerly they paid no heed, these sparksand cinders are still a prolific cause of trouble. And beside thiscarelessness, there is a good deal of inattention and neglect. Thesettlers will let a little fire burn for days unheeded, waiting for arain to come along and put it out, whereas if a drought ensues and ahigh wind comes up, a fire may arise that will leap through the forestand leave them homeless, and possibly even their own lives may have topay the penalty of their recklessness. "

"But what I don't understand, " said Fred, "is how people get caught. It's easy enough to see how a forest could be destroyed, but I shouldthink that every one could get out of the way easily enough. It musttake a tree a long while to burn, even after it gets alight, especiallyif it's a big one. "

"A big forest fire, fanned by a high wind, and in the dry season, "answered the Chief Forester, "could catch the fastest runner in a fewminutes. The flames repeatedly have been known to overtake horses on thegallop, and where there are no other means of escape the peril isextreme. "

"But will green trees burn so fast?" the older boy queried in surprise. "I should have thought they were so full of sap that they wouldn't burnat all. "

"The wood and foliage of coniferous trees like spruce, fir, and pine areso full of turpentine and resin that they burn like tinder. The heat isalmost beyond the power of words to express. The fire does not seem toburn in a steady manner, the flames just breathe upon an immense treeand it becomes a blackened skeleton which will burn for hours. 

"The actual temperature in advance of the fire is so terrific that thewoods begin to dry and to release inflammable vapors before the flamesreach them, when they flash up and add their force to the fieryhurricane. It is almost unbelievable, too, the way a crown-fire willjump. Huge masses of burning gas will be hurled forth on the wind andignite the trees two and three hundred yards distant. Fortunately, firesof this type are not common, most of the blazes one is likely toencounter being ground fires, which are principally harmful in that theydestroy the forest floor. "

"But I should have thought, " said Wilbur, "that such fires could onlyget a strong hold in isolated parts where nobody lives. "

"Not at all. Sometimes they begin quite close to the settlements, likethe destructive fire at Hinckley, Minnesota, in 1894, which burnedquietly for a week, and could have been put out by a couple of menwithout any trouble; but sometimes they start in the far recesses of theforest and reach their full fury very quickly. Of course, every fire, even the famous Peshtigo fire, started as a little bit of a blaze whicheither of you two boys could have put out. "

"How big a fire was that, sir?" asked Fred. 

"It covered an area of over two thousand square miles. "

"Great Cæsar!" ejaculated Wilbur after a rapid calculation, "that wouldbe a strip twenty miles wide and a hundred miles long. "

The Chief Forester nodded. 

"It wiped the town of Peshtigo entirely off the map, " he said. "Thepeople were hemmed in, ringed by fire on every side, and out of apopulation of two thousand, scarcely five hundred escaped. Flight washopeless and rescue impossible. "

"And could this have been stopped after it got a hold at all?" askedWilbur seriously, realizing the gravity of the conditions that some dayhe might have to face. "Could not something have been done?"

"It could have been prevented, " said the Chief Forester fiercely, "andas I said, in the first few hours either one of you boys could have putit out. But there have been many others like it since, and probablythere will be many others yet to come. Even now, there are hundreds oftowns and villages near forest lands utterly unprovided with adequatefire protection. Some of them are near our national forests, and it isour business to see that no danger comes to them. [1] Think of a firelike that of Peshtigo, think that if it had been stopped at the verybeginning a thousand and a half lives would have been saved, and thenask yourself whether the work of a Forest Guard is not just about asfine a thing as any young fellow can do. "

[Footnote 1: While this volume was in the press, forest fires of theutmost violence broke out in Idaho, Washington, and Montana. Over twohundred lives were lost, many of them of members of the Forest Service, and hundreds of thousands of acres of timber were destroyed. ]

Wilbur turned impulsively to his chum. 

"You'll just have to join us, Fred, " he said. "I don't see how any onethat knows anything about it can keep out. You could go to a forestryschool this summer and start right in to get ready for it. "

"I'll think about it, " said the older boy. 

The Chief Forester was greatly pleased with the lad's eagerness toenroll his friend, and, turning to him, continued:

"I don't want you to think it's all fire-fighting in the forest, though, Loyle; so I'll give you an idea of some of the other opportunities whichwill come your way in forest work. I suppose both of you boys hate abully? I know I used to when I was at school. "

"I think, " said Wilbur impetuously, "that a bully's just about the worstever. "

"I do, too, " joined in Fred. 

"Well, you'll have a chance to put down a lot of bullying. You looksurprised, eh? You don't see what bullying has to do with forestry? Ithas, a great deal, and I'll show you how. I suppose you know that aforest is a good deal like a school?"

"Well, no, " admitted Wilbur frankly, "I don't quite see how. "

"A forest is made up of a lot of different kind of trees, isn't it, justas a school is made up of a lot of boys? And each of these trees has anindividuality, just in the same way that each boy has an individuality. That, of course, is easy to see. But what is more important, and muchless known, is that just as the school as a whole gets to have a certainstandard, so does the forest as a whole. "

"That seems queer, " remarked Fred. 

"Perhaps it does, but it's true none the less. In many schools there aresome boys bigger than others, but who are not good for as much, andthey're always picking at the others and crowding them down. In thesame way in a forest there are always some worthless trees, trying tocrowd out the ones which are of more value. As the trees of better valueare always sought for their timber, that gives the worthless stuff agood chance to get ahead. One of the duties of a Forester, looking afterhis section of the forest, is to see that every possible chance is givento the good over the bad. "

"It's really like having people to deal with!" cried Fred in surprise. "It sounds as if a tree were some kind of a human being. "

"There are lots of people, " said the Chief Forester, "who think of treesand speak of trees just exactly as if they were people like themselves. And it isn't even only the growing of the right kind of trees, but thereare lots of ways of handling them under different conditions and atdifferent ages. Thus, a Forester must be able to make his trees grow inheight up to a certain stage, then stop their further growth upwards andmake them put on diameter. "

"But how can you get a tree to grow in a certain way?" asked Fred inutter amazement. 

"Get Loyle here to tell you all about it. I suppose you learned that atthe Ranger School, didn't you?" he added, turning to the younger boy. 

"Yes, sir. We had a very interesting course in silviculture. "

"But just to give you a rough idea, Fred, " continued the Forester, "youknow that some trees need a lot of light. Consequently, if a number ofyoung trees are left fairly close together, they will all grow upstraight as fast as they can, without putting out any branches near thebottom, and all their growth will be of height. "

"See, Fred, " interjected Wilbur, "that's why saplings haven't got anytwigs except just at the top. "

"Just so, " said the Forester. "Presently, " he continued, "as these youngtrees grow up together, one will overtop the rest. If the adjacent smalltrees be cut down when this tallest tree has reached a good height, itwill spread at the top in order to get as much sunlight as possible. Inorder to carry a large top the diameter of the trunk must increase. So, by starting the trees close together and allowing one of them to developalone after a certain height has been reached, the Forester haspersuaded that tree first to grow straight and high, and then todevelop girth, affording the finest and most valuable kind of lumber. That's just one small example of the scores of possibilities that lie inthe hands of the expert Forester. By proper handling a forest can bemade to respond to training, as I said, just as a school might do. "

"I can tell you a lot more things, Fred, just as wonderful as that, "commented Wilbur. 

The Chief Forester nodded. 

"I'd like to hear you myself, " he said; "I'd rather listen to somethingabout trees than eat. But I've got to go now. I'll see you again soon, Loyle, " and with a parting good wish to both boys, he crossed the streetand went on his way. 

[Illustration: A FOREST FIRE OUT OF CONTROL. 

Conditions which tax man's resources to the uttermost, and where perilis the price of victory. 

_Courtesy of U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: GOOD FORESTRY MANAGEMENT. 

All the smaller wood is used for cord-wood, the brush is in piles readyfor burning, and the young trees are left to grow up into a new forest. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: BAD FORESTRY MANAGEMENT. 

Forest cut clear and burned over, all the young growth destroyed, andnothing left except costly replanting. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER II

PUTTING A STOP TO GUN-PLAY

Wilbur was sitting in the writing-room of the hotel where he was stayingwhile in Washington, just finishing a letter home telling of hisgood-fortune and his appointment, when a bell-boy came to tell him thathis uncle, Mr. Masseth, was downstairs waiting to see him. This unclehad been a great inspiration to Wilbur, for he was prominent in theGeological Survey, and had done some wonderful work in the Canyon of theColorado. Wilbur hurried down at once. 

"Congratulations!" the geologist said, as soon as the boy appeared. "Soyou came through with flying colors, I hear. "

"Every one was just as fine as could be, " answered the lad. "But how didyou know about it, uncle?"

"You wrote me that you were going to call on the Chief Forester to-day, and so I took the trouble to telephone to one of the men in the officewho would be likely to know the result of your interview. "

"Isn't it bully?"

"Yes, " said the older man with a quiet laugh, "I think it is 'bully, ' asyou call it. But I didn't call only to congratulate you; I thoughtperhaps you would like to come with me to-night and meet some of the menin the Forest Service who are really doing things out West. If you do, there's no time to waste. "

"You bet I do, " the boy replied hastily. "But what is it all about?"

"It's a lecture on forestry in China, but it happens to come at the sametime as a meeting of the District Foresters, so they're all in town. Trot along upstairs and get your hat, and we can talk about it on theway. "

The geologist sauntered over to an acquaintance who was standing in thehotel lobby near by, but he had hardly exchanged half a dozen sentenceswith him when Wilbur reappeared, ready to go. 

"You see, " said Masseth as they left the hotel, "it is a good plan foryou to meet as many of the leaders of your profession as you can, notonly because their friendship may be useful to you, nor yet only becausethey are all pleasant fellows, but because forestry is a profession, avery large and complex one, and it is a revelation sometimes to see whatcan be made of it. I know myself, whenever I meet a great geologist Ialways feel a little better to think I can say, 'I am a geologist, too. 'So you, I hope, may be able to say some day, 'I am a Forester, too. '"

"I'm one now, " said Wilbur elatedly. 

"You're not, you're only a cub yet, " corrected his uncle sharply; "don'tlet your enthusiasm run away with your good sense. You are no more aForester yet than a railroad bill-clerk is a transportation expert. "

"All right, uncle, " said Wilbur, "I'll swallow my medicine and take thatall back. I'm not even the ghost of a Forester--yet. "

"You will meet the real article to-night. As I told you, the DistrictForesters are East for a conference, and this lecture is given beforethe Forestry Association. So you will have a good chance of sizing upthe sort of men you are likely to be with. "

"Will the Forest Supervisors be there, too?"

"I should imagine not. There may be one or two in town. But theSupervisors alone would make quite a gathering if they were all here. There are over a hundred, are there not? You ought to know. "

"Just a hundred and forty-one now--about one to each forest. "

"And there are only six District Foresters?"

"Yes. One is in Montana, one in Colorado, one in New Mexico, one inUtah, one in California, and one in Oregon. And they have under theircharge, so I learned to-day, nearly two hundred million acres of land, or, in other words, territory larger than the whole state of Texas andfive times as large as England and Wales. "

"I had forgotten the figures, " said the geologist. "That gives eachDistrict Forester a little piece of land about the size of England tolook after. And they can tell you, most of them, on almost every squaremile of that region, approximately how much marketable standing timbermay be found there, what kinds of trees are most abundant, and in whatproportion, and roughly, how many feet of lumber can be cut to the acre. It's always been wonderful to me. That sort of thing takes learning, though, and you've got to dig, Wilbur, if you want to be a DistrictForester some day. "

"I'm going to get there some day, all right. "

"If you try hard enough, you may. By the way, there's one of them goingin now. That's the house, on the other side of the Circle. "

The boy looked across the curve and scanned all the men going in thesame direction, quite with a feeling of companionship. One of the menwho overtook and passed them, giving a hearty greeting to Masseth as hewent by, was Roger Doughty, a young fellow who had distinguished himselfin the Geological Survey, having taken a trip from south to north ofAlaska, and Wilbur's companion felt a twinge of regret that his nephewhad not entered his own service. 

Wilbur, however, was always a "woods" boy, and even in his earlychildish days had been possessed with a desire to camp out. He had readevery book he could lay hands on that dealt with "the great outdoors, "and would ten thousand times over rather have been Daniel Boone thanGeorge Washington. Seeing his intense pleasure in that life, his fatherhad always allowed him to go off into the wilds for his holidays, and inconsequence he knew many little tricks of woodcraft and how to makehimself comfortable when the weather was bad. His father, who was alawyer, had wanted him to enter that profession, but Wilbur had been sosure of his own mind, and was so persistent that at his request he hadbeen permitted to go to the Colorado Ranger School. From this he hadreturned even more enthusiastic than before, and Masseth, seeing that bytemperament Wilbur was especially fitted for the Forest Service, hadurged the boy's father to allow him to enter for it, and did not attemptto conceal his satisfaction with Wilbur's success. 

"Why, Masseth, how did you get hold of Loyle?" asked the Chief Foresteras the two came up the walk together. 

"Didn't you know he was my nephew?" was the surprised reply. 

"No, " answered their host as they paused on the threshold, "he neversaid anything to me about it. "

The geologist looked inquiringly at his young relative. 

"I thought, " said Wilbur, coloring, "that if I said anything aboutknowing you, before I was appointed, it would look as though I had doneit to get a pull. I didn't think it would do me any good, anyhow; andeven if it had, I felt that I'd rather not get anything that way. "

"It wouldn't have helped you a bit, " said the Chief Forester, "and, asyou see, you did not need it. I'm glad, too, that you did not mention itat the time. " He nodded his appreciation of the boy's position as theypassed into the room beyond. 

The place was thoroughly typical of the gathering and the occasion. Thewalls were hung with some magnificent trophies, elk and moose heads, onestuffed fish of huge size was framed beside the door, and there werenumberless photographs of trees and forests, cross-sections of woods, and comparisons of leaves and seeds. Although in the heart ofWashington, there was a breath and fragrance in the room, which, to theboy, seemed like old times in the woods. The men, too, that weregathered there showed themselves to be what they were--men who knew thegreat wide world and loved it. Every man seemed hearty in manner andthoroughly interested in whatever was going on. 

Masseth was called away, soon after they entered the room, and Wilbur, left to himself, sauntered about among the groups of talkers, looking atthe various trophies hung on the walls. As he drew near to one of thesmaller groups, however, he caught the word "gun-play, " so he edged upto the men and listened. One of them, seeing the lad, moved slightly toone side as an unspoken invitation to be one of them, and Wilbur steppedup. 

The man who was speaking was comparing the present peacefuladministration of the forests with the conditions that used to existyears ago, before the Service had been established, and when the Western"bad man" was at the summit of his power. 

"It was during the cattle and sheep war that a fellow had to be prettyquick on the draw, " said one. 

"The Service had a good enough man for that, all right, " suggestedanother member of the same group, "there wasn't any of them who couldpull a bead quicker than our grazing Chief yonder. " Wilbur turned andsaw crossing the room a quiet-looking, spare man, light-complexioned, and apparently entirely inoffensive. "I guess they were ready enough togive him a wide berth when it came to gun-play. "

"Talking about the cattle war, " said the first speaker, "the worsttrouble I ever had, or rather, the one that I hated to go into most, wasback in those days. I was on the old Plum Creek Timber Land Reserve, now a portion of the Pike National Forest. A timber trespass sometimesleads to a very pretty scrap, and a cattle mix-up usually spells 'War'with a capital 'W, ' but this had both. "

"You get them that way sometimes, " said a middle-aged, red-headed man, who was standing by. 

"Had some down your way, too, I reckon?"

"Plenty of 'em. But go ahead with the yarn. "

"Well, this bunch that I'm speaking of had skipped out from Montana;they were 'wanted' there, and they had come down and started cuttingrailroad ties in a secluded canyon forming one of the branches of WestPlum Creek. They were hated good and plenty, these same tie-cutters, because they had a reputation of being too handy with their guns, andconsequently causing a decrease in the calf crop. The cattlemen used todrop in on them every once in a while, but the tie-cutters were foxy, and they were never caught with the goods. Of course, there was a moralcertainty that they weren't buying meat, but nothing could be provedagainst them, and the interchanges of compliments, while lively andpicturesque enough, never took the form of lead, although it wasexpected every time they met. "

"Had this been going on long?"

"Several months, I reckon, " answered the former Ranger, "before I heardof it. This was just before that section of the country was taken overby the Forest Service. As soon as notice was given that the district inquestion was to be placed under government regulations, a deputation tothe tie-cutters loped down on their cow-ponies to convey the cheerfulnews. Expressing, of course, the profoundest sympathy for them, thespokesman of the cattle group volunteered the information that theycould wrap up their axes in tissue paper, tie pink ribbons on theirrifles and go home, because any one caught cutting timber on thereserve, now that it was a reserve, would go to the Pen for fifteenyears. "

"What a bluff!"

"Bluff it certainly was. It didn't work, either. One of the tie-cuttersin reply suggested that the cowmen should go back and devote their timeto buying Navajo saddle-blankets and silver-mounted sombreros, sinceornamenting the landscape was all they had to do in life; anotherreplied that if a government inspector ever set eyes on their cattlehe'd drive them off the range as a disgrace to the State; and a thirdcapped the replies with the terse answer that no ten United Statesofficers and no hundred and ten cattlemen could take them out alive. "

"That wouldn't make the cow-camp feel happy a whole lot, " remarked thered-headed man. 

"There wasn't any shooting, though, as I said before, though just how itkept off I never rightly could understand. At all events they fixed itso that we heard of it in a hurry. Then both sides awaited developments. The tie-cutters kept their hands off the cattle for a while, and thecowmen had no special business with railroad ties, so that, aside fromsnorting at each other, no special harm was done. 

"But, of course, the timber trespass question had to be investigated, and the Supervisor, who was then located at Colorado Springs, arrangedto make the trip with me to the tie-cutters' camp from a small stationabout fifty miles north of the Springs. I met him at the station asprearranged. We were just about to start when a telegram was handed himcalling him to another part of the forest in a hurry. "

"Tough luck, " said one of the listeners. 

"It surely was--for me, " commented the narrator. "The camp to which wehad intended going was twenty-six miles into the mountains, and going upthere alone didn't appeal to me a little bit. However, the Supervisortold me to start right out, to get an idea of how much timber had beencut, and in what kind of shape the ground had been left, and in short, to 'nose around a little, ' as he put it himself. "

"That was hardly playing the game, sending you up there alone, " said oneof the men. 

"I thought at the time that it wasn't, but what could he do? The matterhad to be investigated, and he had been sent for and couldn't come withme. But he was considerate enough, strongly urging me not to get killed, 'as Rangers were scarce. '"

"That was considerate!"

"Yes, wasn't it? But early the next morning I started for the canyonwhere the outlaws were said to be in hiding. The riding was fair, so Imade good time on the trail and got to the entrance of the canyon aboutthe middle of the day. A few hundred feet from the fork of the stream Icame to a little log cabin, occupied by a miner and his family. I tooklunch with them and told them my errand. Both the man and his wifebegged me not to go up to the camp alone, as they had heard thetie-cutters threaten to kill at sight any stranger found on their land. "

"Why didn't you propose that the miner should go up to the camp withyou?"

"I did. But he remarked that up to date he had succeeded in keeping outof the cattlemen-lumbermen trouble, and that he was going to keep rightalong keeping out. He suggested that if there was going to be anyfuneral in the immediate vicinity he wasn't hankering to take any moreprominent part than that of a mourner, and that the title-rôle of such aperformance wasn't any matter of envy with him. However, I succeeded inpersuading him to come part of the way with me, and secured his promisethat he would listen for any shooting, and if I should happen to resigninvoluntarily from the Service by the argument of a bullet, that hewould volunteer as a witness in the case. "

"I don't altogether blame him, you know, " said the red-headed man; "yousaid he had a wife there, and interfering with other folks' doings isn'thealthy. "

"I didn't blame him either, " said the first speaker, "but I would haveliked to have him along. A little farther up the canyon I came to arecently built log cabin, covered with earth. An old man stood at thedoor and I greeted him cheerily. We had a moment's chat, and then Iasked him the way to the cabin where the tie-cutters lived. Judge of mysurprise when he told me this was their cabin, and that they lived withhim. By the time I had secured this much information the two younger menhad come out, and one of them, Tom, wanted to know what I was after. Istated my business, briefly. There was a pause. 

"'Ye 'low as ye're agoin' to jedge them ties, ' he said slowly. 'Wa'al I'low we'll sort 'er go along. Thar's a heap o' fow-el in these yarparts, stranger, an' I 'low I'll take a gun. '

"The other brother, who seemed more taciturn, turned and nodded to twoyoungsters who had come out of the cabin while Tom was speaking. Theelder of the two, a boy about thirteen years old, went into the shackand returned in a moment bringing out two rifles. I turned the broncho'shead up the trail, but Tom interposed. 

"'I 'low, ' he said, 'that ye'll hev ter leave yer horse-critter righthyar; thar ain't much of er trail up the mount'n. '

"I wasn't particularly anxious to get separated from my horse, and thatcabin was just about the last place I would have chosen to leave him;but there was no help for it, and as I would have to dismount anyway toget into the timber, I slipped out of the saddle and put the hobbles on. But when we came to start, the two men wanted me to go first. I balkedat that. I told them that I wasn't in the habit of walking up a mountaintrail in front of two men with guns, and that they would have to gofirst and show the way. They grumbled, but, seeing that I meant it, theyturned and silently walked up the mountainside ahead of me. 

"They stopped at an old prospect shaft that was filled to the brim withwater, and wanted me to come close to the hole and look at it, tellingme some cock-and-bull story about it, and calling my attention to somesupposed outcrop of rich ore that could be seen under the water. But Irefused flatly to go a step nearer than I then was, telling them that Iwished to get to those ties immediately. 

"At an old cabin they halted again, and Tom wanted to know which was'the best shot in the bunch. ' I was not in favor of trying guns oranything of that sort, especially when there seemed no reason for it, knowing how easy it would be for a shot to go wide, and so I urged themto lead on to the ties. But Tom insisted upon shooting, and though hisbrother did not seem quite to follow the other's plans, still he chimedin with him, and the only thing I could do was to agree with what graceI could. But I decided to make this a pretext for disposing of some oftheir superfluous ammunition. 

"Pulling my six-shooter, I told Jim to put an old sardine can, that waslying on the ground near by, on the stump of a tree about twenty-five orthirty yards distant. Then I told him to lean his rifle against thecabin while placing the can on the tree. This he did. I stepped over tothe cabin and took the gun as though to look after it. Then I walkedover to where Tom stood, telling him to blaze away at the can on thetree. While he was doing so I slipped the cartridges out of Jim's gunand put them in my pocket. 

"By the time that Tom had fired three shots Jim came up and I told theformer to hand over the rifle and let his brother try. Quite readily hedid so. Of course, there were only two cartridges left in the gun, forit was a half-magazine, but Jim expected to take the third shot with hisown rifle. When he had fired twice, however, and reached out his handfor the other gun, I handed it to him with the remark that it was empty. For a minute or two things looked black, because both men saw that theyhad been tricked. But I had the drop on them, and since they were bothdisarmed I felt considerably easier. "

"How did it end up?" asked the red-haired listener. 

"It was easy enough after that, as long as I didn't turn my back to themor let either get too near. We went together and counted the ties, returning to the cabin where I had left my horse. When the tie-cuttersfound, however, that the cattlemen had deliberately exaggerated thepenalty for timber trespass in the hope that they would resist and thusget themselves into serious trouble with the government, their anger wasdiverted from me. By joining in with them in a sweeping denunciation ofthe cow-camp, and by pointing out that no harsh measures were intendedagainst them, they came to look on me as friend instead of foe. "

"What was done about the trespass?"

"It was pretty early in the days of the Service, and, as you remember, we let them down easily at first so that no undue amount of frictionshould be caused. I think some small fine, purely nominal, was exacted, and the tie-cutters got into harmonious relations with the Supervisorlater. But those same boys told me, just as I was starting for home, that they intended to drop me in that old prospect shaft, or, failingthat, to pump me full of holes. "

The speaker had hardly finished when a scattering of groups and anunfolding of chairs took place and the lecturer for the evening wasannounced. He won Wilbur's heart at once by an appreciative story of ayoung Chinese boy, a civil service student in his native province, whohad accompanied him on a portion of his trip through China in order tolearn what might be done toward the improvement of his country. 

"He was a bright lad, this Fo-Ho, " said the lecturer, "and it was verylargely owing to him that I extended my trip a little and went toFou-Ping. I visited Fo-Ho's family home, where the graves of hisancestors were--you know how powerful ancestor-worship still is inChina. Such a scene of desolation I never saw, and, I tell you, I wassorry for the boy. There was the town that had been his father's homedeserted and in ruins. 

"Two hundred years before, in this same place now so thickly strewn withruins, there had been no one living, and the mountains were accountedimpassable because of the dense forests. But in 1708 a Mongol hordeunder a powerful chieftain settled in the valley, and the timber beganto be cut recklessly. Attracted by the fame of this chieftain, othertribes poured down into these valleys, until by 1720 several hundredthousand persons were living where thirty years before not a soul was tobe seen. The cold winters of Mongolia drew heavily upon the fuelresources of the adjacent forests, and a disastrous fire strippedhundreds of square miles. Farther and farther afield the inhabitants hadto go for fuel, until every stick which would burn had been swept clear;bleaker and more barren grew the vicinity, until at last the tribes hadto decamp, and what was once a dense forest and next a smiling valleyhas become a hideous desert which even the vultures have forsaken. "

Masseth leaned over toward Wilbur and whispered:

"You don't have to go as far away as China. There are some terriblecases of deforestation right here in the United States. "

The lecturer then launched into a description of the once great forestsof China, and quoted the words of writers less than three centuries agowho depicted the great Buddhist monasteries hid deep in the heart ofdensely wooded regions. Then, with this realization of heavily forestedareas in mind, there was flashed upon the screen picture after pictureof desolation. Cities, once prosperous, were shown abandoned because themountains near by had become deforested. Man could not live therebecause food could not grow without soil, and all the soil had beenwashed away from the slopes. The streams, once navigable, were choked upwith the silt that had washed down. When rains came they acted astorrents, since there was no vegetation to hold the water and the lowerlevels became flooded. 

"Nature made the world a garden, " said the speaker, "and man is makingit a desert. Our children and our children's children for countlessgenerations are to enjoy the gardens we leave, or bewail the desertswe create. "

Startling, too, was the manner in which the lecturer showed the unhappyfate of countries which an unthinking civilization had despoiled. Thehills and valleys where grew the famous cedars of Lebanon are almosttreeless now, and Palestine, once so luxuriant, is bare and lonely. Great cities flourished upon the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates wherewere the hanging gardens of Babylon and the great hunting parks ofNineveh, yet now the river runs silently between muddy banks, infertileand deserted, save for a passing nomad tribe. The woods of ancientGreece are not less ruined than her temples; the forests of Dalmatiawhence came the timber that built the navies of the ancient world arenow barren plateaus, shelterless and waste; and throughout a large partof southern Europe and northern Africa, man has transformed the smile ofnature into a mask of inflexible severity. 

"But, " said Wilbur, turning excitedly to his uncle, as soon as thelecturer had closed, "isn't there anything that can be done to makethose places what they were before?"

"Not often, if it is allowed to go too far, " said the geologist. "Ittakes time, of course, for all the soil to be washed away. But whereverthe naked rock is exposed the case is hopeless. You can't grow anything, even cactus, on a rock. Lichens, of course, may begin, but hundreds ofthousands of years are required to make soil anew. "

"But if it's taken in time?"

"Then you can reforest by planting. But that's slow and costly. Itrequires millions of dollars to replant a stretch of forest which wouldhave renewed itself just by a little careful lumbering, for Nature isonly too ready to do the work for nothing if given a fair chance. "

By this time the gathering had broken up in large part and a number ofthose who had come only to hear the lecture had gone. Some of the ForestService men, however, were passing through the corridors to thedining-room. At the door Wilbur paused hesitatingly. He had not beeninvited to stay, but at the same time he felt that he could hardly leavewithout thanking his uncle, who at the time was strolling toward theother portion of the house, deeply engrossed in conversation. In thisquandary the Chief Forester, all unknown to the lad, saw hisembarrassment, and with the quick intuition so characteristic of theman, divined the cause. 

"Come along, Loyle, come along in, " he said, "you're one of us now. "

Wilbur, with a grateful look, passed on into the reception-room. Amoment later he heard his name called, and, turning, came face to facewith a tall young fellow, bronzed and decisive looking. 

"My name's Nally, " he said, "and I hear you're going to one of myforests. Mr. Masseth was telling me that you're his nephew. I guesswe'll start right in by having our first feed together. This is hardlycamping out, " he added, looking around the well-appointed and handsomeroom, "but the grub shows that it's the Service all right. "

The District Forester motioned to the table which was heaped with dozensupon dozens of baked apples, flanked by several tall pitchers of milk. 

"There you have it, " he continued, "back to nature and the simple life. It's all right to go through a Ranger School and to satisfy the powersthat be about your fitness, but that isn't really getting to the insideof the matter. It's when you feel that you've had the chance to comeright in and take the regular prescribed ritual of a baked apple and aglass of milk in the house of the Chief Forester that you can feelyou're the real thing in the Service. "

[Illustration: THE TIE-CUTTERS' BOYS. 

Two young members of the outlaw gang which defied the cattle man andthreatened the Forest Service. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: DEFORESTED AND WASHED AWAY. 

Example of laborious artificial terracing in China to save the littlesoil remaining. 

_Courtesy of U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: AS BAD AS ANYTHING IN CHINA. 

Final results of deforestation in Tennessee, due to cutting and to fumesfrom a copper smelter. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER III

THE FIGHT IN THE COULEE

When, a few days later, Wilbur found himself standing on the platform ofthe little station at Sumber, with the cactus-clad Mohave desert abouthim and the slopes of the Sierra Nevada beyond, he first truly realizedthat his new life was beginning. His journey out from Washington hadbeen full of interest because the District Forester had accompanied himthe greater part of the way, and had taken the opportunity to explainhow varied were the conditions that he would find in the Sequoia forestto which he had been assigned. In large measure the District Forester'sespecial interest, Wilbur realized, was due to the fact that Masseth hadtold him of the boy's intention to go to college and thence through theYale Forestry School, having had beforehand training as Guard, andpossibly later as Ranger. 

But, as the train pulled out of the station, and Wilbur looked over thesage-brush and sparse grass, seeming to dance under the shimmeringheat-waves of the afternoon sun, he suddenly became conscious that theworld seemed very large and that everything he knew was very far away. The strange sense of doubt as to whether he were really himself, acurious feeling that the desert often induces, swept over him, and hewas only too ready to enter into conversation when a small, wiry man, with black hair and quick, alert eyes, came up to him with the rollingwalk that betokens a life spent in the saddle, and said easily:

"Howdy, pard!"

The boy returned a friendly "Good-afternoon, " and waited for thestranger to continue. 

"She looks some as if you was the whole pack on this deal, " was the nextremark. 

"Well, " replied Wilbur, looking at him quizzically, "I wasn't consciousof being crowded here. "

The range-rider followed the boy's glance around the immediateneighborhood, noting the station agent and the two or three figures infront of the general store, who formed the sum of the visiblepopulation, and nodded. 

"Bein' the star performer, then, " he went on, "it might be a safe betthat you was sort of prospectin' for the Double Bar J. "

"That was the name of the ranch, " said the boy. "I was told to go thereand get a couple of ponies. "

"An' how was you figurin' on gettin' to the ranch? Walkin'?"

"Not if I could help it. And that, " he added, pointing to the desert, "Ishould think would be mean stuff to walk on. "

"Mean she is, " commented Wilbur's new acquaintance, "but even s'posin'that you did scare up a pony, how did you dope it out that you would hitup the right trail? This here country is plumb tricky. And the trailsort of takes a nap every once in a while and forgets to show up. "

"I didn't expect to find my way alone, " said the boy. "If nobody hadbeen here, I'd have found somebody to show me--"

"Hold hard, " said the cowboy, interrupting, "till I look over thatlayout. If you hadn't ha' found anybody, you'd ha' found somebody?Shuffle 'em up a bit, pard, and try a new deal. "

"But, " continued Wilbur, not paying any attention to the interruption, "I fully expected that some one from the ranch would be here to meetme. "

"If all your conjectoors comes as near bein' accurate as that same, "said the other, "you c'd set up as a prophet and never call the turnwrong. Which I'm some attached to the ranch myself. "

"I thought you were, probably, " said Wilbur, "and I'm much obliged toyou, if you came to meet me. "

"That's all right! But if you're ready, maybe we'd better startinterviewin' the scenery on the trail. How about chuck?"

"Thanks, " said the boy, "I had dinner on the car. "

"An' you're thirsty none?"

"Not especially. But, " he added, not wishing to offend his companion, "if you are, go ahead. "

"Well, if you don't mind, " began the other, then he checked himself. "Iguess I c'n keep from dyin' of a cracked throat until we get there, " headded. "C'n you ride?"

"Yes!" said Wilbur decisively. 

The cowboy turned half round to look at him with a dubious smile. 

"You surely answers that a heap sudden, " he said. "An' I opine that'ssome risky as a general play. "

"Why?" asked the boy. 

"Bein' too sure in three-card Monte has been a most disappointin'experience to many a gent, an' has been most condoocive to transfers ofready cash. "

"But that's just guessing, " said Wilbur. "I'm talking of what I know. "

"Like enough you never heard about Quick-Finger Joe?" queried thecowboy. "Over-confidence hastens his exit quite some. "

"No, " answered Wilbur quickly, scenting a story, "I never even heard ofhim. Who was he?"

"This same Joe, " began the range-rider, "is a tow-haired specimen whosemanly form decorates the streets of this here metropolis of Sumber thatyou've been admirin'. He has the name of bein' the most agileproposition on a trigger that ever shot the spots off a ten o' clubs. Hemakes good his reputation a couple of times, and then gets severely leftalone. To him, one day, while he is standin' takin' a littlerefreshment, comes up a peaceful and inoffensive-lookin' stranger, whohas drifted into town promiscuous-like in the course of the afternoon. He addresses Joe some like this:

"'Which I hears with profound admiration that you're some frolicsomeand speedy on gun-play?'

"Joe, tryin' to hide his blushes, admits that his hand can amble for hiship right smart. Whereupon the amiable-appearin' gent makes some sort ofcomment, just what no one ever knew, but it seems tolerable superfluousan' sarcastic, an' instantaneous there's two shots. When the smokeclears away a little, Joe is observed to be occupyin' a horizontalposition on the floor and showin' a pronounced indisposition to move. The stranger casually remarks:

"'Gents, this round's on me. I shore hates to disturb your peacefulconverse on a balmy evenin' like this yere in a manner so abrupt an'sudden-like. But he had to get his, some time, an' somebody'smeditations would hev to be disturbed. This hyar varmint, gents, what isnow an unopposed candidate for a funeral pow-wow, was a little tooprevious with his gun agin my younger brother. It's a case of plainjustice, gents; my brother was without weapons, and he--' pointing tothe figure on the floor, 'he knew it. Line up, gents, and give it aname!'"

"What did they do to the stranger?" asked Wilbur eagerly, dividedbetween admiration of the quickness of the action and consternation atthe gravity of the result. 

"They compliments him some on the celerity of his shootin', and feels aheap relieved by Joe's perpetual absence. An' the moral o' this littletale is that you're hittin' a fast clip for trouble when you go aroundprompt and aggressive to announce your own virtoos. I'm not advancin'any criticism as to your shinin' talents in the way of ridin', pard, butyou haven't been long enough in this here vale of tears to be what youmight call experienced. "

"I've ridden a whole lot, " said Wilbur, who was touchy on the point andproud of his horsemanship, "and while I don't say that there isn't ahorse I can't ride, I can say that I've never seen one yet. I started into ride pretty nearly as soon as I started to walk. "

"I don't want to mar your confidence none, " replied the cowboy, "an' Ilikes a game sport who'll bet his hand to the limit, though I generallydrops my stake on the other side. But if some mornin' you sh'd find theground rearin' up and hittin' you mighty sudden, don't forget that Igave you a plain steer. Here's your cayuse. "

Wilbur had been a little disappointed that the cowboy should not haveshown up as ornamentally as he had expected, not wearing goatskin"chaps" or rattlesnake hatbands, and not even having a gorgeoussaddle-blanket on his pony, but the boy felt partly rewarded when he sawhim just put his toe in the stirrup and seem to float into the saddle. The pony commenced dancing about in the most erratic way, but Wilburnoted that his companion seemed entirely unaware that the horse was notstanding still, although his antics would have unseated any rider thatthe boy previously had seen. He was conscious, moreover, that his climbinto his own saddle was very different from that which he had witnessed, but he really was a good rider for a boy, and felt quite at home as soonas they broke into the loping canter of the cow-pony. 

"I understood, " said Wilbur as they rode along, "that I should meet theRanger at the ranch. His name was given to me as Rifle-Eye Bill, becauseI was told he had been a famous hunter before he joined the Service. Ithought at first you might be the Ranger, but he was described to me asbeing very tall. "

"Which he does look some like a Sahaura cactus on the Arizona deserts, "said the range-rider, "an' I surely favor him none. But that mistake ofyours naterally brings it to me that I haven't what you might sayintrodooced myself. Which my baptismal handle is more interestin' thanuseful, an' I lays it by. So I'll just hand you the title under which Iusually trots, bein' 'Bob-Cat Bob, ' ridin' for the Double Bar J. "

"Not having risen to any later title, " said Wilbur good-humoredly, "I'vegot to be satisfied with the one I started with. I'm generally calledWilbur. "

"Which is sure unfamiliar to me. I opine it's a new brand on the range. "He flourished his sombrero in salute, so that his pony bucked twice andthen tried to bolt. Wilbur watched and envied him the absolute ease withwhich he brought down the broncho to a quiet lope again. 

"I'm going to join the Forest Service, " the boy explained, knowing thataccording to the etiquette of the West no question would be asked abouthis business, but that he would be expected to volunteer some statement, "and my idea in coming to the ranch was to pick up a couple of horsesand go on to the forest with the Ranger. I understand the Supervisor, Mr. Merritt, is very busy with some timber sales, and I didn't knowwhether the Ranger would be able to get away. "

"I kind o' thought you might be headed for the Forest Service, since youwas goin' along with Rifle-Eye, " said the cowboy. "An' if you're goin'with him, you'll be all right. "

"The Service looks pretty good to me, " said Wilbur. 

"I've no kick comin' agin the National Forests, " said Bob-Cat, "we'vealways been treated white enough. Of course, there's always somesoreheads who want to stampede the range and gets peevish when they'rebalked, but I guess the Service is a good thing all round. It don'tappeal none to me, o' course. If I held all the cards, I'd rip downevery piece of barbed wire west of the Mississippi, let the sheepmen goto the ranges beside the canals o' Mars or some other ekally distantregion, an' git back to the good old days o' the Jones 'n' Plummertrail. But then, I sure enough realize that I'm not the only strikin'feature o' the landscape an' there's others that might have a say. "

"I guess the present way is the best in the long run at that, for all Ihear, " said Wilbur, "because every one now has a fair show. You can'thave cattle and sheep overrunning everywhere without absolutely ruiningthe forests. Especially sheep. They can destroy a forest and make it asthough it had never existed. "

"I'm huggin' love of sheep none, " said the cowboy, "an' my mental picterof the lower regions is a place what smells strong of sheep. But I suremiss my throw on any idee as to how they could do up a forest of bigtrees. "

"They do, just the same. "

"How? Open her up, pard, an' explain. I'm listenin' mighty attentive. "

"This way, " began the boy, remembering some of the talks he had heard atthe Ranger School. "When a dry year comes, if the sheep are allowed intothe forest, the grass, which is poor because of the dryness, soon getseaten down. Then the sheep begin to browse on the young shoots andseedlings, and even will eat the leaves off the young saplings that theycan reach, thus destroying all the baby trees and checking the growth ofthose that are a little more advanced. When this goes on for two orthree seasons all the young growth is gone. Since there are no saplings, no young shoots, and no seedlings, the forest never recovers, butbecomes more like a park with stretches of grass between clumps oftrees. Then, when these trees die, there are no others to take theirplace and the forest is at an end. "

"How about cattle?"

"They're not nearly as bad. Cattle won't eat leaves unless they have to. And they don't browse so close, nor pack down the ground as hard withtheir hoofs. If there's grass enough to go round, cattle won't injure aforest much, but, of course, the grazing has got to be restricted orelse the same sort of thing will happen that goes on when sheep are letin. "

"Never knew before, " said the boy's companion, "why I ought ter hatesheep. Jest naterally they're pizen to me, but I never rightly figuredout why I allers threw them in the discard. Now I know. There's a heapof satisfaction in that. It's like findin' that a man you sure disagreedwith in an argyment is a thunderin' sight more useful to the communitydead than he was alive. It don't alter your feelin's none, but it helpsout strong on the ensooin' explanations. "

"Are there many sheep out here?"

"There's a tidy few. But it's nothin' like Montana. You ought ter getRifle-Eye Bill to tell you of the old days o' the sheep an' cattlewar. The debates were considerable fervent an' plenty frequent, an' aWinchester or two made it seem emphatic a whole lot. "

"Was Rifle-Eye mixed up in it?"

"Which he's allers been a sort of Florence Nightingale of the Rockies, has old Rifle-Eye, " was the reply. "I don't mean in looks--but if afeller's shot up or hurt, or anythin' of that kind, it isn't long beforethe old hunter turns up, takes him to some shack near by and persuadessomebody to look after him till he gets around again. An' we've got alittle lady that rides a white mare in these here Sierras who's a sureenough angel. I don't want to know her pedigree, but when it comes toangels, she's It. An' when she an' Rifle-Eye hitches up to do theministerin' act, you'd better believe the job's done right. I neverheard but of one man that ever said 'No' to Rifle-Eye, no matter whatfool thing he asked. "

"How was that?" asked Wilbur. 

"It was the wind-up of one o' these here little differences of opinionon the sheep question, same as I've been tellin' you of. It happenedsomewhar up in Oregon, although I've forgotten the name o' the ranch. Rifle-Eye could tell you the story better'n I can, but he won't. It wassomethin' like this:

"There was a big coulee among the hills, an', one summer, when there'dbeen a prairie fire that wiped out a lot o' feed, a bunch o' cattle washeaded into this coulee. Three cowpunchers and a cook with the chuckwagon made up the gang. But this yar cook was one o' them fellers what'snot only been roped by bad luck, but hog-tied and branded good andplenty. He had been the boss of a ranch, a small one, but he'd fallenfoul o' the business end of a blizzard, an' he'd lost every blamed heado' cattle that he had. He lost his wife, too. "

"How did she come in on it?"

"It was this way. She heard, or thought she heard, some one callin'outside, a little ways from the house. She s'posed, o' course, that itwas the men who had tackled the storm in the hope o' savin' some o' thecattle, an' she ran out o' the door to give 'em an answerin' hail so asthey could git an idee as to the direction o' the house. But she hadn'tgone but a few steps when the wind caught her--leastways, that was howthey figured it out afterwards--and blew her along a hundred feet or sobefore she could catch breath, and then she stumbled and fell. She gotup, sort o' dazed, most like, and tried to run back to the shack. But inthe blindin' snow nothin' o' the house could be seen, an' though shetried to fight up in that direction against the wind, she must have gonepast it a little distance to the left. They didn't find her until twodays after when the blizzard had blown itself out, an' there she was, stone dead, not more than a half a mile away from the house. 

"The boss was near crazy when they found her, an' he never was fit formuch afterwards. There was a child, only a little shaver then, who wasasleep in the house at the time his mother run out to answer the shoutshe reckoned she heard. So, since the rancher wasn't anyways overstockedon female relations, an' he had the kid to look after, the one-time bosswent out as a camp cook an' took the boy along. He was rustlin' thechuck for this bunch I'm a-tellin' you about, that goes into the coulee. 

"By 'n' by, a week or so afterward, a herd o' sheep comes driftin' intothis same valley, bein' ekally short for feed, an' the herders knocks upa sort o' corral an' looks to settle down. The cowpunchers pays 'em anafternoon call, an' suggests that the air outside the coulee is a lothealthier for sheep--an' sheepmen--an' that onless they makes up theirminds to depart, an' to make that departure a record-breaker for speed, they'll make their relatives sure a heap mournful. The sheepmen repliesin a vein noways calculated to bring the dove o' peace hoverin' around, an' volunteers as a friendly suggestion that the cattlemen had best sendto town and order four nice new tombstones before ringin' the curtain upon any gladiatorial pow-wow. When the cowpunchers rides back, honors iseven, an' each side is one man short. 

"Now, this coulee, which is the scene of these here operations, is solocated that there's only one way out. Most things in life there's more, but in this here particular coulee, the openin' plays a lone hand. Asthe cattlemen got there first, and went 'way back to the end o' theravine, the sheepmen are nearer to what you might call the valley door. If the cowpunchers could have made a get-away, it's a cinch that they'dhave headed for the ranch an' brought back enough men with them to maketheir persuasion plenty urgent. But the herders ain't takin' any chancesof allowin' the other side to better their hand, an' when, one night, acowpuncher tries to rush it, they pots him as pretty as you please. Thecook, who's cuddlin' his Winchester at the time, fires at the flash anddisposes o' the herder, sort o' evenin' matters up. This leaves only onecowpuncher and the cook. There's still three men at the herders' camp. 

"Then the cook, he indooces a bullet to become sufficient intimate withone o' the herder's anatomy, but gits a hole in the leg himself an' islaid up. The other cowpuncher runs the gauntlet an' gits out safe. Hehikes back the next day with a bunch o' boys, an' they follows up theherders an' wipes out that camp for fair, an' stampedes the herd overthe nearest canyon. Then they circles back to the coulee to pick up thecook. 

"When they gits there, they surely finds themselves up against evidencesof a tragedy. The cook, he's lyin' on the floor of the shack, dead as anail, an' near him is the kid, who's still holdin' a table-knife in hishand, but who's lyin' unconscious from a wound in the head. The way theydopes it out, there's been a free-for-all fight in the place between thetwo remainin' herders an' the wounded cook, an' it looks some as if thekid had tried to help his dad by jabbin' at the legs o' the herders witha knife and been booted in the side o' the head to keep him quiet. "

"How old was the youngster, then, Bob-Cat?" asked Wilbur. 

"Seven or eight, I guess, maybe not so much, " replied the other, "anice, bright little kid, so I've heard. But there was somethin' broke, Ireckon, by the blow he had, an' he never got over it. The boys took himback to the ranch an' doctored him the best they knew how, but they wasbuckin' fate an' had to quit, lettin' the kid git better or worse as itmight turn out. "

"But where does Rifle-Eye come in?"

"This way. Just before round-up, Rifle-Eye comes along, showin' he hasthe whole story salted down, though where he larned it gits me, andproposes that sence it was the sheepmen that injured the lad, it's up tothem to look after him. At first the boys objects, sayin' that the kidwas a cowpuncher's kid, but Rifle-Eye convinces 'em that the youngster'slocoed for fair, that he's likely to stay that way for good an' all, andsence they agrees they can't ever make anythin' out of him, they letshim go. 

"Then Rifle-Eye, he takes this unfortunate kid to the man that ownedthe sheep. He's a big owner, this man, and runs thirty or forty herds. The old hunter--this was all before he was a Ranger, you know--he putsit right up to the sheep-owner, who's a half-Indian, by the way, an'tells him that he's got to look after the boy. The old skinflint says'No, ' and this here, as I was sayin', is the only time that any one everturned down old Rifle-Eye. "

"And what happened to the boy?" queried Wilbur. 

"The old hunter tries to shame this here sheep-owner into doin' theright thing, but he didn't have any more shame in him than a turkeybuzzard; an' then he tries to bluff him an' says he'll make him keep thekid, but the old sinner jest whined around an' wouldn't give any sort o'satisfaction at all. So Rifle-Eye, he shakes the dust o' that houseoff'n his feet so good an' hard that he mighty nearly shakes the nailsout of his boot-heels, an' hunts up a legal shark. Then an' there headopts this half-witted youngster, an' has kep' him ever sence. "

"How long ago was this?"

"Fifteen years an' more, I reckon. The kid's big now, an' strong as abull moose, but he's a long way from bein' right in his head. He livesup in the woods, a piece back here, an' I reckon you'll find Rifle-Eyethere as often as you will at his own cabin further along the range, although he never sleeps indoors at either place. "

"Never sleeps indoors?"

"That's a straight string. He's got a decent enough shack where the boyis, but as soon as it gits dark, old Rifle-Eye he jest makes a pile o'cedar boughs, builds up a fire, an' goes to sleep. For fifty years heain't slept under a roof summer or winter, an' when once he was in atown over-night, which was about the boy, as I was tellin' ye, he had toget up an' go on the roof to sleep. Lucky, " added Bob-Cat with a grin, "it was a flat roof. "

"Fifty years is a long time, " commented the boy. 

"Old Rifle-Eye ain't any spring chicken. He shouldered a musket in theCivil War, an' durin' the Indian mix-ups was generally found floatin'around wherever the fun was thickest. He was mighty close friends withthe Pacific scout, old 'Death-on-th'-Trail, ' who handed in his time atPortland not long ago. "

"Handed in his time?" questioned Wilbur, then, as the meaning of thephrase flashed upon him, "oh, yes, I see, you mean he died. "

"Sure, pard, died. You ought ter git Rifle-Eye Bill to spin you someyarns about 'Death-on-th'-Trail. ' He'll deny that he's any shakeshimself, but he'll talk about his old campmate forever. "

The cowboy pointed with his hand to a long, low group of buildings thathad just come within sight. 

"See, Wilbur, " he said, "there's the Double Bar J. "

[Illustration: HOW YOUNG FORESTS ARE DESTROYED. 

Showing the way in which sheep and goats, having cropped the grassclose, will attack undergrowth. 

_Photographs by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: WHERE SHEEP ARE ALLOWED. 

Example of meadow stretches in midst of heavily forested mountainslopes. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER IV

PICKING A LIVELY BRONCHO

On seeing the ranch, Bob-Cat and Wilbur had put their ponies to a burstof speed and in a few minutes they reached the corral. The buildings, while comfortable enough, were far from pretentious, and even theirstrangeness scarcely made up to the boy for the lack of the picturesque. Then, of course, the fact that the cattle at that time of year werescattered all over the range and consequently that none of them were insight, rendered it still less like his ideal of a cattle ranch, where hehad half expected to see thousands of long-horned cattle tossing theirheads the while that cowboys galloped around them shouting and firingoff pistols. 

In contrast with this, the dwelling, the bunk-house, the cooking shack, and the other frame sheds, all of the neutral gray that unpainted woodbecomes when exposed to the weather, seemed very unexciting indeed. Butwhen the lad turned to the corral, he felt that there was compensationthere. Several hundred horses were in the enclosure, of many colors andbreeds, but the greater part of them Indian ponies, or containing astrain of the mustang, and smaller and shaggier than the horses he hadbeen accustomed to ride in his Illinois home. 

The boy turned to his companion, his eyes shining with excitement. 

"Do you suppose that I can buy any of those horses that I want to?" hesaid. 

"If you're totin' along a pile of dinero, you might, " was the reply, "but there's a few cayuses in there that would surely redooce a big rollo' bills to pretty skinny pickin's. For example, this little bay I'mridin' now ain't any special wonder, an' maybe he's only worth aboutfifty dollars, but you can't buy him for five hundred. I reckon, though, you c'n trot away with most of 'em in there for ninety or a hundreddollars apiece. "

"I hadn't expected to pay more than seventy or seventy-five, " saidWilbur, his native shrewdness coming to the front, "and I think I oughtto be able to pick up a good horse or two for that, don't you think?"

"There's allers somethin' that ain't worth much to be got cheap, " saidthe cowboy, "but I don't look friendly none on payin' a cheap price fora horse. Speakin' generally, there's somethin' that every feller likes awhole lot, an' out here, where domestic life ain't our chief play, it'smostly a horse. Leastways, when I hit the long trail, I'll be just assorry to leave some ponies behind as I will humans. "

"A horse can be a great chum, " assented Wilbur. "So can a dog. "

"No dogs in mine, " said Bob-Cat emphatically, "they reminds me too mucho' sheep. But when it comes to a horse, I tell ye, there's a lot more inthe deal than buyin' an animal to carry you; there's buyin' somethin'that all the money in the world can't bring you sometimes--an' that's afriend. "

Wilbur waited a moment without reply, and then the cowboy, deliberatelychanging the topic to cloak any strain of sentiment which he thought hemight have been betrayed into showing, continued:

"How about saddles?"

"I'd been thinking about that, " replied the boy, "and I thought I'd waituntil I got out here before deciding. You can't use an Englishsaddle-tree, of course, and I hate it anyway, and one like yours is toobig. Those lumbering Mexican saddles always look to me as if they wereas big a load for a little pony to carry as a man. "

"Sure, they're heavy. But you can't do any ropin' without them. If youtry 'n' rope on a small saddle the girth'll pretty near cut a pony intwo. But you ain't got any ropin' to do, so I sh'd think an armysaddle-tree would be about right. There's Rifle-Eye Bill comin' out ofthe bunk-house now. Ask him. He'll know. "

Wilbur looked up, and saw emerging from the door of the bunk-house atall, gaunt mountaineer. He strolled over to the corral with a long, loose-jointed stride. 

"Got him, all right, Bob-Cat, did you?" he said in a measured drawl, then, turning to the boy, added: "Glad to see you, son. "

"I've been hearing all about you, sir, " answered Wilbur, "and I'mawfully glad to meet you here. " He was about to dismount, but notingthat Bob-Cat had merely thrown a leg over the horn of his saddle, hestayed where he was. 

The old Ranger looked him over critically and closely, so that Wilburfelt himself flushing under the direct gaze, though he met the cleargray eye of his new acquaintance without flinching. Presently thelatter turned to the range-rider. 

"What do you think of him?" he asked in a slow, curiously commandingway. 

Bob-Cat squirmed uneasily. 

"You is sure annoyin', " he said in an aggrieved manner, "askin' me to goon record so plumb sudden. I'm no mind-reader. "

There was a pause, but the Ranger quietly waited. 

"It's embarrassin', " said Bob-Cat, "to try an' trot out a verdic' onsnap-jedgment. I don't know. "

Rifle-Eye, quite unperturbed, looked at him steadily and inquiringly. 

"You know what you think, " he said. 

"He's sure green, " replied the cowboy, shrugging his shoulders inprotest, "an' he ain't much more humble-minded than a hen that's jestlaid an egg of unusooal size, but I reckon he's got the makin's. "

"It's a good thing to be green, " said the old Ranger thoughtfully, "nothin' grows much after it's dry, Bob-Cat. The heart's got to be greenanyway. Ye git hard to bend an' easy to break when ye're gettin' old. "

"Then it's a cinch you'll never get old, " promptly responded the other. 

But the mountaineer continued talking, half to himself:

"An' he's too sure of himself! Wa'al, he's young yet. I've seen a pileo' sickness in my day, Bob-Cat, but that's about the easiest one to curethere is. "

"What is?"

"Bein' young. Well, son, ye'd better turn the pony in. "

The boy dismounted, and, half in pique at the dubious character givenhim by Bob-Cat and half in thanks for the meeting at the station and theride, he turned to the cowboy, and said:

"I'm glad I've 'got the makings' anyway, and I'm much obliged, Bob-Cat, for all the yarns you told me on the trail. But, next time I come to theranch I'll try not to be as green, and I know I'll not be as young. "

The cowboy laughed. 

"It's no use tryin' to dodge Rifle-Eye, " he said. "You stand about asgood a chance as if you was tryin' to sidestep a blizzard or parryin'the charge from a Gatlin' gun. If he asks a question you can gambleevery chip in your pile that you're elected, and you've got to ante upwith the answer whether it suits your hand or no. "

Wilbur, following the suggestion of the Ranger, unsaddled his pony, turned him into the corral, and hung his saddle on the fence. Thentogether they went up to the house, where Wilbur met the boss, and aftera few moments' chat they returned to the corral. 

As the lad had come to the ranch especially for the purpose of buying acouple of ponies, he was anxious to transact the business as quickly aspossible, and together with Bob-Cat and Rifle-Eye he scanned the horsesin the enclosure, endeavoring to display, as he did so, what littleknowledge of horseflesh he possessed. After the boy had commented onseveral, Rifle-Eye pointed out first one and then a second which he hadpreviously decided on as being the best animals for the boy. ButWilbur's eye was attracted to a fine sorrel, and, turning to Rifle-Eye, he said decidedly:

"I want that one!"

The old Ranger, remarking quietly that it was a fine horse, but notsuitable to the purpose for which Wilbur wanted the animal, passed on tothe discussion of several other ponies near by, teaching the boy todiscern the fine points of a horse, not for beauty, but for service. 

But as soon as he had finished speaking, after a purely perfunctoryassent, Wilbur burst out again:

"But, Rifle-Eye, I really want that sorrel most. "

"You really think you want him?"

"Yes!"

"You wouldn't if you knew a little more about horses, son, " said theRanger. "It's all right to be sure what you want, but what you want isto be sure that what you want is right. "

"Oh, I'm sure I'm right, " answered the boy confidently. 

"You can't be too careful choosin' a horse, " commented Rifle-Eye. "Choosin' a horse is a good deal like pickin' out a sugar pine forshakes. You know what shakes are?"

"No, Rifle-Eye, " answered the boy. 

"They're long, smooth, split sheets of wood that the old-timers used forshingles. There's lots of sugar pine that'll make the finest kind o'lumber, an' all of it's good for fuel, but there ain't one tree in ahundred that'll split naturally an' easily into shakes. An' there ain'tmore'n one man in a hundred as can tell when a tree will do. But whenyou do get one just right, it's worth any ten other trees. An' the pinethat's good ain't because it's a pretty tree to look at, or an easy oneto cut down, or because of any other reason than that the grain's right. Same way with a horse. It ain't for his looks, nor for his speed, norbecause he's easy to ride, nor for his strength you want him, butbecause his grain's right. "

"Well, I'm sure that sorrel looks just right. "

"Do looks always tell?"

"Oh, I can always tell a horse by his looks, " replied Wilbur boastfully. "Anyhow, I want him. "

"Persistent?" chuckled Bob-Cat, who was standing by enjoying every word, "why, cockle-burs ain't nothin' to him. "

"But, supposin', " the old scout began gently, "I told you that thesorrel was the worst you could have, not the best?"

"But he ain't, " broke in Bob-Cat, who could not bear to hear a friend'spony harshly criticised, "that's one of Bluey's string, an' he allershad good horses. "

"There--you hear, " said Wilbur triumphantly. 

"I said--for the boy, Bob-Cat, " answered the old Ranger firmly. 

"I--I suppose you would have good reasons, " said Wilbur, answering theold scout's question, "but I want him just the same, and I don't see whyI can't buy him, if he's for sale. It's my money!"

"Sure, it's your money. An' the sorrel's a good horse, " said the cowboy, to whom the persistence of Wilbur was giving great delight. 

The Ranger slowly turned his head in silent rebuke, but although Bob-Catwas conscious of it, he was enjoying the fun too much to stop. 

"You know he couldn't ride the sorrel, Bob-Cat, " said Rifle-Eyereproachfully. 

"But I can ride him, I know, " said Wilbur. "I'm a good rider, really Iam. And he looks gentle, besides. He is gentle, isn't he, Bob-Cat?"

"He's playful enough, " was the reply, "some like a kitten, an' he surelyis plenty restless in his habits. But where he shines is nerves. Why, pard, he c'd make a parcel of females besieged by a mouse look as ifthey was posin' for a picter, they'd be so still by comparison. But he'sgentle, all right. "

"I wouldn't want to try it if he was vicious, Rifle-Eye, " said the boyappealingly, "but I really can ride, and he looks like a good horse. "

"Are you buyin' this horse for your own pleasure or the work o' theService? You're goin' to do your ridin' on my range, an' I reckon you'lladmit I have some say. "

"But I can break him to the work of the Service. Do let me try him!"Wilbur's persistence appeared in every look and word. "I don't see why Ican't try, anyway, and then if I can't do it, there's no harm done. "

"Can you throw a rope?" queried the Ranger. 

"No, " returned the boy promptly. "I never learned. But I can try. "

"If you can't rope, how do you expect to saddle him? These ain't farmhorses that you c'n harness or saddle while they eat oats out of yourhand. " He turned to the cowboy. "Can the sorrel be saddled withoutropin'?"

"Bluey does, " was the reply, "but I don't know that he'll let me. "

"Won't you saddle him for me, Bob-Cat? I know I can ride him if I have afair show. "

The range-rider turned to the old Ranger. 

"How about it?" he said. "The kid'll hunt leather for a while and theneat grass. But there's nothin' mean in the sorrel, an' he won't gethurt. "

"I'll ride him, " said Wilbur stoutly. 

"You might, at that, " rejoined Bob-Cat. "He's a game little sport, Rifle-Eye, " he added, turning to the tall figure beside him, "why notlet him play his hand out? You can't be dead sure how the spots willfall. Sure, I've twice seen an Eastern maverick driftin' into a farogame, an' by fools' luck cleanin' up the bank. "

"If a man's a fool who depends on luck, what kind of a fool is the manwho depends on fools' luck? You ain't playin' a square deal, Bob-Cat, insupportin' the lad to go on askin' to do what ain't good for him. Butseein' you force my hand, why, you'd better go ahead now. "

"I didn't force your hand none, " replied the other, "I was merelythrowin' out a suggestion. "

"If I refuse the boy somethin' another man says is all right, doesn'tthat make it look as ef it was meanness in me? An' he goin' to work withme, too! What's the use o' sayin' that you ain't forcin' my hand? Givin'advice, Bob-Cat, ain't any go-as-you-please proposition; it's got to bethought out. Feelin's don't allers point the right trail to jedgment, an', as often as not, the blazes lead the wrong way. You're all rightin your own way, Bob-Cat, but you're shy on roots, and your idees gets awindfall every time an extra puff comes along. You're like the treessettlers forgets about when they cuts on the outside of a forest an'ruins the inside. "

"How is that?" asked Wilbur, anxious to divert the stream of Rifle-Eye'scriticism from the cowboy, who had got himself into trouble defendinghim. "I didn't know there was any difference between a tree on theoutside of a forest and one on the inside. "

"Wa'al, then, I guess you're due to learn right now. If there's a treeof any size, standin' out by itself on a mountain side, with plenty ofleaves, an' a big wind comes along, you c'n see easy enough that shepresents a heap of surface to the wind. An' when a mountain gale gets upand blows fer fair, there's a pressure of air on that tree amountin' toseveral tons. "

"Tons?" queried Bob-Cat incredulously. 

"Tons, " answered the old Banger. "A tree needs to have some strength inorder to hold up its end. There's three ways o' doin' it. One is byhavin' a lot more give in the fibers, more elastic like, so that thetree'll bend in the wind an' not get snapped off; another is by puttin'out a lot o' roots an' shovin' 'em in deep an' at the same time havin' atrunk that's plenty stout; an' the third is the thickenin' o' the trunk, right near the ground, where the greatest part o' the strain comes. An'all the various kinds o' trees works this out in different ways. Butnothin's ever wasted, an'--"

"Oh, I see now, " broke in Wilbur. "You're going to say that the treeswhich don't grow on the outside of a forest don't have to waste vitalityinto these forms of resistance. "

"That's right. A tree that grows in a ravine, where there is littlechance of a high wind, an' where light is scarce an' hard to get, such atree will have a shallow root system an' a spindlin' trunk, all thegrowth havin' gone to height, an' a tree in the center of a forest isoften the same way. The wind can't git through the forest, an' so thetrees don't need ter prop themselves against it. "

"Talk about yer eddicated trees!" ejaculated the cowboy, "which collegesis a fool to them. "

"It's true enough, Bob-Cat, just the same. But supposin' a belt on theoutside o' the forest is cut down, then the inner trees, thus exposed, haven't any proper weapons to fight the wind, an' they go down. "

"Doesn't it take a very high wind to blow down some of these big trees?"asked Wilbur. 

"Some kinds it does, " said the Ranger, "but there's others that go downpretty easy, lodge-pole pine, fer instance. But a tree doesn't have tobe blown down to be ruined. Even if a branch is blown off--an' you knowhow often that happens--insects and fungi get into the wound of the treeand decay follows. "

"But you can't persuade the wind none, " objected Bob-Cat. "If she'sgoin' to blow, she's goin' to blow, an' that's all there is to it. "

"No, it ain't any use arguin' with a fifty-mile breeze, that's sure. Butyou can keep the inside trees from bein' blown down by leavin' uncut thedeep-rooted trees on the outside. If you wanted a good big bit oftimber, an' could cut it from a tree on the outside o' the forest, you'dtake it first because it was handiest, wouldn't you?"

"I sure would. "

"Yet, you see, it would ha' been the worst thing you could do. An' as Istarted out to say, that's where you get in wrong doin' things withoutthinkin'. Just like this ridin' idee to-day. By urgin' on the lad'snateral desire you make it hard fer him an' fer me. "

"All right, Rifle-Eye, " said Bob-Cat good-humoredly, "you've got me. Ireckon I passes up this hand entire. " He nodded and began to strollaway. 

But Wilbur called him back. 

"Oh, Bob-Cat, " he cried, "aren't you going to saddle him for me now?"

The cowboy turned and grinned. 

"Which you'd make tar an' feathers look sick for stickin' to a thing. "Then, reading a grudging assent from Rifle-Eye, he continued: "Yep, I'llgo an' saddle, " and sauntered into the corral. 

In a few minutes he came back, leading the sorrel. He was saddled andBob-Cat had shortened up the stirrups. Wilbur jumped forward eagerly, put his foot in the stirrup, and was up like a flash. The sorrel nevermoved. The boy shook the reins a little and clucked his tongue againsthis teeth without any apparent result. Then Wilbur dug his heels intothe pony's ribs. 

Things began to happen. The sorrel went straight up in the air with allfour feet, coming down with the legs stiff, giving Wilbur a jar whichset every nerve twitching as though he had got an electric shock. Buthe kept his seat. Then the sorrel began pacing forward softly with anoccasional sudden buck, each of which nearly threw him off and at mostof which he had to "hunt leather, " or in other words, catch hold of thesaddle with his hands. Still he kept his seat. 

Finding that these simpler methods did not avail, the sorrel began alittle more aggressive bucking, fore and aft, "sun-fishing" and"weaving, " and once or twice rearing up so straight that Wilbur wasafraid the sorrel would fall over backwards on him, and he had heard ofriders being killed that way. But he stole a glance at Rifle-Eye, and, seeing that the old Ranger was looking on quite unperturbed, he realizedthat there was no great danger. And still he kept his seat. 

But as the sorrel warmed up to his work the boy began to realize that hehad not the faintest chance of being able to wear the pony down. It wasnow only a question of how long he could stick on. He knew he would bedone if the sorrel started to roll, but as yet the beast had shown noinclination that way. But as the bucks grew quicker and more jerky, Wilbur began to wonder within himself whether he would prefer to pitchover the pony's head or slide off over his tail. Suddenly, with a bound, the pony went up in the air and gave a double wriggle as he came downand Wilbur found himself on the ground before he knew what had happened. The sorrel, who, as Bob-Cat had said, was a gentle beast, stood quietlyby, and the boy always afterwards declared that he could hear the horsechuckle. 

The boy got up abashed and red in the face, because several otherranchmen had come up and were enjoying his confusion, but he tried toput a good face on it, and said:

"That's a bucker for fair. "

"No, " responded Bob-Cat, "that isn't bucking, " and he swung himself intothe saddle. 

The sorrel commenced plunging and rearing again, this time with greatervigor. But Bob-Cat, taking a little bag of tobacco and some cigarettepapers out of his pocket, quietly poured out some of the tobacco on thepaper, rolled it carefully, and then lighted it, keeping his seat on thebucking broncho quite easily the while. This done, he dismounted, turning to the boy as he did so. 

"She's easy enough. There's lots o' the boys, like Bluey, fer example, who really can ride, " he continued, "that 'd just split with laughin'at the idee o' me showin' off in the saddle. I c'n rope with the best o'them, but I'm no buster. And some o' these here critters you've got toride. See that big roan in there?"

Wilbur followed the direction of his finger and nodded. 

"They call her 'Squealin' Bess, ' an' you couldn't pay me to get on herback. Bluey c'n ride her; he's done it twice; but you c'n bet your lastblue chip that he doesn't do it fer fun. "

Wilbur turned to the old Ranger who had been standing silently bythrough the performance. 

"I'm much obliged, Rifle-Eye, " he said, "but I'd like to buy that sorreljust the same and learn to ride him. "

For the first time the old Ranger smiled. 

"You're somethin' like a crab, Wilbur, " he said, "that grabs a stickviciously with his claw an' won't let go even when he's hauled up out o'the water. You c'n buy the sorrel if you want to, but he won't be anyuse to you up in the forest. Broncho-bustin' is an amusement you c'nkeep for your leisure hours. But I'm thinkin', son, from what I know ofthe work you'll have to do, that you'll mostly be tired enough after aday's work to want to rest a while. But if you're sot, I s'pose you'resot. An' I'm old enough to know that it's no use hammerin' a mule whenhe's got his forelegs spread. Get whatever horses you like, I've got asaddle for you up at the bunk-house, an' you c'n meet me beyond thecorral sunup to-morrow mornin'. "

He nodded to the boys and turned on his heel, walking off in thedirection of the river. Seeing that the fun was over the boys scattered, and Wilbur, finding that his friend Bob-Cat was going to stay at theranch over-night, attached himself to him. But as soon as supper wasover, the lad, finding himself stiffer than he had expected from hisbattle with the sorrel, partly because he had not been riding constantlyfor a couple of years, was glad to go to his bunk, listening to thebreezy Western talk of the men and the yarns of cattle and of horsesthat they had to tell. He hardly knew that he had fallen asleep whenBob-Cat shook him, saying:

"Better tumble up, bub. Rifle-Eye is sure an early bird. He's somechanticleer, believe me. He's plumb convinced that if he ain't awake andup to greet the sun, it won't rise. "

Wilbur laughed and "tumbled up" accordingly. 

At breakfast, over the plentiful food served on tin plates and in tinmugs, Rifle-Eye was entirely silent, uttering never a word and paying noattention to any allusion about horses. Right after the meal Wilbur wentdown to the corral, saddled one of his two new horses, put a leadingbridle on the other, and, after bidding Bob-Cat and the boys "Good-by, "started for the point where he was to meet the Ranger. 

As he rode up, the old frontiersman scanned carefully the two horses theboy had with him and his face cleared. 

"What horses are those?" he asked. 

"Oh, just a couple I got for the forest work, " answered Wilbur withoverdone carelessness. 

They rode on in silence a few rods, then the old Ranger spoke again. 

"Don't ever be afraid o' lettin' on you've made a mistake, son, " hesaid; "the more mistakes you make the more you'll know. There's only onething to remember, don't make the same mistake twice. "

"I'll try not, " said the boy. 

The Ranger reined up beside the lad, and, reaching out his long, gaunthand, patted the neck of the pony on which Wilbur was riding. 

"They're half-sisters, those two, " he said. "I raised 'em from coltsmyself. I rode the mother over these very trails, many and many's thetime. This one is called Kit, after her. "

Wilbur flushed at the remembrance of the manner in which before he hadslighted the old scout's choice. 

"Oh, Rifle-Eye, " he said penitently, "if I'd only known!"

"You'll prize them more now, " the Ranger said. 

[Illustration: COWBOYS AT THE ROUND-UP. 

The riders of the Double Bar J Ranch bunching up their cattle in theNational Forest. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER V

A TUSSLE WITH A WILD-CAT

"Bob-Cat was telling me, " said Wilbur, as with the Ranger he rodethrough the arid and silvered grayness of the Mohave desert and reachedthe foothill country, "that before you entered the Service you werepretty well known as a hunter. "

"Wa'al, son, " the mountaineer replied, "I reckon I've done some kind o'huntin' for fifty years on end. But there's not much huntin' in thispart o' the country. "

"No, " said Wilbur, looking around him, "I guess there isn't. "

The road ran along a little gully with a small stream shaded by scruboak, but arising from this and similar gullies, in great rounded bosses, heaved the barren slopes, the grass already turning yellow and toosparse to cloak the red earth below. 

"Yet, " said Rifle-Eye, pointing with his finger as he spoke, "there's adesert fox. "

Wilbur strained his eyes to see, but the unfamiliar growth of cacti, sage-brush, palo verde, and the dusty-miller plants made quick visiondifficult. In a moment, however, he caught sight of the littlereddish-gray animal running swiftly and almost indistinguishable fromits surroundings. 

"But up there?" queried the boy, pointing in front of them. The roadwound onward toward the middle Sierras, thickly wooded with oak anddigger pine, and, of course, the chapparal, and towering to the cloudsrose the mighty serrated peaks of the range, where magnificent forestsof pine, fir, and cedar swept upwards to the limits of eternal snow. "Upthere the hunting must be wonderful. "

"Among the mount'ns!" said the old hunter slowly. "Wa'al, up there, yousee, is home. "

"You certainly can't complain about the looks of your home, then, " saidthe boy, "for that's just about the finest I've ever seen. "

"'There's no place like home, '" quoted Rifle-Eye quietly, "but I ain'tever feelin' that my home's so humble. It ain't a question of its bein'good enough fer me, it's a question o' whether I'm good enough fer it. "

"It makes quite a house, " said Wilbur, following the old mountaineer'sline of thought. 

"I've never lived in any smaller house than that, " responded Rifle-Eye, "an' I reckon now I never will. There's some I know that boasts ofownin' a few feet o' space shut in by a brick wall. Not for me. My houseis as far as my eyes c'n see, an' from the ground to the sky. "

Wilbur was silent for a moment, feeling the thrill of Nature in the oldman's speech. 

"It's to be my home, too, " he said gently. 

Rifle-Eye smiled at the lad. 

"I don't know that I'm quite the oldest inhabitant, " he said, "but Isure am the oldest Ranger in the Service, an' all I c'n say is, 'Makeyerself to home. '"

"All right, " said Wilbur promptly, "I'll take that as an officialwelcome from the Sierras, and I will. But, " he added, "you were going totell me about your hunting. I should think it would be great sport. "

"Son, " said Rifle-Eye somewhat sharply, "I never killed a harmlesscritter 'for sport, ' as you call it, in my life. "

"But I thought, " gasped Wilbur in astonishment, "that you were huntingnearly all the time, before you started in as Ranger. "

"So I was, " was the quiet reply. 

"But--but I don't quite see--" Wilbur stopped lamely. 

"I said before, " resumed the old hunter, "that I never killed a harmlesscritter onless I had to. Neither have I. Varmints, o' course, is adifferent matter. I've shot plenty o' them, an' once in a while I've hadter kill fer food. But just shootin' for the sake o' shootin' is thetrick of a coward or a fool or a tenderfoot or a mixture of all three. It's plumb unnecessary, an' it's dead wrong. "

"You mean shooting deer and so forth?"

"I mean just that, son, if the shootin's only fer antlers an' what thesehere greenhorns calls 'trophies. ' If venison is needed, why, I ain't gotnothin' to say. A man's life is worth more than a deer's when he needsfood, but a man's conceit ain't worth more than a deer's life. "

"How about bear, then, and trapping for skins?" asked the boy. 

"I said 'harmless critters. ' Now, a bear ain't harmless, leastways, notas you'd notice it. Bear will take young stock, an' they're particularlypartial to young pig, an' down among these here foothills we've beenpassin' through there's a lot o' shiftless hog-rustlers as depends onpork fer a livin'. As for bearskins, why, o' course you use the pelts. What's the idee o' leavin' them around? It ain't any kind o' good tryin'to spare an animal's feelin's when he's plenty good an' dead. But I'vemade this here section of the Sierras pretty hot for wolves. "

"I heard down at the ranch, " the boy remarked, "that you had baggedforty-seven wolves last season. "

"I did have a good year, " assented the Ranger, "an', of course, I can'tgive much time to it. But I reckon I've disposed of more'n a thousandwolves in my day, one way and another. An' as I look at it, that'smakin' pretty good use of time. "

"Are wolves worse than bear?" queried Wilbur surprisedly. 

"They do a lot more harm in the long run. Cattlemen reckon that a wolfwill get away with about four head a year. Myself, I think that'spressin' the average some; I'd put it at somewhere between two an'three. But it's generally figured at four. "

"I didn't know that wolves, lone wolves, would attack cattle. "

"It's calves an' yearlin's mostly that they go for. It ain't often thatyou see a wolf tacklin' anythin' bigger'n a two-year-old. But if youfigure that a wolf gets rid o' four head a year, an' inflicts himself ona sufferin' community for a space of about ten years, that's somewherein the neighborhood o' forty head. A thousand wolves means about fortythousand head of cattle, or pretty nigh a million dollars' worth ofstock. "

"The beef you've saved by killing wolves, " commented Wilbur, "would feedquite a town. "

"Forty thousand is a tolerable sized bunch. An' that's without figurin'on the wolf cubs there would have been durin' all those years from theolder ones whose matrimonial expectations I disappointed plenty abrupt. An' it makes a pile o' difference to cattlemen to know they c'n send aherd grazin' on the national forest, an' be fairly sure they won't losemuch by varmints. "

"It surely must, " said the boy. "But I hadn't realized that wolves weresuch a danger. "

"I wouldn't go to say that they was dangerous. An old gray wolf, if youcorner him, is surly an' savage, an' will fight anythin' at any odds. Out on the Barren Grounds they're bad, but around the Sierras I ain'theard o' them attackin' humans but twice, an' they was children, lost inthe woods. I figure the kids had wandered around till they petered out, an' then, when they were exhausted, the wolves got 'em. But I've neverheard of a wolf attackin' a man anywhere in the Rockies. "

"But I thought wolves ran in packs often. "

"Not in the United States, son, so far as I've heard of. I knew aRussian trapper, though, who meandered down this way from Alaska in theearly days. He used to spin a lot o' yarns about the Siberian wolvesrunnin' in packs an' breakfastin' freely off travelers. But he seemed tothink that it was the horses the wolves were after chiefly, althoughthey weren't passin' up any toothsome peasant that happened along. "

"And do wolves attack horses here, too?"

"Not on the trail, that fashion. But they're some partial to colts. "

"How about coyotes?"

"They're mean critters an' they give a pesky lot o' trouble, althoughthey bother sheep more'n cattle. But a few husky dogs will keep coyotesat a distance, though they'll watch a chance an' sneak off with ayoung lamb or any sheep what is hurt an' has fallen behind the herd. Butthey don't worry us here such a great deal, they keep mostly to theplains an' the prairie country. "

Saying this, the Ranger pulled up at the door of a shack lying a shortdistance from the road and gave a hail. Immediately there stepped fromthe door one of the largest women Wilbur had ever seen. Though her hairwas gray, and she was angular and harsh of feature, yet, standing wellover six feet and quite erect, she seemed to fit in well under theshadow of the Sierras. 

"I reckon you've some bacon, Susan?" was the Ranger's greeting as heswung himself off his horse. Wilbur followed suit. 

"There's somethin' awful would have to happen to a pile o' hogs, " wasthe reply, "when you came by here an' couldn't get a bite. "

By this time a swarm of children had come out, and Wilbur, seeing thatthe Ranger had simply resigned his horse into the hands of one of thelarger boys, did likewise and followed his guide into the house. 

"I wasn't sure if I'd find you here, Susan, " said the old scout whenthey were seated at a simple meal. "I thought you were goin' to moveinto town. "

"I did, " she replied. "I stayed thar jest two weeks. An' they was twoweeks o' misery. These yar towns is too crowded for me. Now, hogs, I'vebeen used to 'em all my life, an' I don't mind how many's around. But itonly takes a few folks to make me feel as if I was real crowded. "

"Do you prefer hogs to people?" questioned Wilbur, smiling. 

"Not one by one, bub, o' course, " came the slow reply, "but when itcomes to a crowd o' both, I'm kind o' lost with folks. Everybody's busyan' they don't care nothin' about you, an' it makes you-all feel no'count. An' the noise is bewilderin'. Have you ever been in a city?"

Wilbur admitted that he had. 

"Well, then, " she said, "ye'll know what I mean. But out here, there'smore room, like, an' I know I'm bigger'n my hogs. " Following which, Susan launched into a long description of her favorite porkers, whichcontinued almost without cessation until it was time for the two to beon the trail again. 

"That's a queer woman, " said Wilbur when they were in the saddle againand out of hearing of the shack. 

"She's a good one, " answered the Ranger. "Her son, by the way, is amember o' the legislature, an' a good lawyer, an' she's made him what heis. But she ain't the city kind. "

"Not with all those children, " said Wilbur. "She'd have to hire a blockto keep them all. "

"Those ain't her own children, " replied the Ranger, "not a bit of it. Ifa youngster gits orphaned or laid up she just says 'Pork's plenty, send'em to me. ' An' I generally do. Other folks do, too, an' quite a few o'them hev been brought her by the 'little white lady' you've been hearingabout. She's fonder o' children than any woman I ever saw, is Susan. Butshe won't talk kids, she'll only talk hogs. "

"That's pretty fine work, I think, " said the boy. "But I should imaginethe youngsters wouldn't have much of a chance. It isn't any better thana backwoods life, away out there. "

The old Ranger, usually so slow and deliberate in his movements, turnedon him like a flash. 

"The meanest thing in this world, " he said, "is not bein' able to see orwillin' to see what some one else has done for you. There ain't a homein all these here United States that don't owe its happiness to thebackwoodsman. You can't make a country civilized by sittin' in an officean' writin' the word 'civilized' on the map. Some one has got to get outan' do it, an' keep on doin' it till it's done. It was the man who hadnothin' in the world but a wife, a rifle, an' an ax who made America. "

"I had forgotten for the moment, " said the boy, a little taken off hisfeet by the sudden energy and the flashing speech of the usuallyimpassive mountaineer. 

"So does mighty near every one else 'forget for the moment. ' But if thebackwoodsman forgot for the moment he was likely to be missin' hisscalp-lock, or if he tried to take a holiday it meant his family wouldgo hungry. He never forgot his children or his children's children, butthey're none too fond o' rememberin' him. 

"Everythin' you have now, he first showed you how. If he wanted a house, he had to build it; if he wanted bread, he had to raise the grain, grind, an' bake it; if he wanted clothin', he had to get skins, cure, an' sew 'em. But he never had to hunt for honor an' for courage; hebrought those with him; an' he didn't have to get any book-larnin' toteach him how to make his cabin a home, an' his wife an' his childrenwere allers joys to him, not cares. They were men! An' what do youreckon made 'em men?"

"The hardships of the life, I suppose, " hazarded Wilbur. 

"Not a bit of it; it was the forest. The forest was their nurse ininfancy, their playmate when they were barefooted kids runnin' aroundunder the trees, their work by day, an' their home when it was dark. They lived right down with Nature, an' they larned that if she wasrugged, she was kind. They became rugged an' kind, too. An' that's whatthe right sort of American is to this day. "

"A lot of our best statesmen in early days were from the newly clearedsettlements; that's a fact, " said Wilbur thoughtfully, "right up to theCivil War. "

"An' through it!" added the Ranger. "How about Abe Lincoln?"

Wilbur thought to himself that perhaps "backwoodsman" was not quite afair idea of the great President's Illinois upbringing, but he thoughtit wiser not to argue the point to no profit. 

"But it's all different now, " continued Rifle-Eye a trifle sadly, "things have changed an' the city's beginnin' to have a bigger hold thanthe forest. An' the forest still needs, an' I reckon it allers willneed, the old kind o' men. Once we had to fight tooth an' nail agin theforest jest to get enough land to live on, an' now we've got to fightjest as hard for the forest so as there'll be enough of it for what weneed. In this here country you can't ever get away from thewoods-dweller, whether he's backwoodsman or Forester, or whatever youcall him--the man who can depend on himself an' live his life whereverthere's sky overhead an' ground underfoot an' trees between. 

"They're the discoverers of America, too. Oh, yes, they are, " hecontinued, noting Wilbur's look of contradiction. "It wasn't Columbus orAmerigo or any o' the floatin' adventurers who first saw a blue splotcho' land on the horizon that discovered America. It was the men whoconquered the forest, who found all, did all, an' became all that thelife demanded, that really brought into bein' America an' theAmericans. "

The Ranger stopped as suddenly as he had begun, and, touching his horselightly with the spur, went on ahead up the trail. Evidently he wasthinking of the old times and the boy had wisdom enough not to disturbhim. As the afternoon drew on the foothills were left behind and theopen road became more and more enclosed, until at last it was simply atrail through the forest. The shadows were lengthening and it wasdrawing on toward evening, when the Ranger halted beside a littleravine, densely wooded with yellow pine, incense cedar, and white fir. Wilbur was tired and his horses, fresh to the trail, were showing signsof fatigue, so he was glad to stop. 

"I don't know how you feel about it, " said the Ranger, "but I reckonI'll camp here. There's a good spring a couple of hundred feet downstream. But you ain't used to this sort o' thing, an' maybe you'd betterkeep on the trail for another half-mile till you come to a littlesettlement. Somebody can put you up, I reckon. "

"No need to, " said the boy, "I'll camp here with you. "

"Maybe you ain't used to sleepin' on the ground. "

"I guess I can stand it, if you can, " replied Wilbur promptly. 

"Wa'al, I reckon I can, " said the Ranger, "seein' that I always have an'always do. "

Wilbur had never camped in the open before without a tent or shelter ofsome kind, but he would not for the world have had his Ranger think thathe was in the least disconcerted. Neither, to do him justice, was he, but rather anticipating the night under the open sky with a good deal ofpleasure. 

After the horses were unsaddled and hobbled, Rifle-Eye told Wilbur toget the beds ready. The boy, greatly pleased with himself that he knewhow to do this without being told, picked up his ax and started for thenearest balsam. But he found himself in somewhat of a difficulty. Thewhite fir grew to a much larger tree than the Balm-of-Gilead he hadknown in the East, and the lower branches were tough. So he chopped downa young tree near, scarcely more than a sapling. 

A moment later he heard the Ranger call to him. 

"How many trees of that size do you reckon you'll want?" he asked. 

"Oh, they're only just saplings, " the boy replied, "five or six ought todo. "

"They'll make five or six fine trees some day, won't they?" queried theold woodsman. 

"Yes, Rifle-Eye, they will, " answered the boy, flushing at his lack ofthoughtfulness. "I'd better take only one, and that a little bigger, hadn't I?"

"An' one that's crooked. Always take a tree that isn't goin' to makegood timber when you're not cuttin' for timber. "

Wilbur accordingly felled a small white fir near by, having had hisfirst practical lesson of forest economy on his own forest, stripped thetree of its fans or flattest branches and laid them on the ground. Athickness of about six inches, he found, was enough to make the bedswonderfully springy and comfortable. 

In the meantime he found that Rifle-Eye was getting a fireplace ready, using for the purpose some flat stones which lay conveniently near by. Wilbur, stepping over a tiny rivulet which ran into the creek, noted acouple of stones apparently just suited for the making of a roughfireplace and brought them along. The Ranger looked at them. 

"What kind o' stone do you call that?" he asked. 

"Granite, " said Wilbur immediately. 

"An' you took them out o' the water?"

"Yes, " answered the boy. 

"An' what happens when you build a fire between granite stones?"

"I don't know, Rifle-Eye. What does?"

"They explode sometimes, leastways, when they're wet inside. Don'tforget that, " he added as he put the stones aside. "Now, " he continued, "go down to the spring an' fill this pot with water, an' I'll have afire goin' an' some grub sizzlin' by the time you get back. The springis about two hundred feet downstream and about twenty feet above thewater. You can't miss it. "

Wilbur took the aluminum pot and started for the spring. He had not gonehalf the distance when he noted a stout crotched stick such as he hadbeen used to getting when he camped out in the middle West for thepurpose of hanging the cooking utensils on over the fire. So he pickedit up and carried it along with him. Presently the gurgling of watertold him that he was nearing the spring, and a moment later he saw theclearing through the trees. But, suddenly, a low snarling met his ears, and he halted dead at the edge of the clearing. 

There, before him, on the ground immediately beside the spring, croucheda large wild-cat, the hairy tips of her ears twitching nervously. Underher claws was a rabbit, evidently just caught, into which the wild-cathad just sunk her teeth when the approach of the boy was heard. At firstWilbur could not understand why she had not sprung into the woods withher prey at the first distant twig-snapping which would betoken hisapproach. But as he looked more closely he saw that this was preciselywhat the cat had tried to do, but that in the jerk the rabbit had beencaught and partly impaled on a tree root that projected above theground, and for the moment the cat could not budge it. 

Wilbur was utterly at a loss to know what to do. He had been told thatwild-cats would never attack any one unless they had been provoked tofight, and he found himself very unwilling to provoke this particularspecimen. The cat stood still, her eyes narrowed to mere slits, the earsslightly moving, and the tip of the tail flicking from side to side inquick, angry jerks. There was menace in every line of the wild-cat'spose. 

The boy had his revolver with him, but while he had occasionally fired asix-shooter, he was by no means a crack shot, and he realized that if hefired at and only wounded the creature he would unquestionably beattacked. And there was a lithe suppleness in the manner that themovement of the muscles rippled over the skin that was alarminglysuggestive of ferocity. Wilbur did not like the looks of it at all. Onthe other hand, he had not the slightest intention of going back to thecamp without water. He had come for water, and he would carry waterback, he thought to himself, if a regiment of bob-cats was in the way. 

The old fable that a wild beast cannot stand the gaze of the human eyerecurred to Wilbur's remembrance, and he stood at the edge of theclearing regarding the cat fixedly. But the snarls only grew the louder. Wilbur was frightened, and he knew it, and what was more, he felt thecat knew it with that intuition the wild animals have for recognizingdanger or the absence of danger. She made another effort to drag awaythe rabbit, but failing in that, with an angry yowl, with quick jerksand rending of her powerful jaws began to try to force the rabbit freefrom the entangling root, which done, she could carry it into the forestto devour at leisure. The ease with which those claws and teeth rentasunder the yielding flesh was an instructive sight for Wilbur, but thefact that the wild-cat should dare to go on striving to free her preyinstead of slinking away in fright made the boy angry. Besides, he hadcome for that water. 

Wilbur decided to advance into the clearing anyway, and then, if thecreature did not stir, he would be so near that he couldn't miss herwith the revolver. As he grew angrier his fear began to leave him. Hetook the pot in his left hand, putting the long stick under his arm, and, drawing his six-shooter, advanced on the cat. He came forwardslowly, but without hesitation. At his second step forward the wild-catraised her head, but instead of springing at him, as Wilbur half feared, she retreated into the woods, leaving her prey, snarling as she went. Wilbur went boldly forward to the spring, and, thinking that he wouldsee no more of the cat, put away his revolver. 

Having secured the water, and as he turned to go, however, the boy felta sudden impulse to look up. He had not heard a sound, and yet, on a lowbranch a few feet above his head, crouched the wild-cat, her eyesglaring yellow in the waning light. Once again he felt the temptation toshoot her, but resisted it, through his fear of only wounding thecreature and thus bringing her full fury upon him. 

But it occurred to Wilbur that it was not unlikely that he might have tocome back to the spring a second time for more water, and he did notwish to risk another encounter. He thought to himself that if he didreturn and interrupted the wild-cat a second time he would not escape aseasily as he had on this occasion, and consequently he tried to devise ameans to prevent such meeting. He figured that if he picked up therabbit and threw it far into the woods the cat would follow and the pathto the spring would be open. Forgetting for the moment that he could notexpect the angry creature in the tree to divine the honesty of hisintentions, he stooped down and grasped the rabbit by the leg to throwit into the forest. As he did so, the wild-cat, thinking herself aboutto be deprived of her prey, sprang at him. 

With one hand holding the pot of water, which, boy-like, he did not wantto spill, and the other grasping the rabbit, Wilbur was terriblyhandicapped. But, by the greatest good fortune, as he stooped, thecrotch of the stick that he was carrying caught the wild-cat under thebody as she launched herself at him from the tree. The stick wasknocked out of the boy's grasp, but it also turned the cat aside, andshe half fell, landing on Wilbur's outstretched leg, instead of on hisneck, which was the objective point in her spring. As her claws rippedinto the soft flesh of his thigh, Wilbur released his hold of therabbit, drew his revolver, and fired full at the creature hanging on hisleg. 

Almost instantaneously with the shot, however, one of her foreclaws shotout and caught the back of his right hand, making a long but superficialgash from the wrist to the knuckles. At the same time, too, one of herhind claws struck down, opening the calf of the leg and making the boysick for a moment. His right hand was bleeding vigorously and paining agood deal, but his finger was still on the trigger and Wilbur firedagain. A moment later, the Ranger came running into the clearing. Butbefore he reached the boy's side the cat had fallen limply to theground. The second shot had gone clear through her skull, and, beingfired at point-blank distance, had almost blown her head off. 

The old Ranger, without wasting time in words, quickly examined theboy's injuries and found them slight, although they were bleedingprofusely. Wilbur reached out the pot full of water from the spring. 

"Here's the water, Rifle-Eye, " he said a little quaveringly; "I hardlyspilled a drop. "

The old woodsman took the vessel without a word. Then he looked down atthe cat. 

"Just as well for you, " he said, "that it wasn't a true lynx. But howdid she get at your leg? Did you walk on her, or kick her, just forfun?"

Wilbur, laughing a little nervously from the reaction of the excitement, described how it was that the wild-cat had landed on his leg instead ofon his neck, and the old hunter nodded. 

"It's a mighty lucky thing for you, " he said, "that stick was there, because there's a heap o' places around the neck where a clawin' ain'thealthy. But these scratches of yours won't take long to heal. Where youwere a fool, " he continued, "was in touchin' the rabbit at all. It'sjust as I told you. When you went quietly forward, you say, the bob-catgot out of your road all right. Of course, that's what she ought to do. And if you had filled the pot with water an' come away that's allthere'd have been to it. But jest as soon as you begin ter get mixed upin the prey any varmint's killed, you've got ter begin considerin' thechances o' joinin' the select company o' victims. "

"But I wanted her out of the way for next time, " said Wilbur. 

"She'd have got out of your way so quick you couldn't see her go, " saidthe hunter, "if you'd given her a chance. Next time, leave a varmint'sdinner alone. "

"Next time, I will, " the boy declared. 

"I guess now, " continued the old hunter, "you'd better come back to campan' we'll see what we c'n do to improve them delicate attentions you'vereceived. An' don't be quite the same kind of an idiot again. "

"Well, " said Wilbur, "I got the water from the spring, anyhow. "

[Illustration: PATROLLING A COYOTE FENCE. 

The old Ranger and his hound safeguarding the grazing interests of theforest. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: REDUCING THE WOLF SUPPLY. ]

[Illustration: REDUCING THE WOLF SUPPLY. 

Sport that is worth while, freeing the National Forests from beasts ofprey. 

_Photographs by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER VI

IN THE HEART OF THE FOREST

Towards noon the next day, Wilbur and the Ranger rode up to the shack inthe woods which Rifle-Eye considered as one of his headquarters. As soonas they reached the clearing they were met by a big, shambling youth, whose general appearance and hesitating air proclaimed him to be thehalf-witted lad of whom Wilbur had heard. He came forward and took thehorses. 

"You've heard about Ben?" queried the hunter as the horses were beingled away. 

"Yes, " answered Wilbur, "Bob-Cat Bob told me all about the death of hisfather during the sheep and cattle war. He told me when we were ridingup to the ranch, from the station at Sumber. "

"I have thought, " said Rifle-Eye, "that perhaps it ain't quite the rightthing to keep Ben here, up in the woods. But I tried sendin' him toschool. It wasn't no manner of use. It only troubled the teacher an'bothered him, an' I reckon his life will stack up at the end jest aswell, even if he can't read. "

"What does he do while you are away?" asked Wilbur. 

"Oh, a lot of things. He ain't idle a minute, really, an' there's timesthat he's as good as them that thinks themselves so wise. "

"What sort of things?"

"Well, he's done a lot o' work stampin' out the prairie dogs. Of course, there's very few o' them in these parts, so few that the government hasmade no appropriation for this forest. It's in Eastern Montana an' theDakotas that you get them, an' there's been a lot o' trouble in theCuster an' Sioux forests. He's gone there several times, an' there'sbeen villages o' them here among the foothills that Ben's cleared upentirely. "

"They poison the prairie dogs, don't they?"

"Yes, with strychnine, mainly. Grain is soaked in the poison an' a fewgrains put outside each hole in a dog town. If this is done early in theyear, before the green grass is up for food, it will pretty nearly cleanup the town. "

"It seems rather a shame, " said Wilbur, "they are such fat, jolly littlefellows, and the way they sit up on their hind legs and look at you isa wonder. "

"It's all right for them to look 'fat and jolly, '" replied Rifle-Eye, "but when the stock raiser finds hundreds of acres of grass nibbled downto the roots, an' when the farmer's young wheat is ruined, they don'tsee so much jollity in it. "

"But I didn't know that the Forest Service took a hand in that sort ofthing. "

"Only indirectly. But they provide the poison an' the settlers usuallygit some one to put it round. As I say, Ben's been doin' a lot of itthis spring. "

"But that sort of work doesn't last long. "

"No, only in the spring. But Ben's busy other ways. Sometimes he goesdown to the valleys an' helps the ranchers with their hayin'. He don'tknow anythin' about money, though, an' so they never pay him cash. "

"That's tough on Ben, then, " remarked Wilbur. "Does he work all the timefor nothing?"

"Not at all. They always see that he gits a fair return. Every once in awhile the man he's workin' for will drive up to the shack with somebacon an' a barrel o' flour an' trimmin's. Often as not, he'll bringthe wife along, an' she'll go over the lad's things to find what heneeds. "

"That's mighty nice, " commented Wilbur. 

"Some of 'em are as good to Ben as if he was their own, " said theRanger. "They'll go over everything he's got, fix up whatever needsmendin', an' make a list o' things to be bought next time any one goesinto town. You see, he gits his wages that way. He works well, an' so itain't like charity, an' at the same time it gives the man he works for achance to do the right thing. "

"I suppose if he didn't, you'd get after him, " suggested the boy. 

"Never had to yet, an' never expect to, " was the prompt reply. "Mostlyfolks is all right, an' a lot o' the supposed selfishness is jestbecause they ain't been reminded. And then Ben never makes trouble. "

"He seems quiet enough, " said Wilbur, with a gesture towards the doorwaywhere the lad was approaching. He came in and stood looking vacantly atthe two sitting together. 

"What were you doin' yesterday, Ben?" asked the Ranger sharply to rousehim. 

The lad flung out both arms with a wild gesture. 

"I was away, away, far away, " he answered; "away, away over the hills. "

"Where?"

The half-witted lad passed his hand across his eyes. 

"With Mickey, " he said. 

"An' what were you an' Mickey doin'?"

"Lots of things, lots, lots, lots. Little fires creep, creep, creepin'on the ground, " he moved his hands waveringly backward and forward asthough to show the progress of the flames, "then put them out quick, so!" he stamped his foot on the ground. 

"Does he mean a forest fire, Rifle-Eye?" queried Wilbur, alert at thevery mention of fire. 

"No, no, no, " interrupted Ben; "little bit fires. Pile burn, burn hot, grass catch fire, put out grass. "

"You mean, " said the mountaineer, "that you an' Mickey were burnin' upbrush?"

"Yes, brush all in piles, burn. "

"It's a pretty risky business, " said Rifle-Eye, "this burnin' brush inthe late spring, but Mickey's right enough to have had Ben along. He'sone o' the best fire-fighters that ever happened. He never knows enoughto quit. "

"Did you have any trouble, Ben?" asked Wilbur. 

"One little fire, walk, walk, walk away into the woods. But I stoppedhim. "

"Alone?"

The half-witted lad nodded. Then, coming over to Wilbur, he pointed tothe rude bandages and said questioningly:

"Tumble?"

"No, Ben, " replied the other boy, "I got into a mix-up with a bob-cat. "

"I fight, too. Wait, I show you something. "

He disappeared for a moment and then came back with two wolf pups, carrying one in each hand as he might a kitten. 

"I got five more, " he said. 

"Where did you get 'em, Ben?" asked the Ranger. 

"Way, way over. Deadman Canyon. "

"Get the old wolf?"

The half-witted lad nodded his head vigorously several times. 

"Yes, " he said, "dead, dead, dead. "

"Was the den just by the Sentinel Pine?"

"Yes. "

"I reckon that's the wolf that's been givin' such a lot of trouble onthe Arroyo, " commented Rifle-Eye. "I went out after that wolf one daythis spring, Ben, but I didn't get her. I waited at the den a long time, too. "

"Two holes out of den, two. I wait, too. Long, long time. No come out. Plug up one hole. Long more time waited. Then wolf go in. I go in, too. "

"You went into the wolf's den?" queried Wilbur in amazement. 

"Yes, in. Far, far in. "

"How far?"

"Don't know. Far. "

"Well, I went in about forty feet myself, " said the old hunter, "an' Ididn't see any sign o' the pups, so I backed out again. If you went allthe way in, Ben, I reckon it was a pretty long crawl. "

"But why did you go in the den when the mother wolf was there?" askedWilbur. 

"Boy fool, " said the half-witted lad, pointing at him. "Why go in ifwolf not there?"

"Well, " said Wilbur, on the defensive, "I should think it a whole lotsafer to go in--that is, if I was going in at all--sometime when I'd besure the mother wolf wouldn't be there. "

But the other, still holding the cubs in his hands, negatived thisreasoning with a vigorous shake of the head. 

"Safer, wolf in, " he said. 

"I don't see that at all, " objected Wilbur. "It can't be safer. "

"You go in, in far, when wolf out. By and by wolf come, eat up legs, nocan turn round for shoot. "

"I hadn't thought of that, " the boy said, a little humbled. 

"Ben's nearly right, " said the Ranger, "an' it ain't really as dangerousas it sounds. There ain't room in the passage for the wolf to spring, an' if you shoot you're bound to hit her somewhere, no matter how youaim. O' course, a wolf ain't goin' to come along an' 'eat up your legs'the way he puts it, but you might get a nasty bite or two. It's a lotbetter to go after a wolf than have the wolf come after you. It takesmore nerve, but it ain't so hard at that. "

"But how did you kill the old wolf, Ben?" asked Wilbur. 

"I go in, far in. See eyes glitter. Shoot once. Shoot twice. Old wolfdead. Take out pups, easy. Skin wolf. "

"Where's the skin?"

"Dryin'. "

But Wilbur was by no means satisfied and he plied the half-witted ladwith questions until he had secured all the details of the story. In themeantime the Ranger had been getting dinner, and as soon as it was overWilbur was glad to lie down on Ben's bed, for he had lost not a littleblood in his tussle with the wild-cat the night before, and riding allmorning with those deep scratches only rudely bandaged had been rather astrain. By the time that Rifle-Eye was ready to start again Wilbur wasfairly stiffened up, and at the Ranger's suggestion he agreed to stay ona couple of days in the shack, having Ben cook for him and look afterhim, as the Ranger felt that he himself ought to get back toheadquarters. 

It was not until the third day that Wilbur once more got into the saddleand with Ben to guide him through the forest, started for theSupervisor's headquarters, or rather the Ranger's cabin where theSupervisor was staying. The two boys rode on and up, leaving behind thescrub oak, chapparal, and manzanita, and into the great yellow pine andsugar pine forests. Shortly before noontime they heard voices in thewoods, and Ben, after listening a moment, turned from the trail. In afew minutes he reined up beside a tall, sunburned man, walking throughthe woods pencil and notebook in hand. At the same time the Ranger, whowas working with him, stepped up. 

"Thanks, Ben, " he said. Then, turning to the Supervisor, he said:"Merritt, here's the boy!"

Wilbur's new chief stepped forward quickly and held out his hand with aword of greeting. Wilbur shook it heartily and decided on the spot thathe was going to like him. Wearing khaki with the Forest Service bronzebadge, a Stetson army hat, and the high lace boots customarily seen, helooked thoroughly equipped for business. 

"You're Wilbur Loyle, " he said, "of course. I heard you were coming. Have you had any experience?"

"Just the Colorado Ranger School, sir, " said the boy. 

"You were to be here three days ago. "

"Yes, Mr. Merritt, but I was delayed, and I put up a couple of days withBen, here. "

"He reckoned he had more right to a rabbit what a bob-cat was feastin'on than the cat had, " volunteered Rifle-Eye in explanation. "In theensooin' disagreement he got a bit scratched, an' so I looked after him. I told him to stay at Ben's, an' I guess he's all right now. "

"Being three days late isn't the best start in the world, " said theSupervisor sharply, "but if Rifle-Eye knows all about it and is willingto stand for it, I won't say any more. Can you cruise?"

"I've learned, sir, but I haven't done much of it. I think, though, Ican do it, all right. "

"Very well. We'll break off for dinner now, and you can try thisafternoon. Or do you still feel tired, and would you rather wait untilto-morrow?"

"Thanks, Mr. Merritt, " answered Wilbur, "but I want to start right now. "

"Very well, " said the Supervisor laconically. Then, turning to theRanger, he commenced talking with him about the work in hand, and forthe moment Wilbur was left aside. The lumberman who had been working onthe other side of the Supervisor, however, sauntered up and introducedhimself as "McGinnis, me boy, Red McGinnis, they call me, because of thenatural beauty of me hair. "

"I'm very glad, Mr. McGinnis--" began the boy when the lumbermaninterrupted him. 

"'Tis very sorry ye'll be if ye call me out of me right name. Sure Isaid McGinnis, jest plain McGinnis, not Misther McGinnis. Ye can call me'Judge, ' or 'Doctor, ' or 'Colonel, ' or annything else, but I won't becalled Misther by annyone. "

"Very well, McGinnis, " said the boy, looking at his height and broadshoulders, "I guess there's no one that will make you. "

"There is not!" the big lumberman replied. "And are ye goin' to join usin a little promenade through the timber?"

"So Mr. Merritt said. "

"I don't see what for, " the Irishman replied. "Sure, there's the threeof us now. "

"Is there much of it to do?"

"There is that. There's three million feet wanted, half sugar pine andhalf yellow pine, in this sale alone. An' there's another sale waiting, so I hear, as soon as this one's through. "

"Maybe it's just to find out whether I can do it?" suggested Wilbur. 

The lumberman nodded affirmatively. 

"That's just about it, " he said. "Because ye'll have a big stretch tocover as Guard, an' there'll be no time for ye cruisin'. You keep thetrees from burnin' up so as we can mark them for cuttin' down. "

"It always seems a shame, " said Wilbur, "to have to cut down thesetrees. Of course, I know it's done so as to help the forest, not to hurtit, and that if the big trees weren't cut down the young ones couldn'tget sunlight and wouldn't have a chance to grow. But still one hates tosee a big tree go. "

"It isn't that way at all, at all, " said the lumberman. "There's somethat does their best work livin', and there's some that does it dead. Aman does it livin' and a tree does it dead. But what a tree does afterit's dead depends on what kind of a chance it's had when it's beenlivin'. Sure ye've been to the schools when all the girls and some ofthe boys gets into white dresses, the girls I mean, and sings songs, andgives speeches and class poems and other contraptions, and graduates. "

"I have, " said Wilbur, "and not so long ago at that. "

"And so have I, " answered the lumberman. "Sure, me own little Kathleenwas graduated just a month ago from high school. Well, cuttin' down atree is like its graduation. It's been livin' and growin' and gettin'big and strong and makin' up into good timber. Now its schoolin' in theforest is over, it's goin' out into the world, to be made useful in somekind of way, and in goin' it makes room for more. "

"You don't take kindly to the 'Oh, Woodman, spare that tree' ideal?"smiled Wilbur. 

"I do not. But I'd spare it, all right, until there were other youngtrees growin' near it to take its place in time. 'Tis the biggest partof the work is cuttin' down the trees that make the best timber. "

When they were settled drinking hot tea and eating some trout that theparty had with them, the Supervisor turned to Wilbur. 

"McGinnis is a good man, " he began, smiling as the Irishman withpantomime returned the compliment by drinking his health in a pannikinof tea, "but he's so built that he can't see straight. If you introduceMcGinnis to a girl he'll want to estimate how many feet she'd make boardmeasure. "

He dodged a pine cone which the Irishman threw at him. 

"How about Aileen?" he said. 

"I'll take that back, " said Merritt; "Mrs. McGinnis hasn't gone todiameter growth. But, " he continued, "she's good on clear length and hasa fine crown. "

By which Wilbur readily understood that the lumberman's wife was slight, well-built, and neat, and with heavy hair. The lumberman, mollified bythe tribute, returned to his dinner, and the Supervisor continued:

"McGinnis told you that cutting down the best trees available for timberis the most important part of forest work. It's not. The most importantthing is keeping the forest at its best. Cutting trees when they havereached their maximum is a most necessary part, and it's a policy thathelps to make the forest pay for itself. But the value to the forestlies in its conservation. You know about that?"

"Yes, sir, " said the boy; "it's keeping the watersheds from becomingdeforested, either by cutting or by fire, and so preventing erosion fromtaking place. "

"I reckon, " put in the old Ranger, "thar's another that pleases me stillbetter than either of those. "

"And what's that, Rifle-Eye?" asked Merritt. 

"It's the plantin'. When I walk along some of the forest nurseries, an'see hundreds and hundreds of little seedlin's all growin' protectedlike, and bein' cared for just the same as if they was little children, an' when I know that in fifty years time they'll be big fine trees likethe one we're sittin' under, I tell you it looks pretty good to me. They're such helpless little things, seedlin's, and they do have such atime to get a start. Nursery's a good name all right. I've been alongsome of 'em at night, when the moonlight was a shinin' down on them, andthey wasn't really no different from children in their little beds. "

"I should think, " said Wilbur, "that the changing of a forest from onekind of tree to another would be the most interesting. I mean gettingrid of the worthless trees and giving the advantage to those that arefiner. "

"And a few sections west, " commented the Supervisor, "you would findthat Bellwall, who's the Ranger there, thinks that the most interestingthing in the whole of the forest work is putting an end to the diseasesof trees and to the insects that are a danger to them. Another Rangermay be a tree surgeon. "

"A tree surgeon doesn't help so much, " put in McGinnis, "the timber isniver worth a whoop!"

"There you go again, " said the head of the forest, "there's other thingsto be thought of besides timber. " He turned to the boy. "You don't knowthe trees of the Sierras, I suppose?"

"I think I know them pretty well now, " answered Wilbur. "I had to learna lot about them at school, and then Rifle-Eye has been giving mepointers the last few days. "

"What's the difference between a yellow pine and a sugar pine?" queriedthe Supervisor. 

"Sugar pine wood is white and soft, " said the boy, "yellow pine is hard, harder than any other pine except the long-leaf variety. "

"That's right enough. But how are you going to tell them when standing?"

Wilbur thought for a moment. 

"I should think, " he said, "that the yellow pine is a so much biggertree as a rule that you could tell it by that alone. But I suppose ayounger yellow pine might look like a sugar. The leaves would help, though, because I should think the sugar, like most of the soft pines, has its leaves in clusters of five in a sheath, and the yellow being ahard pine, has them in bundles of three. "

"How about the bark?"

"Sugar pine bark is smoother, " said the boy. 

The Supervisor nodded. 

"All right, " he said, "we'll try you at it. You go along with McGinnisfor an hour or so, to see just how he does it, and then you can take oneside, and he the other. Just for a day or two, while Rifle-Eye looksafter some other matters. "

Wilbur accordingly took a pair of calipers and walked with McGinnis backto where he had originally met the party. Resuming work the lumbermanstarted through the forest, calling as he went the kind of trees andtheir approximate size. As, however, this particular portion of theforest had never been "cruised, " McGinnis not only called and marked thetrees which were to be cut in the sale, but also the other timber. 

Thus he would call, as he reached a tree, "Sugar, thirty-four, six, " bywhich Wilbur understood him to mean that the tree was a sugar pine, thatit was thirty-four inches in diameter breast high, and that it would cutinto six logs of the regular sixteen-foot length. It probably would bethirty or fifty feet higher, but the top could only be used for posts, cordwood, and similar uses. Such a tree, having been estimated andadjudged fit for sale, the lumberman would make a blaze with a small ax, by slicing off a portion of bark about eight inches long, then turningthe head of the ax, whereon was "U. S. " in raised letters, he wouldwhack the blaze, making a mark which was unchangeable. No other treesthan those so marked might be cut. 

But as other trees were passed which were not good enough formerchantable timber, he would call these rapidly, "Cedar, small, ""Engelmann (spruce), eighteen, " "Douglas (spruce), fourteen, " all ofwhich were entered by the Supervisor, walking behind, in his cruisingbook. At the same time he made full notes as to the condition of theyoung forest, the presence of parasitic plants such as mistletoe, ofdiseased trees, if any were found, of the nature of the soil, of thedrainage of the forest, and of the best way in which the timber sale wasto be logged in order to do the least possible damage to the forest. 

In a half an hour or so Wilbur dropped back to the Supervisor. 

"I think, sir, " he said, "that I can do that without any trouble. But Ican't do it as fast as McGinnis, sir, for he can tell the size of atree just by looking at it. I shall have to use the calipers for a dayor two. "

Merritt looked at him. 

"For a day or two?" he said. "McGinnis has been doing it for thirtyyears. In these Western forests, too. You take him to an Eastern forestand even now he wouldn't be sure of estimating correctly. You use thecalipers for a year or two!"

Wilbur, accordingly, quickened his pace, and, going along a little tothe left and in advance of the Supervisor, took up his share of thework. He found that he had to depend entirely upon McGinnis for hiscompass direction, and that he was only doing about one tree toMcGinnis' six, but still every hour that passed by gave him greaterconfidence. The afternoon was wearing away when suddenly they came to apart of the forest in which some timber seemed to have been cut duringthe winter preceding. McGinnis dropped back. 

"Sure, ye didn't tell me that any of this had been cut over, " he saidaggrievedly. 

"It hasn't, so far as I know, " said Merritt. He put his book in hispocket and walked on briskly for a few hundred yards. Although thelogging had been done the preceding winter the signs were clear forthose who could read them determining the direction in which the logshad been taken. 

"That's Peavey Jo's work, " said the Supervisor at last. "I reckon thisis where he begins to find trouble on his hands. We'll find out, McGinnis, how much of this timber he has stolen, measure up the stumpsand make him pay for every stick he's taken. "

"Ye'd better leave Peavey Jo alone. They used to call him 'The CanuckBrute, '" remarked McGinnis. 

"He will pay, " repeated Merritt quietly, "for every foot that he's got. And I'll see that he does. "

"You'll have the fight of your life. "

"What of it! You don't want to back out?"

"Back out? Me? I will not! But it'll be a jim-dandy of a scrap. "

The Supervisor turned to Wilbur. 

"Measure, " he said, "the diameter of all those stumps and mark with abit of chalk those you have measured. We'll talk to Peavey Jo in a dayor two. "

[Illustration: WHERE BEN AND MICKEY BURNED THE BRUSH. 

Getting rid of slashings which otherwise might feed a forest fire. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: THE CABIN OF THE OLD RANGER. 

Where Wilbur stayed a couple of days recovering from the wild-cat'sscratches. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: STAMPING IT GOVERNMENT PROPERTY. 

McGinnis marking "U. S. " on timber that has been scaled and measured up. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER VII

WILBUR IN HIS OWN CAMP

"I should think, " said Wilbur at headquarters that night, when thetimber theft of Peavey Jo was being discussed, "that it would be mightyhard to prove that the timber had been taken. "

"Why?" asked the Supervisor. 

"Well, we can see how the logs were drawn, and so forth, but you can'tbring those driveways into court very well, and put them before thejudge as Exhibit A, or anything?"

"You could bring affidavits, couldn't you? But there are few who want togo to law about it. A man knows he can't buck the government on a fakecase. We have very little trouble now, but there used to be a lot ofit. "

"Did you ever have to use weapons, Mr. Merritt?" asked the boy, remembering the story he had heard in Washington about the tie-cutters. 

"No, " was the instant reply. "You don't handle people with a gun anymore in California than you do in New York. These aren't the days ofForty-nine. "

"But I thought the 'old-timers' still carried guns, " persisted the boy. 

"Very few do now. But I got into trouble once, or thought I was goingto, when I was a Ranger in the Gunnison Forest. It involved some Douglasfir telephone poles. This trespass was done while I was in town for awhile in the Supervisor's office. When I came back I happened to pass bythis man's camp, and seeing a lot of telephone poles, I asked if theyhad been cut in the forest. The man was a good deal of a bully, and heordered me off the place. He said he didn't have to answer anyquestions, and wasn't going to. "

"Did you go?" asked Wilbur. 

"Certainly I went. What would be the use of staying around there? Butbefore I left I got a kind of an answer. He said he had shipped in thesetelephone poles from another part of the State. "

"Sure, that was a fairy tale, " said McGinnis. 

"Of course it was. I went into the forest and searched around, althoughthere had been a recent fall of snow, until I found the place where mostof the poles had been cut. Then I went back to the trespasser and toldhim, saying I would prove to him that it was on government ground. 

"He agreed, and we rode to the place. He took his Winchester along andcarried it over his shoulder. He wasn't carrying it in the usual way, but had his hand almost level with his shoulder so that the barrelpointed in my direction. I noticed, too, that he was playing with thetrigger. It seemed likely that it might suit his purposes rather well ifI was accidentally killed. But each time I cantered up close to him, thebarrel returned to its natural position. 

"Presently, as we rode along, we came to a waterfall, not a big one, butfalling with quite a splashing, and under the cover of the noise Isuddenly came to a quick gallop, overtook the trespasser, and, graspinghis Winchester firmly with both hands, jerked it out of his grasp. "

"Sure, he must have been the maddest thing that iver happened!" saidMcGinnis. 

"He was sore, all right. But what could he do? I had the rifle, and weneither of us had any six-shooters. I showed him that there was noobject in my shooting him, while he would gain by shooting me, so Iproposed to hold the gun. And hold it I did. On my return I put anotice of seizure on the poles. 

"The report went through the usual way to the Commissioner of theGeneral Land Office. He wrote me a letter direct about the case and putit up to me to ask the trespasser what proposition of settlement heintended to make. I thought the town was the best place for this andwaited at the post-office for a day or two until he came in. There Itackled him, and told him he would have to notify the Departmentimmediately. At this, he and his son invited me outside to fight it out. I told them I did not intend to fight, but that if within thirty minutesthey did not make a proposition of settlement I would telegraph to theDepartment and his case would become one for harsher measures. 

"The postmaster set out to convince him that Uncle Sam was too big a jobfor him to handle, and in twenty minutes or so back he came with anoffer which was forwarded to the Department. A year or so later the casewas settled by a Special Agent. "

McGinnis added several similar stories of timber difficulties, and, supper being over, they got ready to turn in. The headquarters was amost comfortable house, fairly large, having been built by the previousRanger, who was married. It was now used by another Ranger, as well asRifle-Eye, being near the borders of their two districts, and havingplenty of good water and good feed near. But although it was barelydark, Wilbur was tired enough to be glad to stretch himself on the cotin the little room and sink to sleep amid the soughing of the windthrough the pine needles of neighboring forest giants one and twohundred feet high. 

Early the next morning, Wilbur tumbled up, went out and looked after hishorses, and came in hungry to breakfast. 

"I had intended, " said the Supervisor, "to go with you this morning andshow you the part of the range you are to look after. But I want to getat Peavey Jo, lest he should decide to leave suddenly, and Rifle-Eyewill show you the way instead. I had the tent pitched three or four daysago, when you ought to have been here. You'll find that to cover yourrange takes about six hours' good riding a day. Use a different horse, of course, each day, and remember that your horse in some ways is fullyas important as you are. You can stand a heap of things that he can't. A man will tire out any animal that breathes. "

"And what have I to do?"

"You have three trails to ride, on three successive days, so that youwill have a chance of seeing all your range, or points that will commandall your range at least twice a week. And, of course, quite a good dealof it you will cover daily. You are to watch out for fires, and if yousee one, put it out. If you can't put it out alone, ride back to yourcamp and telephone here, as soon as it is evening. Sometimes it isbetter to keep working alone until you know there's some one to answerthe 'phone, sometimes it's better to get help right away. You can tellabout that when you have got to the fire and have seen what it is. "

Wilbur nodded. 

"That's easy enough to follow, " he said. 

"If a heavy rain comes, you had better ride back here, because for a fewdays after a big rain a fire isn't likely to start, and there's alwayslots of other stuff to be done in the forest, trail-building, and thingsof that sort. "

"Very well, Mr. Merritt, " answered the boy. 

"There are no timber sales going on in that section of the forest, sothat if you see any cutting going on, just ride up quietly and get intoconversation with the people cutting and casually find out their names. Ask no other questions, but in the evening telephone to me. "

"The telephone must be a big convenience. But, " added Wilbur, "it seemsto take away the primitiveness of it, somehow. "

"Wilbur, " said the Supervisor seriously, "you don't want to run into themistake of thinking that life on a national forest is principally apicturesque performance. It's a business that the government is runningfor the benefit of the country at large. Anything that can be done tomake it efficient is tremendously important. The telephone already hassaved many a fearful night ride through bad places of the forest, hasbeen the means of stopping many a fire, and has saved many a life inconsequence. I think that's a little more important than'primitiveness, ' as you call it. "

The boy accepted the rebuke silently. Indeed, there was nothing more tosay. 

"As for grazing, there's not much to be said, except that the sheeplimits are pretty well defined. The cattle can wander up the rangewithout doing much harm here, for the young forest is of pretty goodgrowth, but the sheep must stay down where they belong. Rifle-Eye willshow you where, and sheep notices have been posted all along the limits. And if there's anything you don't know, ask. And I guess that's aboutall. "

The Supervisor rose to go, but Wilbur stopped him. 

"How am I to arrange about supplies?" he said. 

"The tent's near a spring, " was the brief but all-embracing reply. "There's a lake near by with plenty of trout, there's flour andgroceries and canned stuff in a cache, and the Guard that was there lastyear had some kind of a little garden. You can see what there is, and ifyou want seeds of any kind, let me know. And there's nothing to preventyou shooting rabbits, though they're not much good this time of year. "

"I'll get along all right, Mr. Merritt, " said Wilbur confidently. 

"I'll ride over on Sunday and see you anyway, " added the Supervisor ashe strode through the doorway, meeting McGinnis, who was waiting for himoutside. Wilbur followed him to the door. 

"'Tis all the luck in the world I'm wishin' ye, " shouted the bigIrishman, "an' while ye're keepin' the fires away we'll be gettin'another nicely started for that old logjammer. Sure, we'll make it hotenough for him. "

"Good hunting, " responded Wilbur with a laugh, as the two mendisappeared under the trees. 

Although only a day had passed since Wilbur had met the Supervisor andMcGinnis, it seemed to him that several days must have elapsed, so muchhad happened, and he found it hard to believe, when he found himself inthe saddle again beside the old Ranger, that they had started from Ben'sshack only the morning before. 

"I like Mr. Merritt, " he said as soon as they had got started. "I likeMcGinnis, too. "

"I reckon he wasn't over-pleased with your bein' late?" queriedRifle-Eye. 

"He wasn't, " admitted the boy candidly, "but I don't blame him for that. I liked him just the same. But I don't think it's safe to monkey withhim. Now, McGinnis is easygoing and good-natured. "

"So is a mountain river runnin' down a smooth bed. The river is just thesame old river when rocks get in the road, but it acts a lot different. Now, Merritt, when he's satisfied and when he ain't, don't vary, but Itell you, McGinnis can show white water sometimes. "

"I don't think I'm aching to be that rock, " said Wilbur with a grin. 

"Wa'al, " said the Ranger, "I ain't filed no petition for the nomination, not yet. "

"But tell me, Rifle-Eye, " said the boy, "what is McGinnis? He isn't aGuard, is he? and he doesn't talk like a Ranger from another part of theforest. "

"No, he's an expert lumberman, " replied the hunter. "He isn't attachedto this forest at all. He ain't even under the service of the governmentall the while. He generally is, because he knows his business an' theForest Service knows a good man when it sees one. They engage him for amonth, or three, or four months, an' he goes wherever there's a timbersale, or a big cut. Often as not, he teaches the Rangers a heap ofthings they don't know about lumberin', and the Forest Assistantsthemselves ain't above takin' practical pointers from him. "

"But I thought Mr. Merritt said that McGinnis only knew this kind offorest?"

"He said McGinnis wouldn't know anything of an Eastern hardwood forest. That's right. But the government hasn't got any hardwood forests yet, though I guess they soon will in the Appalachians. But you can't losehim in any kind of pine. I've met up with him from Arizona to Alaska. "

The old woodsman turned sharply from the trail, apparently into theunbroken forest. 

"Do you see the trail?" he asked. 

Wilbur looked on the ground to see if he could discern any traces. Notdoing so, he looked up at the Ranger, who had half turned in the saddleto watch him. As he shook his head in denial he noticed the oldmountaineer looking at him with grieved surprise. 

"What do you reckon you were lookin' on the ground for?" he asked. 

"For the trail, " said Wilbur. 

"Did ye think this was a city park?" said Rifle-Eye disgustedly. 

"Well, I never saw a trail before that you couldn't see, " respondedWilbur defiantly. 

The old hunter stopped his horse. 

"Turn half round, " he said. Wilbur did so. "Now, " he continued, "can yousee any trail through there?"

The boy looked through the long cool aisles of trees, realizing that hecould ride in any direction without being stopped by undergrowth, but hecould see nothing that looked like a trail. 

"Now turn round and look ahead, " said the hunter. 

The moment Wilbur turned he became conscious of what the old mountaineerwanted to show him. Not a definite sign could he see, the ground wasuntrampled, the trees showed no blaze marks, yet somehow there was aconsciousness that in a certain direction there was a way. 

"Yes, " he said vaguely. "I can't see it, but I feel somehow that there'sa trail through there. " He pointed between two large spruces that stoodnear. 

The hunter slapped his pony on the neck. 

"Get up there, Milly, " he said, "we'll teach him yet! You see, " hecontinued, "there ain't no manner of use in tryin' to see a trail. Ifthe trail's visible, the worst tenderfoot that ever lived could followit. It's the trail that you can't see that you've got to learn tofollow. "

"And how do you do it, Rifle-Eye?" asked the boy. 

"Same as you did just now. There's just a mite of difference where folkshave ridden, there's perhaps just a few seedlin's been trodden down, an' there's a line between the trees that's just a little straighterthan any animal's runway. But it's so faint that the more you thinkabout it, the less sure you are. But, by an' by, you get so that youcouldn't help followin' it in any kind of weather. " And the old hunter, seeing the need of teaching Wilbur the intricacies of the pine countryforests, gave him hint after hint all the way to his little camp. 

When he got there Wilbur gave an exclamation of delight. The camp, asthe Supervisor had said, was near a little spring, which indeed bubbledfrom the hillside not more than ten feet away from the tent, andgleaming on the slope a couple of hundred feet below, he could see thelittle lake which was "so full of trout" glistening itself like a silverfish in the sunlight. A tall flagstaff, with a cord all reeved for theflag, stood by the tent, and for the realities of life a strong, serviceable telephone was fastened to a tree. 

Wilbur turned to the hunter, his eyes shining. 

"What a daisy place!" he cried. 

The old hunter smiled at his enthusiasm. 

"Let's see the tent, " he said, and was about to leap from his horse whenthe hunter called him. 

"I reckon, son, " he said, "there's somethin' you're forgettin'. "

"What's that?" said Wilbur. 

"Horses come first, " said Rifle-Eye. "It's nigh dinner-time now. Where'sthe corral?"

But Wilbur's spirits were not to be dampened by any check. 

"Is there a corral?" he said. "How bully! Oh, yes, I remember now Mr. Merritt said there was. Where is it, Rifle-Eye? Say, this is a jim-dandyof a camp!"

A few steps further they came to the corral, a pretty little meadow in aclearing, and in the far corner of it the stream which trickled from thespring near the house. Wilbur unsaddled with a whoop and turned thehorses in the corral, then hurried back to the camp. The old hunter, thinking perhaps that the boy would rather have the feeling of doing itall himself for the first time, had not gone near the tent. There was asmall outer tent, which was little more than a strip of canvas thrownover a horizontal pole and shielding a rough fireplace for rainyweather, and within was the little dwelling-tent, with a cot, and even atiny table. On the ground was Wilbur's pack, containing all the thingshe had sent up when he had broken his journey to go to the Double BarJ ranch, and there, upon the bed, all spread out in the fullness of itsglory, was a brand-new Stars and Stripes. For a moment the boy's breathwas taken away, then, with a dash, he rushed for it, and fairly dancedout to the flagpole, where he fastened it and ran it to the truck, shouting as he did so. His friend, entering into the boy's feelings, solemnly raised his hat, as the flag settled at the peak and waved inthe wind. Wilbur, turning, saw the old scout saluting, and with stirringpatriotism, saluted, too. 

"And now, " said the old hunter. "I'll get dinner. "

"That you'll not, " said Wilbur indignantly. "I guess this is my house, and you're to be my first guest. "

[Illustration: WILBUR'S OWN CAMP. 

His first photograph; taken the day the Supervisor dropped in to seehim. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER VIII

DOWNING A GIANT LUMBERJACK

"I don't believe, " said Wilbur the next morning as they rode along thetrail that led to the nearest of his "lookout points, " "that any king oremperor ever had as fine a palace as this one. "

The comparison was a just one. Throughout the part of the forest inwhich they were riding the whole sensation was of being roofed in andenclosed, the roof itself being of shifting and glowing green, throughwhich at infrequent intervals broad streams of living light poured in, gilding with a golden bronze the carpet of pine needles, while thepurple brown shafts of the trunks of the mighty trees formed a colonnadeillimitable. 

"I reckon every kind of palace, " replied the Ranger, "had some sort of aforest for a pattern. I took an artist through the Rockies one time, an'he showed me that every kind of buildin' that had ever been built, andevery kind of trimmin's that had been devised had started as mere copiesof trees an' leaves. "

"Well, " said Wilbur, his mind going back to a former exclamation of theold woodsman, "you said this was your house. "

"My house it is, " said Rifle-Eye, "an' if you wait a few minutes I'llshow you the view from one of my windows. "

For two hours the hunter and the boy had been riding up a sharp slope, in places getting off their horses so as to give them the benefit of aslittle unnecessary carrying as possible, constantly ascending on a greatgranite spur twenty miles wide, between the Kaweah and King's Rivercanyons. Now, suddenly they emerged from the shadowy roof of the forestto the bare surface of a ridge of granite. 

"There's the real world, " said Rifle-Eye; "it ain't goin' to hurt youreyes to look at it, same as a city does, and your own little worryin'ssoon drop off in a place like this. "

He turned his horse slightly to the left, where a small group ofmountain balsam, growing in a cleft of the granite, made a spot ofshadow upon the very precipice's brink. The boy looked around for aminute or two without speaking, then said softly: "How fine!"

Three thousand feet below, descending in bold faces of naked ruggedrock, broken here and there by ledges whereon mighty pines foundlodgment, lay the valley of King's River, a thin, winding gleam of greenwith the water a silver thread so fine as only to be seen at intervals. Here and there in the depths the bottom widened to a quarter of a mile, and there the sunlight, falling on the young grass, gave a brilliancy ofgreen that was almost startling in contrast with the dark foliage of thepines. 

"What do you call that rock?" asked the boy, pointing to a tall, pyramidal mass of granite, buttressed with rock masses but little lessnoble than the central peak, between each buttress a rift of snow, flecked here and there by the outline of a daring spruce clinging to therock, apparently in defiance of all laws of gravity. 

"That is called 'Grand Sentinel, '" said the hunter, "and if you willtake out your glasses you will see that from here you can overlook milesand miles of country to the west. This is about as high as any place onthe south fork of the King's River until it turns north where BubbsCreek runs into it. "

Wilbur took out from their case his field-glasses and scanned thehorizon carefully as far as he could see, then snapping them back intothe case, he turned to the hunter, saying:

"No fire in sight here!"

"All right, " replied Rifle-Eye, "then we'll go on to the next point. "

That whole day was a revelation to Wilbur of the beauty and of the sizeof that portion of the forest which it was his especial business tooversee. Here and there the Ranger made a short break from the directline of the journey to take the boy down to some miner's cabin or Indianshack, so that, as he expressed it, "you c'n live in a world of friends. There ain't no man livin', son, " he continued, "but what'll be thebetter of havin' a kind word some day, an' the more of them you give, the more you're likely to have. "

Owing to these deviations from the direct trail, it was late when theyreturned to Wilbur's little camp. But not even the lateness of the hour, nor the boy's fatigue, could keep down his delight in his tent home. Hewas down at the corral quite a long time, and when he came backRifle-Eye asked him where he had been. The boy flushed a little. 

"I hadn't seen Kit all day, " he said, "so I went down and had a littletalk to her. "

The Ranger smiled and said nothing but looked well pleased. In themeantime he had quickly prepared supper, and Wilbur started in and ateas though he would never stop. At last he leaned back and sighed aloud. 

"That's the best dinner I ever ate, " he said; "I never thought fishcould taste so good. "

But he jumped up again immediately and took the dishes down to thespring to wash them. He had just dipped the plates into the pool underthe spring when the old woodsman stopped him. 

"You don't ever want to do that, " he said. "There ain't any manner ofuse in foulin' a stream that you'll want to use all the time. Littlebits of food, washin' off the plates, will soon make that water bad ifyou let them run in there. An' not only is that bad for you, but efyou'll notice, it's the overflow from that little pool that runs downthrough the meadow. "

"And it would spoil the drinking water for the horses, " exclaimedWilbur; "I hadn't thought of that. I'm awfully glad you're along, Rifle-Eye, for I should be making all sorts of mistakes. "

Under the advice of his friend Wilbur washed up and put away the dishesand then settled down for the evening. He made up his day's report, andthen thought he would write a long letter. But he had penned very, fewsentences when he began to get quite sleepy and to nod over the paper. The Ranger noted it, and told him promptly to go to bed. 

"I'll finish this letter first, " said Wilbur. 

A moment or two later he was again advised to turn in, and again Wilburpersisted that he would finish the letter first. There was a shortpause. 

"Son, " said Rifle-Eye, "what do you suppose you are ridin' from point topoint of the forest for?"

"To see if there's any sign of fire, " said the boy. 

"And you've got to look pretty closely through those glasses o' yours, don't you?"

The boy admitted that they were a little dazzling and that he had tolook all he knew how. 

"Then, if you make your eyes heavy and tired for the next mornin', you're robbin' the Service of what they got you for--your eyesight, ain't you? I ain't forcin' you, noways. I'm only showin' you what's thesquare thing. "

Wilbur put forward his chin obstinately, then, thinking of the kindnesshe had received from the Ranger all the way through, and realizing thathe was in the right, said:

"All right, Rifle-Eye, I'll turn in. "

About half an hour later, just as the old woodsman stretched himself onhis pile of boughs outside the tent, he heard the boy mutter:

"I hope I'll never have to live anywhere but here. "

The following day and the next were similar in many ways to the first. Wilbur and the Ranger rode the various trails, the boy learning thelandmarks by which he might make sure that he was going right, andmaking acquaintance with the few settlers who lived in his portion ofthe forest. On Sunday morning, however, the Ranger told the boy he mustleave him to his own devices. 

"I've put in several days with you gettin' you started, " he said, "an' Ireckon I'd better be goin' about some other business. There's a heap o'things doin' all the time, an' as it is I'm pressed to keep up. ButI'll drop in every now an' again, an' you're allers welcome atheadquarters. "

"I hate to have you go, Rifle-Eye, " the boy replied, "and you certainlyhave been mighty good to me. I'll try not to forget all the thingsyou've told me, and I'll look forward to seeing you again before long. "

"I'll come first chance I can, " replied the hunter. "Take care ofyourself. "

"Good-by, Rifle-Eye, " called the boy, "and I'll look for your comingback. " He watched the old man until he was lost to sight and then waiteduntil the sound of the horse's hoofs on the hillside had ceased. Hefound a lump in his throat as he turned away, but he went into the tent, and went over his reports to see if they read all right before theSupervisor arrived. Then, thinking that it was likely his chief wouldcome about noon, he exerted himself trying to make up an extra gooddinner. He caught some trout, and finding some lettuce growing in thelittle garden, got it ready for salad, and then mixed up the batter forsome "flapjacks, " as the old hunter had shown him how. He had everythingready to begin the cooking, and was writing letters when he heard hisguest coming up the trail, and went out to meet him. 

After Wilbur had made his reports and got dinner, for both of which hereceived a short commendation, the Supervisor broached the question ofthe timber trespass. 

"Loyle, " he said, "McGinnis and I have measured up the lumber stolen. There's about four and a half million feet. You were with us when wefirst located the trespass, and I want you to come with us to the mill. "

"Very well, Mr. Merritt, " answered the boy. 

"I don't want you to do any talking at all, unless I ask you a question. Then answer carefully and in the fewest words you can. Don't tell mewhat you think. Say what you know. I'll do all the talking that will benecessary. "

Wilbur thought to himself that the conversation probably would not bevery long, but he said nothing. 

"That is, " continued the other as an afterthought, "McGinnis and I. Idon't suppose he can be kept quiet. "

Wilbur grinned. 

"But he usually knows what he is talking about, I should think, " hehazarded. 

"He does--on lumber. " Then, with one of the abrupt changes of topic, characteristic of the man, the Supervisor turned to the question ofintended improvements in that part of the forest where Wilbur was to be. He showed himself to be aware that the lad's appointment as Guard wasnot merely a temporary affair, but a part of his training to fit himselffor higher posts, and accordingly explained matters more fully than hewould otherwise have done. Reaching the close of that subject he rose togo suddenly. He looked around the tent. 

"Got everything you want?" he demanded. 

"Yes, indeed, sir, " the boy replied. "It's very comfortable here. "

"Got a watch?"

"No, Mr. Merritt, not now. "

"Why not?"

"Mine got lost in that little trouble I had with the bob-cat, and Ididn't notice it until next day. "

"Saw you hadn't one the other day. Take this. "

He pulled a watch out of his pocket and handed it to the boy. 

"But, Mr. Merritt, " began the boy, "your watch? Oh, I couldn't--"

"Got another. You'll need it. " He turned and walked out of the tent. 

Wilbur overtook him on the way to the corral. 

"Oh, Mr. Merritt--" he began, but his chief turned sharply round on him. The boy, for all his impulsiveness, could read a face, and he checkedhimself. "Thank you very much, indeed, " he ended quietly. He got out theSupervisor's horse, and as the latter swung himself into the saddle, hesaid:

"What time to-morrow, Mr. Merritt?"

"Eleven, sharp, " was the reply. "So long. "

Wilbur looked after him as he rode away. 

"That means starting by daybreak, " he said aloud. "Well, I don't thinkI'm going to suffer from sleeping sickness on this job, anyway. " And hewent back into the tent to finish the letter which he had started twoevenings before and never had a chance to complete. 

By dawn the next morning Wilbur was on the trail. He was giving himselfmore time than he needed, but he had not the slightest intention ofarriving late, neither did he wish the flanks of his horse to show thathe had been riding hard. For the boy was perfectly sure that not adetail would escape the Supervisor's eye. Accordingly, he was able totake the trip quietly and trotted easily into camp a quarter of an hourahead of time. He was heartily welcomed by McGinnis, while Merritt toldhim to go in and get a snack, as they would start in a few minutes. There was enough to make a good meal, and Wilbur was hungry after ridingsince dawn, so that he had just got through when the other two men rodeup. He hastily finished his last mouthful, jumped up, and clambered intothe saddle after the Supervisor, who had not waited a moment to see ifhe were ready. 

Merritt set a fairly fast pace, and the trail was only intended forsingle file, so that there was no conversation for an hour or more. Thenthe head of the forest pulled up a little and conversed with McGinnisbriefly for a while, resuming his rapid pace as soon as they werethrough. Once, and once only, did he speak to Wilbur, and that was justas they got on the road leading to the sawmill. There he said:

"Think all you like, but don't say it. "

When they reached the mill they passed the time of day with several ofthe men, who seemed glad to see them, and a good deal of good-naturedbanter passed between McGinnis and the men to whom he was well known. The Supervisor sent word that he wanted to see the boss, and presentlyPeavey Jo came out to meet them. 

"Salut, Merritt!" he said; "I t'ink it's long time since you were here, hey?"

The words as well as the look of the man told Wilbur his race andnation. Evidently of French origin, possibly with a trace of Indian inhim, this burly son of generations of voyageurs looked his strength. Wilbur had gone up one winter to northern Wisconsin and Michigan wheresome of the big lumber camps were, and he knew the breed. He decidedthat Merritt's advice was extremely good; he would talk just as littleas he had to. 

The Supervisor wasted no time on preliminary greetings. That was not hisway. 

"How much lumber did you cut last winter off ground that didn't belongto you?" he queried shortly. 

"Off land not mine?"

"You heard my question!"

"I cut him off my own land, " said the millman with an injuredexpression. 

"Some of it. "

"You scale all the logs I cut. You mark him. I sell him. All right. "

"You tell it well, " commented the Supervisor tersely. "But it don't go, Jo. How much was there?"

"I tell you I cut him off my land. "

Merritt pointedly took his notebook from his breastpocket. 

"Liars make me tired, " he announced impartially. 

"You call me a liar--" began the big lumberman savagely, edging up tothe horse. 

"Not yet. But I probably will before I'm through, " was the unperturbedreply. 

"You say all the same that I am a liar, is it not?"

"Not yet, anyway. What does it matter? You cut four and a half millionfeet, a little over. "

A smile passed over the faces of the men attached to the sawmill. It wasevident that a number of them must know about the trespass, and probablythought that Peavey Jo had been clever in getting away with it. Themill-owner laughed. 

"You t'ink I keep him in my pocket, hey?" he queried. "Four and a halfmillion feet is big enough to see. You have a man here, he see logs, hemark logs, I cut them. "

The Supervisor swung himself from his horse and handed the reins toWilbur. McGinnis did the same. 

"You don't need to get down, Loyle, " he said; "it will not take long tofind where the logs are. "

The big lumberman stepped forward with an angry gleam in his eye. 

"This my mill, " he said. "You have not the right to walk it over. "

"This is a National Forest, " was the sharp reply, "and I'm in charge ofit. I'll go just wherever I see fit. Who'll stop me?"

"Me, Josef La Blanc--I stop you. "

Just then Wilbur, glancing over the circle of men, saw standing amongthem Ben, the half-witted boy who lived in the old hunter's cabin. Seeing that he was observed, the lad sidled over to Wilbur and said, ina low voice, questioningly:

"Plenty, plenty logs? No marked?"

"Yes, " said Wilbur, wondering that he should have followed thediscussion so closely. 

"I know where!"

"You do?" queried Wilbur. 

Ben nodded his head a great many times, until Wilbur thought it wouldfall off. In the meantime Merritt and Peavey Jo, standing a few feetapart, had been eying each other. Presently the Supervisor steppedforward:

"Show me those logs, " he ordered. 

"You better keep back, I t'ink, " growled the millman. 

Merritt stepped forward unconcernedly, but was met with an open-handpush that sent him reeling backward. 

"I not want to fight you, " he cried; "I get a plenty fight when I wanthim. You no good; can't fight. "

"I'm not going to fight, " said the Supervisor, "but I'm going to seewhere those logs are, or were. Stand aside!"

But the big Frenchman planted himself squarely in the way. 

"If you hunt for the trouble, " he said, "you get him sure, " he saidmenacingly. 

"I'm not hunting for trouble, Jo, and you know it But I'm hunting logs, and I'll find them. "

He was just about to step forward, trusting to quickness to dodge theblow that he could see would be launched at him, when Ben, who had beenwhispering to Wilbur, lurched over to the Supervisor and pulled his arm. 

"Plenty, plenty logs, no mark, " he said loudly; "I know where. I showyou. They are up--"

But he never finished the sentence, for the lumberman, taking one stepforward, drove his left fist square at the side of the boy's jaw, dropping him insensible before he could give the information whichMerritt was seeking. 

But unexpected as the blow had been, it was met scarcely a second laterby an equally unexpected pile-driver jolt from McGinnis. 

"Ye big murdhering spalpeen, " burst out the angry Irishman, "ye thinkit's a fine thing to try and shtop a man that's trying to do his duty, and think yerself a fightin' man, bekass ye can lick a man that doesn'twant to fight. This isn't any Forest Service scrap, mind ye, and I'msaying nothing about logs. I'm talking about your hittin' a weak, half-crazed boy. Ye're a liar and a coward, Peavey Jo, and a dirty oneat that. "

"Keep quiet, McGinnis, " said Merritt, who was stooping down over theinsensible lad, "we'll put him in jail for this. "

"Ye will, maybe, " snorted the Irishman, "afther he laves the hospital. "

"You make dis your bizness, hey?" queried the mill-owner. 

"I'll make it your funeral, ye sneaking half-breed Canuck! How aboutit, boys, " he added turning to the crowd, "do I get fair play?"

A chorus of "Sure, " "'Twas a dirty trick, " "The kid didn't know nobetter, " and similar cries showed how the sentiment of the crowd lay. Ina moment McGinnis and the Frenchman had stripped their coats and facedeach other. The mill-owner was by far the bigger man, and the play ofhis shoulders showed that his fearful strength was not muscle bound, buthe stood ponderously; on the other hand, the Irishman, who, while tall, was not nearly as heavy, only seemed to touch the ground, his step wasso light and springy. 

The Frenchman rushed, swinging as he did so. A less sure fighter wouldhave given ground, thereby weakening the force of his return blow shouldhe have a chance to give it. McGinnis sidestepped and cross-jolted withhis left. It was a wicked punch, but Peavey Jo partly stopped it. As itwas, it jarred him to his heels. 

"Lam a kid, will ye, ye bloated pea-jammer, " grinned McGinnis, who wasbeaming with delight now that the fight was really started. 

"You fight, no talk, " growled the other, recovering warily, for the oneinterchange had showed him that the Irishman was not to be despised. 

"I can sing a tune, " said McGinnis, "and then lick you with one hand--"He stopped as Peavey Jo bored in, fighting hard and straight and showinghis mettle. There was no doubt of it, the Frenchman was the stronger andthe better man. Twice McGinnis tried to dodge and duck, but Peavey Jo, for all his size, was lithe when roused and knew every trick of thetrade, and a sigh went up when with a sweeping blow delivered on thepoint of the shoulder, the Frenchman sent McGinnis reeling to theground. He would have kicked him with his spiked boots as he lay, in thefashion of the lumber camps, but the Supervisor, showing not theslightest fear of the infuriated giant, quietly stepped between. 

"This fight's none of my making or my choosing, " he said, "but I'll seethat it's fought fair. "

But before the bullying millman could turn his anger upon theself-appointed referee, McGinnis was up on his feet. 

"Let me at him, " he cried, "I'll show him a trick or two for that. "

Again the fight changed color. McGinnis was not smiling, but neither hadhe lost his temper. His vigilance had doubled and his whole frameseemed to be of steel springs. Blow after blow came crashing straightfor him, but the alert Irishman evaded them by the merest fraction of aninch. Two fearful swings from Peavey Jo followed each other in rapidsuccession, both of which McGinnis avoided by stepping inside them, hisright arm apparently swinging idly by his side. Then suddenly, at athird swing, he ran in to meet it, stooped and brought up his right withall the force of arm and shoulder and with the full spring of the wholebody upwards. It is a difficult blow to land, but deadly. It caughtPeavey Jo on the point of the chin and he went down. 

One of the mill hands hastened to the boss. 

"You've killed him, I think, " he said. 

"Don't you belave it, " said McGinnis; "he was born to be hanged, an'hanged he'll be. "

But the big lumberman gave no sign of life. 

"I have seen a man killed by that uppercut, though, " said the Irishman alittle more dubiously, as the minutes passed by and no sign ofconsciousness was apparent, "but I don't believe I've got the strengthto do it. "

Several moments passed and then Peavey Jo gave a deep respiration. 

"There!" said McGinnis triumphantly. "I told ye he'd live to behanged. " He looked around for the appreciation of the spectators. "Butit was a bird of a punch I handed him, " he grinned. 

[Illustration: TRAIN-LOAD FROM ONE TREE. 

Temporary railroad built through the forest to the sawmill. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER IX

A HARD FOE TO CONQUER

With the defeat of Peavey Jo, and the evidence that he was not tooseriously hurt by the licking he had received, the Supervisor'sattention promptly returned to the question for which he had come to themill. Ben had struggled up to a sitting posture, and Merritt repeatedhis question as to the whereabouts of the logs, the answering of whichhad brought the big millman's anger upon the half-witted lad. Accordingly, Ben looked frightened, and refused to answer, but when hesaw his foe still lying stretched out on the ground he said:

"Logs, near, near. Under pile of slabs. "

"Oh, that was the way he hid them, " said the Forest Chief; "cleverenough trick, too. "

McGinnis and Merritt followed Ben, and a couple of the men aroundsauntered along also. Wilbur stayed with the horses, watching themill-hands trying to bring Peavey Jo to consciousness. They had justroused him and got him to his feet when the government party returned. 

"I've seen your logs, " said the Supervisor with just a slight note oftriumph in his voice, "and I've plenty of witnesses. I also know whoyou're working for, so it will do no good to skip out. I'll nail both ofyou. Four and a half million feet, remember. "

Suddenly McGinnis startled every one by a sudden shout:

"Drop that ax!" he cried. 

The lumberman, who was just about to get into the saddle, suddenlydropped from the stirrup and made a quick grab for Ben, who had beenstanding near by. The half-witted lad had picked up an ax, and wasquietly sidling up in the direction of the lumberman, who was still toodazed from the blow he had received from McGinnis to be on the watch. 

"What would ye do with the ax, ye little villain?" asked McGinnis. 

"I kill him, once, twice, " said the lad. 

"Ye would, eh? Sure, I've always labored under the impression thatkillin' a man once is enough. 'Tis myself that can see the satisfactionit would be to whack him one with the ax, Ben, but ye'd be robbing thehangman. "

"I kill him, " repeated the half-witted lad. 

"Not with that ax, anyway, " said McGinnis wrenching it from his graspand tossing it to one of the men who stood by. "I'm thinkin', Merritt, that we'd better take the boy away. When he's sot, there's no changin'him. "

"You fellers had best take one o' my ponies, " spoke up one of thesawyers; "I've got a string here, an' you can send him back any time. An' I guess it wouldn't be healthy here for Ben right now. "

"All right, Phil, " said McGinnis; "I'll go along with you and get him. "

As soon as McGinnis was out of the way, Peavey Jo stepped up to wherethe Supervisor was sitting in the saddle. Ben had been standing besidehim since McGinnis took the ax, but now he shrank back to Wilbur's side. 

"You t'ink me beaten, hey?" he said, showing his teeth in an angrysnarl; "you wait and see. "

"I don't know whether you're beaten or no, " said Merritt contemptuously, "but any one can see that you've been licked. "

"You t'ink this forest good place. By Gar, I make him so bad youashamed to live here. "

"A threat's no more use than a lie, Peavey Jo, " replied the Supervisorsharply. "I don't bluff worth a cent, and the government's behind me. "

The half-breed spat on the ground. 

"That for your American government, " he said. "I, me, make your Americangovernment look sick. I warn you fairly now. You win this time, yes, butalways, no. Bon! My turn come by and by. "

"All right, " replied the head of the forest indifferently, turning awayas McGinnis and Ben came up, "turn on your viciousness whenever youlike. " Saying which, he rode away without paying further heed to themuttered response of the millman. 

The ride home was singularly silent. Neither McGinnis nor thehalf-witted lad were in any mood for speaking, Ben nursing a badlyswollen jaw, and McGinnis weak from the body blows and the lame shoulderhe had received in the fight. The Supervisor was angry that the troublehad come to blows, but in justice could not blame McGinnis for the parthe had taken. It annoyed him, especially, to feel that he had beencompelled to take the part of a mere spectator, although this feelingwas partly soothed by the knowledge that he had discovered and provedthe very thing he had set out to find. 

On arriving at headquarters, the four horses were turned into thecorral, and the men went in to get supper. Merritt immediately commenceda full report to Washington on the case, and McGinnis and Ben were gladto lie down. At supper Wilbur took occasion to congratulate McGinnis onthe result of the encounter. The Irishman nodded. 

"He's a better man than me, " he admitted readily, "and that uppercut wasthe only thing I had left. But 'tis a darlin' of a punch, is that same, when ye get it in right. But I don't think we're through with him. Helooks like the breed that harbors a grudge. "

"He threatened Merritt while you were away, " said Wilbur, dropping hisvoice so as not to disturb the rest. 

"The mischief he did! The nerve of him! Tell me what he said. "

Wilbur repeated the conversation word for word, and the Irishmanwhistled. 

"There, now, " he said. "What did I tell ye? Not that I can see there'smuch that he can do. "

"Do you suppose he'd set a fire?" asked Wilbur. 

"He's mean enough to, " said McGinnis, "but I don't believe he would. Noman that knows anything at all about timber would. Sure, he knows thatwe could put it out in no time if there wasn't a wind, and if there was, why the blaze might veer at any minute and burn up his mill and all hislumber. "

"But for revenge?"

"A Frenchy pea-jammer isn't goin' to lose any dollars unless he has to, "said McGinnis. "I don't think you need to be afraid of that. " Then, following along the train of thought that had been suggested, he toldthe boy some lurid stories of life in the lumber camps of Michigan andWisconsin in the early days. 

Early next morning Wilbur returned to his camp to resume his round offire rides, which he found to be of growing interest. On his return tohis camp, although tired, the lad would work till dark over his littlegarden, knowing that everything he succeeded in growing would add to theenrichment of his food supply. Then the fence around the garden was invery bad repair, and he set to work to make one which should effectivelykeep out the rabbits. 

Another week he found that if he could build a little bridge across aplace where the canyon was very narrow he could save an hour's ride onone of his trails. Already the lad had put up a small log span on hisown account. He went over and over this line of travel, blazing his wayuntil he felt entirely sure that he had picked out the best line oftrail, and then one evening he called up Rifle-Eye and asked him if hewould come over some time and show him how to build this little bridge. 

There followed three most exciting days in which the Ranger and a Guardfrom the other side of the forest joined him in bridge-building. Theynot only spanned the canyon, but strengthened the little log bridge theboy had made all by himself. Wilbur's reward was not only the shorteningof his route, but commendation from Rifle-Eye that he had taken thetrouble to find out the route and that he had picked it so well. Thatnight he wrote home as though he had been appointed in charge of all theforests of the world, so proud was he. 

Then there was one day in which Wilbur found the value of his lookout, for from the very place that the old hunter had pointed out as being oneof "the windows of his house, " the boy saw curling up to the westward asmall, dull cloud of smoke. Remembering the warnings of the Ranger, hedid not leap to the saddle at once, but remained for several minutes, studying the nearest landmarks to the apparent location of the fire andthe surest method of getting there. That ride was somewhat of a novelexperience for Kit as well as the boy. The little mare had grownaccustomed to a quiet, even pace on the forest trails, and the use ofthe spur was a thing not to be borne. Wilbur felt as if he were fairlyflying through the pine woods. Still he remembered to keep the mare wellin hand going down the steeper slopes, and within a couple of hours hefound himself at the fire. Then Wilbur found how true it was that ablaze could easily be put out if caught early. There was little wind, and the line of fire was not more than a mile long. By clearing theground, brushing the needles aside for a foot or so on the lee side ofthe fire, most of it burned itself out and the rest he could stamp toextinction. Here and there he used his fire shovel and threw a littleearth where the blaze was highest. 

That evening he telephoned to headquarters, reporting that he had putthe fire out, but only received a kindly worded rebuke for not havingendeavored to find out what caused the fire, and a suggestion that heshould ride back the next day and investigate. But before he couldtelephone himself the next evening, and while he was at supper, the'phone rang, and he found the Supervisor was on the wire. 

"Come to headquarters at once, " he was told; "all hands are wanted. "

"To-night, Mr. Merritt?" the boy queried. 

There was a moment's pause. 

"What did you do to-day?" he asked in answer. 

"I went to find out what started that fire, " the boy replied. "It was acouple of fishermen from the city. They had been here before, and so hadno guide. I followed them up and showed them how to make a fireproperly. "

"That's a pretty long ride, " said Merritt; "I guess you can come overfirst thing to-morrow morning. "

"Very well, sir, " said Wilbur, and hung up the receiver. 

"I certainly do wonder, " he said aloud, "what it can be? It can't be abig fire, or he would tell me to come anyway, no matter what I'd doneto-day, especially as fire is best fought at night. And I don't see howit can be any trouble over Peavey Jo, because that's in the hands of theWashington people now. Unless, " he added as an afterthought, "they havecome to arrest him. "

Having settled in his mind that this was probably the trouble, Wilburreturned to his supper. Just as he was finishing it, he said aloud: "Idon't see how it can be that, either. For if it's due to any trouble ofthat kind they want big, husky fellows, and Merritt can swear in any onehe needs. " So giving up the problem as temporarily insoluble, Wilburwent to bed early so as to make a quick start in the dawn of themorning. 

It turned out to be a glorious day, with but very little wind, andWilbur's mind was quite set at rest about the question of fire. But whenhe reached headquarters he was surprised to see the number of men thatwere gathered there. Not laughing and joking, as customarily, they stoodgravely around, only eying him curiously as he came in. The boy turnedto McGinnis. 

"What's wrong?" he said. 

For answer the lumberman held out a piece of wood from which the barkhad been stripped. Underneath the bark on the soft wood were numberlesslittle channels which looked as though they had been chiseled out with afine, rounded chisel. 

"Oh, " he said, "I see. " Then he continued: "But I didn't know there wasany bark-beetle here. "

McGinnis waved his hand around. 

"Does this look as if we had known very long?" he said. 

"Who found it out?" asked Wilbur. 

"Rifle-Eye, " was the reply, "or at least Merritt and he found traces onthe same day and brought the news into camp. Merritt only saw signs inone spot, but the old Ranger dropped on several colonies at differentparts of the forest, so that it must be widespread. "

The boy whistled under his breath. He had heard enough of the ravages ofthe bark beetle to know what it might mean if it once secured a strongfooting on the Sierras. 

"I remember hearing once, " he said, "that over twenty-two thousandacres of spruce in Bohemia were wiped out in a month by the Tomicusbeetle. "

"This is the work of a Tomicus, " said McGinnis. "And what such acritter as that was ever made for gets me. "

"What's going to be done?" asked Wilbur. 

McGinnis pointed to the house whence the Supervisor was just coming out. 

"I have notified the District Forester, " he said, standing on the steps, "and if I find things in bad shape he will send for Wilcox, who knowsmore about the beetle than any man in the Service. I don't know how muchdamage has been done nor how widespread it is. There are eight of ushere, and we will divide, as I said before, each two keeping about fiftyyards apart and girdling infected and useless trees. Loyle, you go withRifle-Eye. "

Wilbur was delighted at finding himself with his old friend again, andhe seized the opportunity gladly of asking him how he happened to findout that the pest had got a start. 

"I was campin' last night, " said the old Ranger, "an' I saw an old deadtree that looked as if it might have some tinder that would start afire easy. So I picked up my ax an' went up to it. But the minute I gotthere I felt somethin' was wrong, so I sliced along the bark, an' therewere hundreds of the beetles. Then I looked at some of the near bytrees, an' there was a few, here and there. But the funny part of it wasthat although I looked, an' looked carefully, for a hundred yards oneither side, I couldn't find any more. "

"So much the better, " said Wilbur, "you didn't want to find any more, did you?"

The old hunter stepped over to a spruce and examined it closely. 

"I didn't think there were any there, " he said, "but you can't be toosure. "

They walked all the rest of the morning, without having seen a sign ofany beetles, though once the most distant party whooped as a sign thatsome had been found. 

"I remember, " said the Ranger, "one year when we had a plague o'caterpillars. They was eatin' the needles of the trees an' killin' 'emby wholesale. There was nothin' we could do to stop it. But it gotstopped all right. "

"How?" Wilbur queried interestedly. "Rain?"

"Rain would only make it worse. Have you ever noticed, son, that whensomethin' pretty bad comes along, there's always somethin' else comes tosort o' take off the smart? Nothin's bad all the time. Well, this time, there came a fly. "

"A fly?"

"Yes, son, a fly, lookin' somethin' like a wasp, only not as long asyour thumb-nail. They come in swarms, an' started disposin' o' themcaterpillars as though they had been trained to the business. They stung'em an' then dropped an egg where they'd stung. Sometimes thecaterpillar lived long enough to spin a web, as they usually do, but itnever come out as a moth. An' since it's the moth that lays the eggs, this fly put an end to the caterpillar output with pleasin' swiftness. "

"What did they call the fly?"

"I did hear, " said Rifle-Eye, thinking. "Oh, yes, now I remember; it wasthe ik, ik--"

"Oh, I know now, " said Wilbur; "I remember hearing about it at theRanger School. The ichneumon fly. "

"That's it. But, as I was sayin'--" he stopped short. Then the oldhunter took a quick step to one side, pointed at a pine tree, and said:

"There's one o' them. "

Wilbur could only see a few little holes in the bark, but the oldwoodsman, slicing off a section, showed the tree girdled with thegalleries that the beetle had made. He raised a whoop, and Wilbur in thedistance could hear the Supervisor saying, "Three, " implying it was thethird piece found infected. 

"But I don't quite see, " said Wilbur, "how they make these galleriesrunning in all sorts of ways. "

"I ain't no expert on this here, " said Rifle-Eye. "But as far as I know, in the spring a beetle finds an old decayed tree. She begins at once tobore a sort of passageway, half in the bark an' half in the wood, an'lays eggs all along the sides. When the eggs come out, each grub digs atunnel out from the big gallery, an' in about three weeks the grub hasmade a long tunnel, livin' on the bark an' wood for its food, an' hasgrown to be a beetle. Then it bores its way out an' flies away toanother tree to repeat the same interestin' performance. "

"And if there are a lot of them, " said Wilbur, "I suppose it stops thesap from going up. "

"Exactly, " said the hunter. "But they generally begin on sickly trees. "

"Wilbur, " he called a moment later, "come here. "

The boy hurried over to the old hunter, who was standing by a deadtree--a small one, lying on the ground. 

"Try that one, " he said. 

The boy struck it with the ax and it showed up alive with beetles andgrubs and honeycombed with galleries. 

"Gee, " said the boy, "that's a bad one. "

"That's very like the way I found the other, " said the old hunter; "onevery bad one lyin' on the ground an' just a few around it bad, whilejust a short distance away there was no signs. "

He stood and thought for a minute or two, but aside from thecoincidence, Wilbur could not see that there was anything strange inthat. They worked busily for a few moments, girdling the infected trees, and also girdling some small useless trees near by, because, as thehunter explained, when the beetles flew out seeking a new tree todestroy, they would prefer one that was dying, as a tree from whichall the bark has been cut away all round always does, and then thesetrees could be burned. 

"Have you noticed wheel tracks around here?" asked the hunterthoughtfully. 

"I did think so, " said Wilbur, "near that dead tree, but I s'posed, ofcourse, I was wrong. What would a wagon be doing up here?"

Suddenly the Ranger dropped his ax as though he had been stung. Heturned to the boy, his eyes flashing. 

"Boy!" he said, "did you see the stump of that dead tree!"

"I didn't notice, " said Wilbur wonderingly. 

The old woodsman picked up his ax, and led the way back to the deadtree. 

Wilbur looked at the base of the tree. 

"It isn't a windfall, " he said; "it's been cut. "

"Where's the stump?" asked Rifle-Eye. 

The boy looked within a radius of a few feet, then looked up at thehunter. 

"Where's the stump?" repeated the old man. 

Wilbur turned back and searched for five minutes. Not a stump could hefind that fitted the tree. None had been cut for some time, and none atall of so small a girth. 

"I can't find any, " he admitted shamefacedly, afraid that the Rangerwould prove him wrong in some way. 

"Nor can I, " said Rifle-Eye. "Well?"

"Then I guess there isn't one there, " said the boy. 

"How did the tree get there?"

Wilbur looked at him, reflecting the question that he saw in the other'seyes. 

"It couldn't get there of itself, " he said, "and it was cut, too. "

"An' wheel-tracks?"

"There were tracks, " said the boy, "I'm sure of that. "

"When a cut tree is found lyin' all by itself, " said the Ranger, "withwagon tracks leadin' up to it an' away from it, it don't need a citydetective to find out that some one dropped it there. An' when that deadtree is full of bark-beetle, an' there ain't none in the forest, thatsure looks suspicious. An' when you find two of 'em jest the same way, with beetle in both, an' wheel-tracks near both, ye don't have to have adog's nose to scent somethin's doin' that ain't over nice. "

"But who, " said Wilbur indignantly, "would do a trick like that?"

"The man that drove that wagon, " said the old hunter. "I reckon, son, you an' me'll do a little trailin' an' see where those wheels lead us. "

They left the place where the tree was lying and followed the faint markof the wheels. In a few minutes they crossed the line of theSupervisor's inspection and he called to them. 

"Hi, Rifle-Eye, " he said, "you're away off the line. "

"I know, " said the old Ranger, "but I've got a plan of my own. "

Merritt shrugged his shoulders, but he knew that Rifle-Eye never wastedhis time, and he said no more. The old hunter and the boy walked onnearly a quarter of a mile, and there they found the tracks runningbeside a tiny gully, and a little distance down this, just as it hadbeen thrown, was another of these small trees, equally filled withbeetle. 

"I don't think we'll find any stump to this one, either, " said Wilburgleefully, for he saw that they were on the right track. 

"You will not, " replied the other sternly. After they had girdled theinfected trees again the Ranger shouldered his ax and, abandoning thetracks of the wheels, started straight for headquarters. 

At supper all sorts of conjectures were expressed as to the cause of thepest, its extent, and similar matters, but Rifle-Eye said nothing. Wilbur was so full of the news that he was hardly able to eat anythingfor the information he was just bursting to give. But he kept it in. Finally, when the men had all finished and pipes were lighted, the oldRanger spoke, in his slow, drawling way, and every one stopped tolisten. 

"There's five of ye, " he said, "that's found beetle, isn't there?"

"Yes, " answered the Supervisor, "five. "

"And I venture to bet, " he continued, "that you found a dead tree lyin'in the middle of the infected patch!"

"Yes, " said several voices, "we did. "

"An' you didn't find much beetle except just round that one tree?"

"Not a bit, " said one or two. "What about it?"

"There's a kind o' disease called Cholera, " began Rifle-Eye in aconversational tone, "that drifts around a city in a queer sort o' way. It never hits two places at the same time, but if it goes up a street, it sort o' picks one side, an' stops at one place for a while then goestravelin' on. It acts jest as if a man was walkin' around, an' he wasthe cholera spirit himself. "

"Well?" queried the Supervisor sharply. 

The old Ranger smiled tolerantly at his impatience. 

"Wa'al, " he said, "I ain't believin' or disbelievin' the yarn. But Iain't believin' any such perambulatin' spirit for a bark-beetle. Especially when I finds wagon tracks leading to each place where thetrouble is. "

"What do you mean, Rifle-Eye?" asked Merritt. "Give it to us straight. "

"I mean, " he said, "that I ain't never heard of spirits needin' wagonsto get around in. An' when I find dead trees containin' bark-beetlesplanted promiscuous where they'll do most good, I'm aimin' to draw abead on the owner o' that wagon. An' I'll ask another thing. Did any o'you find the stumps of them infected trees?"

There was a long pause, and then McGinnis, always the first to see, laughed out loud ruefully. 

"'Tis a black sorrow to me, " he said, "that I didn't let Ben welt himwid the ax the other day. Somebody else will have to do it now. "

"You mean, " said the Supervisor, flaming, "that those trees weredeliberately brought here to infect the forest, trees full of beetles?"

"Sure, 'tis as plain as the nose on your face, " said McGinnis. "An' it'sdubs we were not to see it ourselves. "

"And it was--?"

"The bucko pea-jammer that I gave a lickin' to in the spring, for sure, "said McGinnis. "Peavey Jo, of course, who else?"

[Illustration: WILBUR'S OWN BRIDGE. 

Light structure made by the boy over stream just below his camp. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: WHERE THE SUPERVISOR STAYED. 

The Ranger's cabin where the men gathered to fight the invasion of thebark beetle. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER X

A FOURTH OF JULY PERIL

Wilbur stayed but a few days at headquarters, the Supervisor andRifle-Eye having succeeded in trailing the wagon that had deposited thetrees from the point of its entrance into the forest to the place itwent out, by this means ensuring the discovery of all the spots wherediseased trees had been placed. One of them was in Wilbur's section ofthe forest, and he was required to go weekly and examine all the treesin the vicinity of the infected spot to make sure that the danger wasover. But, thanks to Rifle-Eye's discovery, the threatened pest wasspeedily held down to narrow limits. 

This added not a little to the lad's riding, for the place where PeaveyJo had deposited the infected tree in his particular part of the forestwas a long way from the trail to the several lookout points to which hewent daily to watch for fires. Fortunately, having built the littlebridge across the canyon, and thus on one of the days of the weekhaving shortened his ride, he was able to use the rest of the daylooking after bark-beetles. But it made a very full week. He could notneglect any part of these rides, for June was drawing to an end andthere had been no rain for weeks. 

One night, returning from a hard day, on which he had not only riddenhis fire patrol, but had also spent a couple of hours rolling big rocksinto a creek to keep it from washing out a trail should a freshet come, he found a large party of people at his camp. There was an ex-professorof social science of the old régime, his wife and little daughter, aguide, and a lavish outfit. Although the gate of Wilbur's corral waspadlocked and had "Property of the U. S. Forest Service" painted on it, the professor had ordered the guide to smash the gate and let theanimals in. 

Wilbur was angry, and took no pains to conceal it. 

"Who turned those horses into my corral?" he demanded. 

The professor, who wore gold-rimmed eyeglasses above a very dirty andtired face, replied:

"I am in charge of this party, and it was done at my orders. "

"By what right do you steal my pasture?" asked the boy hotly. 

"I understood, " said the professor loftily, "that it was the custom ofthe West to be hospitable. But you are probably too young to know. Yourparents live here?"

"No, " replied the lad. "I am a Forest Guard, and in charge of thisstation. You will have to camp elsewhere. "

At these last words the flap of the tent was parted and a woman cameout, the professor's wife, in fact. She looked very tired and muchtroubled. 

"What is this?" she asked querulously. "Have we got to start againto-night?"

Wilbur took off his hat. 

"I beg your pardon, " he said, "I did not know there were ladies in theparty. " He turned to the professor. "I suppose if it will bother themI'll have to let you stay. But if it hadn't been for that I'd haveturned every beast you've got out into the forest and let them rustlefor themselves. "

"Yes, you would!" said the guide. "An' what would I have had to say?"

"Nothing, " said Wilbur, "except that I'd have you arrested for touchingU. S. Property. " He turned to the professor: "How did you get here?" hesaid. 

"Up that road, " said the older man, pointing to the southwest. 

"And why didn't you camp a couple of miles down? There's much betterground down there. "

"The guide said there was no place at all, and he didn't know anythingabout this camp, either, and we thought we would have to go on allnight. "

Wilbur snorted. 

"Guide!" he said contemptuously. "Acts more like a stable hand!"

"Well, " said the professor testily, "if there's been any damage done youcan tell your superiors to send me a bill and I'll take the matter up inWashington. In the meantime, we will stay here, and if I like it here, Iwill stay a week or two. "

"Not much, you won't, " said Wilbur, "at least you won't have any horsesin the corral after daybreak to-morrow morning. I'll let them have onegood feed, anyhow, and if they're traveling with a thing like that tolook after them, "--he pointed to the "guide, "--"they'll need a rest. Butout they go to-morrow. "

"We will see to-morrow, " said the camper. 

"In the meantime, I see a string of trout hanging there. Are theyfresh?"

"I caught them early this morning, " answered Wilbur, "before I began myday's work. "

The professor took out a roll of bills. 

"How much do you want for them!" he asked. 

"They are not for sale, " the boy replied. 

"Oh, but I must have them, " the other persisted. "I had quite made up mymind to have those for supper to-night. "

"And I suppose, if I hadn't come home when I did, " said Wilbur, "youwould have stolen those, too!"

"I would have recompensed you adequately, " the former college officialreplied. "And you have no right to use the word 'stolen. ' I shall reportyou for impertinence. "

By this time Wilbur was almost too angry to talk, and, thinking itbetter not to say too much, he turned on his heel and went to his owntent. Before going down to the corral with Kit, however, he took theprecaution of carrying the string of fish with him, for he realized thatalthough the professor would not for the world have taken them withoutpaying, he would not hesitate to appropriate them in his absence. Hecooked his trout with a distinct delight in the thought that theintruders had nothing except canned goods. 

In the morning Wilbur was up and had breakfast over before the othercamp was stirring. As soon as the "guide" appeared Wilbur walked over tohim. 

"I've given you a chance to look after your animals, " he said, "beforeturning them out. You take them out in ten minutes or I'll turn themloose. "

"Aw, go on, " said the other, "I've got to rustle grub. You haven't gotthe nerve to monkey with our horses. "

Promptly at the end of the ten minutes Wilbur went over to the "guide"again. 

"Out they go, " he said. 

But the other paid no attention. Wilbur went down to the corral, thegate of which he had fixed early that morning, caught his own twomounts, and tied them. Then he opened the gate of the corral and drovethe other eight horses to the gate. In a moment he heard a wild shoutand saw the "guide" coming down the trail in hot haste. He reached thecorral in time to head off the first of his horses which was just comingthrough. Wilbur had no special desire to cause the animals to stray, and was only too well satisfied to help the "guide" catch them and tiethem up to trees about the camp. By this time it was long after the hourthat the boy usually began his patrol, but he waited to see the partystart. As they were packing he noticed a lot of sticks that looked likerockets. 

"What are those?" he asked. "If they're heavy, you're putting that packon all wrong. "

"These ain't got no weight, " said the "guide"; "that's just somefireworks for the Fourth. We've got a bunch of them along for the littlegirl. She's crazy about fireworks. "

Wilbur said no more, but waited until the professor came out. Then hewalked up to him. 

"I understand, " he said, "that you have some fireworks for the Fourth. "

The man addressed made no reply, but walked along as though he had notheard. 

"I give you fair warning, " said Wilbur, "that you can't set those off inthis forest, Independence Day or no Independence Day. "

"We shan't ask your permission, " said the old pedant loftily. "In fact, some will be set off this evening, and some to-morrow, wherever we maybe. "

"But don't you understand, " the boy said, "that you're putting theforest in danger, in awful danger of fire? And if a big forest firestarts, you are just as likely to suffer as any one else. You mightcause a loss of millions of dollars for the sake of a few rockets. "

"The man that sold me them, " said the other, "said they were harmless, and he ought to know. "

"All right, " said Wilbur. "I've been told off to protect this forestfrom danger of fire, and if there's any greater danger around than abunch like yours I haven't seen it. I reckon I'll camp on your trailtill you're out of my end of the forest, and then I'll pass the wordalong and see that there's some one with you to keep you from makingfools of yourselves. "

He turned on his heel and commenced to make up a pack for his heavierhorse, intending to ride Kit. He then went to the telephone and, findingno one at headquarters, called up the old hunter's cabin. The Ranger hada 'phone put in for Ben, who had learned how to use it, and by goodfortune the half-witted lad knew where to find Rifle-Eye. He explainedto Ben how matters stood, and asked him to get word to the Ranger ifpossible. Then Wilbur went back to the party and gave them a hand toget started. 

Although he had been made very angry, Wilbur could see no gain insulking and he spent the day trying to establish a friendly relationwith the professor, so that, as he expressed it afterwards, "he couldjolly him out of the fireworks idea. " But while this scholastic visitorwas willing to talk about subjects in connection with the government, and was quite well-informed on reclamation projects, Wilbur found theprofessor as stubborn as a mule, and every time he tried to bring theconversation round to forest fires he would be snubbed promptly. 

That evening Wilbur led the party to a camping place where, he reasoned, there would be little likelihood of fire trouble, as it was a very openstand and all the brush on it had been piled and burned in the spring. But the lad was at his wits' end what further to do. He could not seizeand carry off all the fireworks, and even if he were able to do so, hecouldn't see that he had any right to. It was a great relief to the boywhen he heard a horse on the trail and the old Ranger cantered up. 

"Oh, Rifle-Eye, " he said, "I'm so glad you've come. Tell me what todo, " and the boy recounted his difficulty with the party from first tolast. 

The old woodsman listened attentively, and then said:

"I reckon, son, we'll stroll over and sorter see just how the land lies. There's a lot of things can be done with a mule by talkin' to him, although there is some that ain't wholly convinced by a stick ofdynamite. We'll see which-all these here are. "

"I think they're the dynamite kind, " the boy replied. 

"Well, we'll see, " the Ranger repeated. He stepped in his loose-jointedway to where the party was sitting around the campfire. Then, lookingstraight at the man of the party, he said:

"You're a professor?"

The remark admitted of no reply but:

"I was for twenty years. "

"And what did you profess?"

At this the camper rose to his feet, finding it uncomfortable to sit andlook up at the tall, gaunt mountaineer. He replied testily that itwasn't anything to do with Rifle-Eye what chair he had held or in whatcollege, and he'd trouble him to go about his business. 

Rifle-Eye heard him patiently to the end, and then asked again, withoutany change of voice:

"And what did you profess?"

Once again the reputed educator expressed himself as to the Ranger'sinterference and declared that he had been more annoyed since cominginto the forest than if he had stayed out of it. He worked himself upinto a towering rage. Presently Rifle-Eye replied quietly:

"You refuse to tell?"

"I do, " snapped the professor. 

"Is it because you are ashamed of what you taught, or of where youtaught it?" the Ranger asked. 

This was touching the stranger in a tender place. He was proud of hiscollege and of his hobby, and he retorted immediately:

"Ashamed? Certainly not. I was Professor of Social Economy in BlurtvilleUniversity. "

"And what do you call Social Economy?" asked Rifle-Eye. 

The educator fell into the trap thus laid out for him and launched intoa vigorous description of his own peculiar personal views towardsecuring a better understanding of the rights of the poor and of modernplans for ensuring better conditions of life, until he painted a pictureof his science and his own aims which was most admirable. When he drewbreath, he seemed quite pleased with himself. 

The Ranger thought a minute. 

"An' under which of these departments, " he said, "would you put breakin'into this young fellow's corral, and havin' your eight horses eatin' upfeed which will hardly be enough for his two when the dry weathercomes?"

"That's another matter entirely, " replied the professor, becoming angryas soon as he was criticised. 

"Yes, it's another matter, " said Rifle-Eye. "It's doin' instead oftalkin'. I reckon you're one o' the talkin' kind, so deafened by thesound o' your own splutterin' that you can't hear any one else. It's apity, too, that you don't learn somethin' yourself before you set othersto learnin'. "

"Are you trying to teach me?" snapped the traveler. 

The old Ranger leaned his arm on the barrel of his rifle, which, according to his invariable custom, he was carrying with him, a habitfrom old hunting days, and looking straight at the professor, said:

"I ain't no great shakes on Social Economy, as you call it, and I ain'tbeen to college. But I c'n see right enough that there's no real meanin'to you in all you know about the rich an' the poor when you'll go an'rob a lad o' the pasture he'll need for his horses; an' you're onlyactin' hypocrite in lecturin' about promotin' good feelin's in societywhen you're busy provokin' bad feelin' yourself. An' when you're harpin'on the deep canyon that lies between Knowledge an' Ignorance, it don'tpay to forget that Politeness is a mighty easy bridge to rear, an' onethat's always safe. You may profess well enough, Mister Professor, butyou're a pretty ornery example o' practisin'. "

"But it's none of your business--" interrupted the stranger angrily. 

Rifle-Eye with a gesture stopped him. 

"It's just as much my business to talk to you, " he said, "as it'd beyours to talk to me. In fact it's more. You c'n talk in your lectureroom, an' I'll talk here. Perhaps it ain't altogether your fault; it'sjust that you don't know any better. You're just a plumb ignorantcritter out here, Mister Professor, an' by rights you oughtn't to bearound loose. 

"An' you tried to threaten a boy here who was doin' his duty by sayin'that you'd write to Washington. What for? Are you so proud o' thievin'an' bullyin' that you want every one to know, or do you want to tellonly a part o' the story so as you'll look all right an' the otherfellow all wrong. That breed o' Social Economy don't go, not out here. We calls it lyin', an' pretty mean lyin' at that. "

He broke off suddenly and looked down with a smile. 

"Well, Pussy, " he said, "that's right. You come an' back me up, " andreaching out his brown gnarled hand he drew to his side the little girlwho had come trustingly forward to him as all children did, and now hadslipped her little hand into his. 

"An' then there's this question o' fire, " he continued. "Haven't you gotsome fireworks for the Fourth, Pussy?" he said, looking down at hislittle companion. 

"Oh, yeth, " she lisped, "pin-wheelth, and crackerth, and thnaketh, andheapth of thingth. "

"What a time we'll have, " he said. "Shall we look at them now?"

"Oh, yeth, " the little girl replied, and ran across to her father, "canwe thee them now?"

"No, not now, " the father replied. 

The old Ranger called the "guide" by name. 

"Miguel, " he said, "the fireworks are wanted to-night. Bring 'em to me. "

The professor protested, but a glance at the sinewy frame of themountaineer decided Miguel, and he brought several packages. In order toplease the little girl, Rifle-Eye lent her his huge pocket-knife and lether open the packages, sharing the surprises with her. Some of them heput aside, especially the rockets, but by far the larger number he letthe child make up into a pile. 

"Will you give me your word you won't set off these?" queried themountaineer, pointing to the smaller pile of dangerous explosives withhis foot. 

"I'll say nothing, " said the professor. 

Without another word the Ranger stooped down, picked them up in one bigarmful, and disappeared beyond the circle of the light of the campfireinto the darkness. He reappeared in a few minutes. 

"I'm afeard, " he said, "your fireworks may be a little wet. I tied 'emin a bundle, fastened a stone to 'em, an' then dropped 'em in thatlittle lake. You can't do any harm with those you've got now. " He waiteda moment. "You can get those rockets, " he said, "any time you have amind to. That lake dries up about the middle of September. "

"By what right--" began the professor. 

"I plumb forget what sub-section you called that partickler right justnow, " Rifle-Eye replied, "but out here we calls it fool-hobblin'. You'reoff your range, Mister Professor, an' the change o' feed has got youlocoed mighty bad. I reckon you'd better trot back to your own pasturesin the East, an' stay there till you know a little more. "

"What is your name and address?" blustered the professor; "I'll have thelaw invoked for this. "

"There's few in the Rockies as don't know old Rifle-Eye Bill, " theRanger replied, "an' my address is wherever I c'n find some good to bedone. Any one c'n find me when I'm wanted, an' I'm ready any time yousay. Now, you're goin' to celebrate the Fourth to-morrow, to show howfond you are o' good government. You c'n add to your lectures on SocialEconomy one rule you don't know any thin' about. It's a Western rule, this one, an' it's just that no man that can't govern himself can governanythin' else. "

He turned on his heel, ignoring the reply shouted after him, andfollowed by Wilbur, mounted and rode away up the trail. 

"I've got to get right back, " said the Ranger; "we're goin' to startworkin' out a special sale of poles. "

"Telegraph poles?" queried Wilbur. 

"Yes. "

"When you come to think of it, " said the boy, "there must be quite a lotof poles all over the country. "

"Merritt said he reckoned there was about sixteen million poles now inuse, an' three and a half million poles are needed every year just fortelegraph and telephone purposes alone. "

"When you think, " said Wilbur, "that every telegraph and telephone polemeans a whole tree, there's some forest been cut down, hasn't there?"

"How many poles do you s'pose are used in a mile?"

"About forty, I heard at school, " the boy replied, "and it takes anarmy of men working all the year round just puttin' in poles. "

The old hunter struck a match and put a light to his pipe. 

"More forest destruction, " said the boy mischievously, "I should think, Rifle-Eye, you'd be ashamed to waste wood by burning it up in the formof matches. "

"Go on talkin', " said Rifle-Eye, "you like tellin' me these things youpicked up at the Ranger School. Can you tell how much timber is used, orhow many matches are lighted an' thrown away?"

"Three million matches a minute, every minute of the twenty-four hours, "said Wilbur immediately. "That is, " he added after a moment'scalculation, "nearly four and a half billion a day. And then only thevery best portion of the finest wood can be used, and, as I hear, thebig match factories turn out huge quantities of other stuff, like doorsand window sashes, in order to use up the wood which is not of the veryfinest quality, such as is needed for matches. "

"How do they saw 'em so thin, I wonder?" interposed the Ranger. 

"Some of it is sawed both ways, " the boy replied. "Some logs are boiledand then revolved on a lathe which makes a continuous shaving thethickness of a match, and a lot of matches are paper-pulp, which isreally wood after all. There's no saying, Rifle-Eye, " he continued, laughing, "how many good trees have been cut down to make a light foryour pipe. "

The old hunter puffed hard, as the pipe was not well lighted. 

"Well, " he said, "I guess I'll let the Forest Guards handle it. " Helooked across at the boy. "It's up to you, " he said, "to keep me goin. 'Got a match?"

[Illustration: MEASURING A FAIR-SIZED TREE. 

Lumberman on the scene of felling operations checking up a timber sale. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: RUNNING A TELEPHONE LINK. ]

[Illustration: RUNNING A TELEPHONE LINK. 

Using the poles planted by Nature for annihilating space in sparselysettled regions. 

_Photographs by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER XI

AMIDST A CATTLE STAMPEDE

Wilbur would have liked greatly to be able to stay at his little tenthome and celebrate the Fourth of July in some quiet fashion, but thefireworks folly of the professor's party had got on his nerve a little, and he was not satisfied until he really got into the saddle and was onhis way to a lookout point. Nor was he entirely without reward, forshortly before noon, as he rode along his accustomed trail, ahalf-Indian miner met him and told him he had been waiting to ask him todinner. And there, with all the ceremony the little shack could muster, this simple family had prepared a feast to the only representative ofthe United States that lived near them, and Wilbur, boy-like, had tomake a speech, and rode along the trail later in the afternoon, feelingthat he had indeed had a glorious Fourth of July dinner in the Indian'scabin. 

The week following the Supervisor rode up, much to Wilbur's surprise, who had not expected to see him back in that part of the forest sosoon. But Merritt, who indeed was anxious to get away, by hisconversation showed that he was awaiting the arrival and conveyance of atrainload of machinery for the establishment of a large pulp-mill on theKern River. The trail over which this machinery would have to be takenwas brushed out and ready, all save about nine miles of it, a sectiontoo small to make it worth while to call a Ranger from another part ofthe forest. So the Supervisor announced his intention of doing the workhimself, together with Wilbur. The night preceding, just before theyturned in for the night, the boy turned to his chief and said:

"What time in the morning, Mr. Merritt?"

"I'll call you, " replied the Supervisor. 

He did, too, for at sharp five o'clock the next morning Wilbur waswakened to find the older man up and with breakfast ready. 

"I ought to have got breakfast, sir, " said the boy; "why didn't youleave it for me?"

"You need more sleep than I do, " was the sufficient answer. "Now, tuckin. "

The boy waited for no second invitation and devoted his attention tosecuring as much grub as he could in the shortest possible time. Breakfast was over, the camp straightened up, and they were in thesaddle by a quarter to six. It was ten miles from Wilbur's camp to thepoint where the trail should start. The country was very rough, and itwas drawing on for nine o'clock when they reached the point desired. 

"Now, " said the Supervisor, "take the brush hook and clear the trail asI locate it. "

Wilbur, accordingly, following immediately after his chief, worked forall he knew how, cutting down the brushwood and preparing the trail. Every once in a while Merritt, who had blazed the trail some distanceahead, would return, and, bidding the boy pile brush, would attack theunderwood as though it were a personal enemy of his and would cover theground in a way that would make Wilbur's most strenuous moments seemtrifling in comparison. Once he returned and saw the lad laboring fordear life, breathing hard, and showing by his very pose that he wastiring rapidly, although it was not yet noon, and he called to him. 

"Loyle, " he said, "what are you breaking your neck at it that way for?"

"I don't come near doing as much as I ought unless I do hurry, " hesaid. "And then I'm a long way behind. "

"You mean as much as me?"

The boy nodded. 

"Absurd. No two men's speed is the same. Don't force work. Find out whatgait you can keep up all day and do that. Make your own standard, don'ttake another man's. "

"But I go so slowly!"

"Want to know it all and do it all the first summer, don't you? Supposeno one else had to learn? I don't work as hard as you do, though I getmore done. You can't buck up against an old axman. I haven't done thisfor some time, but I guess I haven't forgotten how. Go and sit down andget your breath. "

"But I'm not tired--" began Wilbur protestingly. 

"Sit down, " he was ordered, and the boy, feeling it was better to dowhat he was told, did so. After he had a rest, which indeed was verywelcome, the Supervisor called him. 

"Loyle, " he said, "you know something about a horse, for I've watchedyou with them. Handle yourself the same way. You wouldn't force a horse;don't force yourself. "

Moreover, the older man showed the boy many ways wherein to save labor, explaining that there was a right way and a wrong way of attacking everydifferent kind of bush. In consequence, when Wilbur started again in theafternoon he found himself able to do almost half as much again withless labor. Working steadily all day until sundown, five miles of thetrail had been located, brushed out, and marked. 

There was a small lake near by, and thinking that it would be lessfatiguing for the boy to catch fish than to look after the camp, theSupervisor sent him off to try his luck. Wilbur, delighted to have beenlucky, returned in less than fifteen minutes with four middling-sizedtrout, and he found himself hungry enough to eat his two, almost bonesand all. That night they slept under a small Baker tent that Merritt hadbrought along on his pack horse, the riding and pack saddles being piledbeside the tent and covered with a slicker. 

The following day, by starting work a little after daybreak, theremaining four miles of the trail were finished before the noonday halt, which was made late in order to allow the completion of the work. Wilbur, when he reviewed the fact that they had gone foot by foot overnine miles of trail, clearing out the brush and piling it, so that itcould be burned and rendered harmless as soon as it was dry, thought itrepresented as big a two days' work as he had ever covered. 

"Will the pulp-mill be above or below the new Edison plant?" queriedWilbur on their way home. 

"Above, " said his companion. "I'll show you just where. You're going toride down with me to the site of the mill to-morrow. There's a lot ofspruce here, and it ought to pay. "

"But I thought, " said Wilbur, "that paper-pulp was such a destructiveway of using timber?"

"It is, " answered Merritt, "but paper is a necessity. A book is moreimportant than a board. "

"But doesn't it take a lot of wood to make a little paper?" asked theboy. "There's been such a howl about paper-pulp that I thought it mustbe fearfully wasteful. "

"It isn't wasteful at all, " was the reply. "A cord and a half of sprucewill make a ton of pulp. Where the outcry comes in is the quantity used. One newspaper uses a hundred and fifty tons of paper a day. That meanstwo hundred and twenty-five cords of wood. The stand of spruce here isabout ten cords to the acre. So one newspaper would clean off ten acresa day or three thousand acres a year. "

"But wouldn't it ruin the forest to take it off at that rate?"

"Certainly, " the Supervisor answered, "but the sale will be so arrangedthat not more will be sold each year than will be good for the forest. "

"Is all paper made of spruce?" asked Wilbur. 

"No. Many kinds of wood will make paper. Carolina poplar and tulip woodare both satisfactory. "

"Except for the branches and knot-wood, " said Wilbur, "almost every partof every kind of tree is good for something. "

"And you can use those, too, " came the instant reply. "That's what drydistillation is for. All that you've got to do is fill a retort withwood and put a furnace under it, and all pine tree leavings can betransformed into tar and acetic acid, from which they can make vinegar, as well as wood alcohol and charcoal. "

Finding that the boy was thoroughly interested in the possibilities oflumber, the Supervisor, usually so silent and brief in manner, openedout a little and talked for two straight hours to Wilbur on thepossibilities of forestry. He showed the value of turpentine and resinin the pine trees and advocated the planting of hemlock trees and oaktrees for their bark, as used in the tanning industry. 

As the Forester warmed up to his subject, Wilbur thought he waslistening to an "Arabian Nights" fairy tale. Despite his customarysilence Merritt was an enthusiast, and believed that forestry was the"chief end of man. " He assured the boy that twenty different species oftree of immense value could be acclimatized in North America which areof great commercial value now in South America; he compared the climatein the valleys of the lower Mississippi with those of the Ganges, andnamed tree after tree, most of them entirely unknown to Wilbur, whichwould be of high value in the warm, swampy bottoms. And when Wilburventured to express doubt, he was confronted with the example of theeucalyptus, commonly called gum tree, once a native of Australia, nowbecoming an important American tree. 

All the way home and all through supper the Supervisor talked, untilwhen it finally became time to turn in, the boy dreamed of an ideal timewhen every acre of land in the United States should be rightly occupied;the arid land irrigated from streams fed by reservoirs in the forestedmountains; the rivers full of navigation and never suffering floods; thefarms possessing their wood-lots all duly tended; and every inch of thehills and mountains clothed with forests--pure stands, or mixed stands, as might best suit the conditions--each forest being the best possiblefor its climate and its altitude. 

But he had to get up at five o'clock next morning, just the same, anddreams became grim realities when he found himself in the saddle againand off for a day's work before six. A heavy thunderstorm in the nighthad made everything fresh and shining, but at the same time the water onthe underbrush soaked Wilbur through and through when he went out towrangle the horses. Merritt's riding horse, a fine bay with a blazedface, had a bad reputation in the country, which Wilbur had heard, andhe was in an ugly frame of mind when the boy found him. But Wilbur wasnot afraid of horses, and he soon got him saddled. 

"I think Baldy's a little restless this morning, sir, " ventured Wilbur, as they went to the corral to get their horses. But he received noanswer. The Supervisor's fluent streak had worn itself out the daybefore and he was more silent than ever this morning. 

Merritt swung himself into his saddle, and, as Wilbur expected, the baybegan to buck. It was then, more than ever, that the boy realized thedifference between the riding he had seen on the plains and ordinaryriding. Merritt was a good rider, and he stuck to his saddle well. ButWilbur could see that it was with difficulty, and that the task was ahard one. There was none of the easy grace with which Bob-Cat Bob hadridden, and when Baldy did settle down Wilbur felt that his rider hadconsidered his keeping his seat quite a feat, not regarding it as atrifling and unimportant incident in the day. 

Merritt and the boy rode on entirely off the part of the forest on whichWilbur had his patrol, to a section he did not know. They stopped onceto look over a young pine plantation. Just over a high ridge there was awider valley traversed by an old road which crossed the main range aboutfive miles west and went down into a valley where there were numerousranches. The principal occupation of these ranchmen was stock-raising, on account of their long distance from a railroad which prevented themmarketing any produce. Just about July of each year these ranchmenrounded up their stock, cut out the beef steers, and shipped them to themarkets. It was then the last week in July, and the Supervisor expectedto meet some of the herds upon the old road which crossed the mountainsfurther on. Just as they reached the bottom of the hill they saw theleaders of a big herd coming down the road from the pass. In thedistance a couple of cowpunchers could be seen in front holding up thelead of the bunch. 

"I'll wait and talk, " said Merritt, reining in. As perhaps he hadexchanged four whole sentences in two hours' ride, Wilbur thought tohimself that the conversation would have to be rather one-sided, but heknew the other believed in seizing every opportunity to promotefriendliness with the people in his forest and waited their upcomingwith interest. The Supervisor had his pack-horse with him, and as theherd drew nearer he told Wilbur to take him out of sight into the brush, so as not to scare the steers, and tie him up safely. That done, Wilbur rode back to the road. 

By the time he had returned the two punchers had ridden up. One provedto be the foreman of the outfit, by name Billy Grier, and the other aTexan, whom Merritt called Tubby Rodgers, apparently because he was asthin as a lath. 

"I was a-hopin', " said Grier as he rode up, "that you-all was headin'down the road a bit. "

"I wasn't planning to, " said the Forester. "Why?"

"We had a heavy storm down in the valley last night, which sort of brokethings up badly, an' I had to leave a couple of men behind. "

"Don't want to hire us to drive, do you?" asked Merritt. 

"Allers willin' to pay a good man, " said the foreman with a grin. "Giveye forty and chuck. "

The Supervisor smiled. 

"I'm supposed to be holding down a soft job, " he said; "governmentservice. "

"Soft job, " snorted Grier, "they'd have to give me the bloomin' forestafore I'd go at it the way you do. But, Merritt, " he added, "this ishow. A piece down the road, say a mile an' a half, I'm told there's arotten bit o' road, an' I'm a little leery of trouble there. I'd havestrung out the cattle three times as far if I'd known of it. But I hadno chance; I've only just heard that some old county board is tryin' tofix a bridge, an' they're movin' about as rapid as a spavined mule withthree broken legs. "

"Well?" queried Merritt; "I suppose you want us to help you over thatspot. "

"That's it, pard, " said the foreman; "an' I'll do as much for you sometime. "

"I wish you could, but I'll never have a string of cattle like those toturn into good hard coin. "

"Well, " said the cowpuncher, "why not?"

"Nothing doing, " replied Merritt; "the Forest Service is an incurabledisease that nobody ever wants to be cured of. "

By this time the head of the bunch of steers was drawing close and theforeman repeated his request. 

"All right, " answered the Forester, who thought it good policy to havethe ranchman feel that he was under obligations to the Service, "we'llgive you a hand all right. "

After riding down the road for about a mile it became precipitous, andWilbur could readily see where there was likely to be trouble. Shortlybefore they reached the place where the bridge was being repaired thebank on the right-hand side of the road gave place to a sheer drop fortyto fifty feet high and deepening with every step forward. As the bunchneared the bridge Merritt and Wilbur, with the cowpunchers, slowed upuntil the steers were quite close. Then Grier and Rodgers went aheadover the bridge, while Merritt waited until about fifty cattle hadpassed and then swung in among them, telling Wilbur to do the same whenabout another fifty head had passed. 

At first Wilbur could not see the purpose of this, and he had greatdifficulty in forcing his horse among the cattle. But they pressed backas he swung into the road, giving him a little space to ride in, andthus dividing the head of the drove into two groups of fifty. Followinginstructions, Wilbur gradually pressed the pace of the bunch in order toprevent any chance of overcrowding from the rear. 

It seemed easy enough. Owing to the narrowness of the road and theprecipitous slope it was impossible for the steers to scatter, and aslong as the pace was kept up, there was likely to be no difficulty. ButKit--Wilbur was riding Kit--suddenly pricked her ears and began todance a little in her steps. The steers, although their pace had notchanged, were snuffling in an uncertain fashion, and Wilbur vaguelybecame conscious that fear was abroad. He quieted Kit, but could seefrom every motion that she was catching the infection of the fear. Hetightened his hold on the lines, for he saw that if she tried to boltboth of them would go over the edge. Wilbur looked down. 

A hundred yards or so further on the road widened slightly, and Wilburwondered whether it would be possible for him to work his way to theright of the steers and gallop full speed alongside the herd to get infront of them; but even as he thought of the plan he realized that itwould scarcely be possible, and that unless he reached the front of theherd before the road narrowed again he would be forced over the edge. And, as he reached the wider place, he saw Grier and Rodgers standing. They also had sensed the notion of fear and were waiting to see whatcould be done in the main body of the herd. Merritt had worked his waythrough the steers, and was riding in the lead. Wilbur wondered how hehad ever been able to force Baldy through. This put Wilbur behind abunch of about one hundred steers and in front of five or six hundredmore. 

Below him, to the right, was a valley, the drop now being about onehundred and fifty feet, and Wilbur could see at the edge of the creek, pitched among some willows, a little tent, the white contrastingstrongly with the green of the willows. The road wound round high abovethe valley in order to keep the grade. Twice Wilbur halted Kit to try tostop the foremost of the herd behind him from pressing on too close, butthe third time Kit would not halt. She was stepping as though onsprings, with every muscle and sinew tense, and the distance between thesteers before and the steers behind was gradually lessening. 

Wilbur realized that as long as the even, slow pace was kept he was inno danger, but if once the steers began to run his peril would beextreme. He could turn neither to the right nor to the left, the littlepony was nothing in weight compared to the steers, and even if she were, he stood a chance of having his legs crushed. The only hope was to keepthe two herds apart. He wheeled Kit. But as the little mare turned andfaced the tossing heads and threatening horns, she knew, as did Wilburinstantaneously, that with the force behind them, no single man couldstop the impetus of the herd, although only traveling slowly. Indeed, ifhe tried, he could see that the rear by pressure onwards would force theoutside ranks midway down the herd over the edge of the cliff. Kit spunround again almost on one hoof, all but unseating Wilbur. 

But even in that brief moment there had been a change, and the boy feltit. The steers were nervous, and, worst of all, he knew that Kit couldrealize that he himself was frightened. When a horse feels that therider is frightened, anything is apt to happen. Wilbur's judgment wasnot gone, but he was ready to yell. The herd behind grew closer andcloser. Presently the walk broke into a short trot, the horns of thefollowing bunch of steers appeared at Kit's flanks, a rumbling as ofhalf-uttered bellows was heard from the rear of the herd, and, on theinstant, the steers began to run. 

[Illustration: NURSERY FOR YOUNG TREES. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: PLANTATION OF YOUNG TREES. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: SOWING PINE SEED. 

Brush on ground is to shade tender seedlings from the heat of the sun. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: PLANTING YOUNG TREES. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER XII

ALMOST TRAMPLED TO DEATH

The minute the stampede began Wilbur's nerves steadied, and with voicemore than with hand he quieted Kit. It took a moment or two for thefront group to break into the running gallop of the frightened steer, and two head of cattle not twenty feet from Wilbur were forced over theedge before the leaders started to run. In this moment the rear bunchclosed up solidly and Wilbur was hemmed in. 

The pace became terrific, and as they hurtled along the face of thecliff with the precipice below, Wilbur noted to his horror that he wasgradually being forced to the outer edge. Being lighter than the steers, the heavier animals were surging ahead alongside the cliff wall, and thelittle pony with the boy on his back was inch by inch being forced tothe verge, of which there was a clear fall now of about one hundredfeet. Vainly he looked for a tree overhanging the road into which hecould leap; there were no trees. And every few strides he found himselfappreciably nearer the edge. Looking back, as far as he could see thesteers were crowding, and looking forward the road curved, hiding whatmight lie before. 

His feet were out of the stirrups and well forward, so that, although hehad received three or four bruising encounters as the cattle lurched andsurged against him, he was unhurt. Several times Kit was hurled from herstride, but she always picked up her feet neatly again. Wilbur could notbut admire the little mare, although he felt that there was no hope forthem. 

Then suddenly, with an angry bellow, a big black steer which had beenpushing up on the inside turned his head and tried to gore the pony. There was not room, however, but the action so angered Wilbur that, pulling his six-shooter, he sent a bullet crashing to his brain. Thesteer gave a wild lurch, but did not fall immediately, and in an instantwas forced to the edge and fell into the valley below. Instantly, Kit, even before Wilbur could speak or lay hand on the rein, gave a sidewisejump into the hole made by the place the black steer had occupied. Inone stride as much gain away from the dangerous edge had been made ashad been lost in the previous half mile. 

More at his ease, but for the fearful speed and the danger that Kitmight lose her footing, Wilbur looked ahead, talking to the steersaround, endeavoring to quiet them, noting that the road was turning moresharply in the valley, although the downward grade was steeper and itwas increasingly hard for the little pony to hold up. But as they turnedthe curve, there, immediately before them, standing in the middle of theroad, with their fishing poles over their shoulders, were a man and aboy, evidently entirely ignorant of the danger so rapidly approaching. The bank above was too steep to climb, and the one below straight ninetyfeet sheer to the creek. To Wilbur it looked like sure death, and a mostawful one at that, but he at least was utterly unable to do anything toprevent it, and he shuddered to think that he himself might be tramplingwith his pony's hoofs on what might be below. 

But just as he had in that instant decided that there was no help forit, he suddenly saw Merritt on old Baldy shoot forward like an arrowfrom a bow stretched to the uttermost. The herd of steers was travelingat a rapid clip, but under the startling influence of combined quirtand spur, and with no room in which to display his bucking propensities, Baldy just put himself to running, and only hit the high spots here andthere. 

It seemed incredible to Wilbur that any horse could stop, especially ona down grade, at the speed that Baldy was traveling, but just before hereached the man and boy, having previously shouted to warn them, Merrittpulled up with a jerk that brought Baldy clear back on his haunches. Like a flash of light he leaped from the horse and half lifted, halfpushed the man into the saddle, tossed the boy up behind him, and then, grabbing hold of the slicker which was tied behind the cantle, he hitold Baldy a slap with the quirt, and down the road they went, not twentyyards ahead of the steers, Baldy carrying on his back the man and theboy, and Merritt, hanging on like grim death, trying to run, takingstrides that looked as though he wore seven-leagued boots. The speed wasterrific and presently Wilbur noticed that Merritt was keeping both feettogether, putting his weight on the saddle, and vaulting along inimmense leaps. One moment he was there, but the next moment that Wilburlooked ahead Baldy was still racing down the road with his double load, but Merritt was nowhere to be seen. It was with a sickening feeling thatWilbur realized that he must have lost his hold, and was in the sameperil from which he had saved the man and the boy. 

For a few fearful minutes Wilbur watched the ground beneath his horse'sfeet, but saw no object in the occasional glimpses he could secure ofthe dusty road. Once again Wilbur found himself being forced to theouter edge of the road, but the cliff was shallowing rapidly, and nowthey were not more than twenty feet above the valley with the roadcurving into it in the distance. A couple of hundred feet further on, however, a hillock rose abruptly, coming within four feet of the levelof the road, and Wilbur decided to put the pony at it, seeing there wasa chance of safety, and that even if they both got bad falls, there wasno fear of being trampled. 

Allowing the pony to come to the outside, he reined her in hard and ledher to the jump, swinging from the saddle as he did so in order to giveboth Kit and himself a fair chance. The pony, released from the weightof the rider before she struck ground, met it in a fair stride, andwithout losing footing kept up the gait to the bottom of the hillock, pulling up herself on the level grass below. But Wilbur, not being ableto estimate his jump, because he was in the act of vaulting from thesaddle, struck the ground all in a heap, crumpled up as though he werebroken in pieces and was hurled down the hill, reaching the bottomstunned. He was unconscious for several minutes, but when he came tohimself, Kit was standing over him, nosing him with her soft muzzle asthough to bring him round. Weakly he staggered to his feet, and seeingKit standing patiently, managed to clamber into the saddle. 

The pony started immediately at an easy canter, crossing the valley andmeeting the herd where the road ran into the level. The cattle weretired from the run, and sick and bruised as he was, Wilbur headed themoff and rounded them up, being aided presently by Rodgers and Grier, whohad found themselves unable to cut into the stampeding herd, andconsequently had waited until the whole herd got by, when they hadridden back along the trail a little distance, got down to the creek bya bridle path, and crossed the valley by a short cut. 

In the distance Baldy could be seen grazing, and Wilbur lightly touchedKit with the spur to find out what had happened. The bay, as soon as hehad stopped running, evidently had bucked off his two riders, who werestill sitting on the ground, apparently dazed. The man, who wasevidently an Eastern tourist, was pale as ashes and dumb with fright, and could tell nothing. The boy knew no more than, "He had to let go, hehad to let go. "

Together with Grier, Wilbur started back along the road to look for whatmight be left of Merritt. The foreman tried to persuade the lad to stay, for he was bleeding from a scalp wound and his left wrist was sorelytwisted, if not actually sprained, but Wilbur replied that he had saidhe was going back to look for Merritt, and go back he would if both armsand legs were broken. Kit, although very much blown, was willing to betaken up the road at a fair gallop, when, just as they turned a corner, they almost ran down the Supervisor, who was walking down the road asunconcernedly as though nothing had happened. 

"Oh, Mr. Merritt, " cried the boy, "I thought you were dead. "

"Cheerful greeting, that, " answered the Forester. "No, I'm not dead. Youlook nearer it than I do. "

"But didn't you get run down?"

"Do I look as if I'd been a sidewalk for a thousand steers?" was thedisgusted reply. "Don't ask silly questions, Loyle. "

But the foreman broke in:

"The boy's right enough to ask, " he said; "an' there's no reason why youshouldn't tell. How did you dodge the steers?"

"That was easy enough, " said Merritt. "I held on to Baldy until I saw acrack in the rock big enough to hold a man. Then I let go and crawledinto that until the herd passed by. "

The boy breathed a sigh of relief. 

"I sure thought you were gone, " he said. 

The Supervisor scanned him keenly, then slapped Kit heartily on theflank. 

"You've got a good little mare there, " he said; "there's not many ofthem could have done it. Tell me all about it some time. What startedthem?" he added, turning to the cattleman. 

"That fool new bridge gave way just as the last of the bunch crowded onit. About twenty of them fell over the cliff there, and about thirtymore along the road. But it might have been a heap worse, an' you oughtter have two life-savin' medals. "

Merritt's only reply was a gesture of protest. 

"An' you, youngster, " went on the cattleman, "you kept your nerve androde a bully ride. I wish you'd take my quirt and keep it from me as aremembrance of your first experience with a cattle stampede. "

Wilbur stammered some words of thanks, but the foreman waved them aside. 

"And now, " said the Supervisor, with an entire change of tone, "I guesswe'll go back and get the pack-horse and go on to the valley. "

As they rode over the bridge Wilbur noted with a great deal of interestthe breakage of the supporting timbers on the outer side, and lookingdown into the valley beneath, he could see the bodies of the cattle whohad been pushed over the edge in the stampede. 

"I read a story once, " said the boy, "of a youngster who got caught in astampede of buffalo, and when his horse lost his footing he escaped byjumping from the back of one buffalo to another until he reached theoutside of the herd. But I never believed it much. "

"It makes a good yarn, " said the Supervisor, "an' it's a little like thestory they tell of Buffalo Bill, who, trying to get away from a buffalostampede, was thrown by his horse puttin' his foot in a badger hole andbreaking his leg. "

"Why, what in the world did he do?" queried Wilbur. 

"He waited until the foremost buffalo was just upon him, then gave aleap, clear over his horns, and landed on his back, then turning sharplyround so as to face the head instead of the tail, he pulled out hisrevolver and kept shooting to one side of the buffalo's head, just pasthis eye, so that at every shot the beast turned a little more to oneside, thus cutting him out of the herd. Then, when he was clear of theherd, he shot the buffalo. "

"What for?" asked Wilbur indignantly. "It seems a shame to kill thebuffalo which had got him free. "

"What chance would he have had against an angered buffalo alone and onfoot?" said Merritt. "He couldn't very well get off and make a bow tothe beast and have the buffalo drop a curtsey?"

"I hadn't thought of that, " said the boy, laughing. 

"I was afraid I might have to try that dodge, but when I saw the crackin the rock I knew it was all right. "

"Well, " said Wilbur as they turned off the road to where the pack-horsehad been picketed, "I think we're both pretty lucky to have come off soeasily. "

Merritt looked at the lad. He was dusty and grimy to a degree, hisclothes were torn in a dozen places where he had gone rolling down thehill, a handkerchief was roughly knotted around his head, and there werestreaks of dried blood in his hair. 

"You look a little the worse for wear, " he said; "maybe you'd better gohome, and I'll go on alone. "

"I won't, " said Wilbur. 

"You what?" came the curt rebuke. "You mean that you would rather not. "

"Yes, sir, " said the boy. "I mean that I don't feel too used up. "

The Supervisor nodded and rode on ahead. For a couple of miles or so, they rode single file, and in spite of the boy's bold announcement thathe was not too badly shaken up, by the time he had ridden nearly an hourmore in the hot sun his head was aching furiously and he was beginningto stiffen up. Accordingly he was glad when a cabin hove in sight, andhe cantered up to ask if they might call for a drink of water. 

"We stop here, " was the laconic reply. 

As they rode up a big man came out of the house, which was quite afair-sized place, to meet them. 

"Well, Merritt, " he said, "what have you got for me this time?"motioning to the boy. 

"No patient for you, Doc, " said Merritt; "one for your wife. "

The mountain doctor laughed, a great big hearty laugh. 

"Violet, " he called, "you're taking my practice away from me. Here's apatient that says he won't have me, but wants you. "

Immediately at his call, a small, slender woman came to the porch of thehouse, and seeing the doctor helping Wilbur down from the saddle, stepped forward. 

"I can walk all right, " said Wilbur when the doctor put out a hand tosteady him. "I just wanted a drink of water. "

"Right you are, " said the doctor, "we'll give you all the water youwant, just in a minute. Now, " he continued as he led the boy into thehouse, "let's have a look at the trouble. "

But Wilbur interposed. 

"This Forest Service, " he said, smiling, "is the worst that everhappened for having to obey orders, and Mr. Merritt put me in charge ofyour wife, not you. "

The big doctor put his hand on the shoulder of his wife and roared untilthe house shook with his laughter. It was impossible to resist theinfection, and Wilbur, despite his headache, found himself laughing withthe rest. But the doctor's wife, stepping quietly forward, took the ladaside and, removing the handkerchief that Grier had wound around hishead, bathed the wound and cleansed it. She had just finished this whenthe doctor came over, still laughing. He touched the wound deftly, andWilbur was amazed to find that the touch of this large, hearty man wasjust as soft and tender as that of his wife. There was power in his veryfinger-tips, and the boy felt it. He looked up, smiling. 

"I guess you're Doctor Davis, " he said. 

"Why?" said the doctor; "what makes you think so?"

"Oh, I just felt it, " the boy replied. "I've heard a lot about you. "

"I'm 'it, ' all right, " said the doctor, "but you've refused to allow meto attend you. I'll turn the case over to Dr. Violet Davis, " and helaughed again. 

Mrs. Davis smiled brightly in response and continued attending to theboy. Then she turned to the two men. 

"You've put this case in my charge, " she said, "and I'm going toprescribe rest for a day or two anyway. That is, " she added, "unless Mr. Merritt finds it compulsory to take him away. "

The Supervisor smiled one of his rare smiles. 

"I wouldn't be so unkind as to take any one away from hereunnecessarily, " he said, "no matter how busy. But there always is a lotto do. Ever since the beavers first started forestry, it has meant work, and lots of it. But if you're told to rest you've got to do it. I know. I've been sick myself here. "

The doctor slapped him on the shoulder. 

"Beautiful case, " he said, "beautiful case. But he wouldn't obeyorders. "

"He always did mine, " put in Mrs. Davis. 

"I'm afraid I can't this time, " said the Supervisor with one of hisabrupt changes of manner, turning to the door. "I'll call for Loyle onmy way home to-morrow. "

"Oh, Mr. Merritt, " began Mrs. Davis in protest, "he ought to have two orthree days' rest, anyway. "

The chief of the forest turned to Wilbur. 

"Well?" he queried. 

The boy looked around at the comfortable home, at the big jovial doctor, and his charming little wife, and thought how delightful it would be tohave a few days' rest. And his head was aching, and he was very stiff. Then he looked at the Supervisor, quiet and unflinching in anything thatwas to be done, working with him and helping him despite the biginterests for which he was responsible, he thought of the Forest Serviceto which he was pledged to serve, he remembered his little tent home andthe portion of the range over which he had control, and straightened up. 

"What time to-morrow?" he said. "I'll be ready. "

"Middle of the afternoon, " said Merritt. "So long. "

He bade good-by to the doctor and his wife, and after having seen thatKit was properly attended to, went on his way to the Kern River Valley, to visit the Edison power plant erected on the river, and to prepare forthe installation of the new pulp-mill. 

In the meantime, Wilbur, more fatigued by the day's excitement than hehad supposed himself to be, had fallen asleep, a sleep unbroken untilthe evening. And all evening the doctor and his wife told him stories ofthe Forest Service men and of the various miners, lumbermen, prospectors, ranchers, and so forth, all tales of manliness, courage, and endurance, and not infrequently of heroism. But when Wilbur told ofthe professor and asked about other greenhorns that had come to theforest, the doctor turned and asked him if he knew anything of "the boyfrom Peanutville. "

"He had just come into camp up here in the Sierras, " said the doctor onreceiving the lad's negative reply, "from some little place in themiddle West that was giving itself airs as a city. He had read somewhereabout the forest Rangers, and he himself had been on several SundaySchool picnics in the woods, so he thought that he knew all about it. Atthe end of his first couple of days' work he said:

"'I never supposed that a Ranger had to cut brush and build fence andgrub stumps and slave like a nigger. I don't believe he ought to. Idon't think it's what my people would like to have me do. I alwayssupposed that he just rode around under the trees and made outsiders toethe mark. '

"I said he was a new Guard, " the doctor continued, "but he said this incamp to a group of old-timers with whom he had been working. They hadn'tworried him at all, but had given him a fair show and helped him allthey could. But this was too rich. They glanced at each other withmingled contempt and amusement, then put on mournful faces, looked onhim solemn-eyed, and regretted the cruelties of the Service. 

"'The boss, ' they said, 'just sticks it on us all the time. We areworkin' like slaves--Guards and Rangers and everybody. It's plumb wickedthe way we're herded here. '

"So the new hand felt comforted by this outward sympathy, and he ambledinnocently on. 

"'That heavy brush tears my clothes, and my back aches, and I burned ashoe, and my socks are full of stickers. Then I fell on the barbed wirewhen I was stretching it--and cut my nose. I tell you what it is, fellows, if I ever get a chance to get away, I hope I'll never seeanother inch of barbed wire as long as I live. If I was only back inPeanutville, where I used to live, I could be eating a plate of icecream this minute instead of working like a dog and having to wash myown clothes Sundays when I might be hearing the band play in the park. '

"'Too bad, ' shouted the old Rangers in chorus, until a peal of laughterthat echoed through and through that mountain camp showed the indignantyoungster that his point of view hadn't been what you might say warmlywelcomed by the old-timers. 

"But the following day, as I heard the story from Charles H. Shinn, " thedoctor went on, "one of the best men in the gang took the lad aside thefollowing morning as they were riding up the trail, and said to him:

"'How much of that stuff you was preachin' last night did you mean? Ofcourse, this is hard work; it has to be. Either leave it mighty pronto, or wrastle with it till you're a man at the game. I've seen lots ofyoung fellows harden up--some of 'em just as green an' useless when theycame as you are now. Don't you know you hold us back, and waste ourtime, too, on almost any job? But it's the price we have to pay up hereto get new men started. Unless you grow to love it so much that thereisn't anything else in all the world you'd care to do, you ain't fit forit, an' you'd better get out, and let some one with more sand than youhave get in. '

"Well, Loyle, " the doctor said, "that youngster was provoked. Hewasn't man enough to get really angry, so that his temper wouldkeep him sticking to the work; he was one of these saucyslap-'em-on-the-wrist-naughty kind. 

"'I think all of you are crazy, ' he said. 

"He walked into the Supervisor's office that afternoon and explainedthat the kind of work he had been given to do was altogether below hisintellectual powers. He never understood how quickly things happened, but he signed a resignation blank almost before he knew it, and wentback to Peanutville. 

"It so happened that one of the Rangers had friends in Peanutville, andthe boys at the camp followed the youth's career with much interest. Heclerked, he took money at a circus window, he tried cub newspaper work, he stood behind a dry-goods counter, he was everything by turns butnothing long. "

"What finally happened to him?" asked Wilbur. 

"Last I heard he was a salesman in a woman's shoe store. But he's stillwith us in spirit, " said the doctor, "as a horrible example. Right now, down in the heart of a forest fire, when the Rangers are working likemen possessed down some hot gulch, one will say to the other:

"'Gee, Jack, if I was only back where I used to be, I could be having aplate of ice cream this minute. ' And the other will reply: 'I wish Imight be back in Peanutville and hear the band play in the park. ' Andboth men will laugh and go at the work all the harder for realizing whata miserable failure the weak greenhorn had been. "

"I'm thinking, " said Wilbur, "that I'll never give them the chance totalk like that about me!"

"From what I heard, " said the doctor, "I don't believe you will. "

"And from what I see, " said the doctor's wife gently, as the two roseand bade the "patient" good-night, "I know we shall all be glad that youhave come to us here in the forest. "

[Illustration: WHAT TREE-PLANTING WILL DO. 

Pine plantation fifty years old showing growth of timber. Trunks, however, should not show so many superfluous low branches. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: THE FIRST CONSERVATION EXPERT

Work of a beaver in felling a tree with which to build a dam for hishome. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER XIII

HOW THE FOREST WON A GREAT DOCTOR

In the middle of the night the telephone bell rang. Instantly Wilburheard the doctor's voice responding. 

"Yes, where is it?" he queried. "Where? Oh, just beyond Basco Aleck'splace. All right, I'll start right away. "

There was some rummaging in the other rooms, and in less than fiveminutes' time the clatter of hoofs outside told the boy that the doctorwas off, probably on the huge gray horse Wilbur had seen in the corralas he rode in that day. It was broad daylight when he wakened again, andMrs. Davis was standing beside him with his breakfast tray. It was solong since Wilbur had not had to prepare breakfast for himself that hefelt quite strange, but the night's rest had eased him wonderfully, andaside from a little soreness where he had had his scalp laid open, hewas quite himself again. 

"Did Doctor Davis have to go away in the night?" he asked. "I thought Iheard the telephone. "

"Yes, " answered the doctor's wife. "But that is nothing new. Almost oncea week, at least, he is sent for in the night, or does not reach hometill late in the night. I've grown used to it, " she added; "doctors'wives must. "

"But distances are so great, and there are so few trails, " said the boy, "and Doctor Davis is so famous, one would think that he would do betterin a city. "

"Better for himself?" came the softly uttered query. 

The boy colored hotly as he realized the idea of selfishness that therehad been in his speech. 

"I beg your pardon, " he said. "No, I see. But it does seem strange, justthe same, that he should be out here. "

"He wouldn't be happy anywhere else. "

"Excuse me, Mrs. Davis, " said the boy, who had caught something of theSupervisor's abruptness, "but what brought him here?"

"Do you not, " answered the doctor's wife, giving question for question, "know the old hunter, 'Rifle-Eye Bill'? I don't know his right name. Why, of course, you must; he's the Ranger in your part of the forest. "

"Do I know him?" said Wilbur, and without stopping for further questiontalked for ten minutes on end, telling all that the old hunter had donefor him and how greatly he admired him. "Know him, " he concluded, "Ishould just guess I did. "

"It was he, " said the woman, "who persuaded us to come out here. "

"Won't you tell me?" pleaded the boy. "I'd love to hear anything aboutRifle-Eye. And the doctor, too, " he added as an afterthought. 

"It was long ago, " she began, "seventeen years ago. Yes, " she continuedwith a smile at the lad's surprise, "I have lived here seventeen years. "

"Do you--" began the boy excitedly, "do you ride a white mare?"

This time it was the doctor's wife who colored. She flushed to the rootsof her hair. 

"Yes, " she answered hurriedly, and went on to explain the earlyconditions of the forest. But Wilbur was not listening, he wasremembering the stories that he had heard since his arrival into theforest of the "little white lady, " of whom the ranchers and minersalways spoke so reverently. But presently Rifle-Eye's name attracted hisattention and he listened again. 

"We were camping, " she said, "in one of the redwood groves not far fromSan Francisco for the summer, the doctor having been appointed anattending surgeon at one of the larger hospitals, although he was veryyoung. We had been married only a little over a year. One evening justafter supper, Rifle-Eye, although we did not know him then, walked intocamp. 

"'You are a doctor, an operating doctor?' he inquired. 

"'Yes, ' my husband replied, 'I am a surgeon. '

"Then the old hunter came to where I was standing. 

"'You are a doctor's wife?' he queried. You know that direct way ofhis?"

"Indeed I do, " Wilbur replied. "It's one you've got to answer. "

"So I said, 'Yes, I am a doctor's wife, ' just as if I was a little girlanswering a catechism. 

"'The case is seventy miles away, ' he said, 'and there's a horsesaddled. ' He turned to me. 'A woman I know is coming over in a littlewhile to stay the night with you, so that you will not be lonely. Come, doctor. ' There was a hurried farewell, and they were gone. I canlaugh now, as I think of it, but it was dreadful then. 

"Presently, however, the woman that he had spoken of came over to ourcamp. She was a mountaineer's wife, and very willing and helpful. But Iwas a little frightened, as I had never seen any one quite like herbefore. "

"You couldn't have had much in common, " said Wilbur, who was observantenough to note the artistic nature of the room wherein he lay, theexquisite cleanliness and freshness of all his surroundings, and thefaultless English of the doctor's wife. Besides, she was pretty andsweet-looking, and boys are quick to note it. 

"We didn't, " she answered, "but when I happened to mention the oldhunter, why the woman was transformed. She brightened up, and told metales far into the night of what the old hunter had done until, " shesmiled, "I almost thought he must be as nice as Doctor Davis. "

"Doctor Davis does look awfully fine, " agreed Wilbur. 

"I always think so, " said his wife demurely. "Two days passed before themen returned, and when I got a chance alone with my husband, he wastwice as bad as the mountaineer's wife. He would talk of nothing butRifle-Eye and the need of surgical work in the mountains. 

"'And you, Violet, ' he said, 'you're going to ride there with me to-dayand help look after this man. ' It did rather surprise me, because I knewthat he hated to have me troubled with any details of his work, for heused to like to leave his profession behind when he came home. So I knewthat he thought it important, and I went. But I rode the greater part ofthe day with the old hunter, and long before he reached the place wherethe man was who needed me, all my objections had vanished and I waseager to begin. "

"That's just the way that Rifle-Eye does, " said the boy, "he makes itseem that what he wants you to do is just what you want to do yourself. "

"When I got to the place, " she went on, "I found that it was a Basqueshepherd, who had been hurt by some of the cattlemen. That made it muchmore interesting for me, for you know, my people were Basques, thatstrange old race, who, tradition tells, are all that are left of theshepherds on the mountains of the lost Atlantis. So I nursed him as bestI could, and presently, from far and wide over the Rockies I would getmessages from the Basque shepherds. "

"Didn't you put a stop to the feuds at one time?" asked Wilbur. "The oldhunter told me something about 'the little white lady' and the sheepwar. "

"I helped in many of them, " she said simply, "and when they came to mefor advice I tried to give it. Doctor Davis was always there to suggestthe more advisable course, and I put it to these Bascos, as they calledthem, so that they would understand. "

"How about Burleigh?" asked Wilbur. 

But the doctor's wife disclaimed all knowledge of a sheep-owner calledBurleigh. 

"All right, " said Wilbur, "then I'll give my share of the story, as theold hunter told it to me. That is, if you don't mind. "

"Tell it, " she smiled, "if you like. "

"Well, " said Wilbur, "one Sunday afternoon a Ranger, whose cabin wasnear a lookout point, said to his wife, 'I'll ride up to the peak, andbe back in time for supper. ' He went off in his shirt-sleeves, bare-headed, for an hour's ride, and was gone a week. Up in the brush hefound the trail of a band of sheep, and although he was cold and hungryand his horse was playing out, he stuck right on the job until it gottoo dark to see. The second day he smashed in the door of a miner'scabin, got some grub, and nailed a note on the door saying who'd takenit, and kept on. He tired his horse out, and left him in anotherfellow's corral, but kept on going on foot. The sheepman was known asdangerous, but this little Ranger--did I tell you he was Irish--stuck toit, trusting to find some way out even if the grazer did get ugly. 

"At last he came on the sheep in a mountain meadow, and Burleigh on hishorse by them, a rifle across his saddle bow. The Ranger said little atthe time, and the two men went home to supper. After eating, as they satthere, the Ranger said his say. He told the grazer what were the ordershe had, and that he would have to live up to them. But the grazer had acopy of 'orders, ' too, and he had hired a lawyer to find out how hecould get out of them. So he lit into the Ranger. 

"'You see, Mac, ' he said, 'those orders don't mean anything. They may beall right in Washington, but they don't go here. You can't stop me, norarrest me, nor hurt my sheep. Your bosses won't stand by you if you getinto any mix-up. The best thing you can do is to stay here to-night, andthen go home. Make a report on it, if you like, I don't care. "

"And then the Ranger began, " the boy went on. "The old hunter told methat this little bit of an Irishman told the grazer about his work as aRanger. He told him how he had seen the good that was going to be done, and that having put his hand to the plow, he couldn't let it go again. He didn't know much about it, and he'd never tried to talk about itbefore, but the natural knack of talking which his race always has cameto help him out. Then he began to talk of the sheep and cattle war, andthe shame that it was to have them killing each other's flocks andshooting each other because they could not agree about the right tograss. 

"'An' there's one more thing, ' he said, ''tis only the other day that Iwas talkin' to the "little white lady, " and she said she knew that youwouldn't be the one to start up trouble again. ' And he wound up with anappeal to his better judgment, which, so the old hunter told me thegrazer said afterward, would have got a paralyzed mule on the move. 

"When he got through, Burleigh merely answered:

"'Mac, take that blanket and go to bed. I'll talk to you in themorning. '

"When the Ranger woke, a little after daylight, the grazer sat besidehis blanket, smoking. He began without wasting any time. 

"'Mac, ' he said, 'I'm going to take my sheep out to-day. Not because ofany of your little bits of printed orders--I could drive a whole herdthrough them; and not because of any of your bosses back in Washington, who wouldn't know a man's country if they ever got into it, and couldn'tfind their way out; and not entirely because, as you say, "the littlewhite lady" trusts me, though perhaps that's got a good deal to do withit. But when I find a man who is so many different kinds of a fool asyou seem to be, it looks some like my moral duty to keep him out of anasylum. ' And that's the story I heard about Burleigh. 

"But I interrupted you, " the boy continued, "you were going to tell meabout Doctor Davis. Didn't you ever go back to the city?"

"Oh, yes, " she replied. "The doctor had to take his hospital service, and for three years he spent six months in the hospital in the city, and six months out here in the mountains. But there were several goodsurgeons in the city, and only one on the great wide Sierras, and, asyou know, he is strong enough for the hardest work. So, --I remember wellthe night, --he came to me, and hesitatingly suggested that we shouldlive out here for always, but that he didn't wish to take me away frommy city friends. And I--oh, I had been wanting to come all the time. Iwas just one out of so many in the city, paying little social calls, buthere I found so many people to be fond of. I think I know every one onthe mountains here, and they are all so kind to me. And, " she addedproudly, "so appreciative of the doctor. "

Wilbur laughed as she gathered up the things on the tray. 

"Well, " he said, "I don't believe the old hunter ever did a better thingwhen he got Doctor Davis to come to the forest--unless, it was the day'the little white lady' came with him. Haven't I had a broken head, andam I not her patient? You bet!"

But Mrs. Davis only smiled as she passed from the room. 

Wilbur spent the rest of the morning in the doctor's library, and wasmore than delighted to learn that these books were there for borrowing, on the sole condition that they should be returned. He learned, later, that under the guise of a library to lend books, all sorts of littleplans were done for the cheering of the lives of those who lived inisolated portions of the mountain range. The boy had not beentwenty-four hours under the doctor's roof, yet he was quite at home, andsorry to go when the Supervisor rode up. He had been careful to groomKit very thoroughly, and she was standing saddled at the door, half anhour before the time appointed. He was ready to swing into the saddle assoon as Merritt appeared. 

"Not so fast, Loyle, " he said, "this is once that promptness is a badthing. I must have a word or two with Mrs. Davis; he'd be a pretty poorstick who ever missed that chance. "

So, while he went inside, Wilbur looked over the pack to see that it wasriding easily, and led Baldy to where he could have a few mouthfuls ofgrass. And when he came out the Forester was even more silent thanusual, and rode for two hours without uttering a syllable. 

"Did you find everything going on all right for the pulp-mill?" askedWilbur, finally desiring to give a chance for conversation. But Merrittsimply replied, "Fairly so, " and relapsed into silence. He wakened intosudden energy, however, when, a half an hour later, in making a shortcutto headquarters he came upon an old abandoned trail. It was somewhatovergrown, but the Supervisor turned into it and followed it for somelength, finally arriving at a large spring, one of the best in theforest, which evidently had been known at some time prior to the ForestService taking control, but now had passed into disuse. But Merritt waseven more surprised to find beside the spring a prospector of the oldtype, with his burro and pack, evidently making camp for the night. 

"Evenin', " said Merritt, "where did you get hold of this trail?"

"Allers knew about it, " said the prospector. "I s'pose, " he added, noting the bronze "U. S. " on the khaki shirt, "that you're the Ranger. "

"Supervisor, " replied Merritt. "Locating a mineral claim, are you?"

"Not yet, " the other replied; "I ain't located any mineral to claim yet. I'll come to you for a permit as soon as I do. But I'm lookin' forBurns's lost mine. "

"You don't believe in that old yarn, surely?" questioned the othersurprisedly. 

"Would I be lookin' for it if I hadn't doped it out that it was there?"

"Where?"

"Oh, somewheres around here. I reckon it's further north. But if youdon't take any stock in it, there's no use talkin'. "

"I'm not denying its existence, " said Merritt, "but you know dozens ofmen have looked for that and no one's found it yet. "

"There can't be but one find it, " said the prospector. "I aims to bethat one. I used to think it was further south. Twenty years ago I spenta lot o' time down at the end of the range. Two seasons ago I got ahunch it was further north. I couldn't get away last year, so here I am. I've been busy on Indian Creek for some years. "

"Got a claim there?"

"Got the only jade in the country. "

"Was it you located that mine in the Klamath Forest?" queried theSupervisor interestedly. "But that's quite a good deposit. I shouldn'tthink you'd be prospecting now. "

"I didn't for two years. But, pard, it was dead slow, an' so I hired aman to run the works while I hit the old trail again. I don't have toget anybody to grubstake me now. I've been able to boost some of theothers who used to help me. "

"But what started you looking for Burns's mine? I thought that story hadbeen considered a fake years ago. "

"What is a lost mine?" asked Wilbur. 

Merritt looked at him a moment thoughtfully, then turned to theprospector. 

"You tell the yarn, " he said. "You probably know it better than I do. "

"I'm not much on talkin', " began the prospector. "Away back in thesixties, after the first gold-rush, Jock Burns, one of the oldForty-niners, started prospectin' in the Sierras. There's not much here, but one or two spots pay. By an' by Burns comes into the settlementswith a few little bags of gold dust, an' nuggets of husky size. He blowsit all in. He spends free, but he's nowise wasteful, so he stays in townmaybe a month. 

"Then he disappears from view, an' turns up in less than another monthin town with another little bundle of gold dust. It don't take muchfigurin' to see that where there's a pay streak so easy worked as that, there's a lot more of it close handy. An' so they watches Burns close. Burns, he can't divorce himself from his friends any more than an Indiancan from his color. This frequent an' endurin' friendliness preys someon Burns's nature, an' bein' of a bashful disposition, he makes severalbreaks to get away. But while the boys are dead willin' to see him startfor the mountains, they reckon an escort would be an amiable form ofappreciation. Also, they ain't got no objection to bein' shown the wayto the mine. 

"Burns gets a little thin an' petered out under the strain, but time an'agin he succeeds in givin' 'em the slip. Sure enough he lines up a monthor two later with some more of the real thing. Finally, one of thesehere friends gets a little peevish over his frequent failures to stackthe deck on Burns. He avers that he'll insure that Burns don't spend anymore coin until he divvys up, an' accordin'ly he hands him a couple ofbullets where he thinks they'll do most good. "

"What did he want to kill him for?" asked Wilbur. 

"He didn't aim to kill him prompt, " was the reply. "His idee was to trothim down the hill by easy stages, an' gradooally indooce the oldskinflint to talk. But his shootin' was a trifle too straight, andBurns jest turns in his toes then an' there. This displeases thesentiment of the community. Then some literary shark gits up and spins ayarn about killin' some goose what laid eggs that assayed a hundred percent. , an' they decides that it would be a humane thing to arrange thatBurns shan't go out into the dark without some comfortin' friend besidehim. So they dispatches the homicide, neat an' pretty, with the aid of arope, an' remarks after the doin's is over that Burns is probably a heapless lonesome. "

"Well, I should think that would have stopped all chance of furthersearch, " said Wilbur. 

"It did. But a year or two after that, Burns acquires the habit ofintrudin' his memory on the minds of some of these here friends. When itgits noised about that a certain kind of nose-paint is some advantageoustoward this particular brand of dream, why, there ain't no way ofkeeping a sufficient supply in camp. I goes up against her myself, an'wild licker she is. But one by one, the boys all gets to dreamin' thatBurns has sorter floated afore them, accordin' to ghostly etiquette, an'pointed a ghostly finger at the ground. Which ain't so plumb exact, forno one supposes a mine to be up in the air. But different ones affirmsthat they can recognize the features of the landscape which the ghost ofBurns frequents. As, however, they all strikes out in differentdirections, I ain't takin' no stock therein. 

"But, two years ago, when I was meanderin' around lookin' for signs, Icomes across the bones of an old mule with the remains of a saddle onhis back, an' I didn't have any trouble in guessin' it to be Burns's. There was no way of tellin', though, whether he was goin' or returnin'when the mule broke down, or if he was far or near the mine, but, anyhow, it gave some idee of direction, an' I reckon I'm goin' to findit. "

"All right, " said the Supervisor as they shook up their horses ready togo, "I hope you have good luck and find it. "

"I'll let you or Rifle-Eye know as soon as I do, " called back theprospector, "an' you folks can pan out some samples. If I find it, we'llmake the Yukon look sick. "

Merritt laughed as they cantered down the trail to headquarters. 

[Illustration: SAND BURYING A PEAR ORCHARD. 

Almost too late to save a fine plantation which a suitable wind-break oftrees would have guarded. 

_Photo by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER XIV

A ROLLING CLOUD OF SMOKE

The days became hotter and hotter, and each morning when Wilbur rose hesearched eagerly for some sign of cloud that should presage rain, butthe sky remained cloudless. Several times he had heard of fires in thevicinity, but they had kept away from that portion of the forest overwhich he had control, and he had not been summoned from his post. Theboy had given up his former schedule of covering his whole forest twicea week, and now was riding on Sundays, thus reaching every lookout pointevery other day. It was telling upon the horses, and he himself wasconscious of the strain, but he was more content in feeling that he hadgone the limit in doing the thing that was given him to do. 

One day, while in a distant part of the forest, he came upon the signsof a party of campers. Since his experience with the tourists the boyhad become panic-stricken by the very idea of careless visitors to theforest, and the chance of their setting a fire, and so, recklessly, heput his horse at a sharp gallop and started down the trail that they hadleft. The signs were new, so that he overtook them in a couple of hours. But in the meantime he had passed the place where the party had madetheir noonday halt, and he could see that full precautions had beentaken to insure the quenching of the fire. 

When he overtook them, moreover, he was wonderfully relieved and freedfrom his fears. There were six in all, the father, who was quite an oldman, the mother, two grown-up sons, and two younger girls. They hadheard his horse come galloping down the trail, and the two younger menhad hung back to be the first to meet him. 

"Which way?" one of them asked, as Wilbur pulled his horse down to awalk. 

"Your way, " said Wilbur, "I guess. I just rode down to see who it was onthe trail. There was a bunch of tourists hanging around here a few weeksago, and the forest floor is too dry to take any chances with theircampfires. "

"Oh, that's it, " said the former speaker. Then, with a laugh, hecontinued: "I guess we aren't in that class. "

"I can see you're not, " the boy replied, "but I'm one of the ForestService men, and it's a whole lot better to be safe than sorry. "

"Right, " the other replied. "I think you might ride on with us a bit, "he continued, "and talk to the rest of them. It may ease their minds. You were headed our way down that trail as though you were riding forour scalps. "

Wilbur laughed at the idea of his inspiring fear in the two stalwart menriding beside him. 

"I guess I'd have had some job, " he said, "if I had tried it on. "

"Well, " the first speaker answered, "we wouldn't be the first of thefamily to decorate a wigwam that way. My grandfather an' his twobrothers got ambushed by some Apaches in the early seventies. "

"Your grandfather?" the boy repeated. 

"Sure, son. Most of the fellows that got the worst of it with theIndians was some one's granddad, I reckon. One of my uncles, father'sbrother, was with them at the time, and he got scalped, too. It isn't solong ago since the days of the Indians, son, an' it's wonderful to thinkof the families livin' peacefully where the war-parties used to ride. That's goin' to be a great country down there. But, " he broke offsuddenly, "here's dad. "

The bent figure in the saddle, riding an immense iron gray mare, straightened up as the three rode close, and the old man turned a keenglance on the boy. Instantly, Wilbur was reminded of the old hunter, although the two men were as unlike as they could be, and in that sameinstant the boy realized that the likeness lay in the eyes. Thespringiness might have gone out of his step, and to a certain extent theseat in the saddle was unfirm, and the strength and poise of the bodyshowed signs of abatement, but the fire in the eyes was undimmed andevery line of the features was instinct to a wonderful degree with lifeand vitality. After a question or two to his sons he turned to the boy, and in response to a query as to his destination, replied, in asing-song voice that was reminiscent of frontier camp-meetings:

"I'm goin' to the Promised Land. It's been a long an' a weary road, butthe time of rejoicin' has come. It is writ that the desert shall blossomas a rose, an' I'm goin' to grow rose-trees where the cactus used to be;the solitary place shall be alone no more, an' I and mine are flockin'into it; the lion an' wolf shall be no more therein, an' the varmintsall are gone away; an' a little child shall lead them, an' before I dieI reckon to see my children an' my children's children under the shadowof my vine an' fig tree. "

Wilbur looked a little bewilderedly at the two younger men and one ofthem said hastily:

"We're goin' down to the Salt River Valley, down in Arizona, where thegovernment has irrigated land. "

"Oh, I know, " said Wilbur, "that's one of the big projects of theReclamation Service. "

"Have you been down there at all?"

"No, " the boy answered, "but I understand that to a very great extentmuch of the Forest Service work is being done with irrigation in view. "

"They used to call it, " broke out the old prophet again, "the 'land thatGod forgot, ' but now they're callin' it the 'land that God remembered. '"

Wilbur waited a moment to see if the old man would speak again, but ashe was silent, he turned to the man beside him:

"How did you get interested in this land?" he asked. 

"I was born, " the other answered, "in one of the villages of thecliff-dwellers, who lived so many years ago. Dad, he always used tothink that the sudden droppin' out of those old races an' the endurin'silence about them was some kind of a visitation. An' he always believedthat the curse, whatever it was, would be taken off. "

"That's a queer idea, " said the boy; "I never heard it before. "

"Well, " said the other, "it does seem queer. An' when the governmentfirst started this reclamation work, dad he thought it was a sign, andhe went into every project, I reckon, the government ever had. An' theyused to say that unless 'the Apache Prophet, ' as they called him, hadbeen once on a project, it was no use goin' on till he came. "

"But what did he do?"

"They always gave him charge of a gang of men for as long as he wantedit, and Jim an' I, we used to boss a gang, too. We've been on theHuntley and Sun River in Montana, we've laid the foundation of thehighest masonry dam in the world--the Shoshone dam in Wyoming, --helpedbuild a canal ninety-five miles long in Nebraska, I've driven team onthe Belle Fourche in South Dakota; in Kansas, where there's no surfacewater, I've dug wells that with pumps will irrigate eight thousandacres, and away down in New Mexico on the Pecos and in Colorado on theRio Grande I've helped begin a new life for those States. "

"An' a river shall flow out of it, " the old man burst forth again, "an'I reckon thar ain't a river flowin' nowhere that's forgot. I don't knowwhere Jordan rolls, but any stream that brings smilin' plenty where thedesert was before looks enough like Jordan to suit me. I've seen it, Itell you, " he added fiercely, turning to the boy, "I've seen the desertan' I've seen Eden, an' I'm goin' there to live. An' where the flamin'sword of thirst once whirled, there's little brooks a-ripplin' an' theflowers is springin' fair. "

"You must have seen great changes?" suggested the boy, interested in theold man's speech. 

"Five years ago, " he answered, "we were campin' on the Snake River, insouthern Idaho. There was sage-brush, an' sand, an' stars, an' nothin'else. An engineerin' fellow, who he was I dunno, rides up to the fire. Where he comes from I dunno; I reckon his body came along the road ofthe sage-brush and the sand, but his mind came by the stars. An' hetakes the handle of an ax, and draws out on the sand an irrigatin'plan. There wasn't a house for thirty miles. An' he just asks if heshall go ahead. An' I knows he's right, an' I says I knows he's right, an' he goes straight off to Washington, an' now there's three thousandpeople where the sage-brush was, and right on the very spot where mycampfire smoked just five years ago, a school has been opened with overa hundred children there. "

He stopped as suddenly as he began. 

"There was some great work in the Gunnison canyon, was there not?"queried Wilbur. 

The old man made no reply, and the son answered the question. 

"When they had to lower a man from the top into the canyon, sevenhundred feet below, " he said, "Dad was the first to volunteer. I reckon, son, there's no greater story worth the tellin' than the Uncompahgretunnel. And then, I ain't told nothin' about the big Washington andOregon valleys, where tens of thousands now have homes an' are rearin'the finest kind of men an' women. But, as dad says, we're comin' home. There's four centuries of our history and there's seven centuries ofMoki traditions, an' still there's nothing to tell me who the people arewho built the cliff-town where I was born. Dad, he thinks that when thewater comes, perhaps the stones will speak. I don't know, but if theyever do, I want to be there to hear. It's the strangest, wildest placein all the world, I think, and while it is harsh and unkindly, stillit's home. Dad's right there. These forests are all right, " he added, remembering that the boy was attached to the Forest Service, "but forme, I want a world whose end you can't see an' where every glance leadsup. "

"Do you suppose, " said Wilbur, "that in the days of the cliff-dwellers, and earlier, the 'inland empire' was densely populated?"

"Some time, " the other replied slowly, "it must have been. Not far frommy cliff home is the famous Cheltro Palace, which contains over thirtymillion blocks of stone. "

"How big is it?" asked Wilbur. 

"Well, it is four stories high, nearly five hundred feet long, an' justhalf that width. "

Wilbur whistled. 

"My stars, " he ejaculated, "that is big! And is there nothing left totell about them?" he asked. 

The other shook his head. 

"Nothing, " he answered. 

"They were, an' they were not, " interjected the old patriarch. "I lookedfor the place where I should find him, an' lo, he was gone. They wereeatin' an' drinkin' when the end came, an' they knew it not. Like enoughthey had some warnin' which they heeded not, an' their house is leftunto them desolate. An' we go in and possess their land. Young man, comewith us. "

Wilbur started. 

"Oh, I can't, " he said. "I should like to see some of those projects, but my work is here. But I'm one of you, " he added eagerly; "the riversthat flow down to enrich your desert rise from springs in our mountains, and all those springs would dry up if the forests were destroyed. Andall the headwaters of the streams are in our care. "

"You kind of look after them when they're young, " Wilbur's companionsuggested, "that we can use them when the time is ripe. "

"That is just it, " said Wilbur. Then, turning to the old man, he added:

"I must go back to my patrol, " he said, "but when you're down in thatGarden of Eden, where the river is making the world all over again, you'll remember us once in a while, and the little bit of a streamthat flows out of my corral will always have good wishes for you downthere. "

The old man turned in his saddle with great dignity. 

"There be vessels to honor, " he said gravely, "an' to every one hisgifts. Go back to your forest home an' work, an' take an old man'swishes that while water runs you may never want for work worth doin', for friends worth havin', an' at the last a tally you ain't ashamed toshow. "

Wilbur raised his hat in salute for reply and reined Kit in until theparty was lost to view. The afternoon was drawing on and the lad hadlost nearly two hours in following the party, and in his chat with theold patriarch, but he could not but feel that even the momentary glimpsehe had been given of the practical workings of the reclamation work ofthe government had gone far to emphasize and render of keener personalinterest all that he had learned at school or heard from the ForestService men about the making of a newer world within the New Worlditself. And when he remembered that over a quarter of a millionfamilies, within a space of about six years, have made their homes onwhat was an absolute desert ten years ago, and that these men and womenwere stirred with the same spirit as the old patriarch, he felt, as hehad said, that the conserving of the mountain streams was work worthwhile. 

As it chanced, he passed over the little stream whose channel he hadcleared on one of his patrol rides, and he stopped a moment to look atit. 

"Well, " he said aloud, "I suppose some youngster some day will bepicking oranges off a tree that would have died if I hadn't done thatday's work, " and he rode on to his camp greatly pleased with himself. 

For a day or two the boy found himself quite unable to shake the spellof the old patriarch's presence off his mind, and the more he thoughtover it, the more he realized that scarcely any one thing in the wholeof the United States loomed larger on its future than the main idea ofConservation. It had been merely a word before, but now it was areality, and he determined to take the first opportunity he would have, during his vacation, of going down to the Salt River Valley to see theold patriarch once again. 

And still the weather grew hotter and the sky remained cloudless. Andnow, every evening, Rifle-Eye would telephone over to make sure thatWilbur was back at camp and that there was as yet no danger. They hadhad one quite sharp tussle at a distant point of the forest, and one dayWilbur had received orders to make a long ride to a lookout point inanother part of the forest, the work of a Guard who had been called awayto fight fire, but so far, Wilbur had been free. Two or three times hefound himself waking suddenly in the night, possessed with an intensedesire to saddle Kit and ride off to a part of the forest where he hadeither dreamed or thought a fire was burning, but Rifle-Eye had beencareful to warn him against this very thing, and although the morningfound him simply wild to ride to this point of supposed danger, he hadfollowed orders and ridden his regular round. 

Although Wilbur's camp was high, the heat grew hard to bear, and whenthe boy passed from the shade of the pine along the naked rock to somelookout point the ground seemed to blaze under him. The grass wasrapidly turning brown in the exposed places, and the pine needles wereas slippery as the smoothest ice. 

Just at noon, one morning, Wilbur turned his horse--he was not ridingKit that day--into one of these open trails, and taking out his glasses, commenced to sweep the horizon. A heat haze was abroad, and hisover-excited eyes seemed to see smoke everywhere. But, as he swept roundthe horizon, suddenly his whole figure stiffened. He looked long, then, with a sigh of relief, turned away, and completed his circuit of thehorizon. This done, he directed the glasses anew where he had lookedbefore. He looked long, unsatisfied, then lay down on the rock where hecould rest the glasses and scanned the scene for several minutes. 

"Be sure, " Merritt had once warned him, "better spend a half an hour atthe start than lose two hours later. "

But Wilbur felt sure and rushed for his horse. Half-way he paused. Then, going deliberately into the shade of a heavy spruce, he half-closed hiseyes for a minute or two to let the muscles relax. Then quietly he cameto the edge of the cliff, and directing his glasses point-blank at theplace he had been examining so closely, scanned it in every detail. Heslipped the glasses back into their case, snapped the clasp firmly, walked deliberately back to his horse, who had been taking a fewmouthfuls of grass, tightened the cinches, looked to it that the saddlewas resting true and that the blanket had not rucked up, vaulted intothe saddle, and rode to the edge of the cliff. There was no doubt of it. Hanging low in the heavy air over and through the dark foliage of pineand spruce was a dull dark silver gleam, which changed enough as thesunlight fell upon it to show that it was eddying vapor rather than theheavier waves of fog. 

"Smoke!" he said. "We've got to ride for it. "

[Illustration: NO WATER, NO FORESTS. NO FORESTS, NO WATER. 

Example of country which irrigation will cause to become wonderfullyfertile. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: WITH WATER!

In the foreground, a field and orchard; in the background, thesand-dunes of the arid desert. Transformation effected by a tiny streamand a poplar wind-break. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER XV

THE FOREST ABLAZE

As Wilbur broke into a steady, if fast pace, it seemed to him that allhis previous experiences in the forest had been directed to this oneend. True, once before, he had seen smoke in the distance and had riddento it, but then he had felt that it was a small fire which he would beable to put out, as indeed it had proved. But now, while there was nogreater cloud of smoke visible than there had been before, the boy feltthat this was in some measure different. 

As his horse's hoofs clattered on the trail, it seemed to his excitedfancy that every inch of ground was crying to the valley below, "He'scoming, " the wind that blew past him seemed filled with purpose, everyeddying gust awoke in him a greater desire to reach the place of dangerbefore the wind should rise to higher gusts, and as the needles of thepines whispered overhead it seemed to Wilbur that they murmured, "Hurry, hurry, if you want to be there on time. " Over and over again, he foundhimself on the point of using the whip or spurs to induce a greaterburst of speed, but as often as he did so, the old short, curtly-wordedcounsels of Merritt came back to him, never to press his horse if theride was to be of any length, and he grew to believe that the animalknew as well as the rider the errand on which he was bound. 

He had thought, before starting, of riding back to his camp andtelephoning to Rifle-Eye, but the knowledge that after all it might be alittle fire kept him back. All the tales that he had ever heard aboutforest fires rushed through his mind, but he resolutely set them asideto watch his horse's path, to hold him in where he would be apt tostumble, to give him his head on rising ground, and to bring him tospeed where the trail was easy to follow. Two hours he rode, his horsewell in hand, until he came to the place where he had decided from hislookout point that he would have to leave the trail and plunge throughthe forest itself. 

This was a very different matter, and Wilbur found himself wondering howhis horse kept his footing. He was not riding Kit, for which he wasglad, as in leaving the trail and plunging downhill he had struck someparts of the forest where undergrowth was present, and his favoritemare's slender legs would have been badly scratched. Also the footinggrew dangerous and uncertain. There had been many windfalls in theforest, and now was no time to take them quietly; a flying leap, notknowing what might be on the other side, a stumble, perhaps, which sentthe boy's heart into his mouth, a quick recovery, and they were offagain, only to find, perhaps, a few yards further on, a bowlder-strewngully which it would have been madness to take at other than a walk. Butthe boy chafed terribly at each and every stay to his ride, and he hadto hold himself in hand as much as he had his horse. 

Little by little the exhilaration of the ride stole into his veins. Hewas alone in the forest, he and his horse, the world was all before, andhe must ride and ride. He shouted as he rode under the towering pines, raced across a clearing with a whoop that roused the echoes, and yelledfor sheer delight in the mad ride through the untraveled forest, where, as the knights of old, he rode forth to conquer and to do. 

But a sudden, sharp, acrid whiff of vapor in his nostrils checked hisriotous impulses. It was one thing to ride out to meet the foe, it wasanother matter when the foe was known to be near. A half mile nearer andthe acrid taste in the air turned to a defined veil of smoke, intangibleand unreal, at first, which merely seemed to hang about the trunks ofthe mighty trees and make them seem dim and far away. Nearer yet, andthe air grew hard to breathe, the smoke was billowing through thefoliage of the pines, which sighed wearily and moaned in a vague fear ofthe enemy they dreaded most. 

A curving gully, too wide to leap, too deep to cross readily, haddeflected the boy in his ride until he found himself to the lee of thefire, and the heat of it, oppressive and menacing, assailed him. 

Remembering the lay of the land, as he had seen it from his lookoutpoint, Wilbur recalled the fact that no peak or rise was in the vicinityup which he could ride to gain a nearer view of the fire, and he did notdare to ride on and find himself on the windward side of the fire, forthen his efforts to hold it back would be unavailing. He rode slowlytill he came to the highest tree near. Then, dismounting, Wilbur tiedhis horse to the foot of the tree, tied him as securely as he knew how, for the animal was snorting in fear at being thus fastened up when thesmoke was over his head and the smell of the fire was in his nostrils. Then, buckling on his climbing irons, which he had carried with him thatmorning because he had thought, if he had time, he might do a littlerepairing to his telephone line, he started up the side of the greattree. Up and up he went, fifty, sixty, one hundred feet, and still hewas not at the top; another twenty feet, and there far above the ground, he rested at last upon a branch whence he could command an outlook uponthe forest below. 

The fire was near, much nearer than he had imagined, and had he riddenon another ten or fifteen minutes, he might have taken his horse indanger. The blaze was larger than he thought. For half a mile's length, at least, the smoke was rising, and what was beyond he could not rightlysee, because the branches of a large tree obscured his sight. 

Immediately below him, the little gully, whose curving course had turnedhim from the straight path, seemed to be the edge of the flames, whichhad not been able to back up over the water. On this side, clear down tothe water's edge the forest floor was burning, but how wide a stretchhad been burned over he could not see. Once on the other side of thegully he would be able to judge better what to do. 

Below his horse neighed shrilly. 

Looking straight down, Wilbur noted a long rolling curl of smoke stealswiftly along the ground a few hundred yards away, and he saw there wasno time to lose. Springing from the branch to the trunk of the tree, hestarted to climb down. But he was over-hurried, and his feet slipped. Itwas only a foot at most, and Wilbur was not easily frightened, but heturned cold and sick for an instant as he looked below and saw theheight from which he so nearly had fallen. Minutes, nay seconds, wereprecious, but he crawled back upon the branch and sat still a moment tosteady his nerves. So startling a shock for so small a slip! He feltthoroughly ashamed of himself, but it had been quite a jolt. 

Again the horse neighed, and the fear in the cry was quite unmistakable. Gingerly this time, Wilbur left the kindly support of the branch andmade his way down the trunk of the tree, heaving a sigh of profoundthankfulness when he reached the ground. His horse looked at him witheyes wild with terror and every muscle atwitch. It was the work of amoment to unfasten the ropes and vault in the saddle, but Wilbur neededall his horsemanship to keep the horse from bolting. Indeed, he didstart to run away with the boy, but Wilbur sawed him into a more normalpace and headed him down the gully. 

Although the weather had been dry, it seemed that not a few springs mustflow above, for there was quite a stream of water, not deep, but rushingvery swiftly, and consequently hiding the bottom of the stream. It wasno time for looking for a ford, and so, after leading the horse down thebank by the bridle, Wilbur got into the saddle to put the horse across. He would not budge. Every muscle and nerve was tense, and the fire, owing to the curvature of the stream, seeming to come from the otherside, the horse refused to move. Wilbur dug in heavily with the spurs. The horse would not move. Again Wilbur used the spurs. Then, snatchingthe quirt that was fastened on his saddle, the quirt the cattleman hadgiven him after his ride in the cattle stampede, he laid it with all hiswill across the horse's flanks. Never before, since Wilbur had owned thehorse, had he struck him. Frantic, the horse leaped into the stream. It was deeper than the boy had thought, but there was no time to goback, and indeed, unless it was taken at a rush, the horse would notclimb the other bank. As they struck the water, therefore, Wilbur rosein his stirrups and lashed the horse a second time. He felt the horseplunge under him, picked him up with the reins as he stumbled on theloose stones in the creek bed and almost fell, and though he wasbecoming a rider, "hunted leather" by holding on to the pommel of hissaddle, as the horse with two or three convulsive lunges climbed like acat up the opposing bank, and reached the top, trembling in every limb. The gully was crossed. 

But there was no time to pause for satisfaction over the crossing of thelittle stream; that was only the beginning. It would have to be crossedagain, higher up, as soon, as they came opposite to the fire. The quirtwas still in his hand, and a light touch with it brought the horse to afull gallop. Up along the gully, with the blackened forest floor on theother side, rode Wilbur, until he came to the further end of the fire. It was almost a mile long. Right where the edge of the fire was, withlittle flames leaping among the needles and the smoke rolling, Wilburheaded the horse for the creek. He expected to have trouble, but thebeast had learned his lesson, and went steadily down the creek and overto the other side. The return was in nowise difficult, as it was on theside opposite the fire that the bank was steep. Hastily Wilbur tied uphis horse on the burned-out area, seized his shovel, and started alongthe line of the fire, beating it out with the flat of his shovel wherethe flames were small, then going to lee of it he made a firebreak byturning up a narrow line of earth. 

His hands began to blister and his lips grew so parched that he couldendure it no longer, and snatched a moment to go back to the stream andlave his face and hands. He took off his coat, dipped it in the water, and came with it all dripping to beat out the fire with that. Foot byfoot and yard by yard he worked his way along the line, every once in awhile running back over the part he had already beaten to make sure thatall was out. The afternoon was drawing on and for about a quarter of amile the fire was entirely out, and for another quarter it was almostunder control. 

Madly the boy worked, his breath coming in gasps, his lungs aching fromthe smoke, so that it became agony even to breathe, the ground hotbeneath his feet, and his feet beginning to blister, as his hands haddone an hour before, but there was no let-up. He had come to fight fire, and he would fight fire. Another mad hour's battle, not so successfully, and, contrary to the usual custom, the wind began to rise at sunset; itmight die down in a couple of hours, but in the meantime damage might bedone. 

Little by little the shadows grew deeper, and before it got entirelydark Wilbur tried, but vainly, to reach the end of the line, for he knewwell that if a night wind rose and got a hold upon the remnant of thefire that remained all his work would go for nothing. With all his mighthe ran to the far end of the line, determining to work from that end upto meet the area where he had conquered. Foot by foot he gained, but nolonger was he able to work along a straight line, the gusts of wind, here and there, sweeping through the trees had fanned stretches, perhapsonly a few yards wide, but had driven them forward a hundred feet. Butas it grew darker the wind began to fall again, though with the darknessthe red glow of the burning needles and the flames of the burning twigsshowed more luridly and made it seem more terrifying. Still he gainedheadway, foot after foot jealously contesting the battle with the fireand the wind. 

So short a space remaining, and though he seemed too tired and sore tomove, still his shovel worked with never a pause, still he scraped awayall that would burn from the path of a little line of flame. The line offlame grew shorter, but even as he looked a gust came along, which swepta tongue of fire fifty yards at a breath. Wilbur rushed after it, knowing the danger of these side-way fires, but before that gust hadlulled the tongue of fire reached a little clearing which the boy hadnot known was there, only a rod or two of grass, but that browned by thesun and the drought until it seemed scarcely more than tinder. If itshould touch that!

Despite the fact that his shoes were dropping from his feet, the leatherbeing burned through, Wilbur sped after the escaping fire. He reachedit. But as he reached, he heard the needles rustle overhead and saw thebranches sway. As yet the breeze had not touched the ground, but beforetwo strokes with the wet coat had been made, the last of the gusts ofthe evening wind struck him. It caught the little tongue of flame Wilburhad so manfully striven to overtake, swept it out upon the clearing, and almost before the boy could realize that his chance was gone, thegrass was a sheet of flame and the fire had entered the forest beyond ina dozen places. 

Wilbur was but a boy after all, and sick and heart-broken, he had toswallow several times very hard to keep from breaking down. And thereaction and fatigue together stunned him into inertness. For a momentonly, then his persistent stubbornness came to the front. 

"That fire's got to be put out, " he said aloud, "as the Chief Forestersaid, back in Washington, if it takes the whole State to do it. "

He walked back to his horse and started for his little cabin home. Howhe reached there, Wilbur never rightly knew. He felt like a traitor, leaving the fire still burning which he had tried so hard to conquer, but he knew he had done all he could. As he rode home, however, he sawthrough the trees another gleam, and taking out his glasses, saw in thedistance a second fire, in no way connected with that which he hadfought. This cheered him up greatly, for he felt that he could rightlycall for help for two fires without any reflection on his courage or hisgrit, where he hated to tell that he had tried and failed to put out ablaze which perhaps an older or a stronger man might have succeeded inquelling. He called up the Ranger. 

"Rifle-Eye, " he said over the 'phone as soon as he got a response, "there's a fire here that looks big. In fact, there's two. I've beenafter one all afternoon, and I nearly got it under, but when the windrose it got away from me. And there seems to be a bigger one prettyclose to it. "

"Well, son, I s'pose you're needin' help, " came the reply. 

"All hands, I think, " said the boy. "By the time I can get back therethe two fires probably will have joined, and the blaze will be severalmiles long. "

"Surest thing you know, " said the Ranger. "Where do you locate thesefires?"

Wilbur described with some detail the precise point where the fires wereraging. 

"You'd better get back on the job, " said Rifle-Eye promptly, "and tryan' hold it down the best you can. I'll have some one there on the jump. We want to get it under to-night, as it's a lot easier 'n in thedaytime. "

Never did the little tent look so inviting or so cozy to Wilbur asthat moment. But he had his orders. "Get back on the job, " the Rangerhad said. He took the time to change his shoes and to snatch up somecold grub which was easy to get. But he ate it standing, not daring tosit down lest he should go to sleep--and go to sleep when he had beenordered out! He ate standing. Then, going down to the corral, he saddledKit. 

He rode quietly up past the tent. 

"I guess, " he said, "I really never did want to go to bed so muchbefore, but--" he turned Kit's head to the trail. 

It was well for Wilbur that he had ridden the other horse that day, forKit was fresh and ready. The moon had risen and was nearly full, butWilbur shivered as much from nervousness and responsibility as fromfatigue. It was useless for him to try riding at any high rate of speedin the uncertain light, and in any case, the boy felt that his laborsfor a half an hour more or less would not mean as much as when it hadbeen a question of absolutely extinguishing a small blaze. Kit danced alittle in the fresh night air, but Wilbur sat so heavily and listlesslyupon her back that the mare sensed something wrong and constantly turnedher wise face round to see. 

"I'm just tired, Kit, " said the boy to her, "that's all. Don't get gayto-night; I'm not up to it. "

And the little mare, as though she had understood every word, settleddown to a quiet lope down the trail. How far he had ridden or in whatdirection he was traveling Wilbur at last became entirely unconscious, for, utterly worn out, he had fallen asleep in the saddle, keeping hisseat merely by instinct and owing to the gentle, easy pace of his mare. 

He was wakened by a heavy hand being put upon his shoulder, and rousinghimself with a start, he found the grave, kindly eyes of the old Rangergleaming on him in the moonlight. 

"Sleeping, son?" queried the old mountaineer. 

"Yes, Rifle-Eye, I guess I must have been, " said the lad, "just dozedoff. I'm dog-tired. I've been on that fire all afternoon. "

The Ranger looked at him keenly. 

"Best thing you could have done, " he said. "You'll feel worse for a fewminutes, an' then you'll find that cat-nap is just as good as a wholenight's sleep. That is, " he added, "it is for a while. What's the firelike? I tried to get somethin' out of Ben, but he was actin' queerly, an' I left him alone. But he seemed to know pretty well where it was. "

Wilbur tried to explain the story of the fire, but his tale soon becameincoherent, and before they had ridden another half a mile, his storyhad died down to a few mutterings and he was asleep again. The oldhunter rode beside him, his hand ready to catch him should he waver inthe saddle, but Kit loped along at her easiest gait and the boy scarcelymoved. Rifle-Eye woke him again when they left the trail and broke intothe forest. 

"I reckon you better wake up, son, " he said, "landin' suddenly on yourhead on a rock is some abrupt as an alarm clock. "

Wilbur dropped the reins to stretch himself. 

"I feel a lot better now, " he announced, "just as good as ever. Exceptfor my hands, " he added ruefully, as returning wakefulness brought backwith it the consciousness of smart and hurt, "and my feet are mightysore, too. We're right near the fire, too, aren't we, " he continued. "Gee, that was nifty sleeping nearly all the way. I guess I must havefelt you were around, Rifle-Eye, and so I slept easily, knowing it wouldcome out all right with you here. "

"I ain't never been famous for hypnotizin' any forest fire that I'veheard of, " said the old hunter, smiling, "but I've got a lurkin' ideasomewhere that we'll get this headed off all right. An' in any case, there ain't much folks livin' in the path of the fire, if the wind keepsthe way she is now. "

Wilbur thought for a moment over the lay of the land and the directionin which the flames were moving. 

"There's the mill, " he said suddenly and excitedly. 

"Yes, son, " said the old hunter. "I'd been thinkin' of that. There's themill. "

[Illustration: "THAT'S ONE PAINTER LESS, ANYHOW!"

Shooting the mountain lion; a frequent incident in the daily life of aRanger. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: "SMOKE! AND HOW AM I GOING TO GET THERE?"

Ranger forced to make a breakneck dash through wild and unknown countryto fight forest fire. 

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service. _]

CHAPTER XVI

IN THE MIDST OF A SEA OF FIRE

A subdued but fiery inspiration, as of some monster breathing deeply inthe darkness, gradually made itself heard above the voices of the night, and an eddying gust brought from the distance the sound of twigs andbranches crackling as they burned. As yet the fire was not visible, savefor the red-bronze glow seen through the trees reflected on the skyabove. But before they reached the scene of the fire, Wilbur realizedhow different it was from the blaze he had left. Then it was adifficulty to be overcome: now, it was a peril to be faced. 

"It has run about three miles since I left it, " Wilbur said. "I hopewe're not too late. "

"It's never too late to try, son, " replied the Ranger, "so long as thereis a tree left unburned. There ain't anything in life that it ever getstoo late to try over. If a thing's done, it ain't too late ever to tryto do something else which will make up for the first, is it?"

"But I failed to stop it before, " said Wilbur. 

"Nary a fail. A fight ain't lost until it's over. An' when this littlescrap is over the fire'll be out. You ain't had but one round with thisfire so far. "

"That's certainly some fire, " rejoined the boy as they turned sharplyfrom a glade to the edge of a hill that looked upon the forest justbelow. It was a sight of fear. Overhead, the clouds flying before thewind were alternately revealing and hiding the starlit and moonlit skybehind, the dark and ragged wisps of storm-scud seeming to fly in panicfrom what they saw below them. The wind moaned as though enchained andforced to blow by some tyrannic power, instead of swaying before thebreeze, the needles of the pines seemed to tremble and shudder in theblast, and dominating the whole, --somber, red, and malevolent, --the fireengulfed the forest floor. In the distance, where some dead timber hadbeen standing, the flames had crept up the trunks of the trees, and nowfanned by the gusts of wind, were beginning to run amid the tops. 

"Will it be a crown-fire, Rifle-Eye?" asked Wilbur, remembering what hehad heard of the fearful devastation committed by a fire when once itsecured a violent headway among the pines. 

"It's in the tops now, " said the old hunter, pointing with his finger, "but I don't reckon there's enough wind yet to hold it up there. Theworst of it is that it's not long to morning now, an' we shall lose theadvantage o' fightin' it at night. I reckon we'd better get down and seewhat we can do. "

In a few minutes the hunter and Wilbur had fastened their horses andpresently were beside the fire. To the boy's surprise the old huntermade no attack upon the fire itself, but, going in advance of it somehundred feet, with the boy's hoe, which he dragged after him like aplow, made a furrow in the earth almost as rapidly as a man could walk. This, Wilbur, with ax and shovel, widened. The old hunter never seemedto stop once, but, however curving and twisting his course might be, theboy noted that the furrow invariably occurred at the end of a stretchwhere few needles had fallen on the ground and the débris was veryscant. 

After about a mile of this, the hunter curved his furrow sharply intoward the burned-out portion, ending his line behind the line of fire. He then sent Wilbur back along the line he had just traversed to insurethat none of the fire had crossed the guard thus made. Then, startingabout twenty feet from the curve on the fire-guard, he took another widecurve in front of the floor-fire, favoring the place where the needleslay thinnest, until he came to a ridge. Following him, Wilbur noted thatthe old woodsman had made no attempt to stop the fire on the upwardgrade, but had apparently left it to the mercy of the fire, whereas, onthe further side of the ridge, where the fire would have to burn down, the old hunter had made but a very scanty fire-guard. Then Wilburremembered that he had been told it was easy to stop a fire when it wasrunning down a hill, and he realized that if, in the beginning, insteadof actually endeavoring to put out the fire, he had made a wide circuitaround it, and by utilizing those ridges, he could have held the fire tothe spot where it began. For a moment this nearly broke him all up, until he remembered that he had seen another fire, and that Rifle-Eyehad told him of a third one yet. 

Wilbur was working doggedly, yet in a spiritless, tired fashion, beatingout the fire with a wet gunnysack as it reached the fire-guard of theold hunter's making, and very carefully putting out any spark that thewind drove across it, working almost without thought. But as he toppedthe ridge and came within full view of the fire that had started amongthe tops, his listlessness fell from him. Against the glow he could seethe outline of the figure of the hunter, and he ran up to him. 

"It's all out, back there, " he panted. "What shall we do here?"

For the first time the Ranger seemed to have no answer ready. Then hesaid slowly:

"I reckon we can hold this bit of it, up yonder on the mountain, butthere's a line of fire runnin' around by the gully, and the wind'sbeginnin' a-howlin' through there. I don't reckon we can stop that. Wemay have to fall back beyond the river. We'll need axmen, now. You'vegot a good mare; ride down to Pete's mine and bring all hands. Thegovernment will pay them, an' they'll come. There's the dawn; it'll belight in half an hour. You'd better move, too. "

Wilbur started off at a shambling run, half wondering, as he did so, howit was he was able to keep up at all. But as he looked back he saw theold hunter, ax on shoulder, going quietly up the hill into the veryteeth of the fire to head it off on the mountain top, if he could. Hereached Kit and climbed into the saddle. But he was not sleepy, thoughalmost too weary to sit upright. One moment the forest would be light asa glare from the fire reached him, the next moment it would be all thedarker for the contrast. For a mile he rode over the blackened andburned forest floor, some trees still ablaze and smoking. Every step hetook, for all he knew, might be leading him on into a fire-encircledplace from which he would have difficulty in escaping, but on he went. There was no trail, he only had a vague sense of direction, and on bothsides of him was fire. Probably fire was also in front, and if so he wasriding into it, but he had his orders and on he must go. The mine, heknew, was lower down on the gully, and so roughly he followed it. Twicehe had to force Kit to cross, but it was growing light now, so thelittle mare took the water quietly and followed the further bank. Suddenly he heard horses' hoofs, evidently a party, and he shouted. Ananswering shout was the response, and the horses pulled up. He touchedKit and in a minute or two broke through to them. 

"Oh, it's you, Mr. Merritt, " said the boy, "I was just wondering whoit might be. "

"The fire's over there, " said the Supervisor. "What are you doing here?"

"Rifle-Eye sent me to get the men at Pete's mine, " he said. 

"They're here, " replied the Forest Chief. "How's the fire?"

"Bad, " said the boy. "Rifle-Eye said he thought we would have to fallback beyond the river. "

"Don't want to, " said Merritt, "there's a lot of good timber betweenhere and the river. "

"Nothin' to it, " said one of the miners. "Unless the wind shifts, it'san easy gamble she goes over the river and don't notice it none. "

The Supervisor put his horse to the gallop, followed by the party, allsave one miner, who, familiar with the country, led the way, findingsome trail utterly undistinguishable to the rest. Seeing the vantagepoint, as Rifle-Eye had done, he made for the crest of the hill. 

"Any chances?" asked the Supervisor. 

"I reckon not, " said Rifle-Eye. "You can't hold it here; there's a blazedown over yonder and another below the hill. "

"Who set that fire?" said Merritt suddenly. Wilbur jumped. It had notoccurred to him that the fire could have started in any other mannerthan by accident, and indeed he had not thought of its cause at all. 

The old Ranger looked quietly at his superior officer. 

"It's allers mighty hard to tell where a fire started after it's oncegot a-going, " he said, "and it's harder to tell who set it a-going. "

"I want to stop it at the river. "

The old woodsman shook his head. 

"You ain't got much chance, " he said; "I reckon at the ridge on theother side of the river you can hold her, but she's crept along thegully an' she'll just go a-whoopin' up the hill. I wouldn't waste anytime at the river. "

"But there's the mill!"

"We ain't no ways to blame because Peavey Jo built his mill in front ofa fire. An', anyhow, the mill's in the middle of a clearing. "

The Supervisor frowned. 

"His mill is on National Forest land, and we ought to try and save it, "he said. 

"I'm goin' clear to the ridge, " remarked the Ranger, "an' I reckonyou-all had better, too. I ain't achin' none to see the mill burn, butI'd as lieve it was Peavey Jo's as any one else. "

"I'd like to know, " Merritt repeated, "who set that fire. "

The Ranger made no answer, but walked off to where his horse wastethered and rode away. The other party without a moment's delay struckoff to the trail leading to the mill. The distance was not great, butWilbur had lost all count of time. It seemed to him that he had eitherbeen fighting fire or riding at high speed through luridly lightedforest glades for years and years, and that it would never stop. 

At the mill they found a wild turmoil of excitement. All the hands wereat work, most of them wetting down the lumber, while other large pileswhich were close to the edge of the forest were being moved out ofdanger. The horses all had been taken from the stables, and the varioussheds and buildings were being thoroughly soaked. The big mill enginewas throbbing, lines of hose playing in every direction, for althoughthe timber around the mill had been cleared as much as possible, negligence had been shown in permitting some undergrowth to spring upunchecked. Owing to the conformation of the land, too, the bottom onwhich the mill stood was smaller than customary. 

In the early morning light the great form of Peavey Jo seemed to assumegiant proportions. He was here, there, and everywhere at the moment, andhis blustering voice could be heard bellowing out orders, which, to dohim justice, were the best possible. As soon as the Supervisor and hisparty appeared he broke out into a violent tirade against them for notkeeping a fit watch over the forest and allowing a fire to get such aheadway on a night when in the evening there had been so little wind, whereas now a gale was rising fast. But Merritt did not waste breath inreply; he simply ordered his men to get in and do all they could toinsure the safety of the mill. 

Wilbur, who had been set at cutting out the underbrush, found that hisstrength was about played out. Once, indeed, he shouldered his ax andstarted to walk back to say that he could do no more, but before hereached the place where his chief was working his determinationreturned, and he decided to go back and work till he dropped rightthere. He had given up bothering about his hands and feet being soblistered and sore, for all such local pain was dulled by the uttercollapse of nerve-sensation. He couldn't think clearly enough to thinkthat he was feeling pain; he could not think at all. He had been told tocut brush and he did so as a machine, working automatically, but seeingnothing and hearing nothing of what was going on around him. 

Presently an animal premonition of fear struck him as he becameconscious of a terrific wave of heat, and he could hear in the distancethe roar of the flames coming closer. Raging through the resinous pinebranches the blaze had swept fiercely around the side of the hill. Asthe boy looked up he could see it suddenly break into greater vigor asthe up-draft on the hill fanned it to a wilder fury and made a furnaceof the place where he had been standing with Merritt and Rifle-Eyescarcely more than an hour before. 

Meanwhile the wind drove the flames steadily onward toward thethreatened mill. It was becoming too hot for any human being to staywhere Wilbur was, but the boy seemed to have lost the power of thought. He chopped and chopped like a machine, not noticing, indeed, not beingable to notice that he was toiling there alone. It grew hotter andhotter, his breath came in quick, short gasps, and each breath hurt hislungs cruelly as he breathed the heat into them, but he worked on as ina dream. Suddenly he felt his shoulder seized. It was the Supervisor, who twisted him round and, pointing to the little bridge across theriver which spanned the stream just above the mill, he shouted:

"Run!"

But the boy's spirit was too exhausted to respond, though he got into adog trot and started for the bridge. Perilous though every second'sdelay was, Merritt would not go ahead of the boy, though he could haveoutdistanced his shambling and footsore pace two to one, but kept besidehim urging and threatening him alternately. The fire was on their heels, but they were in the clearing. On the bridge one of the miners wasstanding, riding the fastest horse in the party, holding, and with greatdifficulty holding, in hand the horse of the Supervisor and the boy'smare, Kit. Their very clothes were smoking as they reached the bridge. 

Suddenly, a huge, twisted tree, full of sap, which stood on the edge ofthe clearing, exploded with a crash like a cannon, and a flaming branch, twenty feet in length, hurtled itself over their heads and fell full onthe further side of the bridge, barring their way. Upon the narrowbridge the horses reared in a sudden panic and tried to bolt, but theminer was an old-time cowboy, and he held them in hand. Merritt helpedthe lad into the saddle before mounting himself. But even in that momentthe bridge began to smoke, and in less than a minute the whole structurewould be ablaze. The miner dug his heels, spurred, into the sides of hishorse, and the animal in fear and desperation leaped over the hissingbranch that lay upon the bridge. The Supervisor's horse and Kit followedsuit. As they landed on the other side, however, the head of the forestreined in for a moment, and looking round, shouted suddenly:

"The mill!"

Wilbur pulled in Kit. So far as could be seen, none of the forest firehad reached the mill; the sparks which had fallen upon the roof had goneout harmlessly, so thoroughly had the place been soaked, yet through thedoor of the mill the flames could be seen on the inside. At first Wilburthought it must be some kind of a reflection. But as they watched, Peavey Jo rode up. He had crossed the bridge earlier, and was on thesafe side of the river watching his mill. 

Suddenly, from out the door of the mill, outlined clearly against thefire within, came an ungainly, shambling figure. The features could notbe seen, but the gait was unmistakable. He came running in an odd, loose-jointed fashion toward the bridge. But just before he reached itthe now blazing timbers burned through and the bridge crashed into thestream. 

"It's Ben, " muttered Wilbur confusedly; "I guess I've got to go back, "and he headed Kit for the trail. 

But the Supervisor leaned over and almost crushed the bones of the boy'shand in his restraining grip. 

"No need, " he said, "he's all right now. "

For as he spoke Wilbur saw Ben leap from the bank on the portion of theburned bridge which had collapsed on his side of the stream. A few quickstrokes with the ax the boy was carrying and the timbers were free, andcrouched down upon them the boy was being carried down the stream. Hisperil was extreme, for below as well as above the fire was sweeping downon either side of the mill, and it was a question of minutes, almost ofseconds, whether the bridge-raft would pass down the river before thefire struck or whether it would be caught. 

"If the wind would only lull!" ejaculated the boy. 

"I'll stay here till I see him burn, " replied Peavey Jo grimly. 

But Wilbur's wish met its fulfillment, for just for the space that onecould count ten the wind slackened, and every second meant a few yardsof safety to the half-witted lad. Though they were risking their livesby staying, the three men waited, waited as still as they could for thefear of their horses, until the boy disappeared round a curve of theriver. A muttered execration from Peavey Jo announced the lad's safety. It angered the usually calm Supervisor. 

"That ends you, " he said. "You're licked, and you know it. Your mill'sgone, your timber's gone, and your credit's gone. Don't let me see youon this forest again. "

"You think I do no more, eh? Me, I forget? Non! By and by you rememberPeavey Jo. Now I ride down river. That boy, you see him? He see the sunrise this morning. He no see the sun set. No. Nor ever any more. Ifollow the river trail. I do not say good-by, like the old song, " headded, scowling his fury; "you wish yes! Non! I say _au revoir_, andperhaps sooner than you t'ink. "

He wheeled and turned down the river. The Supervisor turned to theminer. 

"It's not my business to stop him, " he said, "and the boy's got thestart. He can't reach there before the fire does, now. "

Then, as though regretting the lull, the wind shrieked with a new andmore vindictive fury, as though it saw its vengeance before it. Almostat a breath it seemed the whole body of flame appeared to lift itself tothe skies and then fall like a devouring fury upon the forest on thehither side of the river below, whither Peavey Jo had ridden. 

In the distance the two men heard a horse scream, and they knew. ButWilbur did not hear. 

They had waited almost too long, for the wind, rising to its greatestheight, had carried the fire above them almost to the edge of the river, and now there was no question about its crossing. Further delay meant tobe hemmed in by a ring of fire. With a shout the miner slackened thereins and his horse leaped into a gallop, after him Merritt, and the boyclose behind. Wilbur had ridden fast before, but never had he knownsuch speed as now. The trail was clear before them to the top of theridge, the fire was behind, and the wind was hurling masses of flamesabout them on every side. The horses fled with the speed of fear, andthe Supervisor drew a breath of relief as they crossed a small ridgebelow the greater ridge whither they were bound. 

Once a curl of flame licked clear over their heads and ignited a tree infront of them, but they were past it again before it caught fair hold. The boy could feel Kit's flanks heaving as she drew her breath hard, andwith the last instinct of safety he threw away everything that hecarried, even the fire-fighting tools being released. Only another mile, but the grade was fearfully steep, the steeper the harder for the horsesbut the better for the fire. Kit stumbled. A little less than a mileleft! He knew she could not do it. The mare had been kept astretch allnight, and her heart was breaking under the strain. Any second she mightfall. 

The trail curved. And round the curve, with three horses saddled andwaiting, sat the old Ranger, facing the onrush of the fire asimperturbably as though his own life were in no way involved. Theminer's horse was freshest and he reached the group first. As he did so, he swung out of his saddle, was on one of the three and off. Theriderless horse, freed from the burden, followed up the trail. Merrittand Wilbur reached almost at the same time. 

"I reckon, " drawled Rifle-Eye, "that's a pretty close call. "

"He's done, " said the Supervisor, ignoring the remark. "Toss him up. "

With a speed that seemed almost incredible to any one accustomed to hisleisurely movements, the old Ranger dismounted, picked Wilbur bodily outof the saddle, set him on one of the fresh animals, freed Kit, mountedhimself, and was off in less than thirty seconds. For the first halfmile it was touch and go, for the trail was steep and even the threefresh horses found the pace terrific. But little by little the timberthinned and the fire gained less hold. Then, with a burst they came intoa clearing along the top of the ridge. The crest was black with workers, over two hundred men were there, and on every side was to be heard thesound of trees crashing to the ground, most of them by dynamite. 

Where the head of the trail reached the crest stood the doctor and hiswife, the "little white lady" trembling with excitement as she watchedthe fearful race from the jaws of a fiery death. The doctor pluckedWilbur from his saddle as the horse rushed by him. The boy's senses werereeling, but before he sank into insensibility from fatigue he heardMerritt say:

"Loyle, when you're a Ranger next year, I want you on my forest. "

THE END

[Illustration: "KEEP IT FROM SPREADING BOYS!"

_Photography by U. S. Forest Service. _]

[Illustration: "GET BUSY NOW, WHEN IT BREAKS INTO THE OPEN!"

_Photography by U. S. Forest Service. _]

_U. S. SERVICE SERIES_

By FRANCIS ROLT-WHEELER

Many illustrations from photographs taken in work for U. S. Government ^Large 12mo ^Cloth ^$1. 50 per volume

 * * * * *

THE BOY WITH THE U. S. SURVEY

This story describes the thrilling adventures of members of the U. S. Geological Survey, graphically woven into a stirring narrative that bothpleases and instructs. The author enjoys an intimate acquaintance withthe chiefs of the various bureaus in Washington, and is able to obtainat first hand the material for his books. 

 "There is abundant charm and vigor in the narrative which is sure to please the boy readers and will do much toward stimulating their patriotism. "--_Chicago News_. 

THE BOY WITH THE U. S. FORESTERS

This life of a typical boy is followed in all its adventurousdetail--the mighty representative of our country's government, thoughyoung in years--a youthful monarch in a vast domain of forest. Repletewith information, alive with adventure, and inciting patriotism at everystep. 

 "It is a fascinating romance of real life in our country, and will prove a great pleasure and inspiration to the boys who read it. "--_The Continent, Chicago_. 

THE BOY WITH THE U. S. CENSUS

The taking of the census frequently involves hardship and peril, requiring arduous journeys by dog-team in the frozen north and by launchin the snake-haunted and alligator-filled Everglades of Florida, whilethe enumerator whose work lies among the dangerous criminal classes ofthe greater cities must take his life in his own hands. 

 "Every young man should read this story, thereby getting a clear conception of conditions as they exist to-day, for such knowledge will have a clean, invigorating and healthy influence on the young growing and thinking mind. "--_Boston Globe_. 

THE BOY WITH THE U. S. FISHERIES

[Illustration: The Boy With the U. S. Fisheries]

The book does not lack thrilling scenes. The far Aleutian Islands havewitnessed more desperate sea-fighting than has occurred elsewhere sincethe days of the Spanish Buccaneers, and pirate craft, which the U. S. Fisheries must watch, rifle in hand, are prowling in the Behring Seato-day. The fish-farms of the United States are as interesting as theyare immense in their scope. 

 "One of the best books for boys of all ages, so attractively written and illustrated as to fascinate the reader into staying up until all hours to finish it. "--_Philadelphia Despatch_. 

 * * * * *

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HANDICRAFT FOR HANDY BOYS

Practical Plans for Work and Play with Many Ideas for Earning Money

By A. NEELY HALL

Author of "The Boy Craftsman"

With Nearly 600 Illustrations and Working-drawings by the Author andNorman P. Hall ^8vo ^Cloth ^Net, $2. 00 ^Postpaid, $2. 25

[Illustration: Handi-Craft for Handy Boys]

This book is intended for boys who want the latest ideas for makingthings, practical plans for earning money, up-to-date suggestions forgames and sports, and novelties for home and school entertainments. 

The author has planned the suggestions on an economical basis, providingfor the use of the things at hand, and many of the things which can bebought cheaply. Mr. Hall's books have won the confidence of parents, whorealize that in giving them to their boys they are providing wholesomeoccupations which will encourage self-reliance and resourcefulness, anddiscourage tendencies to be extravagant. 

Outdoor and indoor pastimes have been given equal attention, and much ofthe work is closely allied to the studies of the modern grammar and highschools, as will be seen by a glance at the following list of subjects, which are only a few among those discussed in the 500 pages of text:

 MANUAL TRAINING; EASILY-MADE FURNITURE; FITTING UP A BOY'S ROOM; HOME-MADE GYMNASIUM APPARATUS; A BOY'S WIRELESS TELEGRAPH OUTFIT; COASTERS AND BOB-SLEDS; MODEL AEROPLANES; PUSHMOBILES AND OTHER HOME-MADE WAGONS; A CASTLE CLUBHOUSE AND HOME-MADE ARMOR. 

Modern ingenious work such as the above cannot fail to developmechanical ability in a boy, and this book will get right next to hisheart. 

 "The book is a treasure house for boys who like to work with tools and have a purpose in their working. "--_Springfield Union_. 

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 "It is all in this book, and if anything has got away from the author we do not know what it is. "--_Buffalo News_. 

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_For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of postpaid price bythe publishers_

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THE BOY CRAFTSMAN

Practical and Profitable Ideas for a Boy's Leisure Hours

By A. NEELY HALL

Illustrated with over 400 diagrams and working drawings ^8vo ^Price, net, $1. 60 ^Postpaid, $1. 82

[Illustration: The Boy Craftsman]

Every real boy wishes to design and make things, but the questions ofmaterials and tools are often hard to get around. Nearly all books onthe subject call for a greater outlay of money than is within the meansof many boys, or their parents wish to expend in such ways. In this booka number of chapters give suggestions for carrying on a small businessthat will bring a boy in money with which to buy tools and materialsnecessary for making apparatus and articles described in other chapters, while the ideas are so practical that many an industrious boy can learnwhat he is best fitted for in his life work. No work of its class is socompletely up-to-date or so worthy in point of thoroughness andavoidance of danger. The drawings are profuse and excellent, and everyfeature of the book is first-class. It tells how to make a boy'sworkshop, how to handle tools, and what can be made with them; how tostart a printing shop and conduct an amateur newspaper, how to makephotographs, build a log cabin, a canvas canoe, a gymnasium, a miniaturetheatre, and many other things dear to the soul of youth. 

 We cannot imagine a more delightful present for a boy than this book. --_Churchman, N. Y. _

 Every boy should have this book. It's a practical book--it gets right next to the boy's heart and stays there. He will have it near him all the time, and on every page there is a lesson or something that will stand the boy in good need. Beyond a doubt in its line this is one of the cleverest books on the market. --_Providence News_. 

 If a boy has any sort of a mechanical turn of mind, his parents should see that he has this book. --_Boston Journal_. 

 This is a book that will do boys good. --_Buffalo Express_. 

 The boy who will not find this book a mine of joy and profit must be queerly constituted. --_Pittsburgh Gazette_. 

 Will be a delight to the boy mechanic. --_Watchman, Boston_. 

 An admirable book to give a boy. --_Newark News_. 

 This Book is the best yet offered for its large number of practical and profitable ideas. --_Milwaukee Free Press_. 

 Parents ought to know of this book. --_New York Globe_. 

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For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublishers, LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. , BOSTON

MR. RESPONSIBILITY, PARTNER

How Bobby and Joe Achieved Success in Business

First Volume of "Business Boys Series"

By CLARENCE JOHNSON MESSER

12mo ^Cloth ^Illustrated ^Price, Net, $1. 00 ^Postpaid, $1. 10

[Illustration: Mr. Responsibility, Partner]

This is frankly a book with a purpose, and its purpose is to teach boysthe fundamental business customs of every-day life, and at the same timeencourage the sound traits of character essential to commercial successand good citizenship. This is done by a good and interesting story ofsome live boys, whose experiences will hold the attention of every one. The leading spirit is pictured with a healthy boy's human qualities tobe trained, and impulses to be overcome. A companionable and sensiblefather aids him judiciously, and leaves success to be worked out onnatural lines. All the stage effects of the cheaper kinds of boys' booksare blissfully absent; there are no villains plotting against theupright, no nations saved by the precocious intelligence of youth, andno impossible adventure or accomplishment--just the problems beforeaverage boys, and that can be solved as these boys solve them if "Mr. Responsibility" is recognized as a partner in all undertakings, and onelearns to see and grasp his opportunities. A book that any boy wouldlike, and that every boy ought to have. 

 "It is an inspiring book to any boy who wants to learn to be a good business man. "--_Buffalo News_. 

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 "The story is one that boys will enjoy and that parents can safely put in their hands. "--_Lowell Courier Citizen_. 

 "A wholesome, informative, worth-while boy's book. "--_N. Y. Press_. 

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