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Title: The Young Wireless Operator--As a Fire Patrol
       The Story of a Young Wireless Amateur Who Made Good as a Fire Patrol

Author: Lewis E. Theiss

Release Date: July 7, 2004 [EBook #12839]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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Produced by PG Distributed Proofreaders




[Illustration: The Forester, Charley and Lew Crossed to the Brook Where
the Battle with the Flames Had Begun]




The Young Wireless Operator--As a Fire Patrol

or

<i>The Story of a Young Wireless Amateur Who Made Good as a Fire Patrol</i>

By

Lewis E. Theiss

Illustrated by
Frank T. Merrill

W. A. Wilde Company
Chicago Boston




<i>Copyright, 1921,</i>
By W. A. Wilde Company
<i>All rights reserved</i>



The Young Wireless Operator--As A Fire Patrol.




This book is dedicated to

Gifford Pinchot

sometime forester for the United States of America, and now Commissioner
of Forestry for Pennsylvania, whose ceaseless and undiscouraged efforts to
save from spoliation the vast timber stands and other natural resources of
America have inspired this story




Foreword



Boys and dogs go well together. So do boys and trees. When a boy gets to
love the forest and can live in it, that is best of all. For the forest
makes real boys and real men.

Not only does the forest do that, but it keeps the Nation alive. No one
can eat a meal without the help of the forest, for it takes more than half
the wood cut every year in the United States to enable the farmer to grow
the food and the fibres to feed and clothe the Nation. No one can live in
a house without the help of the forest, for whether we speak of it as a
wooden house, a brick house, a stone house, or a concrete house, still
there is wood in it, and without wood it could not have been built.

We are apt to think of the city dwellers as people who are not dependent
on the forest. As a matter of fact, they are the most dependent of all,
for the cities would be deserted, the houses empty, and the streets dead,
except for the things which could not be grown nor mined nor manufactured
nor transported without the help of wood from the forest.

Pennsylvania--Penn's Woods--is the greatest industrial commonwealth in the
world. Without its woods, it could never have been made so. Unless its
woods are restored, it cannot continue to be so, and unless forest fires
are stopped, there is no way to restore Penn's Woods.

I have read "The Young Wireless Operator--As a Fire Patrol" with the
keenest interest, not only because it is about the forest, but because it
is a thrillingly interesting story of a real boy and the real things he
did in the woods. I like it from end to end, and that is why, when Mr.
Theiss asked me to write this foreword, I gladly consented.

No one loves the woods more than I, as boy and man, or loves to be in them
better. One of the things I want most is to see more and better forests in
our great State of Pennsylvania, and in the whole United States. Without
our forests we could not have become great, nor can we continue to be so.
For the men and boys who love the forest and understand it are of the kind
without whom great nations are impossible.

Gifford Pinchot.




Contents



     I. Vacation Plans
    II. What Came of Them
   III. Off to the Mountains
    IV. In the Burned Forest
     V. A Lost Opportunity
    VI. Trout Fishing in the Wilderness
   VII. The Forest Afire
  VIII. Making an Investigation
    IX. Charley Becomes a Fire Patrol
     X. An Encounter with a Bear
    XI. The Secret Camp in the Wilderness
   XII. On the Trail of the Timber Thieves
  XIII. Spying Out the Land
   XIV. The Trail in the Forest
    XV. The Telltale Thumb-Print
   XVI. Good News for the Fire Patrol
  XVII. An Accident in the Wilderness
 XVIII. The First Clue to the Incendiary
   XIX. The Forester's Problem
    XX. Charley Wins His First Promotion
   XXI. A Trouble Maker
  XXII. Charley Finds Another Clue
 XXIII. A Startling Discovery
  XXIV. Checkmated
   XXV. The Crisis
  XXVI. More Thumb-Prints
 XXVII. Trapped
XXVIII. Victory




The Young Wireless Operator--As a Fire Patrol




Chapter I

Vacation Plans



Charley Russell sat before a table in the workshop in his father's back
yard. In front of him were the shining instruments of his wireless
outfit--his coupler, his condenser, his helix, his spark-gap, and the
other parts, practically all of which he had made with his own hands.
Ordinarily he would have looked at them fondly, but now he gave them
hardly a thought. He was waiting for his chum, Lew Heinsling, and his mind
was busy with the problem of his own future. Charley was a senior in high
school and was pondering over the question of what the world had in store
for him. While he sat meditating, Lew arrived. In his hand was a copy of
the <i>New York Sun and Herald</i>. He held it out to Charley and pointed to
the marine news.

"The <i>Lycoming</i> reaches New York to-day," he said. "Roy will send us a
wireless message to-night. Gee! I wish we had a battery strong enough to
talk back."

But Charley paid slight heed to the suggestion. Instead he said: "Roy
Mercer's a lucky dog. Think of being the wireless man on a big ocean
steamer when you're only nineteen. I wish I knew what I am going to do
after I graduate from high school."

Roy Mercer, like Charley and Lew, was a member of the Camp Brady Wireless
Patrol. With his fellows he had taken part in the capture of the German
spies who were trying to dynamite the Elk City reservoir and so wreck a
great munitions centre during the war; and with three other members of the
Wireless Patrol, especially selected for their skill in wireless, he had
later gone to New York with their leader, Captain Hardy, to assist the
government Secret Service in its search for the secret wireless that was
keeping the German Admiralty informed of the movements of American
vessels.

His fellows both envied and loved him. Roy warmly returned their
affection, and his vessel never came into port that he did not, regularly
at nine o'clock in the evening, flash out some message of greeting to his
former comrades of the Wireless Patrol. It was always a one-sided
conversation, however, because none of the boys in the Wireless Patrol
owned a battery powerful enough to carry a message from Central City to
New York. Just now each lad was engaged in trying to earn money so that
the club could buy a battery or dynamo strong enough for this purpose. So
each boy was working at any job he could pick up after school, and saving
all he earned. Both Charley and Lew had already earned more than their
share of the purchase money.

"You never can tell what will happen," said Lew presently. "Who ever
expected Roy to get the job he has? You may land in another just as good.
You stand pretty near the head of your class, and everybody knows you're a
corking good wireless operator."

"I can tell well enough what will happen, Lew. The minute I'm out of high
school, I'll have to go to work with Dad in Miller's factory. Gee! How I
hate the place! Think of working nine hours a day in such a dirty, smoky,
noisy old hole, where you can't get a breath of fresh air, or see the sky,
or hear the birds. Just to think about it is enough to make a fellow feel
blue."

"But maybe you won't have to go into the factory at all," argued Lew.
"Maybe you can find some other job you like better."

"No, I shall have to go into the factory," repeated Charley sadly. "Dad
says I've got to get to work the minute I've graduated, and earn the most
money possible. And there's no other place where I can get as much as they
pay at Miller's. Dad says I can get two-fifty a day at the start and maybe
three dollars."

Charley paused and sighed, then added, "What's three dollars a day if you
have to be penned up like an animal to earn it? I'd rather take half as
much if I could work out in the open and do something I like."

"Why don't you tell your father so?"

"I have--dozens of times. But he says it isn't a question of what I want
to do. It's a question of making the most money possible and helping him.
He says he's supported me for more than eighteen years and now I have to
help him for a year or two anyway."

"That's a shame!" cried Lew.

"No, it isn't, Lew," explained Charley. "It's all right about helping Dad.
He's been mighty good to me, and he's in the hole now. You see, Dad and
Mother have been married twenty years and Dad's worked hard all this time
and saved his money to build a house. And just about the time Dad was
ready to begin building, prices began to go up. Dad held off, thinking
they would drop. But they got higher instead, and finally Dad told the
carpenters to go ahead, lest prices should go higher still. Now the house
is going to cost almost double what Dad expected it would, and the awful
prices of everything else take every cent Dad can earn. With such a big
mortgage on the place, Dad says he's just got to have my help or he may
lose the house and all he has saved in those twenty years. It's all right
about helping Dad, Lew. I want to do that, but I can't bear to think of
going to work in that factory."

"It's too bad, Charley. I had hoped so much that we could go to college
together."

"Lew, if I could go to college I'd work my head off to do it. You know
that. If only I could go to college and learn about the birds and flowers
and rocks and trees and animals, I'd be willing to do anything--even to
work in Miller's factory for a time. But Dad will need every cent I can
earn until I am twenty-one, and I can't see how I can possibly go to
college."

"Never mind, Charley. You never can tell what will happen. Look at Roy. He
was worse off than you are, for his father died suddenly and Roy had to
care for both himself and his mother. And see what came of it. He isn't
much older than we are, yet he's got a fine job. Just keep your eyes open
and you may pick up something, too."

"It'll have to come quick, then," sighed Charley. "Here it is almost
Easter vacation, and I am to graduate in June. This will probably be the
last vacation I shall have in a long time."

"Then let's enjoy this vacation. I've been thinking what we could do, and
it occurred to me that it would be lots of fun for the Wireless Patrol to
make a trip up the river to that old camp of ours. It won't be too cold to
camp out if we take out our tents and our little collapsible stoves.
Suckers ought to be running good and we can catch a fine mess of fish,
take a hike or two, and have a bully trip up the river and back. Let's go
tell the rest of the fellows."

Lew jumped up and started for the door. Then he stopped suddenly and a
look of disappointment came over his face. "I'll bet none of 'em can go,"
he said. "They've all got jobs for the vacation. I'm glad we've got our
money earned."

"I just thought of another difficulty," sighed Charley. "Not one of us
owns a boat."

"We can borrow one," said Lew.

"I hate to borrow things," replied Charley. "You remember how I borrowed
old man Packer's bob-sled and broke it and then had to pay to have it
remade. No more borrowing for me."

"Why can't we make a boat? There's plenty of time between now and
vacation. If we do the work ourselves, it oughtn't to cost more than two
or three dollars and then we'd have a boat of our own."

"Bully!" cried Charley. "We can make it as good as anybody. We'll do it."

"All right. I'll go down-town and find the price of oars and rowlocks, and
you go over to Hank Cooley's and find out how his father made that boat of
his. It's a dandy and just what we need."

The two boys rushed off in opposite directions, each full of enthusiasm
over the plan to build a new boat and make a trip up the river during
their Easter vacation.




Chapter II

What Came of Them



A few hours later Charley Russell again sat before the bench in the little
wireless house in his father's yard. Before him lay some patterns for a
rowboat, and on a piece of paper Charley was trying to figure out how much
lumber it would take to build the boat.

"We'll need two sixteen-foot boards, each a foot wide for the sides," he
said, looking across the table at his chum, who sat ready, with pencil and
paper, to jot down the figures Charley gave him.

"Thirty-two feet," said Lew, setting down the number on his paper.

Charley bent over his patterns, measuring and estimating in silence.
"It'll take three more like 'em for the bottom," he said presently.

"That's forty-eight more," replied Lew, jotting down the number.

"And these cross braces," added Charley, after another period of
calculation, "will take ten feet more."

Again Lew set down the number.

"That provides for everything but the decks," said Charley. "They will
take seven or eight feet more. Better call it ten. That's all. What does
it make?"

Lew put down ten and added the column of figures. "One hundred feet
exactly," he said.

"Bully good!" replied Charley. "A hundred feet oughtn't to cost much of
anything. The rub's going to be to get the oars. You say they want five
dollars for the cheapest pair at the hardware store, and the sporting
goods store wants six-fifty."

"The robbers!" cried Lew. "Think of it. Six-fifty for about fifteen cents'
worth of wood. Maybe we can get a pair of second-hand oars somewhere.
Six-fifty is as much as we can afford to spend on the whole outfit."

"It will be all right to get second-hand oars," said Charley, "for we can
get new ones later, when we have the money. Besides, we want to put most
of our money into the boat itself. As long as we are going to build it, we
want to make it the very best boat possible. We want the best wood in the
market and we want our boat light enough so that the two of us can carry
it. I reckon it may cost two or three dollars if we buy such good wood as
that. But it will be worth while. We can get along with cheap oars for a
time. Let's go down to the lumber-yard and get our boards."

The two chums left the shop and hurried down the street toward the
lumber-yard.

"If we can get our lumber to-day," said Charley, "I'm certain we can get
our boat made before the spring vacation. We ought to be able to put in
three hours apiece every afternoon after high school lets out, and we can
get in another hour apiece before school, if we get up early enough.
That's four hours apiece, or eight hours a day. We certainly ought to get
it finished and painted inside of ten days."

"Sure," replied Lew. "We'll have her done all right. And we'll have just
about the finest boat in town."

"And I reckon we'll have just about the finest trip ever," went on
Charley. "If we start right after school closes for the Easter vacation we
can row up-stream that afternoon as far as Hillman's Grove, and camp there
for the night. That will give us almost half a day's extra time. Then we
can reach our old camping ground the next day and get the tent up and our
wood cut and maybe even catch some fish before dark. We'll have everything
ready so we can jump right into the boat and pull out the minute school is
over."

"Sure," assented Lew. Then, after a moment's pause, he added, "Ain't it a
shame none of the other members of the Wireless Patrol can go along? We'll
miss 'em, particularly Roy. And now that he's wireless man on the
<i>Lycoming</i>, he'll probably never go on another trip with the Camp Brady
Patrol."

"It's too bad for us, but mighty nice for Roy," said Charley. "Just think
of being the wireless man on a great ocean steamship when you're only
nineteen. He's made for life. Gee! I wish I knew what I am going to do."

"I know how you feel, Charley. Maybe something will turn up so that you
won't need to go into the factory after all. But here we are at the
lumber-yard. Let's get the boards and begin our boat at once. We'll have a
good time this vacation, no matter what happens afterward."

"Well, boys, what can I do for you?" inquired the lumber dealer, as
Charley and Lew approached him.

"We want one hundred feet of the lightest and best boards you have,"
replied Charley. "We are going to build a boat and we want it to be strong
but light, so that the two of us can handle it."

"White pine would be just the thing for you," replied the dealer, "but I
haven't a foot of it in the place and can't get any. I have some fine
cedar boards that would make a good light boat. Just come over to this
pile of lumber." And he led the way across the yard.

"That will suit us all right if it's wide enough," said Charley. "We want
foot boards."

"Well, that's what these are. And a good inch thick, too. They're mighty
good boards. Hardly a knot in 'em. We don't see much lumber like that
nowadays."

"They'll do all right," assented Charley, after examining the boards.
"What do they cost a hundred?"

"Ten dollars."

"Ten dollars!" cried Charley in consternation. Then a smile came on his
face. "Quit your kidding," he said. "What <i>do</i> they come at?"

"Ten dollars," replied the lumber dealer soberly.

The two boys stared at him incredulously.

"Impossible!" cried Lew. "What are they <i>really</i> worth?"

"Ten dollars," replied the man. His voice was sharp and a frown had
gathered on his forehead. "Ten dollars, and cheap at that."

Charley turned to his companion with a look of dismay. "We can never build
our boat with wood at such a price," he cried. "With five dollars to pay
for oars, and two dollars for paint, and some more for nails and rowlocks,
and lock and chain, the boat would cost eighteen or twenty dollars just
for the materials. That's three times as much as we have got."

After an instant the look on Charley's face changed to one of intense
indignation. He had a quick temper, and now he turned to the lumber dealer
in anger.

"I guess the sugar profiteers are not the only ones who ought to be in the
penitentiary," he said hotly. "You can keep your old boards. And I hope
they rot for you."

Then he turned on his heel and started toward the gate, followed by Lew.

"Come back here!"

The words rang out sharp and sudden. The voice was commanding and
compelling. Involuntarily the two boys turned back. The lumber dealer
stood before them, his face ablaze with indignation. Under his fiery
glances the boys were speechless. For a moment the man said nothing.
Evidently he was struggling with his temper. When he had gotten control of
himself he spoke. His voice was deep and low, but harsh and cutting.

"Before you make a fool of yourself again, young man," he said, speaking
directly to Charley, "you had better know what you are talking about. You
called me a profiteer for asking $100 a thousand feet for those cedar
boards. Young man, those boards cost me $90 a thousand in the cars at the
station. That leaves me a margin of $10 a thousand for handling them. Out
of that I have to pay to have the boards hauled from the station, pay for
insurance on them, pay their proportionate share of overhead expense, and
pay for hauling them to customers. How much of that $10 do you think is
left for profit? So little it almost requires a microscope to see it. I
have to handle a good many hundred feet of lumber to make as much as the
cheapest sort of laborer gets for a day's pay. The fact is, young man,
that far from profiteering on that lumber, I am selling it at a smaller
profit than I ever sold any lumber before in my life. Some lumber I am
handling at a loss. But in these critical days, with factories closing
everywhere, and men by the thousands being thrown out of work, the best
thing a man can do, either for himself or for his country, is to keep
business moving. That's why I am selling lumber without profit."

Charley was suddenly abashed. "I'm awfully sorry I called you a
profiteer," he said humbly. "I beg your pardon."

"It's all right, young man," said the lumber dealer, a smile once more
lighting up his face. "You are too young to understand how critical the
business situation really is. But be careful in future how you call people
names."

"I certainly will," agreed Charley. "But I'd like to know this. Who <i>is</i>
profiteering in lumber? Who is responsible for such terrible prices?"

"Well, there <i>has</i> been profiteering in lumber, as in everything else. But
there is a real reason why the price of lumber is so high, and that is the
scarcity of timber."

"Scarcity!" cried Charley incredulously. "Why, the forests are full of
timber."

"And what is it like?" demanded the lumber dealer. "Go out to the forests
and look at it. There's nothing but little poles that will scarcely make
six-inch boards. We don't produce one-fourth of the lumber we use in this
state, and we are using wood ten times as fast as our forests are growing
it."

"I thought Pennsylvania was a great lumbering state," protested Lew.

"For a good many years it led the nation in the production of lumber,
young man, but now it ranks twentieth among the states. If only fire could
be kept out of the forests, we might some day raise our own timber again.
But the lumbermen chopped down the big trees and fire has destroyed the
little ones and even burned the forest soil so that nothing grows in it
again. We have not only destroyed our forests, but we have so injured the
land that new trees do not grow to take the place of those we cut."

The two boys stared at the lumberman in amazement. "Where <i>do</i> we get our
lumber from?" demanded Lew.

"Practically all of it comes from the South. That's one reason lumber
costs so much here. The people of Pennsylvania pay $25,000,000 a year in
freight charges on the lumber they use. That's one of the reasons those
cedar boards you were looking at cost so much. When the new freight rates
go into effect the cost of hauling our lumber to us will be something like
$40,000,000 a year."

The two boys were very thoughtful as they made their way back to Charley's
shop.

"What are people going to do for wood pretty soon?" Lew inquired of his
companion. "If we can't build a little boat because the wood costs too
much, how are people going to get homes and furniture and wagons and
motor-cars and a thousand other things? Seems to me pretty much everything
we use is made of wood."

"I don't know," replied Charley. "But what bothers me more just now is to
know what we are going to do during Easter vacation. It may be the last
vacation I shall ever have, and I'd like to have a good time."

"Why not follow the lumber dealer's suggestion and go out to the forests?
Easter doesn't come this year until after the trout season opens. We could
go out to our old camp in the mountains and spend the vacation there,
fishing and hiking."

"That's a mighty good suggestion, Lew. If we have our packs ready, we can
start from high school the minute it is dismissed. We can make that early
afternoon train and get off at that little flag-station at the foot of
Stone Mountain. Then we can hike through the notch and reach the far slope
of Old Ironsides before dark. We shall have to camp overnight along the
run from the spring there, as it is the only water for miles around. Then
the next day we can go on into that little valley where we saw so many
trout. That is so hard to reach that not many fishermen ever go there. The
little stream from the spring on Old Ironsides runs into that brook. Do
you remember what lots of little trout we saw not far below the spring?
They will have become big fellows by this time and moved down into the
larger stream. There ought to be some fine fishing there this spring."

"They say it's an ill wind that blows nobody good. I'm sorry we can't
build the boat, but we shall have just as good a time in the mountains as
we should have had on the river. We'll borrow that little pup tent of
Johnnie Lee's, and take our blankets, hatchets, fishing-rods, and grub."

"I'd rather leave the tent at home and build a lean-to after we get there.
Then we could take a portable wireless outfit and talk to the fellows at
home here in the evening. Half a dozen dry cells would give us one-sixth
of a kilowatt of current, and that ought to carry a message twenty-five or
thirty miles easily. At night we might be able to talk fifty miles. We can
carry six cells easily. The remainder of the outfit won't weigh much.
We'll have to go as light as we can, for it's a mighty tough hike over Old
Ironsides and on into that little valley."

"Shall we take our pistols?" asked Charley.

"We'd better have at least one. You never can tell when you're going to
need a pistol in the forest. Remember the time that bear treed me on the
first hike of the Wireless Patrol? I don't ever want to get into another
situation like that without something to shoot with."

Charley chuckled. "It wasn't a pistol that saved you then," he smiled,
"but Willie Brown and his spark-gap."

"Then we'll be doubly armed," replied Lew. "Since you have so much faith
in wireless, you can carry the outfit. I'll pack the gun. We're almost
certain to have some kind of adventure, for every time the Wireless Patrol
or any of its members venture into the woods, something exciting happens."




Chapter III

Off to the Mountains



Busy, indeed, were the succeeding ten days. The outfit that the two boys
were to carry was packed and repacked several times, and each time it was
overhauled something was eliminated from the packs; for both boys knew
well enough that the trip before them would test their endurance even with
the lightest of packs. Finally their outfit was reduced to two
fishing-rods, one hatchet, a first-aid kit, a flash-light, the necessary
food and dishes, one canteen, and one pistol, with the wireless equipment.

This was made as simple as possible. Six new dry cells were to be taken to
provide current. Then there were a spark-gap, a spark-coil, a key, and a
detector, with the receiving set, switch, and aerial. To be sure, the
entire aerial was not packed, but merely the wires and insulators, as
spreaders could be made in the forest. Then there was an additional coil
of wire to be used for lead-in and suspension wires. No tuning instrument
was necessary, because the wireless outfits of all the members of the Camp
Brady Wireless Patrol were exactly alike and so were already in tune with
one another. Without a tuning instrument, to be sure, it might not be
possible for Charley and Lew to talk with anybody except their fellows of
the Wireless Patrol, but in the present circumstances that made no
difference to them. They had no intention of talking to anybody else.

The various instruments were carefully packed so that they could be
carried without injury. The dishes were nested as well as possible. Then
all were stowed away in the pack bags, together with the food supplies.
The two blankets were tightly folded and tied, ready to be slung over the
shoulders. Long before that last session of school, everything was in
readiness. When finally that last session was over, the two lads had only
to strap their packs on their backs, sling their blankets into place, and
pick up their little fishing-rods, unjointed and compactly packed in cloth
cases. Lew buckled the pistol to his belt and suspended the canteen from
his shoulder, while Charley sheathed his little axe and hung it on his
hip. Then, completely ready, the two lads waved farewell to their envious
comrades and hastened away to the train. In less than an hour the train
stopped to let them off at the little flag-station at the foot of Stone
Mountain. In a moment more it had gone whistling around the shoulder of
the hill, leaving the two boys alone on the edge of the wilderness.

Quickly they adjusted their packs and started back along the
railroad-track toward the gap through which they were to pass to Old
Ironsides. Rapidly they made their way along the road-bed.

"We'd better hustle while the going's good," commented Lew, glancing at
the heavy clouds that obscured the sun, "for it will get dark early
to-night. It'll be slow enough going once we leave the track."

"There's one thing sure," replied Charley. "We won't be bothered with wet
ground. I think I never saw the earth so dry at this season of the year.
There was almost no snow last winter and we've hardly had a rain this
spring. Usually it rains every day at this time of year."

Charley's prediction proved true. When the boys at last reached the notch
in the mountains and left the railroad-track, they found the way almost as
dry as a village street. Years before, the timber had been cut from Stone
Mountain, and a logging trail had passed up the very gap through which the
boys were now traveling. But brush and brambles had come in soon after the
lumbermen left and now a thick stand of saplings also helped to choke the
path. The briars tore at the boys' clothing and blankets. The bushy
growths caught in their packs and straps and wrapped themselves about
their feet and legs. Very quickly it became evident that a hard struggle
lay before them.

Back from the trail, in the forest proper, there was little underbrush,
but the stand of young trees was dense and the way underfoot was so rough
and uneven that it was almost impossible to make any headway there. For
Stone Mountain was a stone mountain in very truth. It appeared to be just
one enormous heap of rocks and boulders. In a very little while both boys
were perspiring profusely from their efforts, and both were conscious that
they were tiring fast; for the grade up the notch was steep.

"Gee!" said Lew, at last. "This is tougher than anything I ever saw when I
was in the Maine woods with Dad. We've got to take it easy or we'll be
tuckered out before we get through this gap. Let's rest a bit."

He sat down on a stone and Charley followed his example. As they rested,
they looked sharply about them. They could see for some distance through
the naked forest. The tree trunks stood straight and tall, and seemed to
be crowded as close together as pickets on a fence.

"This sure is a fine stand of poles," remarked Lew, "but it's just as that
lumber dealer said. There isn't a tree in it that would make a board wider
than six inches. But there's some good timber farther back in the
mountains. Do you remember the fine stand of pines in that little valley
we're heading for? When we were there three years ago there hadn't been a
tree cut in that valley. There must be millions and millions of feet of
lumber there."

"And do you remember," replied Charley, "how dark it was under those
pines, and how cold the water in the run was, and what schools of trout
we saw? Gee! I wish it had been trout season then! But we ought to get'em
now. Oh boy! I can hardly wait to get there."

"Then we had better be jogging on. It'll be dark before we know it."

"All right," returned Charley, "but I'm going to get a drink before I go
any farther."

"I want one, too. Guess I'll fill the canteen. Then we won't have to, stop
every time we want a drink."

The two boys scrambled down the slope to the brook. The lumber trail was
near the bottom of the notch and they had only a few yards to go. The
little run was rushing tumultuously down the notch, splashing over rocks,
scurrying over little sandy stretches, ever singing, ever murmuring, in
its downward course. Their packs and blankets made it difficult to stretch
out flat and drink from the stream, so Lew rinsed out the canteen, filled
it, and handed it to his companion. Charley took a good drink and passed
the canteen silently back to his chum.

"If you didn't really know it was the brook," said Lew, "you'd be willing
to swear you could hear somebody talking. You can hear voices just as
plain as can be. And you can almost make out what they say. Many a time
I've caught myself listening hard to try to make out the words, when I
heard a brook talking."

"It's no wonder people get scared and pretty nearly go crazy when they are
lost in the forest," replied Lew. "Without half trying, you can imagine
the forest is full of people or spooks or animals or something, creeping
up behind your back."

Lew bent down and once more filled the canteen. He corked it tight and
dipped it bodily into the run to wet the cloth cover, so that the water
within would be kept cool by evaporation. Then he slung the canteen over
his shoulder.

"I never saw a mountain stream so low at this time of the year," he
remarked, as he followed his companion up the trail. "You might think it
was August. But with no snow to melt and no rainfall this spring, it isn't
to be wondered at."

On they went up the trail. For a long time neither boy spoke. The brambles
still tore at their clothes and the bushes tripped them. In places the
young saplings were so dense that to force a way among them was a
difficult task. Their packs began to grow very heavy. But they had one
advantage. As Charley had suggested, the ground was perfectly dry. There
were no slippery sticks to tread on, nor any moss-covered stones,
treacherous with their soggy coats. So they could give more attention to
the obstacles above ground. But at best it was a hard, difficult climb.

As they mounted higher and higher, the stream in the bottom constantly
dwindled. Long before the crest was reached, the brook had become a very
feeble stream, indeed. It had its source near the top of the pass, in a
great spring that welled up under a large rock. A single hemlock had
sprung up here in years past, and, watered by the spring, had grown to
enormous size. For some reason the lumbermen had passed it by. Now it
reared its giant bulk high above the younger growths around it, casting a
dense shade over the spring basin. Practically nothing grew in this deep
shade, so that the space above the spring was open and free from bushes.
On the trunk of this giant hemlock, where it could be seen by all who came
to the spring, was a white sign that read:

  <i>Everybody loses when timber burns.</i>
  Pennsylvania Department of Forestry.

"After our fight with the forest fire, when we were in camp at Fort Brady,
they don't need to tell any member of the Wireless Patrol to be careful
with fire," observed Lew. "But there are lots of people who do need to be
warned."

He dipped the canteen in the spring and passed on. "We're almost at the
top," he said, "and I'm not sorry."

"The light is already growing fainter," said Charley, "and it will bother
us to see before so very long. It's going to get dark awful early
to-night. We'd better hustle."

They reached the summit of the pass and started down the other slope. The
trail continued. At first it was choked with briars and bushes. But
suddenly they found the trail open. It had been cleared of all
obstructions and enlarged until it was several feet wide. Even the roots
of the bushes had been grubbed out, so that the path was smooth and clean.
The cut saplings and brush had been burned in the trail itself, but the
work had been done so carefully that never a tree had been scorched. Even
the marks of fire had been obliterated by the subsequent grubbing of the
roots.

"Bully good!" cried Lew, when he saw the path lying smooth and open before
him. "The forest rangers have been making a fire trail of this old path.
We can make great time here."

He pushed on at top speed. Charley hung close at his heels. Neither boy
said a word, each saving his breath for the task in hand; for with the
packs on their backs even a down-hill trail was not easy.

"We can go scout pace here," said Lew over his shoulder, and suiting his
action to his words, he broke into a trot. Fifty steps he went at that
gait, then walked fifty. Then he ran fifty more. So they went down the
mountain in a mere fraction of the time it had taken them to ascend. But
long before they reached the bottom, Lew dropped back to a steady walk.

"We've got to save our wind for the climb up Old Ironsides," he said over
his shoulder.

It was well he did so. Before them a long, high mountain stretched across
their way, like a giant caterpillar. No notch cut through its rugged side,
to give an easy way to the valley beyond. Only by climbing directly over
the rugged monster could the two boys reach the snug little valley on its
far side, where they expected to find the trout teeming tinder the dark
pines. Old Ironsides was the rocky barrier that confronted them. Even
Stone Mountain was not more rugged and rocky. Like Stone Mountain it
seemed to be a mammoth rock pile. Rocks of every size and description
covered its steep slope. Mostly the mountain was shaded by a good stand of
second-growth timber; but in places there were vast areas of rounded
stones, like flattish heaps of potatoes, that for acres covered the soil
of the hill so deeply as to prevent all plant growth. Old Ironsides could
have been called Stone Mountain as appropriately as its neighbor, for
truly it was rock-ribbed. But the stones on its slopes, unlike those of
Stone Mountain, contained a small percentage of iron. Hence its name. The
nearer slope of this hill was as dry as it was stony. Not a spring or the
tiniest trickle of water wet its rocky side for miles. But part way down
the farther slope a splendid stream gushed forth among the rocks. It was
this spring, or the stream issuing from it, that Charley and Lew hoped to
reach before they made their camp for the night.

Thanks to the work of the forest rangers in clearing the fire trail, it
looked as though the two boys would reach their goal before dark. Could
they have gone straight up the slope of Old Ironsides, they would have
come almost directly to the spring itself. But the grade was far too steep
to permit that. They would have to zigzag up the hill and find the stream
after they topped the crest. Because of the peculiar formation of the land
below this spring, the water did not run directly down the hill toward the
bottom, but flowed off to one side and made its way diagonally down the
slope.

At the bottom of the fire trail Lew and Charley sat down and rested for
five minutes. Then they began their difficult climb upward. And difficult
it was. There was no semblance of a path. The way led over jagged masses
of rock, through dense little stands of trees, and among growths that were
hard to penetrate because of their very thinness; for where the stand was
sparse the trees had many low limbs to catch and trip and pull at those
who sought to pass through.

There were great areas of bare stones to be crossed--stones rounded and
weathered by the elements through thousands of years, and finally heaped
together like flattish piles of pumpkins on a barn floor. Acres and acres
were covered by these great deposits of rounded, lichened rocks.

In crossing these rocky areas it was necessary to use the greatest
caution. Many of the stones rested so insecurely that the slightest
pressure would send them rolling downward. If one stone started, others
might follow, and great numbers of rocks might go rushing down the hill as
coal pours down a chute into a cellar. Serious injury was certain to
result if either of the lads got caught in such a slide; for some of the
stones in these piles weighed hundreds of pounds.

Rattlesnakes constituted a second danger. The mountains hereabout were
full of them. One never could tell at what instant a rattler might be
found lying among the stones, or coiled on a flat rock that had been
warmed by the sun. So like the rocks themselves in color were these snakes
that in the dull light it would have been easily possible to step on one
of them without seeing it. So the two boys advanced slowly and cautiously
across these barren stretches, stepping gingerly on stones that looked
insecure and ever keeping a sharp watch for anything that might suggest
snakes.

Up they went and still upward. Across bare rock patches, through brushy
growths and among dense stands of young trees, the two boys forced their
way, ever ascending, ever working upward toward the summit. Now they made
their way to the right, now to the left, and sometimes they climbed
straight upward in their efforts to avoid obstacles.

"Gee!" cried Charley after they had been climbing for some time. "This is
what I call tough going. Let's have a drink."

They sat down on a stone to rest. Perspiration was pouring down their
faces. Both boys were breathing hard. The canteen was uncorked and they
took a good drink.

"Not too much," cautioned Lew, as Charley started to take a second
draught. "You can't climb if you fill up too full."

After a short rest they went on again. The way grew rockier. There were
fewer piles of loose stones, but more outcropping rocks, the bare bones of
the earth. Constantly the light dwindled. Their progress grew slower. From
time to time they paused to drink and rest.

"We're never going to make it before dark," said Charley, again pausing to
get his breath. He took a drink and passed the canteen to his companion.

"Then we'll have to make it after dark," said Lew. "For the canteen is
about empty and we've got to have water. I'm so thirsty I could drink a
gallon."

They said no more, but pushed ahead as fast as their weary legs would
carry them.

"We're not far from the top now," Lew said after a time. "I see our old
landmark over to the left. It isn't more than half a mile from that to the
water. We'll make it all right."

But he had hardly gone fifty yards before he stopped and cried out. Before
him lay a blackened, desolate area that stretched the remainder of the way
to the summit. Fire had swept over the spot. But it was not the fact that
fire had been through the region that made Lew cry out. Fire and
subsequent storms had practically leveled the stand of trees between the
spot where Lew stood and the summit. Here and there a blackened tree
thrust its bare trunk upward, limbless, its top gone, a ragged, spectral,
pitiful remnant of what had been a beautiful tree. But mostly the thick
stand of young poles had been laid low even as a scythe levels a field of
grain. And these fallen poles lay in almost impassable confusion, twisted
and tangled and in places heaped in towering masses. A barbed wire
entanglement would hardly have been a worse obstacle. To penetrate the
mass, even in the light of noon, would have been no easy work; but to
cross the area now, with dusk fast deepening to darkness, was indeed a
difficult task.

"Well," said Lew, after a few searching glances at the burned area, "we've
got to go on, and we might as well plow straight through it. I can't see
that one way looks any easier than another."

They went on, slowly, painfully. Now they were forced to crawl underneath
a fallen tree, now to climb over one. Again and again their way was
completely blocked by high barriers of interlocked trunks and branches.
Sometimes they had to mount the fallen trunks and cautiously walk from one
to another. Darkness came on apace. They could hardly see. The flash-light
was brought forth, the last drop in the canteen swallowed, and they
started forward on their final push.

"It's only a few hundred yards to the top, now," said Lew. "It will be
easier going down the other side."

Painfully slow was their progress. More than once each of them tripped and
fell. The sharp ends of the broken branches tore their clothes and
scratched them badly. But silently, doggedly, they pushed on. At last
there remained but one barrier between them and the summit. It was a
great pile of fallen trunks that had no visible ending. There was nothing
to do but go over it. From one log to another they scrambled up, each
helping the other, advancing a foot at a time, feeling the way with hands
and feet and searching out a path with the little light. So high were the
trees piled that at times the boys walked ten feet in air, making their
way gingerly along the slender trunks. Eventually they got beyond the log
barrier and the remainder of the way to the top was more open. At last
they stood on the very summit.

"I wonder where our landmark is," queried Lew, flashing his light this way
and that. "I understand now why we saw it so plainly from below. There
were no standing trees to hide it. We never saw it from so far away
before."

The landmark was a great, upright rock like a huge chimney. It was not far
distant and presently Lew found it. The boys made their way to it.

"Now," said Lew, with a sigh of relief, "we go straight down. We should
come to the brook flowing from the spring in a few minutes. We'll have to
make it soon or I'll die of thirst."

They started down the slope. The fire had swept over the summit and the
way before them was like the area they had just crossed. But they were now
going down-hill and it was far easier to force their way. A few yards at a
time they advanced, now held back by a fallen log or turned aside by
dense entanglements of prostrate trunks.

Presently Lew gave a cry. "Do you see that big stone like an altar,
Charley?" he called, turning the light on a great rock. "That's the stone
where we made our fire the last time we were here. It stands within
twenty-five feet of the brook."

"Thank goodness!" answered Charley. "My back is about broken. This pack
weighs a ton! And I'll die if I don't get water soon."

Recklessly they pushed forward, almost running in their eager haste.

"Here we are," exulted Lew, a moment later. "Here's the brook."

Before him he could dimly make out the depression in the earth where the
stream ran. He dropped his pack and ran forward, then threw himself flat
in the darkness and felt in the stream bed for a pool deep enough to drink
from. His fingers touched only dry sand and stones.

"The light, Charley," he panted. "Bring the light, quick."

His comrade flung his own pack on the earth and ran forward to the bank of
the stream. He turned his light downward and flashed it right and left
along the bed of the brook. There was no answering sparkle of light. The
bed of the brook was not even moist. The spring had gone dry.




Chapter IV

In the Burned Forest



The two boys were almost stunned by their discovery. For a moment neither
spoke. Indeed neither dared to speak. Their disappointment was so keen,
their thirst so intense, that both boys were near to tears. But presently
they got command of themselves.

"I knew it had been a mighty dry season," said Lew, in amazement, "but I
never imagined it was anything like this. I supposed that spring never
went dry."

The two lads stood looking at each other in consternation.

"What in the world shall we do?" asked Charley, slowly.

"I don't see that we can do anything," rejoined Lew. "I'm all in myself. I
couldn't go another rod if somebody would pay me. We'll just have to make
the best of it."

"Well, we can eat if we can't drink," said Charley. "Start a fire and I'll
get out the grub."

Charley began to unroll his pack, while Lew gathered up a few twigs and
made a cone-shaped little pile of them close beside the great rock. He
struck a match and in a moment flames were drawing upward through the
twigs. With the hatchet Lew cut some short lengths of heavier wood and
soon the flames were leaping high, lighting up the forest for rods around.

Dismal, indeed, was the sight the two lads looked upon. Nowhere could they
see anything green, save a few scattered ferns. Everywhere gaunt, ragged,
blackened trees thrust their sorrowful looking trunks aloft. The earth was
littered with blackened debris--burned and partly charred limbs and fallen
trees. The very rocks were fire-scarred and scorched. Hardly could the
mind of man conceive a picture more desolate. As the two boys looked at
the scene before them, Lew quoted the sign on the hemlock.

"Everybody loses when timber burns," he said. But though both boys were
looking directly at what seemed the very acme of destruction and loss,
neither as yet comprehended the full significance of the statement Lew was
quoting.

Charley spread the grub out on his blanket and put the dishes together
near the fire. While he was waiting for a bed of coals to form, he cut
some bread and spread the slices with butter. Presently he put the little
frying-pan over the coals and began to cook some meat. Every time he bent
over his pile of grub, he smelled the coffee. The odor was tantalizing,
almost torturing. Never, it seemed to him, had he ever wanted anything so
much as he now wanted a drink of coffee. But with no water they could
have no coffee. Finally Charley put the package of coffee in the
coffee-pot and clamped down the lid so that the odor could reach him no
longer. From time to time Lew quietly stirred the coals. Charley fried the
meat in silence. Neither boy felt like talking.

When the meal was ready, they sat down on the dry ground and in silence
ate their food.

Presently Lew broke the quiet. "I wonder what Roy had to say to-night. I
thought maybe we'd be able to get our wireless up and listen in. But I'm
too tired to bother with any wireless to-night, even from Roy. It'll be
the hay for mine, quick."

He began to look for a place where they could sleep. When he had selected
a spot, he took the hatchet and with the back of it smoothed the ground,
removing all stones and little stumps. Charley, meantime, put the food
away and piled the dishes. They could not be washed. Then the two boys
rolled themselves in their blankets, put their pack bags under their heads
and were asleep almost instantly. Their difficult climb had tired them
utterly.

The next morning found them fully refreshed. No clouds hung above them,
and the sun's rays awoke them early. Aside from their intense thirst,
neither felt any the worse for his hard experience.

"It's still early," said Lew, as he looked at the sun that had hardly more
than cleared the summit of the eastern hills. "Let's push on down to the
bottom and cook breakfast after we reach water. It won't take very long
to get down, and then we can have some coffee. Oh boy! I never knew how
good coffee was."

"I could drink anything--even medicine," smiled Charley, "so it was wet."

Rapidly the packs were assembled and the blankets rolled. "Put things
together good," said Lew, "for it will be a tough journey even if we are
going down-hill. I've been looking at some of the tangles we came through
last night and I don't see how we ever made it."

"Sometimes," replied Charley, "it's a good thing a fellow can't know
exactly what he's attempting. If he did know, maybe he'd never have the
nerve to try."

They started down the slope, their packs and blankets securely slung about
them and even tied fast with strings, to prevent them from catching among
the fallen trees. Unintentionally they followed the dry bed of the stream.
It led along a slight depression that ran diagonally down the
mountainside. But quickly they realized that this was the most difficult
path they could have chosen. For along the margins of the brook, the
timber, fed by the flow of water, had been much denser and larger than the
timber farther from the bank of the stream. So dense was the tangle now
that at first the boys could see only a few hundred yards ahead of them.
Presently they noticed that they were traveling through the thickest part
of the timber, or what had been timber. If possible, their way was more
difficult than it had been in ascending the mountain. But daylight and the
fact that they were going down-hill made it possible for them to travel
with comparative rapidity. Once they noticed that they were advancing by
the most difficult route, they left the margin of the brook and cut
straight down the slope.

Now the way was more open. They could see farther. But both were so
preoccupied with what lay immediately around them that for a time neither
gave heed to more distant views. Furthermore, the bottom was still
obscured by a heavy night mist. The warm spring sun rapidly dissipated
this, opening the valley to view as though some invisible hand had rolled
back a giant cover. Presently Lew reached a little area that was swept
absolutely bare of everything. Nothing remained but the nude rocks and
soil. Lew, who was leading the way, paused to spy out the best path. Then
he cried out in dismay. A moment later Charley stood by his side and both
boys gazed in speechless horror at the scene before them.

The magnificent stand of pines that they had expected to see in the bottom
was no more. For miles the valley before them was a blackened waste. Like
giant jackstraws the huge pine sticks, that they had last seen as
magnificent, towering trees, were heaped in inextricable confusion or
still stood, broken, blasted, gaunt, limbless, spectral, awful remnants of
their former selves. No words could convey the terrible desolation of the
scene. Where formerly these giant pines had risen heavenward, higher and
more stately than the most exquisite church spires or cathedral columns,
there were now only scattered and blasted stumps, while the floor of the
valley was strewn with the horrible debris. The scene was sickening,
appalling.

For a moment neither lad spoke. The scene before them oppressed them, made
them sick at heart. They knew no language that would convey what was in
their minds. But even yet they did not fully understand the tragedy of a
forest fire. They were soon to learn. Silently they went on; but they had
gone no more than a hundred yards when they came upon a sight that fairly
sickened them. In a little circle, as though the animals had crowded close
together in their terror and helplessness, lay the remains of a number of
deer. The flesh had either been burned or had rotted away; but the most of
the bones and parts of the hides remained. There could be no mistake as to
the identity of the dead animals. The very positions of the skeletons told
a pitiful story. Blinded by smoke and flame, made frantic by the red death
that was sweeping the forest, confused, terror-stricken, weakened by gas
and fumes, the poor beasts had finally crowded together and perished under
the onrushing wave of fire. For a moment the boys gazed at the scene in
fascinated horror; then they turned away, to shut out the picture. They
were oppressed, almost stunned.

They went on. Not a vestige of its former magnificent vegetation covered
the slope. Nothing in the world could be more awful, more desolate, more
disheartening to behold than the area the two chums were now crossing.
Never had either seen anything that so oppressed him. For not only had the
slope of Old Ironsides been laid waste, but the entire bottom had been
swept by fire, and the opposite mountain slope devastated. Before them was
nothing but desolation.

Soon they were near enough to see the sparkle of water in the bottom. In
their horror at their immediate surroundings they had temporarily
forgotten even their terrible thirst. The sight of water recalled their
need.

"Thank God water can't burn!" cried Lew, as the sparkle of the brook
caught his eye. "We'd be in a fine pickle if the brook had been consumed,
too."

The prospect of a drink stirred them. They threw off the spell that so
depressed them and hastened downward, reckless alike of menacing branches
and loose stones and obstructing tree trunks. Headlong they pushed
downward. But fortune was with them and neither a broken bone nor a
strained ligament resulted, though more than once each lad slipped and
fell. Presently they reached the bottom of the slope and came to the very
brink of the run. Almost frantically they flung themselves on the ground
and drank.

Long, copious draughts they drank; and it was not until they had quenched
their thirst that they really noticed how shrunken the brook was. Instead
of the deep, rushing mountain stream they had seen when last they visited
the spot, they now found but a slender rivulet that flowed quietly along
the middle of the stream bed, leaving bare, bordering ribbons of stony
bottom along its margins. Nowhere did the water seem to reach from bank to
bank, excepting where some obstruction in the stream bed dammed the
current back. Like the forest, the brook was also a sorrowful picture. But
there was this difference. The forest was dead, whereas the brook, though
feeble, still lived.

The full significance of the shrunken stream did not strike the two boys
until they had traveled for some distance up the bank of the run.
Presently they came to a spot they recognized as a favorite trout-hole. A
great boulder jutted out from one bank, while opposite it, on the other
shore, stood or had stood, a mammoth hemlock. These obstructions had
formed a little pool, and the current had eaten away much earth from
beneath the roots of the great tree, forming an ideal lurking place for
trout. And in this dark, deep, secure retreat great fish had lived since
time immemorial. More than one huge trout had the two chums taken here.
Never was the pool without its giant occupant, for when one big fellow was
caught another moved in to take his place, the run being fully stocked
from year to year by the smaller fishes from the spring brooks, like the
vanished rivulet above. But now no trout hid under the hemlock's roots.
They stood high and dry, while the puny stream that trickled beneath them
would hardly have covered a minnow. The two boys looked at each other in
dismay.

"You don't suppose the entire stream is like that, do you, Lew?" asked
Charley. "There won't be a trout in it if it is." Then, after a pause, he
added: "What in the world do you suppose has become of the trout, anyway?"

His question was soon answered, at least in part. Continuing along the
bank of the run, the boys presently came to one of the deepest pools in
the stream. In the crystal water they could see many trout, for there were
no hiding-places in the pool at this low stage of water. Some of the fish
were large. At the approach of the boys the frightened trout darted
frantically about in the pool, vainly seeking cover.

Around the margins of this pool were innumerable little tracks in the
earth. "Raccoons!" exclaimed Lew. "There must have been dozens of them
here."

But not until he found some little piles of fish-bones near the farther
end of the pool did he grasp the significance of the tracks. He stopped in
amazement.

"Look here, Charley," he called, pointing to the piles of fish-bones.
"Those coons have been catching and eating trout." Then, after a moment's
thought, he added, "If this stream is like this in April, what will it be
in August? There will be hardly a drop of water or a trout left. Why, this
brook is ruined for years as a trout-stream--maybe forever. And it used to
be absolutely the finest trout-stream in this part of the mountains."

Depressed and silent, the two lads continued along the brook. The
mountains on either side of them and the entire bottom between lay black
and desolate. But far up the run they could now see green foliage again,
where the fire had been stopped.

"Let's go on to those pines before we eat our breakfast," said Charley.
"It would make me sick to eat here in these ruins."

"That's exactly the way I feel, too," replied Lew. "It is the most awful
thing I ever saw. Let's get out of it."

As rapidly as they could, they forced their way up-stream. The valley
became narrower as they advanced. It was shaped like a huge wish-bone; and
they were nearing the small end, where the mountains came together and
formed a high knob. As the valley narrowed, the grade became much steeper,
and their progress was correspondingly slower.

The pines they were heading for stood almost at the top of the knob at the
crotch of the wish-bone. They were, therefore, at a considerable
elevation. From the edge of these pines one would have to travel only a
short distance to reach the very summit of the knob. After a hard walk the
boys reached the end of the burned tract. They penetrated into the living
forest far enough to shut out the sight of the dead forest they had just
traversed. Then they threw down their packs and hastily set about cooking
their breakfast.

"Gee!" cried Lew. "I never was so glad to get away from anything in my
life. I hope I shall never again see a sight like that. It fairly makes a
fellow sick."

In their haste to start cooking, they were not as careful as they might
have been in building their fire, and they made considerable smoke. Before
they were half done eating, a man appeared farther up the run, advancing
through the pines at great speed. He seemed to be in a big hurry until he
caught sight of the two boys as they sat on the dry pine-needles. After
that he came forward at an ordinary gait.

"Good-morning, boys," he said pleasantly, as he drew near. Then, catching
sight of their rods, he added, "If you came to get fish, you struck a
mighty poor place."

"It used to be the best place for trout I ever saw," replied Lew. "This
brook used to be full of 'em--big ones, too. But the season has been so
dry, the brook has almost disappeared."

"You mean that the fires that have swept this valley have burned it up,"
replied the stranger.

"It's too awful a thing to joke about," replied Lew.

"A joke!" exclaimed the stranger, frowning.

"It's the literal truth--and a most terrible truth, at that."

"I don't understand," said Lew, slowly. "How can fire burn water? I
supposed the lack of snow last winter and of rain this spring had made the
brook shrink."

"Not for a minute, young man, not for a minute. If fires hadn't swept this
valley the past two or three years, there would have been plenty of water
in the run, rain or no rain."

"I--I don't exactly understand," said Lew hesitatingly.

"It's like this," said the stranger. "The forest floor is like a great
sponge. The decayed leaves and twigs are so light and porous that they
soak up most of the rain as it falls and hold the water indefinitely. That
keeps the springs full, and the springs feed the brooks, and so there is
water all the year round. It is nature's method of storing up water. When
a fire sweeps through the forest, especially such awful fires as have gone
through this valley, the leaves and twigs above ground are burned, and
even the roots and the decaying vegetable matter under the earth are
consumed. Nothing is left but mineral matter--particles of rock, stones,
sand, and the like. The rain will no longer sink into the ground, nor will
the earth hold the water as the rotting leaves do. Then when it rains, the
water runs off as fast as it falls. The brooks are flooded for a few hours
and then they dry up until another rain comes. So you see I meant exactly
what I said. This trout-stream was burned up by the forest fires.
Likewise many of the trout were burned up with it, for in places the fire
made the water hotter than trout can stand. Thousands of them were
literally cooked."

For a while both boys were silent. The idea was a new one to them.

Presently Charley spoke. "I knew that fire burned up our timber," he said,
"but I never thought about its burning up our water, too. I know we're
getting awful short of lumber. Is there any danger of our running out of
water? But that can't be, surely."

"It surely can be," said the stranger. "I judge you boys have been here
before, and-----"

"We have," interrupted Lew.

"Then you know what a magnificent stream this run used to be. Look at it
now. I don't believe there is one-tenth as much water in it as there used
to be. Suppose all the mountains in this state should be devastated like
this valley. Where would the towns and cities get their water?"

"Great Caesar!" said Lew. "I never thought of that. There wouldn't be any
water for them to get. If the brooks dried up, the rivers would dry up,
too. Why--why--what in the world would we do? There wouldn't be any water
to drink or wash in or cook with or run our factories. Why, great Caesar!
If the forests vanished, I guess we'd be up against it. I never thought of
the forests as furnishing anything but lumber. And I never thought much
about that until we tried to buy a little lumber the other day and the
dealer wanted ten dollars for half a dozen boards."

"Exactly!" said the stranger. "That's the price you and I and the rest of
us in Pennsylvania pay for allowing our forests to be destroyed."

"They haven't all been destroyed," protested Lew.

"No, but the greater part of them have been."

"You don't mean really destroyed, do you?" asked Lew.

"Yes, sir. Absolutely destroyed. You came up this valley, didn't you?"

"Sure," said Charley.

"Would you call the forest there destroyed?"

"If it isn't, I don't know how you would describe it," said Lew.

"All right, then. There are some 45,000 square miles in this state.
Originally practically all of that area was dense forests. The early
settlers thought the timber would last forever and they cut and destroyed
it recklessly. The lumbermen that followed were just as wasteful. It was
all right to clear the land that was good for farming. But there are more
than 20,000 square miles in this state just like these mountains--land
that is fit for nothing but the production of timber. None of that land is
producing as much timber as it should. Much of it yields very little. And
more than 6,400 square miles are absolutely desert, as bare and hideous as
the burned valley below us. That's one acre in every seven in
Pennsylvania. Think of it! Six thousand, four hundred square miles, an
area larger than the states of Connecticut and Rhode Island put together,
that is absolute desert! Every foot of that land ought to be producing
timber for us. Then we should have lumber at a fraction of its present
cost. You see the freight charges alone on the lumber used in this state
are enormous."

"That lumber dealer told us they amounted to $25,000,000 a year," replied
Lew.

"They do," assented the stranger. "And when the new freight rates go into
effect the amount will be $40,000,000. What it will be when we get our
wood from the Pacific coast I have no idea, but I suppose it will be at
least double what it is now, anyway."

"The Pacific coast!" cried Lew. "Why should we get lumber from the Pacific
coast when we can get it from the South? The lumber dealer told us that
practically all the wood we use now conies from the South."

"He was right. But we shall presently be getting our lumber from the far
West for the same reason that we now get it from the South. In ten or a
dozen years there won't be any lumber left in the South for us to buy.
They will do well to supply themselves. Then we must bring our lumber from
Idaho and Oregon and Washington and California. The freight charges will
be something terrific, and the wood itself will cost a good deal more than
it now does because it will be so scarce."

"Great Caesar!" cried Lew. "What will a poor devil do then if he wants to
build a boat?"

"Or if he wants to build a house?" suggested the stranger. "You know lots
of folks have to build houses every year. Look at all the people who get
married and build homes. Why, when I was a little boy, you could buy the
finest kind of lumber for ten or fifteen dollars a thousand. It didn't
cost much then to build a house. Now a man has to work for years before he
can save enough to pay for a home, even a very modest one. And what it
will cost when the wood from the South and the far West is all gone I hate
to imagine."

"The wood from the far West all gone!" cried Charley. "Surely that can
never be. Why, the forests there are enormous. I've read all about them."

"The forests here were enormous, too, young man. Forty years ago
Pennsylvania supplied a large part of the nation with its lumber. And
to-day we don't grow more than one-tenth of the wood we use. Yes, sir;
within twenty-five years or so after we have finished up the wood in the
South, there won't be any left in the far West, either."

"What in the world are we going to do?" asked Lew.

"God knows," said the stranger solemnly. "But there is one thing we've
<i>got</i> to do right now. Get these mountains to growing timber again. We
must take care of what has already started to grow and plant trees where
there are none. Most important of all, we must be careful with fire. I
came down here just to warn you boys to be careful with your fire."

"It wasn't necessary," said Lew. "We fought a forest fire once, and nobody
but an idiot would ever be careless with fire if he had seen what we have
seen this morning."

"Well, I must be moving, boys. There are lots of other fishermen that are
not as careful as you are. Good-bye."

The man started on, then turned back. "If you came here to fish," he said
slowly, "you're up against it. But I can tell you where to go to get all
the trout you want. Go on up to the top of this knob. Face exactly east
and you will see a gap in the second range of mountains. Make your way
through that gap and you'll find as fine a trout-stream as God ever made.
This is state forest and the Forestry Department wants everybody to use
and enjoy the forests. We are always glad to help campers."

"Are you connected with the State Forest Service?" asked Charley, all
interest.

"Of course," smiled the stranger. "I'm a forest-ranger," and he threw back
his coat, exhibiting a keystone shaped badge on his breast.

"And it's your duty to protect the forest from fire?" asked Charley.

"Yes; and do a lot more besides. A forest-ranger has to look after the
forest just as a gardener has to tend a garden. And that means we must
care for everything in the forest--birds and animals and fish as well as
trees, though, of course, the game wardens have particular charge of the
animals."

"And how do you take care of the animals and the trees?" demanded Charley
eagerly.

"Young man," he said, "it would take me all day to answer your question.
We do whatever is necessary to the welfare of the forest and its
inhabitants. We take out wolf trees, make improvement cuttings, plant
little trees, keep our telephone-line in shape, and do a million other
things, as we find them necessary. If I had time just now, I'd go down
this run and pile some stones in the pools for the trout to hide under. I
was through here the other day and I noticed that the coons are playing
hob with the fish."

"And does the state pay you for doing this work?"

"Certainly. Pays me well, too."

"Tell me how I could-----" began Charley.

But the ranger interrupted him. "I can't tell you another thing now," he
said. "I must be moving. You never can tell when some careless fisherman
will set the forest on fire. The fact is I ought to be at headquarters
with the other rangers. The chief keeps us pretty close to the office
during the fire season, so as to have a fire crew at hand to respond
instantly to an alarm. But we have had such difficulty in securing fire
patrols this spring that some of us rangers have to do patrol duty. This
piece of timber you are in is the most valuable part of this entire
forest. It is virgin pine. It would cut close to 100,000 feet to the acre.
There is very little timber left in all Pennsylvania as fine as this. A
good part of it has already been burned. We are keeping close watch on
what is left. You never can tell when or where fires will start and we
want to grab them at the first possible minute. So I must shake a leg."

"How do you grab a fire?" demanded Charley. "Please tell us. Maybe we
could help put one out some day if we knew how."

The ranger laughed. "You're a persistent Indian," he said, "and I'm glad
you like the forest."

"Like it!" exclaimed Charley. "I love it."

He poured a cup of hot coffee and handed it to the ranger. "Tell us how
you put out a fire," he pleaded.

The ranger chuckled. "You're a diplomat as well as a forest lover, I see,"
he said. "Well, I shall keep moving through this tract of timber all day
long. If I see a fire I shall hurry to it, the way I came down to your big
smoke. I'll put it out, if possible. And if I can't get it out, I'll
summon help. Then we'll fight it until we do get it out."

"How could you get help, when you're alone in the deep forest?"

"I'd make my way out to the highway where our wire runs and connect up
this portable telephone," and the ranger pointed to a little leather case,
like a kodak box, that hung from his shoulder by a leather strap. "In a
minute's time a fire crew would be on the way to my assistance in a
motor-truck."

The ranger handed Charley the empty cup and thanked him.

"Have some more coffee?" urged Charley.

"'Get thee behind me, Satan,'" quoted the ranger. "I believe you'd keep me
here all day if you could. I must be moving."

"Just a minute," pleaded Charley. "You said it was difficult to find fire
patrols. Could I get a job as a fire patrol? I don't know as much about
fighting fire as you do, but I can patrol the forest and report fires as
well as anybody."

"I wish you could be a patrol," replied the ranger heartily. "I'm sure
you'd make a good one. You seem to like the forest. But I don't believe it
is possible. The chief never hires anybody under twenty-one years of age
excepting in very unusual circumstances. In fact, I know of only two such
cases. And those two boys were almost of age and were unusualy well
qualified. I'm sorry, for I'd like to see you in the Forest Service.
Good-bye." He turned on his heel and was gone.

Lew watched the ranger until he disappeared from view. Charley scarcely
glanced at him. He was lost in thought. Evidently his thoughts were not
pleasant, for from time to time he scowled.

"Lew," he said, at length, "I never realized until this minute just what
that sign on the old hemlock meant." And he quoted: "'Everybody loses
when timber burns.' It's true. <i>Everybody</i> loses--positively everybody.
The sportsmen lose game, the fishermen lose fish, the towns lose their
water-supply, the mills lose their water-power, civilization loses wood.
Why, Lew, civilization's built of wood. How could we live without it? And
as for me, think what I've lost through forest fires. I've lost an
opportunity to own half of a boat. I've suffered from thirst. I've lost a
chance to catch some fish. And, Lew, I've lost a college education! I
never understood it before. If the cost of lumber hadn't gone up so much,
Dad could have paid for his house easily and helped me through college.
Now I've got to give up going to college. I've got to work two or three
years for Dad and if ever I get married and want to build a home, I see
where I've got to slave for the rest of my life to pay for the lumber
that's in it, and the wooden furnishings inside of it. Think of it, Lew!
You and I and all the rest of us have to work for years and years just to
pay for what a lot of reckless people did before we were born. It's
terrible, Lew, terrible. I've got to spend three years in a factory
because of it. I thought for a minute that I might get a job here in the
forest. That would have been grand. But there's no such luck. It's the
factory for me. I'm sure of it. I don't know how I'll ever stand it, Lew."




Chapter V

A Lost Opportunity



Half an hour later the two boys were all but ready to go on. Before
rolling his pack, Charley filled his coffee-pot in the run and thoroughly
soaked the last embers of their fire.

"You'll never burn any timber," he said, as he poured on the last potful.
Then he stowed the coffee-pot in his pack and in a few moments the two
boys were once more afoot.

They struck directly for the top of the knob, as the ranger had told them
to do. The slope of the ground alone guided them. So dense was the stand
of timber that the huge trunks shut off the view in all directions. It was
almost as though they were encircled by palisades. And so thick was the
shade that rarely did a sunbeam reach the earth. They were in the forest
primeval, a land of perpetual gloom. There was no underbrush and they
could travel rapidly. In a very short time they came to the top of the
knob.

The summit had been entirely cleared of timber. On the very highest point
one lone tree remained. A long pole had been planted near its trunk, with
its top fastened to a branch of the tree. Crossbars between the tree and
the pole made a sort of rude ladder of the affair. And well up the tree a
rough staging had been constructed of small limbs. The boys saw at once
that this was a rude sort of watch-tower, and they suspected that the
ranger had been in the tree when he discovered the smoke from their fire.

They climbed up the tree and surveyed the scene before them in silence.
Indeed, it was too sublime for words. On every side stretched the forest.
Mile upon mile, league after league, east, west, north, south, far as the
eye could reach, spread the leafy roof of the forest, seemingly
illimitable, boundless, vast as the ocean, a sea of trees. And like a sea
the forest rose and fell in huge billows. On either hand great mountains
reared their huge bulk heavenward. Beyond them other ranges heaved their
rugged crests aloft. And still other ranges lay beyond these. Over all was
a cover of living green, the canopy of the forest. Sublime, majestic,
awesome, almost overpowering was the spectacle. And neither lad could find
words to express the emotion that arose within him. So they stood and
looked in silent wonder. Finally Charley spoke.

"It's worth all we've been through, Lew, just to see this," he said. "I
shall be well paid for the trip, even if we never get a fish."

Presently Lew looked up at the sun. Then he examined the mountains a
little to the left of the sun.

"There's where we go," he said, pointing over the nearest ridge to a gap
in the mountain beyond it. "The trout-stream will be in the third valley.
We've got to travel due east. And it will be some hike, too--over a
mountain and through a high gap. Let's pick out our landmarks and get
under way. It will take us a good many hours to make it, but we ought to
be there in time to have trout for supper."

For a few moments the boys examined the way in silence.

"See that bunch of rocks on the summit?" asked Lew. "They look like
chimney-rocks from here. Anyway, they stick up higher than any other part
of the mountain. And there's three tall pines right beside them. That's a
good landmark. It's exactly in a straight line for the gap. We can find
that mark if we can find anything. But you can't see very clearly through
this timber. Was there ever anything like it?"

"Finest timber I ever set eyes on, Lew. Isn't it wonderful? and to think
that the whole state was once covered with timber like that!"

They climbed down the rude ladder, slipped their packs over their
shoulders, and set off down the mountainside at a fast pace. And they
could go fast in such timber. No underbrush tripped them or caught in
their sacks. No low limbs impeded their progress. Indeed there was hardly
a limb nearer the ground than fifty feet. Their only care was for the
rocks and the roughness underfoot. From time to time they paused as they
came to some mammoth pine, and gazed in awed wonder at its huge bulk.

As they got down into the bottom the timber seemed to be even larger than
it was on the slope. The forest floor was soft and springy. Their feet
sank into it as into a soft, thick rug. The top of this leafy covering was
dry enough; but a few inches under the surface, the forest mold was as
moist as though a shower had just fallen. Yet there had been almost no
rain for months. Not only did the leaves hold the moisture, but the very
shade itself conserved it by preventing evaporation.

In the very centre of the valley ran a little stream. Long before they
could see it, they heard the brook talking to itself. The forest was
filled with a gentle murmur, which grew to a distinct rushing sound as
they approached the stream.

"Can't you just hear it speak?" said Lew. "What do you suppose it is
saying?"

"Those really are voices," insisted Charley.

"Now who's getting dippy?" laughed Lew. "You'll be as bad as I am if you
keep on."

"But I do hear voices," protested Charley. "I plainly heard the word
'six.' Listen. Somebody said 'eight,' just as plain as could be."

Lew looked puzzled. "Of course there might be some fishermen in here
besides ourselves," he said.

They looked carefully about them, but at first saw nothing. Then a voice
distinctly said, "Hemlock--five." There could no longer be any doubt.
Some one besides themselves was in the forest.

They made their way in the direction of the sound. Presently they saw
three men. Two of them carried calipers and walked in advance. The third
came behind and held a pencil and note-book.

"Wonder who they are and what they are doing," Charley said quietly.

"Let's watch and see."

But in a moment the approaching party caught sight of them. "Good-morning,
boys," said the man with the note-book. "Out for trout?"

"Surest thing you know," replied Lew. "But we've had hard luck. We
intended to fish in the valley back of us. It used to be a fine place for
trout. But it's been burned over and there are no trout left."

"I know," said the man. "I've seen it. Be careful with your fires, boys.
We don't want any more of this fine timber burned."

"Are you a forest-ranger, too?" asked Charley eagerly.

"No; I'm the forester. I have charge of this forest."

"Why, I thought you were at headquarters with your fire crew," cried
Charley, hardly realizing what he was saying.

The man looked at him sharply. "I ought to be and I wish I were," he said.
"I don't like this a bit. But I was ordered by the Commissioner to send in
an immediate estimate on the amount of timber in this stand. There's a
big sale on and they have to know how much there is to sell." He paused
and then added: "How in the world did you know I was supposed to be at
headquarters with the fire crew?"

"A ranger told us so. We met him over in the other valley. He said he
wished he was with you."

"Oh! That would be Morton," said the forester. "I sent him out on patrol
because we were short of fire patrols."

"Could you use me as a fire patrol?" said Charley quickly.

The forester looked at him searchingly. "Why do you want to be a fire
patrol?" he asked.

"I've got to go to work at something," said Charley, "and I'd love to help
care for the forest. You see, I'm almost through high school and I've got
to go to work and help Dad the minute I've graduated. He wants me to go
into the factory with him. I hate factories. But I love the woods. You'd
never be sorry, if you hired me, sir."

"Are you sure it isn't work rather than the factory you dislike?" demanded
the forester bluntly.

"No, no!" protested Charley. "I'd work day and night gladly if I could do
what I want to do. And there's nothing I can think of I'd rather do than
help take care of the forest."

"Very good," said the forester, "but I need patrols now, not after school
closes in June."

"Maybe I could get excused for the rest of the term," pleaded Charley.

"And throw away your chance to graduate? I don't think I want that kind
of a boy for a fire patrol," said the forester with a frown. "You might
decide to quit this job, too, about the time we stacked up against a hot
fire."

Lew spoke up. "You don't understand what Charley means, sir," he
explained. "Charley is away ahead of most of us in his school work. He's
done enough now to give him his diploma."

"Indeed!" replied the forester.

Then he turned to Charley in apology. "I beg your pardon, young man. I
misjudged you. I should like to have such an exemplary young man for a
patrol, but you are too young. We practically never employ a man not yet
of age as a fire patrol. A boy would have to have very unusual
qualifications if we did take him. I'm sorry, my lad. I believe you are a
fine boy, and I'd like to hire you. But you are too young."

Charley turned his head away to hide the tears that he could not keep back
as he saw the opportunity slipping away from him. Then he dashed his hand
across his eyes and again faced the forester.

"You do not understand who we are," he said with determination, "nor what
our qualifications are. I am accustomed to the woods, sir. I know
something of woodcraft. I have fought fire in the forest. I have spent
weeks in the mountains. And I am a wireless operator, sir. Are any of your
patrols better qualified?"

The forester looked at him with renewed interest. "As a patrol," he
remarked, "you would have to deal with grown men. You would find yourself
in many situations that you could not handle. Grown men do not like to
take orders from boys."

"I have handled men, sir; that is, I have helped to handle them. I helped
to capture the German dynamiters at Elk City, sir, when the Camp Brady
Wireless Patrol saved that place from destruction."

"Are you a member of that organization?" asked the forester with
increasing interest. "I remember reading about that."

"We both are," said Charley. "And I could help you so much with my
wireless, sir. Your ranger told us this morning that if he found a fire he
couldn't handle, he would have to go clear out to the highway before he
could summon help. With the wireless, help could be summoned almost
instantly."

The forester smiled indulgently. "It sounds good," he commented. "But you
forget that we have no wireless and that none of us knows anything about
radio-telegraphy. No; I am afraid I can't use you, though I'd like to. If
you still want a job when you are of age, come to me. I can use you as a
patrol and I might even have a place for you as a ranger. We have mighty
few rangers as well educated and equipped as you will be. Or you might
even decide to go to Mont Alto and take a degree in forestry and become a
forester like myself. I would like to see you in the service, but I can't
take you in now. I must get on with my work and hurry back to my office.
Good-bye and good luck to you. And don't forget about your fires."

Turning to the elder of his two companions, he said, "All right, Finnegan.
Go ahead."

The man stepped to the nearest tree, slipped his calipers on it
breast-high, then glanced aloft. "White pine, forty-three, five," he
called.

The forester put down the figures in his cruising book.

"Hemlock, twenty-eight, four," called the other man.

The men were experienced timber cruisers. They were measuring the amount
of wood in the forest. The first man meant that the white pine tree he was
measuring was forty-three inches in diameter breast-high and would make
five standard logs, each sixteen feet long. The second scaler had measured
a hemlock twenty-eight inches in diameter and long enough for four logs.
They were measuring the timber on a few acres, so as to form an estimate
of the amount for sale.

The work interested Lew greatly, but Charley had no heart for anything. He
had fought hard and apparently his last chance had slipped away from him.

He was very quiet as they made their way through the valley. Even the run
in the bottom failed to stir him, though he loved the little mountain
streams passionately. Yet he did notice that here, beneath the lofty
pines, where the forest mold lay deep and spongy, the brook flowed
strongly. It sang as it rushed along between its rugged banks. But there
was no music in its song for Charley. So alluring was the stream that Lew
wanted to fish, but Charley had no heart even to try for a trout; though
it was practically a certainty that there were trout aplenty to be had.
Time heals all wounds. It would heal Charley's: but not enough time had
yet elapsed for the healing process to begin. At present he could think of
nothing but his dismal prospects.

So they went on through the bottom and slowly ascended the opposite
mountain. As they had suspected might be the case, it was impossible to
distinguish the landmarks they had chosen. The innumerable great trunks of
the pines cut off their vision as effectually as a high board fence could
have done. But the slope of the land told them which way to go, and the
freedom from underbrush made it possible for them to travel in a
comparatively straight line. So they reached the crest of the mountain,
after a stiff climb, not far from the spot which they had selected.

The summit was sparsely timbered and they had no difficulty either in
finding their landmarks or in mapping out their way down the farther slope
and across the valley to the gap beyond. This second valley was also well
timbered. In the middle of this second valley another fine brook flowed.
And here they rested and had a bite to eat, with a cold drink from the
stream. Then they filled the canteen again and pressed on. The afternoon
was well advanced before they had climbed through the pass and reached the
valley that was to be their home for the next few days.

Like the valley in which they had met the forester, this bottom contained
some wonderful pines, though it was really a mixed stand of timber with
hardwoods beneath and the pine tops rising high above them. There were
countless numbers of these mammoth pines that towered a hundred to a
hundred and twenty-five feet in air. The hardwoods, though shut out from
some of the light, were also wonderful for size and vigor. It was a
splendid example of a "two-storied-forest." The resulting shade was so
dense that it was like twilight at the ground level. And the stream that
went rushing among the trees was a joy to behold. Deep, dark, crystal
clear, and almost as cold as ice, it was an ideal haunt for trout.

By the time they reached it, Charley had recovered his spirits. "Oh boy!"
he cried, when they reached the margin of the run. "Look at this brook."
As he stopped and dipped his hand in the water, he added, "It's cold
enough to freeze a fellow. Thank goodness, there isn't any underbrush
here. We won't have to wade. I'll wager this place is full of fish."

Hardly had he spoken before a great trout darted across the stream,
almost at their feet. Charley extended his rod over the water and waved it
vigorously a few times. Instantly trout darted out from a dozen different
points.

"Gee whiz!" shouted Charley. "Did you see 'em, Lew? I can hardly wait to
get a line in."

"We've got to get our camp made before we do any fishing," replied Lew.
"Let's hustle up and find a good camp site."

They walked rapidly up the valley, keeping a few yards back from the brook
so as not to alarm the trout.

"I don't know how our wireless will work among all these trees," said Lew.
"If we could find an open spot I'm sure it would be better."

Presently they came to exactly the sort of place they desired. At some
time, evidently within a few months, for no brush had as yet sprung up, a
hurricane had swept through the forest: and where it had passed lay a
windrow of trees as flat as a swath of grain after the scythe has gone
through it. The windrow was several rods in width, and not a tree remained
standing within that space. The fallen trees were piled upon one another
in confused masses.

For a time the boys gazed at the scene with awe. "That opening will make a
fine place to hang our aerial if we can get the wires up," said Lew. "I
believe that we have enough wire to hang 'em up pretty high and still have
a long lead-in wire. If there is, then we can camp back here under the
trees close to the run. We have no tent and the dense tops will protect
us from dew. It'll be much warmer back among the trees, too."

Speedily they found a place that suited them. They put their packs on the
ground and got out their wireless instruments. Then they made some rude
spreaders from branches that Lew cut in the windrow. When the aerial was
ready to hang up, Charley took a length of wire and made his way across
the windrow and up a slender tree that stood on the farther edge of the
opening. He fastened one end of the wire to the spreader and the other end
he attached to the tree. Lew was duplicating his movements on the other
side of the opening. In no time the aerial was swinging above the windrow,
and the lead-in wire had been brought back through the trees to the camp
site. Here the instruments were connected and the wire coupled to them.
The dry cells were next wired and the outfit was then ready. Lew sat down
beside the spark-gap and pressed the key. Bright flashes leaped from point
to point. He adjusted the gap, so as to get the best spark, then laid the
pack bags over the instruments.

"We missed out on listening to Roy this time," he said, "but I'll bet we
can raise the rest of the bunch. She works fine. We've got a dandy spark."

"Good!" cried Charley. "It won't be long before it is dark. It's already
twilight under these trees. Now for the trout."




Chapter VI

Trout Fishing in the Wilderness



"Shall we go up-stream or down?" asked Lew, as he jointed his little rod
and fastened a hook to his line.

"Let's go down. We can't fish very long, and we know there is no brush
along the stream below us. We can try it up-stream to-morrow."

"To-morrow we'll fish on opposite sides of the run," said Lew as they
buckled on their bait boxes and started. "I don't see any way to cross now
and there's no time to hunt for a way."

"It's full of 'em. I'll bet on that," smiled Charley. "We'll catch a mess
in no time. Here goes with a worm."

He threaded one on his hook, crouched down, and cautiously drew near the
bank. A dexterous flick of his rod landed the worm fairly in the middle of
the run. Hardly had it hit the water before something grabbed it, and
Charley drew forth a flopping fish. But it proved to be only a fingerling.
In disgust Charley wet his hand and carefully unhooked the little fish.

"Shows they're here, anyway," he said, as he tossed the little trout back
into the stream.

But if they were there, they were strangely shy in making their presence
known. Rod after rod the hoys advanced, careful not to show themselves,
making their casts with greatest caution, and keeping as quiet as
possible. But no fish so much as smelled their bait. Again and again they
let their hooks float down into promising pools, but never a strike
resulted.

They took the worms from their hooks and tried flies. But though their
gaudy lures landed lightly on the water and danced in the rapids like real
insects struggling for their lives, never a fish rose to grasp one.

"They won't touch worms and they don't want flies. I wonder what they do
like," grumbled Lew in disgust. "I wish we had some grasshoppers or
crickets. Bet we'd get 'em then."

They continued their efforts until it was almost dark. "We'll have to be
getting back to camp," said Charley. "We can't see much longer. We don't
want to be caught here in the dark. The flash-light is back at camp."

"Here's a fat grub," said Lew, picking up a whiteworm out of a rotting
log. "I'm going to make one more try. Maybe they want grubs."

He slipped the worm on his hook and flicked it toward the brook. A second
after it struck the water there was a splash, and Lew's reel sang shrilly.

"Oh boy!" cried Lew, as he struck up his rod smartly. "I've got him."

He had. The fish leaped clear of the water, but failed to loosen the
line. Then it darted away like a shot, the line cutting through the water
with a sharp, swishing sound.

"Hold him," called Charley. "He's heading for that snag."

Lew put his thumb on the line and raised the tip of his rod higher. Under
the tension the supple steel bent almost double. The fish stopped his
rush, turned, and darted down-stream before Lew could reel in a foot of
line.

Charley forgot all about his own fishing in his desire to help land the
trout. "Don't let him get under that rock," he warned, coming close to the
brook. "He'll cut the line."

Lew increased the tension on the line and the fish stopped short of the
rock. For an instant the trout sulked and Lew reeled in rapidly.

"Guess I got him," he cried triumphantly, as the fish was drawn near to
the bank. But as he bent to grasp his prize there was a tremendous splash.
The trout leaped high out of water, then darted off again like a flash.
Lew had to give him line or lose him.

"He's a whopper, Charley," he cried. "Gee! I hope I don't lose him!"

"Here's a shallow place," cried Charley. "Work him into it and we can grab
him."

Lew maneuvered the trout toward the shoal. Again and again the fish broke
for the deeper water and Lew had to give him line. But each time he
stopped the rush and patiently worked the fish back toward the shoal. At
last the trout was fairly on the edge of it. Lew began to pull steadily on
his line and slid the tired fish into shallow water. It flopped helplessly
on the stones. Lew drew it to the bank and thrust a finger into its gills.
In another second the fish was dangling in air.

"Great Caesar!" cried Charley excitedly. "Ain't he a beaut! He's the
biggest trout I ever saw."

"He's the biggest one I ever caught," answered Lew. "He'll make a meal
himself."

"He'll have to," returned Charley. "We can't fish another minute. It's
almost dark now."

Lew slipped his finger down the throat of the gasping fish, and bent the
creature's head sharply back. The trout hung limp in his hand. Then the
two fishermen made their way through the dusky forest to their camp, where
Charley lighted a fire.

"I'll just see what this fellow has been eating," said Lew. "Maybe we can
find out what sort of bait to use." He opened his knife and slit the
fish's belly. "Crabs!" he cried, as his knife blade turned up the remains
of a crayfish. "Now we know what they want."

Soon Charley had a good bed of coals. Lew, meantime, cleaned the fish.
Quickly it was cooked and eaten and the dishes washed. By this time it was
altogether dark.

"Now we'll get some crabs for to-morrow," said Lew.

"Wonder how we can catch them?" queried Charley.

"What we need is a little dip-net. With that and the flash-light we could
get a peck of them. These little streams are full of them."

"Let's try scooping them with a coffee-pot. The lid comes off. If we are
careful, I believe it will answer."

They took the lid off of the pot, and stepping to the brook turned the
beam from their flash-light on the bottom of the run. The scene was
fascinating. Feeling secure in the darkness, the living creatures in the
brook had ventured abroad freely. Where the bright light of the sun would
have disclosed only stones and sand, the little beam from the search-light
revealed a myriad of moving shapes. Little minnows moved about in schools.
Salamanders, large and small, crawled about among the rocks. Occasional
trout were visible, lurking in the deeper holes, lying as motionless as
sticks, or moving their tails slowly. Eels lay on the sandy spots. And
lying still or crawling slowly among the stones were many crayfish. The
water seemed to be filled with living objects.

"Gee whiz!" whispered Charley. "It's like going to an aquarium and looking
at the fish in glass cages. I never dreamed a brook could be so
interesting."

With the utmost caution they moved along the bank of the run, looking for
crayfish of suitable size. Whenever they found one, Charley focused the
flash-light on it, moving the beam so as to dazzle the creature and keep
the space behind it in darkness. And Lew would slip the coffee-pot into
the water and move it cautiously up to the crayfish, ready for a final,
quick scoop. Sometimes he was successful and sometimes the intended victim
escaped. Always the click of the metal pot against the stony bottom sent
the little creatures in the water scurrying for cover. A second after Lew
tried for the crayfish not a living thing was visible. So it was necessary
to move on along the stream. From spot to spot the two boys proceeded, now
getting a good bait, now missing one, but ever keenly enjoying the
wonderful glimpses of the life in the brook. So they continued until they
had a goodly number of crayfish.

"I believe that's enough," said Lew. "Let's get back to camp. The fellows
will be at their instruments at nine, ready to talk to us." He glanced at
his watch. "I had no idea," he cried, "that it was so late. It's almost
nine now. We'll have to hurry."

So fascinating had been the glimpses of life in the brook that time had
sped much faster than either boy realized.

They hurried back to their camp. They had taken the precaution to sling
their grub high above ground on a piece of wire, but apparently nothing
had tried to molest anything. Lew rekindled the fire in the little stone
fireplace they had built and Charley uncovered the wireless instruments
and sat down on one pack bag. The other he flung to Lew. Then he slipped
the receivers on his head, threw over his switch, and sent the bright
sparks flashing between the points of his spark-gap.

"CBWC--CBWC--CBWC--CBC," he rapped out. (Camp Brady Wireless Club, Charley
Russell calling.)

Then he sat in silence, waiting for an answer. It came promptly.

"CBC--CBC--CBC--I--I--I--GA." (Charley Russell--We're here. Go ahead.)

"Got 'em," he cried. He answered and got a reply. "They want to know why
we didn't call up last night," Charley said to Lew.

The fire in the little fireplace burned clear and bright, making a circle
of light in the dark forest. Lew sat near the fire, cross-legged on his
pack bag, thrusting an occasional stick into the flames. Charley sat by
his instrument. Rapidly he pressed the key, and the sparks flew between
the points of his gap like tiny flashes of horizontal lightning.

"Hello! Is that you, Willie?" rapped out Charley.

"Sure," came the answer. "But we're all here. Why didn't you call up last
night?"

"Couldn't," answered Charley. "Didn't reach Old Ironsides camp site until
long after dark. Forest fires have burned up all the timber there. Spring
dried up, too. Had terrible time. Awful thirsty and no water to drink. Too
tired to put up aerial."

"Where are you now?"

"In the third valley east of Old Ironsides. Never been so far in the
mountains before. Grand stand of timber here. Great trout stream. Full of
big ones. Won't touch worms or flies. Just been catching crabs to try
to-morrow."

"Get any yet?"

"One big one."

"Have any adventures?"

"Not unless you call our experience in the burned timber an adventure.
Toughest thing I've stacked up against in a long time. Timber burned for
miles. No fish. Raccoons catching 'em out of the little pools. Had to come
here to get any. What are you doing?"

"Everybody hard at work. I got a new job yesterday helping a fellow make a
wireless outfit."

"Where?"

"Right here. We're making it in my shop."

"Will you be there to-morrow?"

"Sure. All day."

"We'll call you."

"Good! I'll listen in every hour on the hour. Then you can get me almost
any time."

"Bully for you. We're going to fish to-morrow, but we may catch so many in
the morning that we won't want to fish after dinner. I'll let you know how
we make out. Good luck to you all. Wish you were here. We'll bring you a
nice mess of fish, anyway. Good-night."

"Good-night and good luck."

"I wish they were here," said Lew, as Charley covered the instruments to
protect them from dampness, and moved over near his chum. "It doesn't seem
right to be in the forest without the whole crowd. This makes me think of
our camp in the forest near the Elk City reservoir, when we were hot on
the trail of the dynamiters. I'd hate to camp out at this time of year
without any fire."

"Well, let's turn in. We want to get up early to-morrow and try those
crabs. I'll bet we get a bunch of trout."

"Bet we do, too," replied Charley.

Little did he dream that on the morrow he would be engaged in matters far
more serious than catching trout.




Chapter VII

The Forest Afire



The earliest rays of light had hardly penetrated beneath the giant pines
the next morning before the two boys were astir. Their breakfast was
quickly cooked and eaten. Then they buckled on their bait boxes, now
bulging with worms and crayfish. They carried as well their books of
flies. And Charley slipped the little axe into his belt, to have something
to chop with in case they wanted to hunt for whiteworms.

"Let's go back where we caught that big fellow last night," said Lew.
"There may be some more like him in those deep pools."

"All right. Come on."

With nothing but their little rods to carry, they made fast time through
the forest, and had already reached the pool in which the big trout was
taken, before the first ray of sunlight came flashing among the tree
trunks.

"We're going to have a fine day," said Charley. "It's my turn to catch a
fish. Here goes for a try."

He baited his hook with a crayfish, and cautiously made his way toward the
brink of the brook. Half-way he paused and straightened up, sniffing the
air. Then he turned and looked at Lew.

"Smell anything?" he asked.

Lew had also detected a taint in the fresh morning air. "Smells like
smoke," he said. "Probably some fisherman cooking his breakfast."

Charley turned toward the brook again, then once more faced his companion.

"People don't cook with leaves," he said soberly. "That isn't wood smoke,
that's burning leaves."

For a moment the two boys looked at each other in silence.

"You don't suppose----" began Lew, but Charley cut him short.

"Let's make sure. Which way is that smoke coming from?" He stepped to the
brook and dipped a finger in the cold water. Then he held his hand aloft.

"There's so little wind stirring I can't tell which way it's blowing," he
said. "One side of my finger feels as cold as the other."

Again he tried it. There was just a suggestion of an air current. "Seems
to be blowing straight up the valley," he said.

"I'll try a match," said Lew. He took his waterproof match box from his
pocket and drew forth a match, which he lighted on his heel. "You're
right," he said. "The flame blows up-stream a little. What shall we do?"

"It doesn't seem possible that the woods can be afire," answered Charley.
"But let's make sure. If the forest is afire and we can put it out, it
would be a crime if we don't. The memory of it would haunt me the rest of
my life."

"All right. We'll go down-stream. If there is a fire, we'll do our best to
put it out. If there isn't any fire, there's no harm done. We can probably
find as many fish down-stream as there are here. We'll save time if we
unjoint our rods."

Quickly the lines were reeled up and the rods packed in their cloth cases.
Then, with nothing to hamper them, the two boys hurried down the valley.

Gradually the odor of burning leaves grew stronger. A very little breeze
arose, blowing straight in their faces. It was heavy with the smell of
fire. Ahead of them the forest began to look gray and misty, as though a
heavy night fog still covered the earth. But both boys knew that the gray
blanket was no night mist. It was smoke. They quickened their pace. The
smoke cloud grew denser. Then a dull, reddish glow appeared. There could
no longer be any doubt. The forest was afire.

"Come on," cried Charley. "We've got to grab it quick."

As they started to run, Lew protested: "Not too fast. We'll tire ourselves
out before we get there. We may have a long fight before we put the fire
out."

The smoke now rolled past them in dense clouds. The red glow grew
brighter. In a few moments they reached the fire itself. It was in an
opening where the timber had been cut and little but brush remained. It
was a ground fire that crept slowly along among the leaves. Yet it had
already spread until it seemed to stretch across half the valley.

"If we can only put it out before the wind comes up," said Charley, "we
can save the forest."

He looked about for a low tree, discovered a thick, young pine, rapidly
chopped off some bushy branches, and again sheathed his axe. Each boy
seized a branch.

"Our rods--what shall we do with them?" asked Lew.

"Throw 'em in the run. Fire can't hurt 'em there and we can get 'em at any
time."

Lew rushed over to the brook and put the rods in the water. He set a flat
stone on them to keep the current from moving them. Then he dipped his
pine bough in the brook and began to beat out the flames, working straight
out from the bank. Charley joined him. Rapidly they rained blows upon the
fire. Rod after rod they advanced. The heat from even so small a fire was
great. The smoke was blinding and stifling. Heat and smoke and their own
exertions tired them rapidly.

"We've got to take it easier," said Lew, after a little, "or we'll be all
in before we get the fire half out."

Of necessity they slackened their efforts. As they wore out their weapons,
they cut new ones. Every little while they rested. They were tiring fast.
At the same tune, the wind was beginning to freshen. Here in the open
there was nothing to break its force. The flames leaped higher under its
breath and began to run over the ground instead of crawling. The fire
itself created a draft. The greater the draft, the hotter the flame
became, and the hotter the fire grew, the stronger blew the draft.

"We're never going to do it," panted Charley, after a while. "The wind is
blowing harder all the time. We must call help."

He looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes of seven!" he ejaculated. "How far
do you think we are from camp?"

"Two miles, anyway," answered Lew.

"If I can make it by seven, I may be able to get Willie. He said he would
listen in every hour."

"Hurry," said Lew sharply. "I'll keep at work here."

"If it gets too hot for you," said Charley, "go right back to the brook,
and come up along it to camp. That's the way I'm going back, and I'll
return that way after I get Willie. Good-bye."

He started off at a fast pace. But his exertions and the heat and smoke
had so weakened him that he quickly saw he could not maintain such a gait.
He dropped to a steady jog. Even that taxed his strength. But he gritted
his teeth and clenched his hands and kept on.

The forest was now full of smoke. The dense cloud completely hid the sun.
Among the great pines it was almost like twilight. Charley pushed on as
fast as his weary legs could carry him. More than once he tripped and
fell. He could no longer see distinctly. Fatigue and the smoke in his eyes
blurred his vision. He was scratched and torn and his hands were a mass of
little burns. Charley scarcely noticed them. His mind was wholly intent on
getting help and saving the forest. Nothing else mattered. So he staggered
on through the dusky woods. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes had
passed. He felt sure he had been running an hour and that his watch had
stopped. He held it to his ear. The steady ticking somewhat reassured him.
After what seemed like another long interval he ventured to look at it
again. Five minutes more had elapsed. Five minutes remained before Willie
would be at his post waiting for a possible message. Charley crowded on
all the speed that was left in him. But his feet seemed to be made of
lead. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs. His lungs seemed nigh
to bursting.

"Five minutes more," he kept muttering to himself. "Only five minutes
more. I've got to make it. Only five minutes more."

Suddenly he came to their camp. In his weariness he had not recognized any
landmarks. He could hardly believe it was their camp. But there were the
grub bag hanging on a wire, the dishes piled by the fire, and the wireless
instruments protected by the pack bags.

"Thank God for the wireless!" gasped Charley, as he threw himself on the
ground beside his key. He tried to flash a call, but his hand trembled so
he could not form the letters correctly. He dropped flat on his back to
rest for a moment, glancing at his watch as he lay there. It lacked one
minute of seven.

For sixty seconds Charley lay prostrate, looking at the second-hand on his
watch as it went round. Then he sat up. The minute's rest had steadied him
wonderfully. He moved his switch, pressed his finger on the key, and sent
the bright sparks flashing between his gap points.

"CBWC--CBWC--CBWC--CBC," he called, then paused to listen.

There was no response. An anxious look crept into his eyes.
"CBWC--CBWC--CBWC--CBC," again he called.

No answering signal sounded in his ear. His face went white.
"CBWC--CBWC--CBWC--CBC," he rapped out anxiously. And without listening
for a reply, he repeated the message frantically half a dozen times. Then
a buzzing sounded in his ears. A look of relief came on his face. He
sighed. Willie was acknowledging his call signal.

"Good-morning," continued Willie. "Caught any trout yet?"

"The forest is afire!" flashed back Charley. "Get the district forester on
the telephone instantly. His headquarters are at Oakdale. Tell him the
fire is in the third valley east of Old Ironsides; that the message is
from the two boys he met yesterday; that we are trying to hold it. Ask
what we shall do. I'll wait for his answer."

For what seemed an endless period of time, Charley waited. Seconds were
like minutes. Minutes dragged like quarter hours. It seemed as though
Willie would never answer. There was nothing for Charley to do but sit and
wait. In his impatience he could hardly keep still. He could not take his
mind from the fire. He could think of nothing but that roaring line of
flame consuming the floor of the forest and destroying the young growths.
Would Willie never get the forester? Must the entire woods burn before the
forester knew of the fire? In his excitement Charley clasped and unclasped
his hands and nervously swayed back and forth as he sat on the ground.

Suddenly he sat up as steady as a stone image. The wireless was beginning
to speak.

"Forester on wire now," came the message from Willie. "Wants know exactly
where fire is."

"A little south of east of where he met us, in the third valley beyond
Ironsides," flashed back Charley.

"How big is the fire?" came a second question, after a brief interval.

"Don't know. Too big for us. Lew still fighting it. I'm going back. What
shall we do?"

Again there was a pause. Then Willie answered: "Forester says find header
and back-fire. Try to hold it till fire crew arrives."

"Will do our best. Listen in often. May need call you. Good-bye."

Charley threw over his switch, covered the instruments with the pack bags,
and was off down the valley. He felt much refreshed by his rest. At a
steady jog he made his way along the brook.

Now he found it difficult to breathe. Smoke was rolling through the forest
in billows. Close by he heard the cries of terror-stricken animals. He
came to the edge of the burned space beside the brook, where they had
beaten out the flames. Here there was practically no smoke. He turned away
from the run and followed the black edge of the burned area. He knew this
would bring him to Lew, and he wanted to make sure that they had
extinguished every spark in the distance they had covered. Only at one
point did he find fire smouldering. He beat out the sparks and went on. He
could see almost nothing. The smoke grew thicker and thicker. Through it
he began to distinguish the red glare of the flames. Ever louder sounded
the crackle of fire. From a low, humming sound it grew, as he drew near,
into a subdued roar. Then all other sounds were lost in the greater tumult
of the forest fire.

Now he came close to the flames. The heat was terrific. The smoke choked
him. He could hardly breathe. The roar of the fire was terrifying.
Hitherto he had felt no fear. Now a feeling of alarm suddenly seized him.
What if Lew had been overcome by smoke and burned in his absence? The
possibility had never occurred to him before.

"Lew! Lew!" he shouted at the top of his voice, and started along the line
of the fire. There was no reply. At least Charley heard none.

"Lew! Lew!" he cried. "Where are you?"

But no voice answered through the smoke.

"If he's down, I'll find him or die trying," muttered Charley to himself.

His face was grim and set as he started along the line of the fire again,
paying no heed to the flames but looking only for his chum. Every few
yards he stopped and shouted. But no answer ever reached him.

On he went, rod after rod, keeping as near the flames as he dared. He saw
nothing of his friend. He came to a point where a tongue of fire had run
far in advance of the remainder of the blaze. It seemed to be traveling
twice as fast as the rest of the flames.

"The header!" he cried to himself. "Here's where we ought to be at work.
But I must find Lew first. He certainly never got beyond this header."

Charley stopped and called. Again and again he shouted. There was no
response.

"Maybe he went back to look for me and I passed him in the smoke," thought
Charley. "I'll go back to the brook."

He turned to retrace his steps. Something suddenly flashed into flame
close beside him. It caught Charley's attention. He saw it was a pine
bough. Then he noticed that it had been freshly cut.

"It's Lew's brush," cried Charley. "He must have been here."

He sank on his knees close to the blazing bough, and heedless of smoke and
flame began to examine the ground carefully. He ran his fingers lightly
over the leaves, feeling for footprints. At first he found nothing. Then
he discovered the impression of a heel. He could not be certain which way
the footprint pointed.

With the heel mark as a centre, he began to feel about in a circle two or
three feet wide. He judged that would be the length of his chum's stride.
Twice he felt around the circle before he found a second footprint. It was
in the direction of the brook. He moved forward and searched where he
thought the third step should have fallen. Here he distinctly saw the mark
of a foot. When he rose to his feet his coat sleeve was beginning to smoke
and his face was blistered.

"Lew's gone back to the brook," he muttered. "I must have passed him in
the smoke. He's probably looking for me."

But he still felt vaguely uneasy and fearful. He walked rapidly toward the
brook. The trail he was following became distinct. The leaves had been
kicked up here and there by Lew as he walked. The track grew plainer and
plainer. It became more like a plow furrow. At first Charley did not
grasp the meaning of the shambling trail. Then it came to him.

"He's dragging his feet," he muttered. "He must be all in. Maybe he's
down."

Charley took a quick look at the flames. They had crept frightfully close
to the trail in the leaves. Then he sprang forward at top speed. His face
was white.

"I've got to reach him before the fire gets him," he sobbed.

He kept peering through the smoke. "There's another header shooting out
toward that log," he said, "but I won't leave the trail. I might miss
Lew."

The trail led straight toward the log. Charley increased his speed. As he
neared the log he gave a cry of terror and bounded forward like a shot.
What Charley had mistaken for a tree trunk was his chum's prostrate form.
The flames had almost reached it.

With his brush Charley fell on the fire savagely and beat it out for the
space of a rod or two on either side of Lew's body. Then he rushed back to
his chum and knelt beside him. Lew was unconscious but breathing
regularly. His nose was half buried in leaves and moss. That fact had
probably saved his life, for it had given him pure air to breathe.

Charley drew Lew over his shoulder until he had him doubled up like a
jack-knife, and could therefore carry him easily. Then, at a steady pace,
he set out for the brook. Soon he passed the end of the line of fire. In
a few minutes more he reached the stream.

He laid his chum close beside the run, felt his pulse and listened to his
breathing. Lew's heart was beating regularly and he was breathing easily.

Charley sighed with relief. "He's all right," he muttered.

Then he filled his hat with water and sprinkled some on Lew's face. Lew's
eyelids flickered. Then his eyes opened.

"Where am I, Charley?" he asked. "What are you doing?"

For a moment he lay still. Then suddenly he sat bolt upright.

"I know now," he said. "The forest is on fire. I was fighting it and you
went to call help. Did you get Willie? And how did you find me? I guess I
got too much smoke. I started for the brook. That's all I can remember.
I'm all right now. We're going back."

He got to his feet, but at first had to be supported. Charley made him lie
down again. In a few minutes his strength seemed to return to him. He got
up.

"I'm all right now, Charley," he insisted. "I mightn't be awake yet if you
hadn't thrown that water on my face. Thanks, old man."

Charley did not tell Lew how near to death he had been. Instead, he said,
"Are you sure you're strong enough to tackle that fire again?"

"Sure as shooting," nodded Lew.

"Then come on. The fire has an awful start on us. The forester wants us to
try to hold the header by back-firing."

As they started toward the blaze Lew said, "We'll have to work some
distance in advance of it. If only we had rakes we might conquer it even
yet."

They made their way to a point well in front of the header. Then they cut
sticks and made little bundles of them to use like rakes.

"I'll clear away the leaves and you start the fire," directed Charley.

He began raking away the leaves, clearing a sort of path about two feet
wide straight across the line of the advancing header. Lew lighted the
leaves on the side of the cleared space toward the header, following close
upon Charley's heels. From time to time he ran back along the cleared
space to make sure the flames had not jumped across it. Wherever they had,
he beat them out with his brush. On the other side of the cleared space
the flames slowly worked their way toward the onrushing header, widening
with every minute the barren area where the flames could find no fuel to
feed upon.

Rod after rod Charley cleared a narrow lane and Lew kept close behind him
with his torch. With amazing rapidity they extended their line.

"If only we had the Wireless Patrol here," panted Lew, "we'd lick this old
fire to a frazzle."

On and on they went. To save their strength they exchanged tasks at
intervals. Every few minutes they faced about and ran back over their line
to make sure no flames had crossed the cleared space. The air was dense
with smoke, but the heat from their back-fire was trifling in comparison
with that of the main conflagration. The stand of timber grew thicker,
breaking the force of the breeze more and more. Their back-fire ate its
way into the wind much faster, and the real fire came on slower. It seemed
to be getting farther and farther away.

"We've passed the header," cried Charley exultantly. "We ought to be able
to hold the main fire."

They rested a moment, then went at their task with renewed hope and vigor.
Rod after rod they cleared a path and fired the leaves on the windward
side of this lane. Finally their line grew so long that they could no
longer guard it properly.

"If only we had half a dozen boys to patrol the line," sighed Lew. "I'm
afraid the flames will jump across somewhere. Then all we have done will
be in vain."

"We'll make a trip over the whole line," declared Charley, "and be sure
it's safe. Then we'll stop back-firing and beat out the flames again. It's
the only sure way I can think of."

He drew his axe and cut fresh boughs. Then they went back along their
line. In one place flames had already leaped across, but they fell on them
vigorously with their bushes and soon put them out. They patrolled the
line until they felt sure it was safe.

"If we can put out the flames between our back-fire and the brook," said
Lew, "it will make our job a great deal easier. We've already put out part
of them."

They began to work their way back to the brook, following the line of
flame and beating out the fire foot by foot as they advanced. There were
many things in their favor. The dense stand of trees at this point not
only checked the wind and made the fire less fierce, but the absence of
underbrush also helped to check it. There was little for it to feed upon
but leaves. So the two boys could work close to it and beat it out with
ease, though the smoke was stifling. Only lads of great determination and
courage would have stuck to the task.

With frequent pauses, necessary for rest, they went on, foot by foot, yard
after yard, rod upon rod. "We're going to make it," cried Lew presently.
"It's only a little distance to the end of the flames."

They increased their efforts. Quickly they reached the end of the line of
fire. Beyond that the woods had been saved by their first efforts.

"Now we'll go back over the line," said Charley, "and make sure the fire
doesn't start up anywhere."

"I'm dying of thirst," said Lew. "Let's get a drink first. We are not far
from the brook."

They hurried to the run and threw themselves flat on the bank, drinking
copious draughts of the cool and refreshing water.

"I wonder what time it is," said Charley, as they got to their feet again.
"It seems to me that we've been fighting fire for hours." He looked at his
watch. "We have," he cried. "It's after eleven o'clock. The fire crew has
been on the way four hours. They'll follow their fire trails and get here
in a fraction of the time it took us to come in. They certainly ought to
be here soon. If we can hold the fire for a little bit longer the forest
will be safe."

"Come on," called Lew. "We've got to do it."

Again they went along the line of their back-fire. For rod after rod the
fire was conquered. In other places it still burned; but the back-fire had
now eaten its way so far to windward of the cleared space that there was
no longer any danger of the flames leaping past the barrier. So they
covered the entire length of their line and found it safe.

When they reached the main fire again they began to beat it out with
branches. Rod after rod they continued to work their way. But at best
their progress was painfully slow.

"Lew," said Charley of a sudden, "while we are beating out these flames
here, there may be another header in front of us traveling like a
racehorse. I'm going to run ahead and see. You stay here. Call every
little bit and I'll answer. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He made his way along the line of the fire. Here in the thick timber it
still burned slowly and feebly. He could trace the line of fire far ahead,
and it seemed to have advanced with remarkable evenness. Nowhere could be
seen a header of flame jutting out far in advance of the main line.

"If the wind doesn't rise," he muttered to himself, "we're going to make
it."

He went on, trying to locate the other end of the fire. Behind him he
heard Lew halloing. Before he could turn to answer, an echo came back from
the mountain in front of him.

"If only that were a real voice," muttered Charley to himself.

Then he stood stock-still. Shout after shout came ringing in his ears. "It
<i>is</i> a real voice," he cried. "The fire crew is coming."

A moment later a dozen forms became visible in the smoke. They were
running along the edge of the fire, evidently trying to determine where to
begin their attack on it. At their head was the forester. He came directly
toward Charley, but gave no sign of recognition. Nor, could Charley have
seen himself, would he have wondered at it. With his face blackened by
smoke and caked with blood from innumerable little cuts and scratches, his
hands grimy and almost raw, and his clothes torn in a hundred places,
Charley could hardly have been recognized by his own mother.

"How far across the valley does this fire extend?" asked the forester.

"You are almost at the end of it, sir," replied Charley.

"It's making a tremendous smoke for such a little blaze, then," said the
forester.

He turned to his men. "Get right at it and beat it out," he ordered. "This
is all there is to it."

Again he faced Charley. "Are you sure?" he demanded. "When we came over
the pass it looked as though the entire bottom was afire."

"It was," said Charley. "That is, everything this side of the run was
afire. We have got it all out but this."

"Have you seen anything of two boys with a wireless outfit? They notified
me of this fire."

"Why, I am one of them, sir. It was I who asked you yesterday for a job as
fire patrol."

The forester looked at him narrowly for several seconds. "See here," he
said severely. "Did you boys set this forest afire?"

Charley looked aghast. "Set the forest afire!" he exclaimed in amazement.
"Certainly not. Why should we?"

"Are you telling me the truth?"

Even through the grime Charley's face was red. "See here," he said
angrily, "I don't care whether you are the forester or the President of
the United States. You are not going to call me a liar. If Lew and I
hadn't been here fishing, you wouldn't have any forest by this time. We've
fought this fire for hours and it's only a piece of luck that Lew isn't
dead. He'd have been burned to a crisp if I hadn't found him just when I
did. We've done everything we could to save the forest. I demand to know
your reason for suggesting that we started the blaze."

"Young man," said the forester, "more than one forest fire has been set by
persons who wanted a job fighting fire. You wanted a job. You told me what
an advantage your wireless would be.

"My ranger reported to me by telephone last night that excepting for
yourselves he had seen nobody in this region all day. This morning a fire
breaks out; you report it promptly by wireless; and when we arrive, you
have it almost out. Isn't that a suspicious chain of circumstances?
Doesn't it look as though you might be trying to show the forester
something?"

"A fellow who would set the forest afire just to prove his own
qualifications as a fire fighter ought to be put in prison," said Charley
indignantly. "Do you think I'm that kind of a skunk?"

"No, I don't," said the forester. "I believe you boys had no hand in
starting this fire and that you have risked your lives and done heroic
work to save the forest. But I had to be sure. There is something queer
about this fire. With no railroads near to shoot up sparks, no
thunder-storms to flash lightning, and no campers to be careless with
their fires, what did cause it? It isn't the first time mysterious fires
have started in this fine timber. You saw in the other valley what two of
these fires did before we got them out. This is the third fire that has
occurred in this tract. If it hadn't been for you boys, I hate to think
what would have happened. You have done a great service to the people of
Pennsylvania."

Charley was suddenly abashed. He turned his glance on the ground. He did
not know what to say.

After a moment the forester spoke again. A new idea seemed suddenly to
have occurred to him. "Now that you have had a taste of real fire
fighting," he said, "would you still like to be a fire patrol--possibly a
ranger?"

"Better than anything in the world," replied Charley. "I love the forest."

"Are you sure you can be released from further school work?"

"I feel certain I can."

"Then I have a particular job for you, Mr. Fire Guard."

"Mr. Fire Guard," echoed Charley, his heart beating wildly. "What do you
mean?"

"I mean," smiled the forester, "that you are here and now appointed a fire
patrol; that you are now a representative of the State of Pennsylvania,
and after you have been sworn in you will have the power of making
arrests. The particular job I have for you is to guard this forest.
Somebody wants to destroy this stand of virgin timber. Your job is to
protect it."




Chapter VIII

Making an Investigation



The fire crew, hardy woodsmen and rangers, accustomed to severe toil, soon
beat out what was left of the fire. Then they went over the entire line of
the fire to make sure every spark was extinguished. The forester and
Charley found Lew, and the three crossed the valley to the brook where the
two boys had begun their battle with the flames. When the fire crew had
returned and the forester was satisfied that there was no further danger,
he turned and held out his hand.

"Report to me at my office at the earliest possible moment," he said. "If
I dared risk being away from my headquarters so long," he added
regretfully, "I'd stay here and make an investigation. But a fire may
start somewhere else, and here I'd be with my fire crew. A thousand acres
might burn over before I knew it."

"Isn't there anybody in charge at headquarters?" asked Charley.

"Sure. I have an assistant there. But if an alarm came in he wouldn't be
of much use without a fire crew."

"Send your fire crew back," said Charley. "You can stay here and make
your investigation, and we can keep you in touch with your office easily."

"Are you sure?"

"There isn't any doubt of it. Willie said he would listen in every few
minutes, and Willie always does what he says he will. You instruct your
fire crew to tell your assistant to keep in touch with Willie by
telephone, and we'll tell Willie to keep in touch with us by wireless.
It's as easy as rolling off a log."

The forester looked doubtful. "I'd like to stay," he said. "Are you
positive you can do this?"

"Of course," said Lew. "We do that sort of thing right along."

"Well," said the forester, still hesitating, "I'll risk it. It is of the
utmost importance that an investigation be made at once. It might be days
before the chief forest fire-warden could come here. You are absolutely
certain about this wireless business?"

Charley smiled. "Absolutely," he said. "But to make sure, we'll go to our
camp and talk to Willie. You can send a message to your assistant
yourself."

"That'll settle it," said the forester.

He called his fire crew together. "Hustle right back to headquarters," he
said. "The motor-truck will hold you all, though you may be a bit
crowded. Leave my car where it is. I'm going to look around a bit. I'll
follow you as soon as possible. Tell the assistant forester to call up the
boy in Central City who telephoned us about the fire and arrange to keep
in communication with him. We will communicate with that boy by wireless.
If fire occurs anywhere, let me know at once."

The fire fighters looked their astonishment, but made no comment. They
were accustomed to obeying orders. Soon they were gone and the forester
and the two boys headed up the run toward the little camp by the windrow.

"I guess we might as well get better acquainted," said the forester. "My
name is Marlin--James Marlin."

"And mine," replied Charley, "is Charley Russell. This is Lew Heinsling.
As we told you yesterday, we are from Central City and belong to the Camp
Brady Wireless Patrol."

"That is why you are now a fire guard," said the forester. "You don't
suppose I would appoint an unknown boy to such an important post, do you?
To be sure, I don't know you personally, but I know about your
organization and some of the things you have done. I know your leader,
Captain Hardy, very well. You see your membership in that organization is
recommendation enough for me."

"But I thought you suspected us of setting fire to the forest," said
Charley.

"I never said so," replied Mr. Marlin. "I merely asked you if you had
started the fire."

"It's pretty much the same thing," said Charley.

"Not at all, young man. Not at all. I did not really suspect you. But I
saw there was a possibility that you might have done just what I
suggested. I wanted to see what you would do when I suggested that you
were the culprit. I could have told if you had lied to me."

"How?" demanded Charley.

"Never mind now," smiled the forester. "But while we are on this subject,
I want to say this to you: when you are trying to solve a crime, you must
forget your prejudices. You must look at the facts and not at the people
concerned. You must take the attitude that anybody may be guilty until he
is proved innocent. In short, you must be ready to suspect anybody. You
must not assume, for instance, that because I am the forester I would not
set the forest afire, or because my rangers are connected with the Forest
Service they would never start a fire."

Charley looked almost startled. "Why, it would be the worst sort of crime
for a forest protector to set a fire in the woods," he cried.

"Of course it would," replied the forester. "But in this world almost
everybody acts according to his own interests or his own passions. If a
man could earn more money by setting fires than by preventing them, there
are many men who would take the chance. Or a man might set fire to the
forest to be revenged on somebody--possibly on me; for a forester can
hardly avoid making some enemies."

The forester paused. "Somebody has three times set this part of the forest
afire," he continued after a moment. "We have no clue as to who did it. So
it is our business to suspect anybody and everybody that circumstances may
point to. But that doesn't mean we must condemn a person merely because
circumstances point to him. We must study the facts and either condemn or
acquit him according to the facts. I say this to you because you have
probably had little or no experience in tracing crime and, like most young
folks, are prone to trust people too far."

Charley's face was very serious. He had not thought of detective work as a
possible part of his duties.

"Don't take what I say too seriously," laughed the forester, when he
noticed Charley's expression. "You will really have very little of this
sort of thing to do. Most fires come through the carelessness of campers.
To warn them to be careful, to try to put out fires as soon as you
discover them and notify me if you fail, will be about all you will
ordinarily have to do. The chief forest fire-warden will attend to
investigating fires. But in this case, I especially want to know how this
fire started. Sometimes boys, if they are shrewd enough, make the best of
all agents for watching folks. People don't take boys seriously, and will
often do or say incriminating things before boys that they would not
dream of doing in the presence of grown men. If you keep your eyes and
ears open and your mouth shut, you may be very useful. And the less you
appear to know, the more useful you will be."

Charley looked at his watch. "Willie will be at his instrument in three
minutes, sure," he said. "He might even be there now."

He drew the pack bags from the wireless instruments and sat down, watch in
hand, beside them. The forester looked on with keenest interest. He no
longer regarded the wireless outfit as a mere plaything. If the boys could
do what they said they could, he saw what a help wireless communication
might be in protecting the forest. He had always considered the telephone
as about the last step that could be made in quick communication in the
forest. But his telephone was miles away and he had to get to it before he
could talk with his office. Here was a boy who could sit down anywhere and
instantly talk to a wireless operator anywhere else within a reasonable
distance--that is, he could, if all that Charley said was true. Of course
the forester knew about radio-telegraphy, but he was like many other
people who have not actually seen persons talk by wireless. It seemed as
though it could hardly be.

But he was not to remain long in doubt. When the three-minute period had
elapsed, Charley threw over his switch, and sent Willie's call signal
flashing abroad. Hardly had he taken his finger from his key when the
answer buzzed in his ear.

"Got him," said Charley.

"Who?" asked the forester in astonishment.

"Willie Brown, at Central City. I'm telling him to get your assistant on
the telephone." And he made the sparks fairly tumble over one another, so
rapidly did he manipulate the key.

"Willie's going to get him," he announced, a moment later.

They sat silent for several minutes. Then a signal once more sounded in
Charley's ear.

"Willie's got your assistant on the 'phone," said Charley a little later.

"Tell him to tell my assistant that the fire is out, with little damage
done; that the fire crew is on the way home, and that I have decided to
remain here to look around a little. Tell him that if he needs me he shall
call your friend at Central City. He'd better arrange with the telephone
people for quick connections if he needs to talk to me. I guess that's
about all."

Charley flashed out the message to Willie and soon the assistant
forester's message came back. Everything was O.K. and he would do as
directed. Then Charley talked to Willie on his own account, telling him
they were going to move their aerial and asking Willie to listen in often.
Willie said he would sit by the wireless table and keep the receivers on
his ears so that Charley could get him at any time.

While Charley was talking with Willie, Lew had been collecting and
packing the camp utensils. Now the wireless instruments were quickly
uncoupled and stowed away in a bag, and the aerial taken down and loosely
rolled around the spreaders so that it could be hoisted in a moment's
time. Then the little party set off swiftly down the valley toward the
point at which the fire started.

Walking rapidly, they arrived at the edge of the burned area in half an
hour. Smoke was still rising from smouldering embers at various points in
the burned area; but there was no danger to be feared, for everything
inflammable about these embers had been consumed. Even should the wind fan
them into a flame again they could do no harm, for there was nothing for
them to feed upon. Along the entire edge of the burned area the fire crew
had made sure there was a wide belt of ground in which no spark remained.
Thus, though these glowing embers might continue to smoulder for hours,
they could do no harm. The quantity of smoke arising was still
considerable, but it did not shut off the vision as the dense clouds of
smoke had done during the fire. So the onlookers could get a fair idea of
the extent of the blaze.

The blackened area on which they looked, they were relieved to find, was
not of great width, though it stretched from the edge of the brook on one
side almost to the mountain on the other. Altogether, the fire had swept
over not more than a hundred acres. Had it not been for the presence of
the two boys, it might easily have destroyed thousands of acres. The fire
had started in a cut-over tract just below the edge of the virgin timber.
Had the morning proved windy, instead of calm, the flames would have gone
racing into the big timber, with the chances good for a disastrous
crown-fire, when the flames would have gone leaping from tree top to tree
top, utterly consuming the forest, as the previous fires had destroyed the
timber on Old Ironsides. A lucky combination of circumstances alone had
prevented a holocaust.

Climbing upon a high rock, the forester searched for the point at which
the fire had originated. Prom his pocket he drew some powerful
field-glasses, and again and again swept his vision over the farther edge
of the burned area. Presently he closed his glasses and leaped to the
ground.

"Come on," he said, and headed diagonally across the burned tract.

In a few minutes the three stood on the unburned forest floor on the
farther side of the strip of black.

"We must get our aerial up at once, Lew," said Charley. "It's been
three-fourths of an hour since we talked to Willie."

They glanced about, selected two suitable trees, and had the supporting
wires attached to them in no time, with the aerial dangling aloft between
the trees. It took only a moment more to couple up the instruments.

"CBWC--CBWC--CBWC--CBC," rapped out Charley, as soon as the outfit was in
readiness.

Almost instantly Willie replied to the signal.

"Any message for us from Oakdale?" inquired Charley.

"Not a word. What are you doing?"

"We are investigating the cause of the fire. Have moved our aerial down
past the burned area. Forester and Lew and I alone. Fire crew on way back
to Oakdale."

"Have you found cause of fire?"

"No. Just got here. Haven't investigated yet. Will listen in every quarter
hour, beginning with the hour."

"All right. I'll be here. Good-bye."

The minute Charley finished talking with Willie, the three investigators
set about their work.

"We'll walk along the edge of the burned area," said the forester, "and
try to find the point of origin."

He went ahead, the two boys following. They were facing toward the brook.
The line was irregular, like a huge saw-blade, with little jutting, black
teeth here and there, where the flames had crept out in advance of the
main line. The wind that had come up when the boys were fighting the fire
had driven the flames back upon the area they had already consumed and the
blaze had died out of itself. It could not eat its way to windward out
here in the open, as it could have done in the dense timber where the wind
was broken. From their starting-point they walked to the brook, finding
nothing to enlighten them. They then retraced their steps, walking along
the windward edge of the fire. Yet they found nothing to show them how or
where the fire originated.

"Evidently the flames have eaten their way some distance to windward of
the point of origin," said the forester. "We shall have to look within the
burned area."

As he started to cross the black strip, the forester continued: "Perhaps I
had better go through the burned strip alone. I want things disturbed as
little as possible, and three will stir up the ashes a good deal more than
one. You keep looking along the edge, and I'll search among the ashes."

"Is there anything in particular we are to look for?" asked Charley. "Is
there any special way to distinguish the starting-point of the fire?"

"If this blaze started at a camper's fire, there ought to be some trace of
that fire discoverable. If it began with a lighted match, the stem of that
match might not be entirely consumed. If blazing paper created the fire,
there may be a scrap of paper left unburned. And even the ashes might show
that paper had been burned. That's why I don't want the leaves disturbed
any more than we can help. We shall quite likely find our clue, if we find
it at all, in the ashes themselves."

The forester started slowly across the valley.

"I don't see where he has anything on us as observers," said Lew. "If our
drill at Camp Brady didn't make competent observers of us, I don't know
what it did do. Captain Hardy drilled us and drilled us in noticing even
the most minute things. Let's go along the line again and look more
carefully. We've got a better idea now of what we're looking for."

They started once more along the edge of the black belt. The forester was
walking well within the burned area. The two boys centred their attention
on the strip between the forester's tracks and the edge of the black area.
This was a strip roughly fifty to seventy-five feet wide. Practically
everything was blackened in this area. A piece of unburned paper would
have shown with startling distinctness. But there were no pieces to show.
The forester crossed the black belt from brook to mountain, and the boys
kept pace with him for a little. Then Lew turned back in order to listen
in, while Charley went on with the forester. For a long time the two
searched among the leaves, but found nothing to indicate where or how the
fire had started.

"The fact that we can't find where it started," said the forester at last,
"is what makes me suspicious. A fire can generally be traced. I guess
we'll have to give up. I'll get back to headquarters, and you go home and
make your arrangements as quickly as possible. Then report to me."

"We'll go right back with you," said Charley. "That is, we will if Lew is
willing. It would hardly be right to ask him to give up his fishing trip.
And, anyway, two of us could guard the forest better than one."

"That's true, but until you are regularly sworn in you will not have the
legal authority you should have as a fire patrol."

"Then if Lew is willing, we'll go right out with you. We can take the
train at Oakdale."

They returned to Lew and explained the situation. "Of course we'll go
home," protested Lew. "This is your chance, Charley. You don't think I'd
stand in your way, do you?"

"Thanks, Lew," said Charley, holding out his hand to his chum. "But I hate
to cut your trip short."

"That's easily fixed," said the forester. "Go home and make your
arrangements and bring Lew back with you for the rest of the vacation if
he wants to come. You can do your patrol work and still catch some fish.
And I'd feel a lot easier to know two of you were here. You've proved that
you are good fire fighters."

Charley called up Willie and told him they were about to leave the forest
and would be in Oakdale in about four hours. Then the wireless was quickly
dismantled and packed, and the little party started across the burned area
once more, on their way out to the distant road.

They did not forget to examine the ground as they went. They had gone
perhaps a hundred feet when Charley noticed a heap of burned leaves. They
were in the cut-over area, and the floor of the forest had apparently
been carpeted thinly and evenly with leaves. So the little mound caught
his eye. At first he thought nothing of it. But when his glance swept the
surrounding ground and he saw how very thin the ashy coating was, and what
a dense pile of ashes was in this little heap, he wondered why the leaves
should have collected in this way. Without as yet really suspecting
anything, he walked over to the heap and began to rake the ashes from one
side of it with a little stick. Many of the burned leaves still retained
perfectly their shape and outline. The serrated edges and the feathery
veining were distinct in the ashy residues. They were interesting to see.
Charley continued to level the burned leaves on one side of the pile. At
the touch of his stick they lost their shape and crumbled into formless
ashes, even as fairy crystals of snow turn to water beneath a warm current
of air.

Suddenly Charley stopped dead still. Among the ashes turned over by his
stick was a long, thin sheet of ash. Charley looked at it a moment in
astonishment. Then he knew that it was pasteboard. He sank to his knees on
the blackened earth and with his fingers carefully worked in the still
warm ashes, raking off the upper layers of leaves gently, so as not to
disturb the bottom of the pile. Carefully he worked, until he had laid
bare a long strip of what had been pasteboard. At his touch this, like the
leaves, crumbled. But one end of it did not disintegrate. A tiny piece was
unconsumed. From the ashes Charley drew forth a charred bit of greenish
pasteboard. Swiftly but carefully he raked aside the burned pasteboard.
Then he gave a little cry. On the ground, in the very bottom of the heap,
was some candle grease. His startled exclamation brought Mr. Marlin and
Lew running to his side.

"What have you found?" asked the forester sharply.

"A piece of unconsumed pasteboard and some candle grease," said Charley
slowly. "They were under this mound of burned leaves."

"We need look no farther for the starting-place of this fire," said the
forester, his face very sober. "It is just as I suspected. This fire was
of incendiary origin. Whoever set it, placed a lighted candle inside a
pasteboard box, partly filled the box with leaves, heaped some leaves on
top of it, and hurried away. The candle probably burned for hours before
it burned low enough to set fire to the leaves. By that time the culprit
was far away and could prove an alibi."

Charley drew from his pocket the little microscope he used in his class in
botany in the high school. Over and over he turned the scorched scrap of
pasteboard, studying it intently.

"The fibers are arranged in a peculiar way," he said, "and there's an
almost invisible machine marking of a peculiar pattern. The color of the
pasteboard was a dark green."

The forester took the microscope and examined the charred fragment,
handing both, when he had finished, to Lew.

"This is our clue to the incendiary," he said slowly. "We must find where
pasteboard like that comes from and who had some of it. Meantime, do not
breathe a word of this to any one. Do not let a soul know that we have
discovered how the fire originated. Let them think we know nothing. And
bear in mind what I told you before: suspect anybody that circumstances
point to, no matter who he is. Now remember! Not a soul outside of the
three of us must know about this. We've got a long trail ahead of us, but
we have at last got a clue. Sooner or later, if we keep our eyes and ears
open and our mouths shut, we'll find the man who set this forest afire."




Chapter IX

Charley Becomes a Fire Patrol



Rapidly the three made their way through the forest. The forester led his
companions up the valley a distance to a fire trail. Along this they
traveled as rapidly as they could have done on a village sidewalk. By
several of these fire trails they made their way through valleys and over
hills, finally reaching the road. The forester's car was there, and an
hour's run brought them to the forester's office at Oakdale.

Charley was intensely interested in everything he saw in this office. On
the wall were huge maps of the forest areas under Mr. Marlin's control.
These maps showed the mountains, big springs, streams, roads, fire trails,
etc., and little tacks with heads of different colors were stuck here and
there in the maps to show where rangers, fire-wardens and game protectors
lived. The telephone was also shown.

Charley was interested to learn that he and Lew had been fully twelve
miles distant from the telephone. It had taken the fire crew, hardy men
experienced in mountain travel, three hours to cover those twelve miles,
even when they had fire trails most of the way. He wondered how much
longer it would have taken them if they had had to travel through the
rough forest. Many hours longer, he was certain. And that meant that it
would have taken one equally as long to get out to the telephone to notify
the forester of the fire. He felt sure there must be many places where one
might be more than twelve miles distant from the telephone; and he
realized more keenly than ever what a big part the wireless could play in
saving the forest. He resolved that he would keep his wireless outfit with
him when he went back into the forest as a fire patrol.

But the maps on the wall were not all that interested Charley. There were
fire-fighting tools of various sorts. There were double-bitted axes and
axes with short handles to be used in one hand. These were of the finest
steel, very sharp, and well balanced. There were implements that were
really potato-hooks, though in the forest they were used for clearing away
brush and leaves rather than for digging potatoes. Then there were
short-handled, four-toothed rakes, for use in back-firing. Also there were
lanterns, and finally a small compressed air sprayer, for wetting the
ground when back-firing. All these tools were painted a bright red. The
forester explained that the sprayer wasn't often used, but that sometimes
it came in very handy. The implements were red so that they could be found
easily. Otherwise many would be lost in almost every fight with a fire.

Particularly was Charley interested in the portable telephone. It was
like the one the ranger had had in the burned valley. Mr. Marlin handed
the instrument to Charley and let him examine it. The battery was
contained in a small box, and the mouthpiece and the receiver were in one
piece, which was held alternately to the ear and the mouth. Then there
were considerable lengths of wire to be attached to the telephone-lines.
If a ranger could not climb a pole and attach his wires to the
telephone-lines, Mr. Marlin explained, he could tie stones to his wires
and throw them over the lines. All that was needed was to have the two
wires touch the two wires of the telephone system. Then a connection would
be made and one could talk with the portable instrument. The battery, the
mouthpiece and receiver, and the connecting wires all could be packed
snugly into a little leather case and slung over the shoulder. It was an
excellent outfit.

At one time Charley would have been wild to try it. Now he could not help
seeing how really inferior it was to the wireless as a means of
communication. In order to talk with it, it must be connected with the
telephone-lines, and they must be in working order. Charley's quick mind
instantly saw that falling limbs or trees, heavy snows or ice-storms in
winter, or a pair of nippers in the hands of a miscreant, could put the
forest telephone out of commission for hours at a time. He rejoiced to
think that no one could tamper with the air and that he could always get
a connection with his wireless. More and more he saw the possibilities of
usefulness for the wireless in protecting the forest.

But the two boys had little time to examine the many interesting things in
the forester's office because their train was due within a short time
after they reached Oakdale. They made the acquaintance of the forester's
assistant, Mr. Franklin Conover, and soon started for the railroad
station, leaving their duffel at the forester's office.

Before they left, Charley called the forester aside. "How much pay am I to
receive as a fire patrol?" he asked.

The forester frowned.

"You mustn't think," said Charley hastily, "that the pay is all that I
care about. I want to be a fire patrol because I love the woods. But I
don't know whether Dad will let me be a fire patrol unless I can make as
much here as I could in the factory with him."

"How much could you earn there?"

"Dad says I ought to get two dollars and a half a day."

"Then you needn't worry. I have some leeway in the matter of pay. You have
already shown your worth, and I am going to pay you the highest rate
within my power. You will go on the payroll at eighty-five dollars a
month, which is as much as many of our rangers get."

Charley was so astonished at this unexpected good fortune that he was
hardly able to answer Mr. Marlin. He did not know how to express his
thoughts. All he could do was to thank the forester warmly and assure him
he would earn every cent he got. Then he and Lew hurried away to their
train.

For some time after the two boys boarded the train Charley was silent. He
sat watching the forest through which they were rushing so fast. Never had
it appeared to him quite as it did now. Always he had known the forest was
an animate growth, but now he realized more vividly than ever before how
truly the forest was alive. Now he thought of the great growths of trees
more as one would think of a flock of animals that must be tended and
cared for. Many, many times he had seen the forest under happy conditions.
But never before this trip had he seen it in agony. Never before had he
heard the cries of fear and pain from the forest animals. Never had he
seen the charred remains of those that had been burned. Never had he
beheld the awful skeletons, not merely of burned trees, but of a burned
forest. He was deeply impressed. A tree had suddenly become in his
consciousness far more than a piece of timber. And a forest had taken on
new meaning. With all his mind he loved the forest and the innumerable
things of life and beauty within it. Beyond expression was his joy at the
thought that he could have a part in protecting and caring for the forest.

And when he thought of all the forest meant to mankind--more than any
other single gift of nature excepting food and water--he saw the forester,
the forest-ranger, and the fire patrol in their true light. He saw them as
real servants of the people, as real promoters and builders of
civilization, which could not have come into existence without wood. He
realized that the man in the forest as truly helps mankind forward and
upward as the statesman in the legislative halls, the chemist at his
test-tube, the physician at his operating-table, the engineer building his
bridges and roads, or any other of the constructive workers who make
civilization what it is; for the forester's work is the foundation for the
work of all the other builders of civilization. When he realized this, his
heart sang with pride to think that he was to have a part in saving and
perpetuating the forests for the countless generations of people who would
follow him in the world.

He tried to tell Lew something of what was in his heart, but words failed
him, and he sat silent until the train was far beyond the limits of the
forest. Then his thoughts drifted into other channels. Before he knew it,
the conductor shouted "Central City," and the two chums left the train.

When Charley told his father that he was to get eighty-five dollars a
month, he had no difficulty in winning his father's consent to the plan he
had in mind. Nor was it much more difficult to secure his release from
further work at school. Charley was a great favorite with his teachers.
Always cheerful and polite, a faithful worker, mentally quick, and liking
his instructors, he had their entire good-will. They wanted to help him
get on in the world as much as they had wanted to see him advance in his
studies. When they understood Charley's position at home, and his need of
earning money to help his father, and especially when they realized what
the present opportunity meant to Charley in the way of personal happiness,
they were more than willing to release him from further school duties.

So it came about that on the following day Charley and Lew took the train
back to Oakdale. The entire Wireless Patrol accompanied them to the
station, each boy carrying some part of the luggage. Thus divided, the
equipment did not seem large; but when it was all assembled, it appeared
entirely adequate. There was a good waterproof tent, a strong tick to be
stuffed with leaves, blankets, a coil of rope, additional cooking
utensils, and generous supplies of food. Charley took a light,
high-powered rifle and his revolver with plenty of ammunition. Their
comrades piled this luggage in a corner of the car, then hustled back to
the station platform and gave the Camp Brady yell, in honor of their
departing friends. In a moment more the train was speeding toward Oakdale,
where they found the forester in his office.

Mr. Marlin expressed his pleasure at the successful outcome of Charley's
effort to secure his release from high school.

"I don't believe much in talk," said the forester who himself was
distinctly a man of deeds, "but I am going to say this to you, Charley:
the fact that you have worked your studies off ahead of your class makes
you twice as valuable to me as another boy would be who was merely keeping
abreast of his class."

Charley looked his surprise. "Why?" he asked. "I don't know any more than
the others know or soon will know."

"What you know has nothing to do with it, young man. It's what you do.
It's your habits. Habit is the strongest force in the world. The mere fact
that you are ahead of your class tells me that it is your habit to be
forehanded, to be prepared. It tells me that you will keep your tools and
your records in their places and in good condition, and that you will be
prepared for almost any emergency that will arise."

"I don't understand," expostulated Charley, "how you can figure that out
from the mere fact that I kept a little ahead of my class."

"Of course you don't," smiled the forester. "They teach you about the laws
of gravity in school, but they don't bother to teach you about the laws of
life. But life has its laws, and one of the strongest is the law of habit.
A good habit is worth a million good resolutions. A man may possibly keep
a good resolution, but he can hardly fail to keep a good habit. Your good
habits are worth just about fifteen dollars a month to you now; for I
wouldn't be paying you the top rate if you were a lad of bad habits. Just
bear that in mind and be careful of the habits you form in future."

Charley was too much astonished for words. He had never thought of his
habits as having any bearing on his possible earning capacity.

But the forester gave him no opportunity to consider the matter just then.
"I want you to hurry back into the forest," he went on. "Get acquainted
with as much of the forest as possible."

He reached in a drawer and pulled out a map, which he gave to Charley.
"This is exactly like the big map on the wall," he said, "excepting that
it is on a smaller scale. Here is where you had your camp."

As he laid his finger on the map, he continued, "That was a good location
for a fisherman's camp, but a poor one for a fire guard. High up on this
hill," and again he laid a finger on the map, "there is a fine spring. A
dense rhododendron thicket surrounds it, and tall hemlocks grow above it.
Make your camp in that thicket. It is so dense that I think nobody could
possibly see a tent there. But make sure. If necessary, put hemlock boughs
or rhododendron branches around it. Nobody but Mr. Morton and I must know
that you are in camp in the forest or that you have any connection with
the forestry department. I will tell him where your camp is and he will
inspect it and give you more detailed instructions. But remember that
yours is a secret patrol. I would rather that nobody should learn of your
presence in the forest. But if you do meet any one, pose as a fisherman.
Don't, under any circumstances, let anybody suspect your real purpose."

The forester paused a moment, in deep thought. "Smoke," he said at last,
"would betray the location of your camp--at least in the daytime. Don't
make any fires unless it be at night. Then be sure they are small, well
concealed, and as smokeless as possible. Do your cooking with this."

He stepped to a closet and returned with an alcohol stove and a can of
fuel, and continued: "From your spring to the summit of the mountain it is
only a short distance. You can get a wide outlook there. Examine the
forest carefully in every direction as often as possible. But leave no
telltale marks to indicate that the place is a lookout point. And be sure
you don't do anything to draw attention to your camp."

The forester then swore Charley in as a fire patrol and gave him his
badge, with instructions to keep it out of sight.

"You'll need this, too," he said with a smile, handing Charley a portable
telephone. "Your friends can't be at the other end of the wireless all the
time, you know."

"Can we fish at all?" asked Charley. "I want Lew to have some fun on this
trip. He's going to help me a lot with the work."

"Fish as much as you like, as long as it does not interfere with your
duty. But remember that your business is to protect the forest. That comes
first. You will have to decide how to do it, according to circumstances."

The boys carried their duffel to the forester's car. Mr. Marlin telephoned
his assistant to look after things during his absence, and in another
minute Mr. Marlin and Lew and Charley were whirling along the highway.
They reached the point at which they were to enter the forest, jumped to
the ground and unloaded their duffel. Mr. Marlin said good-bye, turned his
car, and sped back to his office, leaving the two young fire guards alone
in the heart of the wilderness.




Chapter X

An Encounter with a Bear



Rapidly the duffel was made into two packs. These were both heavy and
bulky.

"Gee!" said Lew, as he surveyed the packs, "I hope we don't meet any state
cops. They would arrest us for peddling without licenses."

There was small chance, however, of their meeting any one, unless it might
be some lone fisherman. On every hand the forest stretched, seemingly
interminable.

"I guess we'd better get our bearings," said Charley.

He drew the map from his pocket and spread it on a flat rock. The two boys
pored over it for some minutes.

"We have to cross these two mountains," said Lew, "and camp just the other
side of the summit of the third. That's about the same as climbing over
three mountains. There are two valleys that we'll have to get across. I
judge we'll be just about as far from the road as our old camp was. That's
twelve miles or so."

"Gee!" laughed Charley. "That means I've got to hike twelve miles over
these mountains every time I want to talk to anybody on the telephone. I'm
glad Mr. Marlin doesn't care much for talk. The telephone is all right,
but compared to the wireless it's like a candle beside an electric light.
Mr. Marlin was right when he said the fellows couldn't be listening in for
me all the time, but you just bet I'm going to figure out some way to use
my wireless. Why, I've got to, if I'm going to make good. This whole neck
of the woods could burn up while I'm hiking twelve miles to call help and
twelve more to get back to the blaze. And I reckon I'd feel like putting
up a stiff fight after hiking twenty-four miles over these mountains. Mr.
Marlin is all right, but he isn't quite up to date. He still thinks the
wireless is a sort of plaything."

"What you need, Charley, is a battery powerful enough to carry a message
to some regular wireless station, where an operator is on duty all the
time."

"I've been thinking of that, too, Lew. It wouldn't take so very much more
power to carry to the government station at Frankfort. I'm sure the
operators there would be glad to help us out. You remember how Henry
Harper helped Mr. Axton, the day operator over there, when he had
appendicitis. The operators have been mighty nice to us fellows of the
Wireless Patrol ever since. The difficulty would be to get the battery.
Things cost so much now that I don't see how I could ever save enough to
pay for it. You know I'll have to give Dad about all I earn."

"I'm going to talk to the boys about it, Charley," said Lew. "Maybe
somebody can think of a way out. Gee! We ought to be able to do something,
with Roy a regular steamship operator and Henry almost as good as a
substitute government wireless man."

By this time they were well into the forest. They were climbing through a
notch over the first range of mountains. When they reached the valley
beyond, they had to turn to their left and go up the valley two or three
miles, until they struck a fire trail. This trail led straight over the
second mountain, which was really the knob at the head of the burned
valley. It was on this knob that they had found the rude watch-tower after
their meeting with the ranger, Mr. Morton. Beyond this knob they had still
to traverse a wide valley and climb a third mountain before they reached
their camp site. But there was a good fire trail almost the entire
distance.

Traveling with such heavy packs on their backs, the two lads made but slow
progress. Every little while they had to stop to rest. During one of these
pauses they heard a low, whining sound.

"Listen! What is that?" asked Charley, who loved animals and was keenly
sensitive to their sufferings. "It sounds like a dog."

They stood motionless. Faint but distinct came the unmistakable cry of a
dog in distress.

Charley dropped his pack instantly. "There's a dog in trouble," he said,
"and we've got to help him."

He began to whistle. Then he called, "Here, boy! Here, boy!"

From somewhere ahead of them came a joyous bark, followed by a painful
whine.

Charley picked up his pack. "Come on," he said, and hastened toward the
sound. But he did not go far. Soon he caught sight of a dog, painfully
limping toward him. Charley ran up to the animal, which wagged its tail
violently and barked with joy.

"He's only a half grown pup," said Charley, noticing the big paws. "Isn't
he a fine young fellow?"

The animal leaped up against Charley and licked his hand. "Come here,
boy," said Charley, taking the dog in his arms. "Let's see what's wrong."

Charley began to examine the animal's paws. The dog submitted patiently.
"Nothing wrong with that one," commented Charley, dropping a fore paw.

But when he began to feel the other front foot the dog whined with pain.
"No wonder," said Charley with sympathy. "Look here, Lew," and he pointed
to an enormous thorn that had embedded itself in the paw.

"Hold him tight while I take it out," said Charley as he drew forth his
knife, opened the small blade, slit the skin slightly, and carefully dug
the thorn out. The foot was festered and swollen. Charley squeezed out
the pus.

"Don't let him get that paw in the dirt," he said, and ran to his pack. He
fished out the first-aid kit and got some absorbent cotton and a
disinfectant. He wrapped a tiny bit of cotton around the end of a twig,
wet it with water from the canteen and swabbed out the little wound. Then
he soaked another bit of cotton with the disinfectant and stuffed it into
the foot.

"We'll let that stay there a while," he said.

"The dog is probably lost. We'll keep him until we find his owner."

Relieved of the thorn, the little animal frisked about, limping but
slightly. He fawned upon Charley and seemed to be trying to express his
gratitude.

The two boys shouldered their packs again and started on. Charley whistled
to the pup, but the call was unnecessary. The pup stuck to their heels as
close as a sticking-plaster.

"They say two's a company, but three's a crowd," laughed Charley, "but I
guess it doesn't apply to dogs."

"You never can tell," replied Lew. "A pup of that age may get you into all
sorts of difficulty."

"I'll take a chance on it," smiled Charley, as he bent and patted the dog.

They went on. For a long time they traveled in silence, the little dog
trotting and frisking at their heels. From time to time they stopped to
rest. Their packs were growing heavy and neither felt like talking. They
settled to their tasks and plodded on. When they came to the fire trail,
they turned to their right and went straight over the first mountain. The
way was smooth enough, but the grade was very steep and it tested their
endurance to the utmost. Every few minutes they were compelled to rest.
Finally they topped the ridge and went down into the next valley.

The bottom here was very wide, for the mountains had drawn far apart.
Apparently the valley soil was rich. It seemed to be deep and black, and
the trees grew to massive size. Ordinarily the two boys would have taken
keen enjoyment in the sight of such fine timber, but by this time they
were too tired to care much about anything except reaching their
destination.

At the foot of the last ridge they took a long rest. They were just
starting on when Lew heard a peculiar little sound behind some bushes just
off the fire trail. Curious to know what might have made the sound, he
dropped his pack and went to investigate. Behind the bush he found a
cunning, little black animal that did not seem to be at all afraid of him.
He picked it up and rejoined his comrade.

"Charley," he said. "See what I have found. What is it?"

"It's a bear cub," said Charley. "You had better leave it alone. If its
mother came along, she might make it hot for us."

"I'm going to keep it for a pet," said Lew. "I knew a fellow who had a
pet bear cub once and----"

Lew never finished the sentence. A savage growl sounded close at hand and
a great black animal came rushing through the bushes. Lew dropped the cub
and took to his heels. The bear followed in hot pursuit. She was a great,
clumsy, lumbering beast, and yet she got over the ground with astonishing
speed. Lew ran as fast as he could, but the bear gained on him at every
stride.

"Climb a tree, Lew," cried Charley, slipping off his pack and starting to
his chum's assistance. "Be quick about it."

Lew headed for the first tree he saw that was small enough to climb. It
was a little pole, a foot in diameter. The lowest branch was seven or
eight feet above the ground. Lew raced toward it, gathered himself for a
leap and sprang upward. He caught the limb and swung himself up with all
possible speed. He was not a second too soon. As Lew's body shot upward,
the bear rose on her hind feet, and the vicious swipe of her paw barely
missed Lew's body. Lew drew himself erect and climbed upward a few feet,
where he paused to look down at the bear.

Meantime, Charley was following the animal. He hadn't the slightest idea
of what he should do. The law protected the bear at that season of the
year and he did not know whether he would be justified in shooting her
under the circumstances or not. And anyway, his rifle was back with his
pack. He had his little axe on his hip, however, and he drew it from its
sheath so that he would have it ready in case he had to use it.

The problem was settled for him, however, in a very unexpected manner. The
little dog, which had been playing with a stick at some distance from the
two boys, noticed Charley running and came tearing after him. Then he saw
the bear and went after her at full speed. The instant the bear heard the
dog, she turned to face him; then as quickly faced about again and started
to climb the very tree in which Lew had taken refuge.

"Get that dog away from here," yelled Lew in consternation, as he began to
climb frantically toward the top of the tree.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Charley burst into a roar of
laughter. But a second appeal from his chum stifled his laughter. He
grabbed the dog and started to carry it away. But he had not gone two rods
before Lew called frantically for him to bring the dog back. Charley
turned around and saw the bear climbing after Lew. As long as the dog was
under the tree, the bear had paid no attention to Lew. But when Charley
started away with the pup, the angry bear continued her pursuit. Charley
returned the dog to the base of the tree.

"Sick 'em," he cried. "Catch 'em."

The little pup made a terrific clamor and the bear paid no further
attention to Lew, who immediately began to look for a way out of his
predicament. Within two or three feet of the base of the tree which he
had climbed, a second tree had sprung up. But the two had grown away from
each other, much like the sloping sides of the letter V. At first Lew
thought he could cross over to the other tree, but a careful inspection
showed him that this would be impossible. Down where the bear was he could
have swung himself from one tree to the other; but the farther up the tree
he was the farther he was from the other tree and the smaller the limbs
were. And Lew was now as near the top of the tree as he dared to go. To
try to leap from his present position to the other tree was not to be
thought of. It would certainly mean a fall of thirty feet or more. And Lew
did not dare come down nearer the bear, lest the animal should again try
to claw him. There was no apparent way to get the bear out of the tree,
and Lew knew that he could not stay up where he was indefinitely.

Charley tried to divert the bear's attention to himself by reaching up the
tree with his axe and striking the trunk. The bear growled but made no
attempt to reach Charley. Her attention was centred wholly on the dog.
With her hair erect, her lips drawn back, her ears laid flat, and her
massive claws ready to tear and rend, the beast presented such a fearful
front that Charley did not dare take the dog away. One swipe of those
paws, or one crunch of the great jaws might cripple Lew for life, or even
kill him outright.

"Keep perfectly quiet, Lew," said Charley, "and maybe the bear will
forget about you. She's terribly enraged at this pup."

Charley felt in his pocket and found a piece of strong cord. He knotted it
around the pup's neck and tied the animal to the tree.

"I hope that bear won't come down and kill him while I'm gone," he
muttered to himself. To Lew he said, "I've got an idea. I'm going to get
the rope and see if I can lasso the bear from the other tree."

"Sick 'em, pup," he cried, urging the little dog to make another frenzied
outburst. And while the dog was making the valley ring with his clamor,
Charley raced to his pack and got the coil of rope. Back he ran and
hastily climbed the tree beside the one in which Lew and the bear were
resting. The bear eyed him angrily, but kept her attention centred on the
pup. Charley climbed to a point a little higher than the limb on which the
bear rested. Quickly he fashioned a noose and got his rope ready for a
throw. Then he realized that he could never make a successful cast among
the limbs.

An idea came to him. Drawing his little axe, he quickly cut and trimmed a
small limb, leaving a fork on the end of it. He put the noose on the
forked end and cautiously extended the pole. All the while he was urging
on the dog, which now began to jump up against the trunk of the tree. The
bear more and more centred her attention on the yelping dog. Her hair
bristled, and she growled continually. She bent her head down and got
ready to deal the dog a savage blow if he came up the tree. Her posture
could not have been better for Charley's purpose. Swiftly but quietly he
extended the pole until the noose was just beyond the bear's nose, then
lowered it swiftly and pulled back hard on the rope. Luck was with him.
The bear, taken utterly by surprise, was fairly noosed before she saw the
rope.

Charley's sharp jerk to tighten the lasso almost pulled the bear from her
perch. She grasped the trunk of the tree with her paws to avoid falling,
and that gave Charley an opportunity to tighten and secure his rope. To
keep from falling, the bear had to maintain her hold on the tree. Thus she
could not claw or bite the rope.

"I've got her," shouted Charley.

It was true enough. In a moment he was almost sorry that he had her. For
Lew could not reach the ground without climbing past the bear, and
although the animal was caught by the neck, he dared not trust himself
within reach of those fearful claws. It occurred to Charley that perhaps
he could strangle the bear, or even pull her from the tree. He did not
want to kill the animal lest he get into difficulty with the law and so
incur the displeasure of his chief. Nor did he want to tumble her to the
ground because that would certainly mean the breaking of his rope and the
probable loss of part of it.

"What are we going to do, Lew?" he called.

"There's a strong limb about four feet above her head," replied Lew,
peering down through the branches. "If you could get your rope over that,
we could drop her to the ground and strangle her until she's about all in.
Then we could cut the rope and beat it."

"That sounds all right," said Charley, dubiously, "and I guess we'll have
to try it. I see nothing else to do."

Fortunately his rope was long. He had taken a turn or two around a limb
before making his cast, and he now held the bear taut, with ease. The
loose end dangled down the trunk.

"I don't know about this," said Charley with a wry face. "It isn't as
simple as it looks. I'll have to unwind the rope from this limb and hold
it with one hand while I throw the loose end with the other. I don't know
whether I can do it or not. And how am I to get the end again?"

"Can't you catch it with your pole?"

Charley looked at the pole. He had let go of it when he noosed the bear,
but it had lodged in a branch within reach.

"Here goes," he said. "I'll try."

Cautiously he unwrapped one winding from the limb. Then bracing himself,
and pulling hard so as to keep the line taut, he unloosed the second coil.
The rope now hung free in his hand. The bear was not quiet for a moment.
She had struggled constantly from the instant she was noosed. She
continued to tug and pull at the rope. But she was at such a disadvantage
that she could not put her full weight into her struggles. Nevertheless
the strain on Charley's arm was terrific. To lessen the tension would give
the bear more leeway and so make the strain still greater. And to hold the
bear with one hand, while he cast his rope and got it in with the other,
Charley at once saw was impossible.

"I can't do it, Lew," panted Charley. "She's nearly pulling my arm off."

He gathered up the rope and put it back over the limb, preparatory to
taking a turn about the branch once more. While he was attempting to work
the rope around the limb, the dog suddenly increased his clamor.

The bear gave a terrific, convulsive jerk on the rope and jerked it
through Charley's hand. The sudden pull completely unbalanced him and he
fell from the limb. But instantly he tightened his clutch on the slipping
rope and in a second was dangling in air, frightened but safe. He slid to
the ground, and drew the rope taut. Now he had the rope over a limb, as he
wanted it, but the limb was on the wrong tree.

"I'll try it, anyway," he said.

He tied the end of the rope about the trunk of the tree in which Lew and
the bear rested.

"I'm going to pull her off her perch, Lew," he cried. "If I succeed,
she'll swing over toward the other tree. I may be able to pull her up on
her hind feet. Anyway, I think I can hold her, and if you come down as
quick as you can, the two of us can certainly pull her up. Are you ready?"

Lew came down the tree as far as he dared. "I'll be with you the second
she drops," he said. "Pull!"

Charley suddenly threw his entire weight on the rope. The bear, taken by
surprise, was jerked clear of the limb. She dropped downward and then
swung toward the other tree like an enormous pendulum. Lew slid down the
tree like a flash and landed in a heap beside Charley. He was up in an
instant, and, grabbing the rope, added his weight to Charley's. The bear
was fairly on the ground, but almost straight under the limb over which
the rope hung. She was clawing frantically at the noose.

"Let's give a jerk," said Charley. "Together--now!"

They strained suddenly at the rope and the bear rose to her hind feet to
ease the strain on her neck. Instantly they pulled in the slack.

"We've got her now," cried Lew. "Pull again!"

Once more they strained at the rope. It tightened about the neck of the
bear, shutting off her wind. She rose to her very tiptoes and the boys
pulled in a little more slack.

"We could choke her to death now," said Charley, "but we mustn't. How are
we going to get out of this?"

"Let's tie the rope fast and take our packs some distance away. She won't
strangle for a while. Then we can come back and free her. I think she
will not attack us, for she is too much afraid of the dog. We'll keep him
on a leash and beat it the minute we get the rope."

"But how are we going to get the rope?" demanded Charley.

"Gee! You've got me. Maybe we'll think of something while we're carrying
the packs away."

The two boys got their packs and hurried along their route for some
hundreds of yards. Then they laid their packs down and ran back. But
Charley carried his rifle on the return trip.

The bear was still pawing at the rope when they got back. The hair on her
neck was worn off by her violent struggles, and the skin was bleeding
freely.

"That bear will wear a collar on her neck for life," said Charley. "If we
ever see her again, we'll know her."

An idea came to him. "I've got it," he said. "I'll cut that rope with a
bullet. You stand ready with the dog, and I'll be ready for a second shot,
if necessary. We're not going to take a chance of being badly hurt, law or
no law."

Lew untied the dog from the tree and held the leash with his left hand.
Charley handed him the axe, and Lew stepped a little aside where he could
use it, if necessary. But it was one thing to talk about cutting the rope
with a bullet and another thing to do it, for the bear kept the rope in
motion continually. Charley leveled his weapon and tried to get a bead on
the rope. It seemed to him that the bear would never stand still. But the
beast had nearly reached the limit of endurance. Her tongue was protruding
from her mouth, her eyes seemed ready to pop from her head. She was
gasping pitifully. Her own struggles were slowly strangling her. Suddenly
she stopped fighting and hung limp. The rope stretched like a rod.
Instantly Charley's rifle cracked. The line was severed as though some one
had cut it with a sword. It flew upward into the tree and the bear dropped
to the ground. The noose about her neck came loose and she breathed
freely.

"Quick!" cried Lew. "She'll be on her feet in a second."

Charley untied the rope from the tree, drew the severed end to earth, and
gathering up rope and rifle, fled toward his pack, with Lew at his heels,
dragging the frantic dog by main force, for the animal was wild to charge
the fallen bear.

As they ran, they glanced back over their shoulders. At first the bear did
not move. Then she stirred uneasily and a second later, rose to her feet
and ran madly away. The boys stopped running.

"I guess both parties had a lesson," said Lew.




Chapter XI

The Secret Camp in the Wilderness



Their encounter with the bear made the two lads forget for a while their
weariness. They made fast time along the fire trails. After a long tramp,
they topped the final ridge and paused to rest and study the country. This
they could do with ease, for the summit of the mountain was rather
sparsely timbered. A very little search disclosed a tree that was at once
tall and easy to climb, and that was surrounded only by low brush that
would not obstruct the vision. From this lookout they gained a wide view
in every direction.

"We can see for miles and miles," said Charley. "The forester was right in
telling us to come often to this lookout. We can discover more from here
in a minute than we could by a week of wandering about among the trees."

Slowly the boys swept their vision around the horizon. Everywhere the
mountains appeared to bask in the warm spring sunlight, seemingly as
secure as cats dozing by a fireplace. The fleecy clouds, passing across
the face of the sun, threw shadows on the hillsides, making beautiful
patterns of light and shade. The fresh, young growths gave forth a soft
green tint, in pleasing contrast to the darker colors of the pines.
Brooks sparkled in the bottoms. Far as the eye could reach this gorgeous
panorama extended.

"Isn't it wonderful?" said Charley, after the two boys had surveyed the
scene in silence. "The forest is one of nature's very finest gifts. And to
think what we do to it by our carelessness. At any minute this green
paradise may become a very hell of roaring flame, just because some smoker
is too careless to blow out his match before dropping it, or some camper
too lazy to make sure his fire is extinguished. Why, it seems to me that a
murderer is an innocent angel compared to such a man. Think what he does!
He kills the fish and the birds and the animals and perhaps some human
beings, and he destroys not only the wood that civilization must have, but
he ruins the very ground so that it cannot produce another forest. It
seems to me that a man who does that ought to be punished more severely
than any mere murderer. Why, a murderer kills only a single being. The man
who starts a forest fire kills countless living things. I tell you, Lew,
it makes me mighty proud to have a part in protecting this grand forest."

The boys were silent, wrapped in thought, until Lew suddenly pointed to a
dense growth of evergreens directly below them, and not very far down the
ridge. "That must be our camp site," he said. And both boys examined the
spot with interest.

"That must be it," said Charley. "It's dense enough, goodness knows! And
there is a little stream of water stealing out of the lower side of the
thicket. So there is a spring in there. Let's go down and take a look at
it."

They shouldered their packs, whistled the pup to their heels, and went
down to the thicket. In a space not less than a hundred yards in diameter
rhododendrons grew in indescribable density, while above them towered some
huge hemlocks. The two boys came close to the thicket and peered into it.
Even now, in the bright glare of the full sun, deep twilight reigned
beneath the rhododendrons. Evidently they were growths of great age. Their
stems were like young saplings. Their tops rose high and spread wide. And
their branches were laced and interlaced and twisted and grown together so
as to make a mass almost impenetrable.

"Great Ned!" cried Lew. "A passer-by would have about as much chance of
seeing us in there as we have of discovering China from this hillside. The
question is, how are we going to get into the place?"

Charley dropped on his hands and knees and crawled slowly under the low
rhododendron branches.

"Keep right in my tracks, Lew, if you come in," warned Charley. "If there
are any snakes in here, they'd bite a fellow before he could see them.
I'll look sharp for them and if you follow me, you won't run any risk."

He picked up a fallen branch, trimmed it, and crept on, stick in hand.
Suddenly he crowded back hard on Lew, almost kicking him in the face. At
the same time he began to thrash about in the leaves ahead of him.

"Great Caesar!" he exclaimed. "I almost crawled on a big rattler. He was so
near the color of the ground that I didn't see him until he coiled and
raised his head. Gee! That was a close shave."

"As long as you didn't get bitten," said Lew, "It's a good thing it
happened. We'll be on our guard now."

"Yes, indeed. Did you put the potassium permanganate in the first-aid kit,
and the hypodermic syringe?"

"Surest thing you know."

"We'll just carry them with us, Lew. We won't take any chances on death by
snake-bite. These mountains are full of rattlers and copperheads."

"And we won't take any chances on being bitten in this thicket, either,"
answered Lew. "We'll put the pup in ahead of us."

They whistled in the dog and sent him scouring through the thicket. But
either there had been no more snakes within it or else all had fled, for
the dog raced eagerly about but found nothing to alarm him.

Confidently the boys now pushed into the interior of the thicket. At the
very heart of it lay the spring. It came bubbling up through pure, white
sand, and had formed a deep basin, over the lower edge of which the
crystal water went rippling away through the thicket.

"We'll put our tent right here," said Charley, indicating a level spot
beside the spring basin. "We'll have to clear away some of the bushes to
make room for it. We can use what we cut as a screen, though nobody would
ever see a tent away in here, especially one of brown khaki, like ours."

He drew his little axe and began clearing a space for the tent, cutting
the rhododendron stems a little below the surface of the ground. Lew piled
the branches at one side. Then the tent was dragged in and set up, the
rope being used as a ridge and tied to two strong saplings. The sides of
the tent were squared and pegged down.

"Drive the pegs tight, Lew," directed Charley. "We don't want to have
anything crawling under the sides. Thank goodness, we have a sod cloth."

After they had completed this task and set about bringing in the duffel,
Charley remarked, "We can't go in and out this way, on our hands and
knees. We've got to make a path. We'll find the best way out and trim the
bushes so that we can walk upright."

"We'd better not make the path straight," said Lew. "If we zigzag it,
nobody will know it really is a path."

After they had picked out a level route they trimmed back the rhododendron
branches so that they could walk through the thicket, though the branches
at the very edge were left undisturbed. The cut branches were added to
the screen about the tent. Then the duffel was carried in and stowed in
the tent.

"What bothers me," said Charley, "is to know how to put up our aerial. We
don't dare hang it up where it can be seen, and I don't know how well it
will work among these hemlocks."

"All we can do is to put it up and try it," said the ever practical Lew,
"and the sooner we do it the better."

Quickly they had their wires suspended between two hemlock trees. The
aerial reached almost from trunk to trunk, and the wires were completely
hidden by the branches that stood out all about them.

"If she'll work," commented Charley, "it's a peach of an arrangement.
Nobody would discover that aerial in a hundred years. I can hardly wait
until evening to test it out."

"Willie might be listening in again to-day," suggested Lew. "It will take
him several days to get that new outfit made. We'll try him on the hour."

"Good idea, Lew." He looked at his watch. "It's ten minutes to the hour
now. If Willie is listening in, we'll soon know whether or not our aerial
will work."

They began putting the tent in order, stowing the duffel in neat little
piles. Just outside the tent Lew built a foundation for the alcohol stove,
by leveling the earth and setting a flat stone for the stove to stand on.
Meanwhile, Charley was stuffing the tick with dry leaves.

Exactly on the hour Lew sat down at the wireless key and sent a call
flashing into the air. Promptly; his receiver buzzed in response.

"Got him," said Lew, and while Charley went on filling the tick and
bringing in hemlock branches to use like springs under the tick, Lew
conversed with Willie. The latter was still working at the new wireless
set, and had listened in every hour during the day. All the other members
of the Wireless Patrol were likewise hard at work, and it was practically
certain that by the time the vacation was ended each would have earned his
share of the money needed to buy the desired battery.

"I can't tell you where our camp is," rapped out Lew, "because that is a
secret that we are not supposed to tell. The forester does not want
anybody to know that Charley is employed by the forestry department. We
are posing as fishermen. Tell the fellows not to talk about Charley and
tell Charley's father the forester does not want it known for a time that
Charley is a fire patrol. He thinks that we have a better chance to find
things out if it is not known that we are connected with the forestry
department."

Willie said that he would caution the boys and tell Mr. Russell. Also he
said he would be in his workshop until supper time and would listen in
most of the time. The club members would be at their instruments as usual
to catch the time from Arlington and pick up some of the news. Lew
replied that he would call Willie then, if he needed him.

For some time after Lew laid down the receivers, the two boys worked
silently. They finished setting the hemlock branches in the earth, placed
the stuffed ticking above them, and laid their blankets in position. They
brought the wireless outfit into the tent and set the instruments in a
corner. The grub was stacked in another corner. A little pool was dug in
the stream just below the spring, to make a place for washing dishes.
Their extra clothes were hung on the ridge-rope. The first-aid kit was
fastened to the tent wall where it would be handy, and Charley put the
permanganate and the hypodermic syringe in his pocket.

They had almost completed their task, when a low whistle was heard outside
the thicket. The pup pricked up his ears and was about to bark. Lew
grabbed him and held his jaws together. Then both boys sat silent,
listening and looking questioningly at each other. Soon the whistle was
repeated.

"We've got to find out who's whistling," said Charley. "Keep the pup quiet
and I'll slip out and take a look."

He left the tent, but had hardly gone ten feet before a voice cried,
"Hello, Russell! Are you in the thicket? This is Morton, the ranger."

"Sure we're here," replied Charley, an expression of relief coming on his
face. "We didn't know who it was and kept quiet until we could take a
look. I'm coming out now."

He hurried from the thicket and shook hands warmly with the newcomer.
Instinctively he knew that he was going to like his ranger. Big,
broad-shouldered, quite evidently powerful, with a kindly expression, a
winning smile, and a deep voice that instantly created confidence, the
ranger was a picture of honest manhood. No one could look into his deep
blue eyes, set far apart, or examine the lines on his face, at once
betokening strength of character with gentleness, and not feel that here
was a man in very truth. One knew instinctively that he would never
hesitate a second to risk his life to save another's, and that he would be
as gentle as a woman in his dealings with all creatures. But the great,
strong jaw and the straight mouth and long nose all foretold fearless
courage, and were ample warning that the man would be terrible if stirred
to wrath.

"Come in and see our camp," said Charley, after the two had conversed for
a moment. And he led the way into the thicket.

The ranger followed, his practiced eye noting everything. "You've made a
good job of it," he said with commendation, when he was at last seated in
the tent. "Nobody will ever find you here, unless you do something to
betray your position. You'll have to be a little careful about fires. I
wouldn't make any during the daytime."

"We aren't going to make any at all," explained Charley. "Mr. Marlin gave
us an alcohol stove to cook with."

"I don't believe you need go so far as that. Use your alcohol stove
during the day. At night nobody can see smoke, and if you screen the
blaze, nobody will ever discover you. It would be pretty dismal here at
night without any light. Let's see if we can't fix up a little fireplace
that will help you out."

He got a number of large, flat stones, which he set on edge, fashioning a
high, square fireplace that opened toward the front.

"The stones will screen the flames on three sides, if you don't build too
big a fire," he said, "and your tent will shut off the view on the fourth
side."

"Thank you," said Charley. "It will be a whole lot more cheerful with a
fire. We have a candle lantern that we intended to use, but a fellow just
ought to have a fire when he's in camp."

As they began to discuss the work ahead of them, the ranger inquired,
"What instructions did Mr. Marlin give you?"

"He said that we should keep our connection with the department secret,"
said Charley, "and if possible, avoid meeting any one. If we do bump into
anybody, we are to pose as fishermen. He said you would give us detailed
instructions."

"Very well. First, about your outfit. Have you any firearms?"

"A light, high-powered rifle and a pistol."

"You can't carry a rifle in the forest at this season without exciting
suspicion. Leave your rifle here. Let me see your pistol? Have you
another?"

Charley handed him his pistol and said that he had no other.

"Then take this," he said as he handed Charley his automatic. "Let your
chum carry your pistol. I'll get another at the office. It isn't likely
that you will ever need to use a weapon in the forest. I have been a
ranger for years and have never yet drawn one, but I never travel without
one. You'll meet some pretty tough characters in the forest and sometime
your life may depend on having your pistol. My advice is never to patrol
without it. But keep it out of sight. Keep your badge out of sight, too.
And since you are supposed to be nothing more than fishermen, you'll have
to play the parts. Carry your rods and catch a few fish each day during
the season."

"Where are we to patrol, and what hours are we to observe?"

"You are especially employed to guard this virgin timber, though, of
course, you must protect any part of the forest you happen to be in. Take
some good hikes over the region right away and get acquainted with it. Use
your map and, if possible, learn the region by heart. Then your map will
mean something to you. Learn where the virgin timber lies. Keep a close
watch on it, and on any fishermen or campers. I'll spend at least two days
a week out here and you must report to me each time I am here. Meantime,
you must report to the office every night the last thing before you turn
in. The chief said you had a wireless and could do it. Maybe you can, but
it beats me to know how."

"We'll show you in a little while," smiled Charley as he glanced at his
watch. "Willie will surely be listening in within twenty minutes and we'll
call him."

"I'll have to take your word for it," said the ranger. "I can't wait a
minute. It will be long after dark before I get out of the mountains. I
telephoned my wife I'd be late, but she always worries when I'm out after
dark. You know snakes are bad up here, and they're all out at night. And
by the way, you'd better carry some of this permanganate. Do you know
anything about it, and what to do with it if you're bitten?" The ranger
started to pull a bottle from his pocket.

"Thanks," said Charley. "It's mighty good of you to offer to share with
us. But we have permanganate and a syringe both, and we know what to do
with them."

"Good. But be careful where you step. What do you wear on your feet?"

He examined the boys' shoes and canvas leggings. "They're all right. I
don't believe any snake will bite through them. But high leather boots
would be safer. Bear it in mind when you buy new shoes. Now I must go."

"When and where am I to report to you?" asked Charley.

They agreed upon a place of meeting, half-way between the highway and
Charley's camp, whereupon the ranger, holding out his hand, said,
"Good-bye and good luck to you."

"Do you have to go?" asked Charley. "Couldn't you stay overnight with us?"

"I'd like to, but the wife would worry herself sick."

"Suppose she knew that you were going to stay here. Would that make it all
right?"

"I'm often away overnight during the fire season," smiled the ranger.
"It's the snakes that she's afraid of. She'd rather have me stay here all
night than come through these mountains after dark. You see her father was
bitten by a snake when she was a girl and she is mortally afraid of them."

"Then you're going to stay here all night," said Charley, with decision.
"I'll get word to her right away."

The ranger smiled incredulously. "I wish you could," he said. "It would
relieve her mind."

Charley threw aside the pack cover that had been placed over the wireless
instruments. The ranger looked at the outfit with wondering interest.
Charley glanced at his watch and threw over the switch.

"Willie might be listening in," he explained, as the sparks began to leap
between the points of his spark-gap. Twice he called, then a bright smile
came over his face. "Got him," he said.

For some moments he alternately worked his key and listened to the return
buzzing in his receiver. Then he turned to the ranger. "Willie has the
forester on the telephone," he said. "What shall I tell him?"

"Ask him to tell Katharine that I shall stay here with you in your camp
overnight, as I could not get home until long after dark."

With fascinated gaze the ranger watched the sparks fly under Charley's
manipulation of the key. Then there was a long silence as the three sat
waiting for the reply.

"Katharine says to tell Jimmie she's awful glad," said Charley, relaying
the forester's message literally, "and to thank the new patrol for taking
care of him."

Then and there Charley knew that he was going to like not only the ranger,
but also the ranger's little wife. As for the ranger, he was almost
spellbound.

"I know you talked to the chief," he said, "but what gets me is <i>how</i> you
did it. Why, if I knew how and had an outfit like that, I could talk to
Katharine any time and anywhere."

"We'll make you an outfit and teach you how to use it," cried the two boys
together. "You shall have your first lesson to-night."

Twilight drew near. Lew brought out the grub bag, and Charley began
cooking some food over the little alcohol stove.

"I think that you can safely take a chance on a wood-fire at this hour,"
said the ranger. "I'll build it myself."

He placed a few dried leaves within the fireplace and stacked some twigs,
broken into short lengths, in a cone-shaped heap above the leaves. At once
he had a bright little fire that made almost no smoke but gave lots of
heat, though the flames did not reach as high as the stone sides of the
fireplace. Quickly a little bed of coals formed, and Charley put his
frying-pan directly over them. In no time the air was savory with the odor
of sizzling bacon and hot coffee.

Squatted about the little fire, the three guardians of the forest ate
their evening meal. From time to time the ranger thrust a stick into the
fire, and so kept the flames alive. But it was a dim little blaze at best.
Yet it was mighty cheering and comforting as the darkness wrapped the
forest, and the gloom beneath the rhododendron thicket became inky and
impenetrable.

For a long time after supper was eaten and the dishes cleaned, the three
sat before their little fire. Spellbound, the recruits listened to this
veteran guardian of the forest as he told them of his work in the woods,
of his encounters with beasts, of birds and reptiles, harmful and
otherwise, and of the rocks, and flowers, and trees. For the ranger loved
the forest even as Charley did.

When the evening was farther advanced, and the air was vibrant with the
voices of the wireless, Lew and Charley took turns reading the news, while
the ranger's expression of amazement and admiration grew deeper and
deeper, and his liking and respect for his young subordinate increased
rapidly. Finally the ranger was given his first lesson in
radio-telegraphy. While Lew was writing down for him the wireless
alphabet, Charley was showing him how to make the letters on the
spark-gap. Before they turned in for the night, the ranger had learned to
distinguish the difference between the sound of a dot and of a dash as the
signals buzzed in the receiver.




Chapter XII

On the Trail of the Timber Thieves



Very early the next morning the ranger was afoot. Before ever the faintest
streaks of light penetrated the thicket, he had started the coffee to
boiling on the little stove, and breakfast was almost ready before he
wakened his young comrades.

"Why didn't you call us sooner?" asked Charley indignantly, as he leaped
out of his blanket. "It's our place to do the work here, not yours."

The ranger smiled. "It would have been cruel to waken you earlier. It's
easy to see that you aren't accustomed to such stiff work as your hike
here yesterday must have been. You slept like logs."

"We intend to do our full share of the work," said Charley.

"I'm sure of it," replied the ranger. "If I had thought you were trying to
shirk, I'd have had you out of bed long ago."

Many a time afterward Charley thought of that statement and pondered over
it. He was learning a good deal about life these days.

Grateful indeed was the warm coffee, for the April morn was chill.
Quickly the food was eaten, and the ranger prepared to depart.

"I don't want to burden you with rules," he said in parting. "Your
business is to protect the forest. Every day you will meet some new
situation. You must do your best to protect the harmless creatures of the
forest, as well as the timber. That means you may have to deal with
gunners who are violating the law. Such men, with firearms in their hands,
are dangerous. You may come across timber thieves. Get acquainted with
your territory so that you can tell whether a felled tree is on state land
or on private property. Your maps show you where the lines run, and you
will find the trees along these lines blazed. If you find lumbering
operations going on within the state forest, do your best to stop the
cutting and report the matter at once. You may find traps set out of
season. And it is practically certain you will have to deal with fires and
perhaps the men who start them. Being a fire patrol involves a whole lot
more than merely walking about through the woods. I can't give you rules
that will cover all the situations you will find yourself in. Common sense
is the best rule. The chief has given you a very important post here. It's
an unusual responsibility for one so young. But we both expect you to make
good. I'll be disappointed if you don't. You know if you fail, I'll have
to take part of the blame." He shook hands with both boys and was gone.

"He's a prince," said Charley, after the ranger had left the thicket. "He
knows just how to treat a fellow. Why, I've simply got to make good now.
I'd get my ranger in bad if I didn't."

Quickly they put their camp to rights, then slipped their pistols into
their pockets and got their fishing-rods.

"What is the first thing on the programme?" asked Lew.

"We'll go up to the top of the hill and have a good look over the
country," replied Charley. "It's just about time for campers to be cooking
their breakfasts. If there are any of them near us, we might see the smoke
from their fires and locate them. You know the ranger wants us to keep tab
on everything that's going on in our district."

They ascended the mountain and climbed the tree from which they had viewed
the country on the preceding day. The sun was just coming over the eastern
summits, sending long, level rays of light flashing among the dark pines,
making beautiful patterns of sun and shade. In the bottoms the night mist
had gathered in little pools, in places completely blotting out the
landscape. The tree tops, upthrusting through these banks of fog, looked
like wooded islets in tiny gray lakes. In every direction the two boys
scanned the country, looking sharply for slender spirals of smoke. But
they saw only mist curling upward.

"It looks to me," said Lew, "as though mighty few people ever get into
this valley. It's such a hard journey to get here that I suppose the
fishermen will stop at the streams in the valleys nearer the highway, and
nobody else would want to come here at this time of year. Unless this
timber is set afire purposely, I believe there is not much danger of its
being burned."

"There's just the rub," replied Charley. "It would naturally be safe,
being so hard to get to, and for that reason it wouldn't be watched as
well as more accessible regions, particularly when it is difficult to get
fire patrols. But because some one is evidently trying to burn this
particular stand of timber, it is especially necessary to guard it. Mr.
Marlin wants it watched continually, but so secretly that no one will
realize that it is being guarded. That might make the incendiary
careless--providing he comes again--and so lead to his detection. We must
do nothing to betray ourselves. We'll have to be careful not to mark this
tree in any way, so that a passer-by would guess it was used as a
watch-tower. And we shall have to be sure that we don't wear a path
leading from it to our camp."

For many minutes the boys sat in the tree, well screened from observation
by the spreading limbs, yet themselves able to see perfectly. In every
direction they searched again and again for telltale columns of smoke, but
saw nothing.

"It looks to me," remarked Charley, "as though there isn't a soul in this
region except ourselves. If that is so, it is the best possible time to do
a little exploring. Suppose we take a look at the valley above our camp.
We can cover a lot of ground between now and noon and yet get back here
for another observation during the dinner hour. We ought to be in this
watch-tower or at some other point equally good every time men would
naturally be having fires, and that means morning, noon, and night.
Between times we can explore the forest. It means some pretty stiff
hiking, but I guess we can stand it."

They drew their map and compared it with the country as it actually
appeared.

"We aren't so far from the end of the state land in this direction,"
commented Lew. "That's the very place you suggested exploring. We might
look up the line, as Mr. Morton suggested. You notice the stand of pines
ends a long distance this side of the line. That's all hardwood forest up
that way."

"The sooner we get at it, the better," agreed Charley.

Carefully they descended the tree, picked up their fishing-rods, and
hastened down the mountainside as fast as it was safe to travel. The
nearer they came to the centre of the valley, the larger the trees grew.
Evidently the rich soil had worked down into the bottom, during the
centuries, and the tree growth was enormous. Under these huge trees there
was no underbrush, and the two boys could make fast time. They approached
the stream, which flowed swiftly along under the tall pines, where they
had no doubt trout innumerable lurked in the shadowy depths. The
temptation to stop and fish was strong, but they put it aside and pushed
on up the valley.

For a long time they passed like ghosts among the pines. The earth was
springy with the accumulated needles of many years, into which their feet
sank silently. Under the huge trees everything seemed to be hushed. There
was no wind to set the pines awhispering, and the music of the brook stole
through the forest like the low singing of a muted violin string.

For a long distance they passed through a pure stand of pines. Then the
character of the forest began to change. Soon they were in a mixed growth,
and not long afterward they found practically nothing but deciduous trees
about them.

"We're not far from the line now," suggested Lew. "This must be the stand
of hardwoods we saw from the lookout tree. I doubt if it is more than half
a mile to the line."

"Keep your eyes open for blazed trees," said Charley. "We ought to see
some before many minutes."

They had gone on, perhaps a quarter of a mile, when Lew said, "It looks
pretty thin ahead. Either there is a natural opening in the forest or else
the timber has been cut out."

Charley thought of what Mr. Morton had told him about timber thieves
operating along the boundary lines. He was glad that he had decided to
explore this particular section of his district. A moment later he was
still more glad, for the stillness of the morning air was suddenly broken
by a splitting, rending sound, which was followed by the crash of a great
tree as it came thundering to earth. There could be no mistaking the
sound. A tree had been felled. Both boys stopped dead in their tracks and
looked questioningly at each other.

"Timber thieves!" said Charley in a low voice. His cheeks paled a trifle.
Then a look of determination came into his eyes.

"What shall we do?" asked Lew in a loud whisper.

"I don't know," replied Charley. "But we'll find out what they are doing.
Then we can decide what to do ourselves."

He drew his automatic but as quickly thrust it into his coat pocket, as he
remembered what the ranger had told him. But though the pistol was in his
pocket, he still grasped it in his hand. The tense look on his face showed
plainly enough that he was ready to shoot right through his coat. Lew,
observing his companion's movements, followed his example.

Minute after minute the two young forest guards stood silent, listening
for the sound of axes or other customary noises that ordinarily accompany
lumbering operations. But the morning stillness was undisturbed. A puzzled
expression crept over their faces.

"Maybe that tree wasn't cut at all," whispered Lew. "Maybe it just fell
of itself."

"We'll find out," replied Charley, and cautiously they began to make their
way toward the point whence the sound had come. Sheltering themselves
behind trees, they advanced rod after rod. The stillness remained
unbroken. The stand of trees grew thinner, with more and more underbrush.
Presently they saw before them an unmistakable clearing in the forest.
Rapidly they advanced, screened by the bushes, until they stood close to
the edge of the clearing. Beyond question somebody had been cutting trees.
Over a considerable area the timber had been felled, and whoever had
felled it had cut ruthlessly. Hardly a sapling remained in all the cleared
area. On every hand trees lay prone. Some had been trimmed and cut into
pieces. Some remained exactly as they fell. Everywhere freshly cut stumps
told plainly enough what had occurred.

"Somebody's cutting timber all right enough," whispered Charley, "and it's
on state land. I wonder where they are. They certainly cut that tree we
heard fall, but I haven't heard an axe or a human voice and I don't see
any signs of lumbermen."

"Maybe they're at camp eating breakfast. It's still early, you know."

"If they are," said Charley, "then this is the very time to investigate.
We'll look around before anybody gets back."

Glancing once more about the opening to make sure that nobody was in
sight, they stepped from behind their concealing bushes and started across
the open space. But immediately they came to a dead stop. Like
rifle-shots, a succession of sharp sounds rang out, accompanied by
splashing noises. The two boys were at first alarmed, then puzzled. They
looked at each other in amazement.

"What was that?" asked Lew.

"I don't know," replied Charley. "At first I thought somebody was shooting
at us. But I didn't hear any bullets hum. And the noise didn't sound
exactly like a gun, either. It was like the noise a fellow makes when he
hits the water real hard with a board."

In every direction they scanned the clearing. They saw no living things
but the trees. "It's queer," commented Charley. "Let's look at that
nearest tree that's down. Maybe we can learn something from it."

They walked over to the tree, then studied it in amazement. "I never saw
anything like that before," cried Lew. "I don't believe that was ever cut
with an axe. It looks as though it had been gnawed off."

"It has," cried Charley with sudden excitement. "I understand the whole
thing now. We've found a colony of beavers. I never saw a live beaver, but
I've read about them and seen pictures of their huts and their work, and
that looks exactly like the pictures. And those noises like rifle-shots
were their alarm signals. They slap the water with their tails when they
are frightened and dive under water. I suppose they're all in their lodges
now, and we'll never get a peep at them. Gee whiz! Just think of finding
beavers, Lew, real beavers. I didn't know there were any in Pennsylvania."

"It seems to me that I read something about the game commission stocking
the state with them a few years ago. I think they put a number of them in
the state forests. Doubtless they have multiplied in numbers and started
new colonies."

"That explains it," said Charley. "Gee! I'm glad we found these fellows.
And I'm just as glad that they aren't timber thieves. You know, Lew, it
made me feel kind of queer to think of facing real timber thieves. I
didn't like the idea a bit. But I kept thinking about Mr. Morton and what
he said about his being blamed if I fell down, and I made up my mind I'd
do it, no matter what happened."

They now turned their attention to the felled tree once more, studying the
innumerable teeth marks, like so many tiny chisel cuts, on stump and butt.
Then they noticed the great chips lying about the stump, some of them half
as big as dinner plates.

"It gets me to understand how they can bite out such huge chunks," said
Lew, "when their teeth are evidently so small. Why, you'd think an animal
would have to have a mouth as big as a hippopotamus to take bites like
these."

Charley laughed. "Looks that way, doesn't it?" he said. "But as I remember
it, what I read said that the beaver gnaws out parallel rings around the
trunk and wrenches out the wood between. It's like sawing two cuts in a
board and chiseling out the board between them."

"I see," said Lew. "But I should think they'd break their teeth all to
pieces."

"So should I. But they have very strong teeth that grow out as fast as
they wear away, and that are as sharp as a chisel. I wouldn't want a
beaver to bite me. I'll bet he could bite right through a bone."

"I suppose," said Lew, "they cut these trees to use in making their dam;
but what gets me is how they are going to get the trees over to the dam.
It would take a team of horses to drag this trunk. It's fifteen inches in
diameter."

"The article I read," said Charley, "stated that as the beaver dams became
higher, the land adjacent was flooded and that the beavers made little
canals through the flooded area and floated their logs where they wanted
them. You notice that they have gnawed the limbs off of a number of these
trees and cut several of the trunks into lengths. I was sure they were
sawlogs when I first saw them."

"Well, there isn't enough water here to float a log," said Lew, "though
it's mighty wet and it looks as though the water was several inches deep
a little farther on. Let's see if we can find a canal."

They stripped off their shoes and stockings, and, rolling up their
trousers, began to wade. Very soon they found the water nearly knee-deep.

"There's more water here than there seems to be," admitted Lew. "There's
so much marsh-grass and so many water-plants it fooled me."

Cautiously they waded about. Suddenly Lew plunged forward, and only by
grasping a bush did he save himself from getting completely wet. As it
was, he found himself standing upright in three feet of water. After he
recovered from his surprise, he felt about with his feet.

"This is their canal all right enough," he said. "It's very narrow, but it
will float anything that grows in this forest."

He scrambled out and the two boys made their way back to dry ground. "How
are you going to get dry?" asked Charley. "I don't want to make a fire
unless it is absolutely necessary."

"Never mind about me. I'll dry off soon enough. Let's find their dam."

They made their way toward the run and soon discovered the dam. It was a
great pile of branches, stones, moss, grass, mud, bark, etc., that had
been built across the stream and extended for rods on either side. It
looked very solid, yet the water did not pour over it, but filtered
through it.

"Think of all the work it took to make that," cried Lew. "Why, every
stick in it had to be gnawed down and floated here, and all the bark and
grass and roots had to be pulled and brought here and the stones
collected. And say! How in the world do you suppose they ever handled
those stones? And how do you suppose they ever anchored the stuff when
they began building? I should think the current would have swept
everything away at first. That's a pretty swift stream."

"I read that they start their dams with saplings, which they anchor across
the current with stones. They are much like squirrels, you know, and can
use their fore paws about as well as we can use our hands. I suppose the
stones lose weight by displacing water, but if I hadn't seen these rocks,
I'd never have believed that such big stones could be handled by animals
no larger than beavers."

"See here," said Lew. "These willow branches must have taken root, for
they seem to be growing right up out of the top of the dam. And there's a
birch that's surely growing. You know the branches of some trees will root
if you put them in water, especially willows. Why, if they continue to
grow and take more root, there'll be a hedge of living trees right across
this brook. The dam will become so dense that it will back up a great
quantity of water. I reckon this bottom will just naturally turn into a
swamp after a time."

"Now that's interesting," suggested Charley. "You know the Bible tells us
the world was made in six days; but it seems to me it isn't finished yet.
Every rain washes down soil from the hills and helps to fill up the
valleys and the river-bottoms, and the floods scour out the watercourses
and carry earth and stones down to the ocean. And here we see a piece of
land that used to be fine, dry bottom, now becoming a swamp. It looks to
me as though the earth is changing every day."

They examined the dam more critically. "It's two hundred feet wide if it's
an inch," said Lew, "though the brook isn't more than fifteen or twenty.
You see, it extends on each side of the brook to land that is a little
higher than the level of the stream bank. That's what makes this big head
of water. At the least there are several acres of it."

"There's one thing that we haven't seen yet," added Charley, "and that's
their houses. They ought to be some distance above the dam."

"I wonder if those are beaver lodges," said Lew, pointing to some bulky
heaps of brush at a little distance up-stream.

"That's exactly what they are. They don't look much like houses, do they?
But I guess they're pretty snug inside. The entrances are deep under
water, you know, so that the ice can't clog them in winter, and so that
the beavers can get to their food all right."

"What do they eat, Charley? Do you know?"

"Sure. They eat roots, and tender plants, but mostly bark from certain
trees. I believe these are willow, poplar, birch, and some others. They
cut down the wood in summer and pile it under water in front of their
huts and hold it down with stones."

"Well, what do you think of that!" cried Lew.

"They eat a pile of it, too. I don't remember how many trees that article
said a colony of beavers would eat in a winter, but I'm sure it was up in
the hundreds. I remember how astonished I was when I read about it."

"No wonder they clear the forest so fast. I wonder if we ought to tell Mr.
Marlin. Maybe he doesn't know about these beavers. They might begin to cut
down his virgin pines. I'm sure he wouldn't want that to happen."

Charley laughed. "I'd bet my last dollar that Mr. Marlin knows all about
these beavers. You can bank on it that he knows all there is to know about
the territory he has charge of. And as for the beavers eating the pines,
it seems to me that I read that they never touch evergreens."

A ray of sun slipped through the leaves above them and fell directly upon
Charley's face. He glanced up and was surprised to note how high the sun
had climbed. Then he looked at his watch.

"Gee whiz!" he cried. "We must have been fooling around this beaver dam
for more than an hour. We must be about our business. We'll go on and
locate the boundary line."

"I wish we could get a glimpse of a beaver," sighed Lew.

"Not much use to wish it," said Charley. "They're furtive, and I suppose
they will stay in their lodges for hours. It seems to me I read that they
work at their dams mostly at night. We'll go on now, but maybe we could
come up here some moonlight evening and see them at work."

They made their way around the beaver dam and continued on up the valley.
Within a few hundred yards they came upon a blazed tree. Speedily they
discovered a second. Then, following the line indicated by these two
trees, they rapidly passed tree after tree blazed and painted white,
tracing the line entirely across the valley. They picked out some
landmarks by which they could readily locate the line again.

"If anybody except those beavers starts any timber cutting," said Charley,
"we'll know in a second whether he's cutting the state's wood or not. Now
I guess we'd better hustle back to camp."

Lew got their noonday meal while Charley ascended once more to the watch
tree at the top of the mountain and made a careful survey of the country.
Not a sign of smoke could he see in any direction. No fire was discovered
during the afternoon hike. The evening inspection from their tower was
equally reassuring. After a brief chat by wireless with their friends at
Central City, and through them sending their nightly message to the
forester, telling him that all was well, the two tired young fire patrols
rolled up in their blankets and were quickly asleep, serene in the
knowledge that the forest they guarded was safe.




Chapter XIII

Spying Out the Land



All too rapidly the days passed. Occasionally a shower moistened the
surface of the ground, but for the most part the dry weather continued,
with every hour increasing the fire hazard. During the first few days
Charley was never free from a feeling of dread. Every time he awoke he
expected to smell fire. Every trip to the watch tree was made in the fear
that somewhere within his vision there would be telltale clouds of smoke
arising. A nervous apprehension seized upon him, and a mortal fear of
fire; and a growing disbelief in his own power kept him in a state of
unconquerable anxiety.

All these were sensations new to Charley, though they were normal enough.
The natural result of responsibility, they were coupled with Charley's
keen realization of the insignificance of his own or any one else's powers
as opposed to the vast forces of nature. Had Charley never seen a forest
fire, had he never done battle with the raging flames, he could not have
had this sharp realization of the insignificance of his own strength. But
the recent struggle with the forest fire and that far more desperate
battle with the same enemy years before, when the Wireless Patrol was in
camp at Fort Brady, had given Charley a true estimate of the well-nigh
irresistible fury of a fire in the forest, should conditions be favorable
to the flames.

Only luck, Charley realized, and the best of luck, had brought him and Lew
out victorious in their recent contest. The next time fire started--and he
knew well enough that there would be a next time--there might be a strong
wind, or to reach the blaze might take him hours, or he might not be able
to summon help with his wireless, or other unfavorable conditions might
arise to render his efforts useless. Then the forest would go roaring up
in flame. And even though he might not have been unfaithful to his trust,
the result would be the same. The timber would be destroyed. This great
forest would be consumed. And he, especially selected to guard and protect
it, would have failed. The thought was overwhelming.

More and more Charley turned to his wireless as a drowning man clutches at
a straw. He saw that when Lew had gone and he had nothing but his own
powers to depend upon, the wireless was going to be like a life-line to
him. He realized that to have the powerful battery he wanted was
imperative, if he was to have even a chance to make good in his efforts to
protect the forest. And as he and Lew patrolled the timber, he made it
evident to his chum what a vital part that battery would play in his
success. But neither of them saw any way for Charley to come into
immediate possession of it.

As the days passed and the forest still slumbered in safety, the sharp
edge of Charley's anxiety wore off. That, too, was normal, for he could
not naturally remain at such a pitch of emotion. So his interest in the
life about him gradually returned. And indeed there were innumerable
objects to interest a nature lover like Charley.

The country itself was enough to make a nature lover happy. When Charley
climbed his watch tree and looked about, he could see nothing but forest.
East, west, north, south, league upon league, far as the eye could see and
much farther, stretched the forest, like a huge green sea. The mountains
rose like great waves; and from his lofty perch Charley could see several
parallel ridges rearing their crests aloft on either side of him.
Distinctly he could see the two bottoms at the foot of the mountain on
which stood his watch tree. Splendid stands of timber filled these valleys
with swelling streams of water that flashed in the sunlight here and there
through little openings in the trees. But what lay in the farther valleys
he could only guess, though he knew that each must have its stream and
some timber. What else there might be Charley did not know.

It was part of his work as a patrol to find out. And eagerly he looked
forward to the daily hikes that would take him here or there or elsewhere
in the great forest. Already he loved it; and he wanted to share all its
secrets. Had Charley but known it, that very attitude of mind made him
more valuable both to his ranger and to the forester. It meant that his
work would not be done in a perfunctory manner, but with that genuine
interest born of love that alone leads to perfect service.

The two chums made themselves familiar with their own valley from the
border line of the state lands above the beaver dam, to a point many miles
below their own camp. They found that they were in the heart of the stand
of virgin timber, and that the location of their camp was by far the best
that could have been chosen for the purpose of guarding the stand.

Charley thought it wonderful that the forester could offhand select such a
strategic point. He felt more certain than ever that Mr. Marlin must have
an intimate knowledge of the territory over which he had jurisdiction.
Could Charley have known how intimate that knowledge was, he would have
been amazed. And what he did not even guess was the fact that the forester
had planned just such a secret watch on the big timber as Charley was now
keeping, and that he had selected the camp site only after days of
investigation.

Nor did Charley so much as dream that for some time Mr. Marlin had been
looking about for some one he could trust to do the work. The native
mountaineers did not command Mr. Marlin's entire confidence, nor did many
of them possess the intelligence or education he desired in the man he
selected.

Yet his sudden choice of Charley was characteristic of the forester. He
always acted quickly when he thought the time for action had come.
Charley's grit and pluck in voluntarily fighting the fire, coupled with
his membership in the Wireless Patrol, were the factors that led Mr.
Marlin to engage him at once. Had Charley known these facts, he might have
felt a bit conceited or at least elated over the situation. But his belief
was, as Mr. Marlin wished it to be, that the forester had taken him only
as a last resort. And Charley was working hard to make good. He could
hardly have taken a better way than the road he had chosen--to make
himself familiar with all the territory he was to guard, and so to prepare
himself for the emergencies that lay ahead of him.

Every day, and every hour of each day, the two boys found much that
excited their wonder, for now they were studying nature at first-hand.
Taking their dog, they one day climbed the mountain beyond the one on
which their watch-tower stood, and came down into a lovely valley. But
what instantly arrested their attention was the face of the mountain on
the far side of this valley.

Instead of being a timbered slope, this mountain was a sheer precipice of
rock that rose abruptly a thousand feet in air. Its rugged sides were
seamed and scarred. Here and there a projecting ledge offered a scant
foothold, but mostly the face of the cliff was one vast, frowning rock
that rose almost perpendicularly. On tiny ledges and in crevices of the
rock little ferns grew in masses, hanging down the face of the cliff like
green fringes. Wild flowers had taken possession of the crannies. In
precarious footholds, where it seemed impossible for them to exist, a few
trees had sprung up, their roots crawling fantastically over the rocks in
search of bits of earth to grow in, while the tops of the trees stood up
slantingly against the face of the cliff. Mostly they were evergreens, and
their scraggly branches made irregular dark masses on the face of the
precipice.

As the two boys made their way toward the foot of this cliff, a great bird
came soaring over the top of it, and sailed in lofty circles over the
valley.

"Look at that hawk!" cried Lew. "Isn't he a whopper? Look at the spread of
his wings. And see how he soars, without ever moving a muscle. I wonder if
he can see us."

Evidently the bird saw something, for suddenly it tilted downward, shot
toward the earth like a flash, and was lost to sight behind the trees.

"Whew!" cried Charley. "Did you see that drop? It almost took my breath
away to watch him."

A moment later the bird rose into sight again, bearing in its talons a
dark-colored animal of some sort. Though the animal was not large, it must
have weighed many pounds. Yet the bird flew upward swiftly, lifting
himself rapidly with strong strokes of its wings.

"Gee whiz!" exclaimed Charley, after watching the bird a moment. "That's
no hawk! That's an eagle. It's a bald eagle, too. See his white tail and
head and the bare shanks?"

"Are you sure?" demanded Lew. "I've always wanted to see a bald eagle.
It's our national emblem, you know."

"I'm pretty sure that's one," replied Charley. "I've read about them and
seen pictures of them, and that bird's exactly like the pictures. We can
see his legs well because he's holding them straight down. They're bare.
The golden eagle has feathers all the way to his toes."

"Gee! I'm glad we saw him," exclaimed Lew. "Look where he's going."

The bird flew straight toward the cliff, climbing upward with tremendous
speed. He flew directly to a ledge far up the precipice, where he vanished
from sight.

"That's where the nest is. I'll bet anything on it," said Charley. "We'll
keep an eye on this place and see if there are any little eagles later in
the season."

For some time they watched the ledge to which the eagle had flown, but the
bird did not again come into sight. Evidently the ledge was much wider
than it appeared to be from the bottom of the valley, and perhaps the face
of the cliff was worn away, cave like, at that point, affording a secure
retreat. At any rate, the eagle was seen no more.

"Well," said Lew, after a time, "if we can't see the eagle again, perhaps
we can find out what sort of an animal it was he got. I think I can pretty
nearly point out the spot where he landed."

They started toward the point at which the eagle had come to earth. When
they thought they were near the place they began to search the ground
carefully for some signs of the tragedy that had occurred. They looked in
vain. Nowhere could they find any telltale marks.

"I suspect it must have been a coon," suggested Charley. "It looked like
it to me. We know there are lots of them in this forest."

Just then the excited chattering of squirrels attracted them. They began
to examine the trees about them. Presently they came to one around which
were scattered innumerable shells of nuts that had been gnawed into and
eaten.

"There must be squirrels in that tree," said Lew.

Now muffled squeaks of fear or pain were audible. The two boys looked at
each other questioningly.

"There are squirrels up there all right," agreed Charley, "and something's
wrong. That's exactly the way a squirrel sounds when it's in trouble. Yes;
there are some squirrels in the tree top. They're terribly excited over
something."

The boys began to examine the tree. It was an old oak. Well up its trunk a
limb had broken or rotted away, and the resulting decay of the stub had
made a hole in the tree itself. What instantly riveted the attention of
the two boys was something black and tapering that projected from the
hole and that slowly waved in the air.

"A blacksnake!" cried Charley. "He's probably eaten the little squirrels."

In a second Charley was shinning up the tree. Not far below the squirrel
hole the stub of another old limb projected. Charley pulled himself up and
got a footing on it. He drew his little axe from his hip, and, yanking the
snake half-way out of the hole, broke its back with a sharp blow of the
axe, and then threw the reptile to the ground. Lew was on it like a flash
with his feet, tramping it to death. In the snake's mouth was a small
squirrel still kicking and making muffled noises.

Charley slid to the ground, drew his knife and slit the snake's head,
releasing the young squirrel. It was hurt and terribly frightened, but was
apparently not really injured. Charley kept it in his hand, feeling for
broken bones.

"I don't believe this squirrel is really harmed a bit," he said finally,
"but it was a pretty close call. I'm going to put it back in the nest
again."

He put the little creature in his pocket, then again shinned up the tree,
and placed the squirrel in its nest. Meantime, the old squirrels in the
tree top chattered incessantly.

"Nobody's going to hurt you," said Charley, looking upward through the
branches. "We're only trying to help you."

When he came to earth once more he examined the snake. "He's a big
fellow," he said, stretching the reptile out straight. "He's a good deal
more than six feet long. I guess we'll take his skin and make a belt of
it."

As he drew out his knife again and proceeded to skin the snake, he
continued, "I don't believe in killing snakes as a general rule, but
blacksnakes do more harm than good, I believe. It's true they kill rats
and mice, but they also eat birds' eggs and young birds and squirrels, and
no end of other useful creatures. And they are so active that one snake
will kill a great number in the course of a year."

"I don't understand how they can eat anything so big as that young
squirrel," said Lew, "but I know they do."

"Really they don't," laughed Charley. "They drag themselves outside of
their prey. You know their jaws are loose so they can spread them, and
their teeth point backward. What they do is to work the upper jaw and then
the lower, hooking their teeth into their food, pulling back with each
half of the jaw in turn. You see they literally pull themselves over their
prey. Well, I'm glad we got that fellow. I suppose it's my business to
kill all the blacksnakes I can. Whatever harms the squirrels, hurts the
forest."

"What do you mean?" asked Lew.

"Why, you know that squirrels help to plant the nut trees in a forest.
Some tree seeds, like pine and maple seeds, are so small or light that
they are carried easily by birds and winds, and so scattered about. But
acorns and nuts are so heavy that they fall straight down to the earth. If
the squirrels didn't carry them away and bury them in such quantities, how
could we ever have had these great stands of nut and oak trees?"

"I never thought of that," said Lew.

"It looks as though what Mr. Marlin said was right--walking about through
the forest is only a small part of a forest guard's work. He's got to know
an awful lot about things before he can be sure just what he ought to do."

"I never had any idea how big a job it is, Lew. And think what a forester
must have to know. I tell you it takes a man to fill a job like that."

Noon came. The boys grew hungry. "I could eat all the sandwiches we have
myself," smiled Charley. "I wonder if we couldn't catch some trout to help
out. It would be all right to make a fire over here, I'm sure. And we'll
keep it so small it won't make any smoke. And even if it did, it couldn't
possibly betray the location of our camp."

They made their way to the stream in the middle of the valley, baited
their hooks, and dropped them into the water. In no time they had half a
dozen fine trout.

"You clean 'em, Lew," suggested Charley, "and I'll make a little
fireplace."

He selected a little shoulder of earth close to the run and began to dig
into it with a stick. In a moment he had uncovered a deposit of solid
clay. The clay was hard to dig, but he could shape his fireplace in it
exactly as he wanted it. When the task was completed, he started a very
small fire with leaves and small branches. By careful feeding, he kept the
flames burning clear, with almost no smoke. Presently he had a bed of
glowing coals that almost filled the little fireplace.

Lew, meantime, had cleaned the fish and cut some black birch branches
which he thrust through the fish lengthwise. Squatting beside the little
fire, the two boys now held the fish over the coals, turning them slowly,
and roasting them thoroughly. With the addition of the trout, their meal
was ample.

They ate slowly, and after their meal sat for a time beside their fire in
the warm sun, watching the forest life about them, and listening to the
song of the brook and the myriad other sounds of the woods. Finally they
prepared to leave. The fire had shrunken to a white bed of ashes.

"We'll make sure that it is out," commented Charley. And he stepped to the
run and got a hatful of water, which he poured on the ashes. To his
astonishment the ashes were washed away, leaving the fireplace bare. The
fireplace had changed color and looked as though made of brick. He touched
it and found it as hard as stone.

"Fire-clay," he said. "That's probably worth something. I'll take a sample
along."

He dug away more top-soil and scooped out a big ball of clay. Then he
filled in the holes he had made, covering up all traces of the clay
deposit, and blazed a tree near by to identify the spot.

The journey back to the camp was made by a route different from the one
taken in the morning, the boys following the stream down the valley for a
distance before crossing back to their own valley. The first fishermen
they had encountered were seen on the return trip. The men were wading in
the stream below the boys and so did not observe the young fire guards
behind them. Charley and Lew instantly slipped behind trees, and after
watching the men until they were lost to sight, struck off toward their
camp. They got there shortly before sunset. While Lew prepared supper,
Charley once more made his way up to the watch tree, where he remained
until dusk.

Early in the evening they got into touch with their friends at Central
City, and through them sent a reassuring good-night to the forester. Then,
too tired to listen to the night's news, they wrapped themselves in their
blankets and were soon sound asleep.




Chapter XIV

The Trail in the Forest



The following day the two young patrols were to report to their ranger at
the appointed place in the forest. Although the ranger had much farther to
travel than they did, the boys knew from experience that he was afoot
early during the fire season, and they felt certain he would be at the
meeting-place before the appointed hour. Charley wanted to be as prompt as
his ranger, and so the two boys were astir by the time the first streaks
of light tinged the eastern skies.

It was still dark enough to risk a little blaze in their fireplace and the
warmth was grateful, for the early morning air was chill enough. Breakfast
was soon cooked and their camp put to rights. Then, taking their
fishing-rods again, they set forth to patrol the forest. The pup was tied
in the tent, lest he should get into trouble with a porcupine or some
other creature of the forest, and so make them tardy for their
appointment.

Their plan was to travel down their own valley for a distance, then pass
through a gap to a fire trail in the next bottom, which would lead to
other trails that would take them close to their destination. They had
studied out their route carefully on the map, and they made their way
with both speed and certainty.

For a long time nothing of moment happened to them. The sun came up bright
and clear, flirting with the fleecy clouds in the sky, that now plunged
the land in deep shadow and again drew aside so that the forest was bathed
in golden sunlight. The earth sent forth fragrant exhalations. A gentle
breeze lent a tonic quality to the atmosphere. The leaves sparkled with
dew, and the stream in the bottom flashed in the sunlight, filling the
woods with its sonorous babble. So inviting was the scene that despite
their haste, the boys could not resist the temptation to drop their hooks
in promising pools as they moved along. Without half trying, they
accumulated a dozen fine trout. The smaller ones they carefully unhooked
and threw back into the stream.

They passed through the gap in the mountain and started to cross the
bottom to the fire trail. At the brook in the middle of the valley they
paused to make one last cast in an especially inviting pool. At that
moment two men came out of a near-by thicket. Both were smoking. They were
equipped like fishermen, though they had no fish. They were rough looking,
with hard faces. One of them had an ugly scar above his right eye and
showed a mouthful of gold teeth when he took his cigar from his mouth, as
he asked, "What luck?"

"We've got a few," replied Charley, extending his creel for their
inspection.

The man looked at the fish and swore savagely. "These kids have fished
the brook out," he growled. "There's no use trying this stream. We'll have
to go on to the next valley."

Charley was in a quandary. These men, with their cigars, were a menace to
the forest. It made him nervous merely to look at the glowing tobacco and
the careless way the men flicked the ashes about. He was almost
panic-stricken at the idea of their passing into his own valley while he
was absent. He did not know whether to tell them the truth about his fish
or remain silent. But he remembered that his watch in that valley was
supposed to be a secret one, and he said nothing. Afterward he was glad
that he had remained silent.

"Come on," said the man with the gold teeth. "These kids have queered us
here. We'll be moving."

As he started away he gave Charley such a savage look that it almost
frightened Charley. It did worry and alarm him, for he could not help
asking himself what he should do if he had to deal sternly with such a
man. Even with Lew at his side, he felt fearful. Alone in the forest with
such desperate-looking men, he knew that he would be helpless.

Then he remembered the automatic stowed in his hip pocket and felt
relieved. Now he understood much better why the ranger had given it to
him. The remembrance that he had this weapon stiffened his courage
wonderfully. He determined that if gun-play ever became necessary, he
would not be caught napping. At once he shifted the automatic to his coat
pocket, where he could shoot without drawing the weapon, and where he
could carry his hand without exciting suspicion.

"Gee!" whispered Lew, after the two men had passed out of hearing. "I
wouldn't care to meet that pair after dark."

"What I am afraid of," said Charley, "is that they will set the forest
afire. They were mighty careless with their cigars. Will they be any more
careful with the butts when they have finished their smoke? I don't know
but what we ought to trail them. Yet we've got to meet Mr. Morton and I
don't want to be tardy. I can't make up my mind what we ought to do."

After a moment's consideration, he unjointed his rod, and started off in
the direction from which the men had come. "We'll find Mr. Morton just as
quick as we can," he said with decision, "and tell him the situation.
Meantime, we'll make sure those men didn't start any fires up to this
point."

Charley's anxiety lent wings to his heels and he started at a rate of
speed that would soon have winded both boys. At a protest from Lew, he
dropped to a fast walk. With open fire trails before them, the chums
advanced rapidly. Soon they were well up the slope of the next mountain.
They turned and studied the country behind them with anxious eyes. But no
smoke columns showed against the green of the forest and they went on with
lighter hearts.

"I'm certainly going to get a pair of good field-glasses," said Charley,
"though I don't know where the money's to come from any more than I know
how I'll get my battery. But I just have to have both."

Their meeting-place with Mr. Morton was in the next valley. Charley
glanced at his watch and saw that they were early for the appointment. Yet
he kept on at good speed in the hope that Mr. Morton might also be early.
He wanted to talk to him as soon as he possibly could. The two boys never
reached the meeting-place, however, for shortly they met Mr. Morton
himself coming up the fire trail. He had reached the meeting-place, and,
being early, had decided to climb to the top of the hill. He knew that his
subordinate would almost certainly travel by way of this fire trail, and
he planned to keep watch on the mountain top while he waited for him.

Charley was so relieved to see his ranger that he scarcely knew what to
say. He suddenly felt so different that he was almost ashamed of having
been alarmed. As he looked at it now, it seemed foolish to have been so
disturbed because a stranger had been provoked at what he chose to regard
as interference with his fishing.

The ranger shook hands warmly with his young friends. "I see you have kept
the forest safe so far," he said with a smile. "How have things been
going?"

"All right," replied Charley, "but we met a couple of men an hour or so
ago, whose looks we didn't like."

"How's that? What did they do that you didn't like?"

"Well, they were smoking and they were careless with their cigars. Since
we met them I've been expecting to see a smoke column rising every time I
turned around; and I'd hate to tell you how many times I've looked back in
the last hour."

"It never hurts a man in the forest to look back," said Mr. Morton with
another smile. "Lot's wife is the only person on record who came to grief
that way. But seriously, you mustn't get nervous just because you see a
smoker. You'll meet hundreds of them, and they're all pretty careless."

Charley flushed a little. "You don't understand, Mr. Morton," he went on.
"I wasn't nervous--that is, I didn't--I mean, it wasn't the mere fact that
the men were smoking that made me feel anxious. I didn't like the looks of
the men or their actions."

"What did they do?"

"Well, they swore at us."

The ranger laughed. "That's a habit of these mountaineers," he said. "You
mustn't pay any attention to it. They don't mean anything by it."

"Do they look at you as though they'd like to kill you, too?" demanded
Charley. "Is that a habit of these mountaineers?"

Instantly the ranger's face was sober. "See here," he said seriously.
"What have you been doing? What did you do or say to the men that made
them curse you? A little authority hasn't made you toplofty, has it? You
know you are not supposed to let anybody know that you're a fire patrol."

"I didn't," replied Charley, stung by the implied criticism. "We caught a
few fish in our own valley, then cut through to the valley just below us,
on our way to this trail. Just as we reached the run, two men came out of
the bushes. They asked what we had caught, and when I showed them, one of
them swore at us terribly and said we had fished the stream out so that
they would have to go on to the next valley."

"Is that all?" laughed the ranger, looking much relieved.

"No, sir, it isn't," continued Charley. "They looked as though they wanted
to kill us."

The ranger was inclined to smile, but he forbore, seeing that Charley was
sensitive. "You'll soon get used to meeting tough-looking customers in the
forest," he said.

"I hope that I don't meet many like that fellow," sighed Charley. "When he
scowled at me, he looked as fierce as a chimpanzee. And he had an ugly
scar over his eye that actually seemed to turn red."

Instantly the ranger's face became sober. "A scar over his eye," he
repeated. "Which eye?"

"His right one."

"Did you notice his mouth?"

"Sure. I couldn't help noticing it. It was full of gold teeth."

The ranger gave a low whistle. His face became still more serious. "Tell
me exactly what was said and done," he continued. "Repeat your
conversation just as accurately as you can."

When Charley had rehearsed the entire affair in detail, the ranger asked,
"And you are sure you gave him no hint that you had come from the next
valley?"

"Absolutely none. I thought right away that I mustn't do that."

"You're a lad of discretion," smiled the ranger. "You have done well. But
be awful careful of that old scoundrel. That's Bill Collins. He's a bad
egg if there ever was one. He never came into these mountains to catch
fish. That's merely a blind. And he was headed for your valley, too.
That's absolutely certain. Otherwise he wouldn't have gone there."

The ranger paused in thought. "<i>Did</i> he go there?" he continued. "That's
the problem. If he said he was going there, it's more than likely he was
headed for some other place and wanted to throw you off the track."

Again the ranger paused and studied Charley's face keenly. Evidently the
wide-set eyes, with their indication of intelligence, the strong nose and
good chin, and especially Charley's straight mouth with its thin lips,
reassured him. "My boy," he said kindly, "I don't want to alarm you
unnecessarily, but be careful of that man. He's up to something, or he
wouldn't be in this forest; but what it can be, I've not the remotest
idea. The only thing I can think of that would bring him here is the
virgin timber. He's been mixed up in several crooked lumber deals. He
wouldn't hesitate for an instant to steal timber or to set the forest
afire. And it's my personal belief that he wouldn't stop at"--he paused
and studied Charley's face again--"at murder."

The two boys were sober. For a moment they looked at the ranger in
silence. Then, "What had I better do?" asked Charley.

"Keep out of Collins' road," answered Mr. Morton instantly. "If you can
get track of him, watch him; but don't let him see you or know he is
watched."

Again the ranger paused to ponder the matter. "It isn't a square deal to
let you kids go up against that old crook," he said suddenly. "Come on.
We'll see if we can find him. And if we do, I know how to deal with him."

The ranger strode forward at a terrific pace. The two boys had almost to
run to keep up with him. Over his face came a grim expression that boded
no good for Bill Collins. On and on he went, saying never a word.
Evidently he was revolving the situation in his own mind. Not until they
reached the brook did he utter a syllable. Then he said, "Show me exactly
where you boys were and where the two men came out of the bushes."

Charley pointed out the respective positions. Mr. Morton searched the
bushes but found nothing enlightening.

"Which way did they go after they left you?" he asked.

Lew pointed out the route they had taken. Along the margin of the brook
both men had left clear footprints. Mr. Morton sank to his knees and the
three studied these prints closely. Then, "Come on," he said, rising.
"We'll see if we can trail them."

Lew led the way to the point at which they had last seen the men. The
disturbed condition of the leaves showed plainly that some one had passed.
Very slowly and painstakingly the ranger followed the trail. In many
places the forest mold still retained the imprint of a foot distinctly. So
they followed the trail for several rods. Then they were unable to find
any more footprints, nor did the leaves appear disturbed in any way.

"They've turned off to one side or the other," said the ranger, when he
was sure they had overrun the trail. "Let's see if we can find which way
they went."

The three investigators turned and spread out, advancing a foot at a time,
and examined the ground minutely. Not a leaf nor a stick, nor yet the
bushes or tree trunks escaped observation. At last Charley gave a little
cry. He had found a footprint that corresponded exactly with one they had
studied by the brook. A little farther on a second imprint was visible,
and the leaves again had the appearance of having been disturbed. For some
distance they continued to search for and to find footprints and other
unmistakable signs of the passage of the two men.

"It is useless to look for any more tracks," said the ranger,
straightening up. "Collins and his companion quite evidently went up this
valley instead of the one they told you they were heading for. They were
merely trying to mislead you, which makes me all the more certain they are
here for no good purpose. They certainly had no reason to suspect your
connection with the Forest Service, and I presume that Collins was so
annoyed at being seen by anybody that he just couldn't keep his temper. So
he swore at you. He's a violent chap. It's certain that he's somewhere
ahead of us, with at least two hours' start. We'll try to overtake him,
though we don't want him to see us. What we'll do if we find him will
depend upon circumstances. Now let's hustle. But be quiet and keep your
eyes open."

Not until near sundown was the search discontinued. Then, finding
themselves almost directly below the watch-tower, the ranger and his two
helpers struck directly up the slope, took a long, careful look for smoke,
and descended toward Charley's camp.

"I'm going to spend the night with you," explained the ranger. "I wish
that you would try to call up Katharine and tell her how it is. I don't
like to leave the forest until I find out what those scamps are up to."

They came to the camp. The pup was still in the tent, and everything
seemed to be as it was when the two young patrols left in the morning.

"Things seem to be all right," said Charley. "We'll be a bit cautious and
cook on the alcohol stove to-night."

But when he went to the spring for water, he gave a cry of dismay. In the
soft ground by the spring basin was a footprint exactly like that they had
traced so painfully in the other valley.




Chapter XV

The Telltale Thumb-Print



More serious than ever was the ranger's face when Charley showed him the
telltale footprint.

"It's bad!" he said. "Altogether bad! He's as cunning as a rat, that Bill
Collins. But how he could ever discover a camp so well concealed as this
one is, I don't know."

And with that the ranger fell into a brown study. Lew and Charley went on
rapidly with their preparations for supper.

"Here," called the ranger, noticing what they were about. "Mr. Marlin sent
this to you. I almost forgot about it." He reached into the capacious
inner pocket of the hunting-coat he wore and drew forth a bulky package.

"Beefsteak!" cried Charley, opening the package. "Oh boy! And enough for
two meals. We're certainly obliged to you and Mr. Marlin both."

Meantime, the pup, neglected, fawned upon them and began to whine, when
suddenly the ranger cried out, "I've got it. It was the pup."

"The pup?" echoed Charley. "What about the pup?"

"Why, it was the pup that betrayed the camp. In some way those men got
within hearing or smelling distance of this place, and the pup must have
barked or whined. You know how a lonely dog will howl and carry on. I'm
sorry, but I guess that pup will have to go, Charley."

Charley's face expressed almost as much mental agony as the pup's whine
had shown, though he said nothing. The ranger, looking up, caught the
expression, however, and understood. He knew how lonely it would be for
Charley after Lew returned to Central City. "The harm's already done," he
continued, "and I suppose it never does any good to lock the stable after
the horse is gone. You may keep your pup, Charley; but I do wish he was a
dumb brute in fact as well as in name."

"I can train him to be quiet," said Charley eagerly. "I trained Judge
Gordon's dogs to hunt and I can train this little fellow not to make a
noise. If I could keep him, sir, I'd be mighty glad. He'll be a lot of
company."

"Keep your dog, noise or no noise," said the kindly ranger with
determination. "If you can really train him well, he'll do us a thousand
times more good than he does harm. Now that I know Bill Collins is in
these woods, I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone. You train
that dog as fast as you can. Train him to warn you of the approach of
strangers, and train him to fight, too--and to fight hard."

Again the ranger lapsed into silence. After a while he said, "What
puzzles me now is this: Should we move your camp to another place or leave
it where it is? Bill Collins knows there is a camp here. He saw you two
boys in the forest and he has probably seen no one else. He will likely
infer that it is your camp. But he has no way of knowing that you are
connected with the Forest Service, unless, unless--By George! Why didn't I
think of that sooner? Ten to one he hid close by and watched for you to
come back. If he did, he saw us when we came down from the top of the
hill. And if he saw me with you boys, he knows as well as I do why this
camp is hidden and what you boys really are doing. I'll bet it made him
swear some when he saw me." And the ranger chuckled.

"But maybe he didn't see us," suggested Charley.

"I'd just as soon believe that the sun didn't set. That fellow's a fox for
cleverness and a bulldog for persistence. Yet I don't see that we need
feel bad, even if he does know where your camp is. We've learned more than
he has. We know he's back in these parts and that he is making a secret
visit to this timber; for you may be very sure he intended it to be a
secret visit."

"But he can't be certain we know who he is," argued Charley. "He is as
much a stranger to Lew and me as we are to him."

"True enough, Charley, true enough. It was really a great piece of luck
that you boys happened to bump into him. It would have been better, of
course, if you could have seen him without being noticed yourself, but in
that case we should never have guessed who he was. No; it's a game of
checkers between us now, and we've each lost a man to the other. But in my
opinion we got a king in exchange for an ordinary checker. What I'd like
to know is, who the man is that's with him."

"Supper is ready," announced Lew.

The three entered the tent, where Lew had hung the lighted candle lantern,
and in the growing darkness ate their meal.

"It seems to me," suggested Lew, "that it would be best to leave the camp
right where it is. If we move it, that will indicate that we know its
location has been discovered. If we let it remain where it is, these men
won't know whether we are aware if their visit here or not."

"You've a good head on you, young man," said the ranger approvingly.
"That's exactly the thing to do. Besides, if we moved it and Bill Collins
wanted to find it, he'd stick right to the job until he succeeded. But I
don't believe he has any interest in watching this camp or in staying in
this forest. It isn't a healthful place for him and he knows it. You see,
Bill and I are old acquaintances. It's my opinion that he came in here for
some particular purpose and that he'll get right out the instant that
purpose is accomplished. Those men didn't have any packs, did they?"

"Not a sign of a pack," replied Charley. "Their coat pockets bulged out
as though they had sandwiches or something in them, but they hadn't a
thing in their hands or on their backs except fishing-rods and creels."

"That settles it," said the ranger. "They can't stay here more than
forty-eight hours at the most. And there's no danger of their telling
anybody else about your camp because they won't want anybody to know they
were here. We'll just consider the camp situation settled."

They finished their supper and had begun clear up the dishes when suddenly
Charley thought of the fire-clay. "Oh! I have something to show you," he
cried, and went to the corner of the tent to get the clay ball. It was
just where Charley had left it, but the instant he picked it up he was
somehow conscious that it was different. He held the ball up and looked at
it critically. Then he hefted it in his hand.

"Lew," he exclaimed, "how big was that ball of clay we took for a sample?"

"Four or five inches in diameter," rejoined Lew. "Why?"

"Look at that. It isn't a bit more than three inches thick. I was sure we
had more clay than that. I meant to make a little pot of it."

"We did have more. I'm sure of it. You don't suppose those men could have
taken any of it, do you?"

"Let me see," said the ranger.

He took the ball and examined it critically. "That looks like fire-clay.
If it is, and the deposit is of any size, you have found something of
value. You know the state sells things like that on a royalty basis. We
might be able to develop a good clay business. We like to work up all the
business we can, because the revenues go toward the purchase of the
equipment we need. You know the legislature won't give us all we need to
buy implements for fighting fires, and for fire-towers, and other
equipment."

"If we could make a fire," said Charley, "you could soon tell whether it
is good fire-clay or not."

"Make a fire," said the ranger. "Collins already knows where our camp is
and nobody else will be prowling around here at this hour."

In a minute the boys had a fire going. When they had a deep bed of coals,
they dropped the ball of clay in it and made more fire on top of the bed.

While they were waiting for the clay to bake, Charley sat down at his
wireless key. As it was still early in the evening he did not feel certain
that any of the Camp Brady boys would be listening in. He called several
times with no response, so he threw over his switch and resumed his
conversation with his fellows. When he flashed out his signals a quarter
of an hour later, however, he got a prompt reply.

"I've got 'em," said Charley quietly to his comrades. "And it's Henry
talking." He was silent a while, listening to Henry's message. Then he
said, "Henry wants to know when Lew is coming home. Vacation is about
ended."

"Tell him that I think I'll go back with the ranger to-morrow. I've stayed
as long as I possibly can."

Again there was a pause. "Henry wants to know what we are doing and
whether or not we've had any adventures. I wish I could tell him the real
situation. But that would never do."

Charley turned to his key and began to tick off a message: "Everything as
quiet as--" He stopped abruptly. A cry that fairly made him shiver sounded
in the forest. He turned to the ranger. "What in the world was that?"

"A wildcat," replied the ranger. "He smells the meat you hung up. You'll
just have to be a bit watchful. He may hang around here for days, and
sometimes those fellows get nasty."

Another piercing cry startled the night. Again Charley shivered. Lew got
up and by putting more wood on the fire lighted up the interior of the
thicket brightly.

Charley turned to his wireless key and sent a call signal flashing.

"What's the matter?" came back Henry's reply. "Why did you cut off?"

"Wildcat," flashed back Charley. "Just outside our camp. Smells our meat.
Scares a fellow half to death when he cries out. Ranger says it may hang
around for days. Wish you would send us some traps."

"You'll bring them out on your next visit, won't you?" said Charley,
turning to Mr. Morton.

"Bring what out?" demanded the perplexed ranger.

"Why, traps. I forgot that you couldn't read the message I was sending.
I'm asking Henry for traps."

"Tell him to send them along. Trapping will be better than shooting under
the circumstances, but don't hesitate to use your gun if you need to."

Charley turned back to his instrument and asked Henry to rush the traps.
He inquired about his fellows of the Wireless Patrol. Henry had nothing
out of the ordinary to report. Then Charley asked Henry to get the
forester at Oakdale on the telephone.

After a long wait, Charley's receiver began to buzz. "Henry has the
forester on the telephone," Charley explained to the ranger. "What shall I
tell him?"

"Nothing. I'll tell him about Bill Collins myself. Just say that
everything is all right and ask him to get Katharine on the telephone."

Again there was a pause. "He's got her," said Charley.

"Please tell Katharine," said the ranger, "that it was necessary to stay
in camp with you to-night. Ask how she and the little girl are."

While his friends sat in silence before the crackling fire, Charley took
the message. "Katharine says that everything is all right and they are
well. She thanks the fire patrols for taking care of her husband."

Charley said good-night and laid down his receivers. "Your wife is a
pippin," he said with a smile as he turned toward the ranger. "I don't
wonder you like her. Think of her thanking us for taking care of you. Why,
we'd be scared to death if we were here alone, with that confounded hyena
howling out there in the bushes. She must be a brave little woman. She
didn't seem a bit worried because you hadn't come home."

"I guess she had an idea I wouldn't get back to-night," said the ranger.
"You know it's a pretty good hike for one day."

Charley knew well enough that Mr. Morton was trying to mislead him. He saw
at once that the kind-hearted ranger had intended to spend the night in
camp. But not knowing what to say, he turned in silence to the pup, which
evidently smelled the wildcat, and tried to quiet him.

"You can be glad that you've got that dog," said the ranger. "I don't
think that cat will come any closer, for it can smell the dog as well as
the meat. Take care of him and make him useful. Now we'd better turn in,
for we must pull foot early in the morning."

"Let's first see if our clay is baked," suggested Charley.

Charley scattered the embers and rolled the clay ball out of the ashes
with a stick. It was baked as hard as a brick. The ranger folded up the
newspaper which he had used as an outer wrapper for the meat, and picked
up the ball with the paper. Lew held the candle lantern close while the
ranger examined the clay. Slowly he turned the ball around, picking at it
with his knife blade.

"Who made this ball?" he asked suddenly.

"I did," said Charley.

"Did Lew touch it at all?"

"I can't recall that he did."

"No; I never laid a finger on it," said Lew. "Charley rolled it and
carried it here himself."

"Let me see your thumbs, Charley," said the ranger.

Charley, puzzled, held them up for inspection. The ranger examined them
closely. "Now let me have that little microscope of yours," he continued.

Charley handed it to the ranger, who studied the clay ball intently
through the glass, then as carefully looked at Charley's thumb. Then he
chuckled. "We've taken another king in this little checker game," he said.
"Look at that."

While Mr. Morton held the lantern for them, the two boys studied the
burned ball of clay. On it were a number of distinct thumb-prints, now
turned into solid brick by the action of the fire. The boys looked at each
other questioningly and then at Mr. Morton.

"It's a clever rogue who doesn't trip himself up somewhere," chuckled the
ranger. "What happened is as clear as daylight. Collins and his companion
found this clay while they were inspecting your camp. They must have
suspected that it was fire-clay and that you had found a deposit of value.
They took some along to test, and rolled what was left into a ball again,
thinking you would never notice the difference. But they forgot that clay
would take finger-prints so readily, and they have left their calling
cards behind them."

The ranger carefully wrapped the clay ball in his handkerchief, and then
in a newspaper. "Let me have this," he said. "The police may have some
duplicate prints somewhere. We don't know what Collins and his pal are up
to, but we have something here that we may find very useful. It isn't
every crook that is so considerate as to leave his thumb-prints behind
him."




Chapter XVI

Good News For the Fire Patrol



As the ranger had foretold, the forest guards did indeed pull foot early
in the morning. Black darkness still enfolded the camp when the ranger
awoke his young companions. Fire was speedily kindled and breakfast gotten
under way.

"Better eat your meat, boys," suggested the ranger. "Otherwise it will
keep that cat hanging around here. We'll hardly dare to leave the pup
behind again, and that beast might get in here and tear your tent to
pieces. These cats play hob with things sometimes."

Lew decided that he would carry nothing back with him, as he contemplated
visiting his chum at intervals.

"Just take your rifle," said the ranger to Charley. "You'll be all alone
on your return trip and with two such animals as we've seen hereabout, it
will be just as well to have it. If I were you, I believe I'd make a
pretty close companion of it and always keep it within reach."

When they left the camp, they were burdened only with Charley's rifle and
food for the noon meal, which they stowed in their pockets. The instant
there was light enough to guide their footsteps, the trio set forth.

For hours they trudged through the forest, for the most part in silence.
Although they traveled by a circuitous route, and with eyes and ears
alert, they neither saw nor heard anything that pointed to the presence of
other human beings in the forest. The ground bore no telltale footprints.
No incriminating marks were discernible on the trees. Smoke was nowhere
visible. No firearm disturbed the silence of the wilderness. No birds flew
upward with cries of alarm, save at their own approach. And the only
voices that were audible were the voices of the brooks.

Under other circumstances Charley would have been supremely happy. The sun
came up bright and clear. No veil of mist floated before the face of the
sky. But woolly, white cloud banks sailed lazily aloft, intensifying by
contrast the blue of the sky. A gentle wind blew fitfully. The earth
steamed fragrantly, sending up an odor joyful to the nostrils. And the
little brooks babbled wildly in their joy at the spring-time.

But Charley was not in a responsive mood. The thought of the man Collins
and his evil-favored companion weighed upon him heavily. Nor was the
knowledge that a wildcat was prowling about his camp reassuring; though
Charley was far from being afraid of the beast. And always the dread of
fire was in the background of his consciousness. What troubled him more
than anything else just now was the approaching loss of his chum. Could
Charley have diagnosed correctly the feelings that oppressed him now, he
would have known that it was the fear of loneliness more than any fear of
Bill Collins or wildcats or forest fires, that made him sad. To read about
Robinson Crusoe was all right, but to be Robinson Crusoe was quite a
different matter--at least a Crusoe without a good man Friday. And Charley
was too downcast at present to realize that the pup at his heels could be
to him all that Friday was to his master, and perhaps more.

Again and again Charley turned over in his mind the problem of how he
could get the battery he needed. More than ever he felt that he absolutely
must have it. Such a battery would cost many, many dollars. To be sure,
Charley's salary would soon bring him in enough money to pay for such a
battery; but all of his income, or practically all of it, Charley knew, he
must give to his father. How he should get around the difficulty, Charley
could not see.

As they trudged on, he talked the matter over with Lew again. Lew seemed
unduly light-hearted over the matter, and even smiled about it. Instead of
sympathizing with his chum, he counseled him not to worry about it, as the
way would likely open. That seemed so heartless that Charley was hurt. He
thought that his chum, about to leave the forest himself, no longer was
concerned. So he fell silent, and walked along in greater dejection than
ever.

Long before the sun had touched the zenith, the three forest guards had
reached the last ridge that lay between them and the highway.

"You've come far enough, Charley," said the ranger, "and perhaps it would
have been better if you had stopped short of this. If anything should
happen in that big timber, you are a long distance from it. There's a good
spring part way up this ridge, and it's high enough so that we can get a
good view. We'll stop there and eat our dinner. We can watch as we eat.
After you've had a good rest, you had better hike for camp. You're a good
ten miles away from your tent."

They climbed to the spring, took each a good drink, and sat down to eat
their food. The panorama that spread before them was wondrously beautiful,
but Charley had no heart for scenery. He ate in silence, his eyes for the
most part bent on the ground.

After the meal was finished, the three friends sat silent, looking out
over the vast range of territory before them, each busy with his own
thoughts. If one could have judged by the expressions on their faces, Lew
was little short of jubilant. Again and again he smiled and looked
meaningly at his chum. But Charley still sat with downcast eyes, heedless
of his chum's glances. But why Lew smiled it would have been hard to
guess. If he had any scheme in mind, he dropped no hint concerning it.

Finally the ranger rose. "We've got to shake a leg," he said. "And you had
better start back to camp."

Charley got up mechanically. His face showed all too clearly what was in
his heart. The ranger looked at him searchingly, and a kindly expression
came into his eyes.

"Never mind, Charley," he said. "You won't be alone long. Lew, here, or
some of your other friends will be slipping out to spend the week-end with
you, and I shall see you regularly twice a week. It may be, in view of
Bill Collins' visit, that Mr. Marlin will think I ought to come oftener."

"Have you learned your alphabet yet?" replied Charley, a sudden gleam of
interest crossing his face. "Just as soon as you learn to use the
wireless, we can talk at almost any time. I'm sure that one of the fellows
will lend you his outfit."

"I'll make Mr. Morton an outfit myself," said Lew. "I'll make it exactly
like yours. Then you two can talk without tuning."

"That will be bully," said Charley, beginning to brighten up. Then he
turned to the ranger. "Did you learn your alphabet?" he repeated.

"I've been working at it a little," said the ranger. "To tell the truth, I
don't care much about it. I'd just as soon stick to the telephone. But the
wife is crazy over it. She says if we knew how to do it and had the
instruments, we could talk at any time. She's learned the alphabet
already."

"She has! Bully for her!" cried Charley. "Hurry up with that outfit, Lew,
so we can teach her to send and read. I'll be glad to talk to her, even if
her husband doesn't want to."

"I'll be home by sunset," said Lew, "and you can call me at eight
o'clock. I shall have had a chance to talk to the fellows by that time and
I hope that I shall have something good to report to you. I'm coming out
the first Friday I can, to spend Saturday and Sunday with you. Good-bye."

Charley shook hands heartily with his two friends and turned back into the
forest. Although he was still somewhat cast down, the intense depression
that had weighed upon him during the morning was lightened. The events of
the past twenty-four hours had made him forget temporarily the plan to
teach Mr. Morton how to operate the wireless. But the news that the
ranger's wife was also to become a radio operator pleased him more and
more as he turned the matter over in his mind.

The pup, rubbing against his heels, recalled another matter to his mind.
He had to train the dog to be useful to him.

"No time like the present," muttered Charley to himself. And the training
of the pup began then and there. All the way home, through the wide
valleys, over the mountain tops, and across the little streams, Charley
worked with the pup, trying to teach him to be silent and to walk quietly
at his heels. And though many, many subsequent lessons were necessary
before the pup was even half trained, the work with the dog made Charley
forget his loneliness. He arrived at his camp, which he found
undisturbed, once more in his normal frame of mind.

What shortly followed was to send him to bed soon afterward as happy as
the traditional lark. For when Charley got into touch with Lew by wireless
at the appointed time, Lew told him that the Wireless Patrol had met him,
Lew, at the station in a body, with the news that funds for the battery
had all been earned and the battery ordered; and that when he had told
them of Charley's situation, the club had voted unanimously and
enthusiastically to send the battery to Charley for him to use as long as
he needed it in the forest.

Furthermore, Lew informed him, Henry had been talking to the wireless men
at the Frankfort station, and not only were they willing to work with him
to protect the forest, but they were also sending an amplifier to Oakdale
so that Charley would be sure to get their messages with the greatest
distinctness. The battery would be forwarded as soon as it reached the
Wireless Club and had been inspected, and the amplifier would go with it.

No wonder that Charley rolled up in his blankets, with shining eyes,
careless alike of cats and Collinses. With the pup and the new battery he
felt that he should indeed be in position to render efficient service to
his forester and his ranger, both of whom he was coming to love, and to
the grand old forest around him.




Chapter XVII

An Accident in the Wilderness



As though she also were pleased at Charley's good fortune, Dame Nature
smiled her best in the days that immediately followed. The sun rose warm
and grateful. The forest was instinct with the spirit of spring, of
new-born life, of hope eternal. Wilderness birds sang in the branches. The
brook babbled and gurgled and ran madly down the slope. The leaves
overhead whispered of the new life that had come. All the forest animals
seemed filled with the joy of living. And Charley was not a whit behind
them. His whole being thrilled with happiness.

Now he could see matters in their true light; or if his vision were a
trifle clouded, the clouds were tinged with rose instead of black, as they
had been previously.

Charley thanked Providence that he was just where he was. In some respects
an unusual boy, he was mentally no abler than many of his fellows. He
possessed a trueness of vision and an understanding of things that were,
however, unusual in a lad of his age. Always he had had to earn the
things that he wanted. And always he had been able, within reason, to get
what he desired. Early in life, therefore, he had come to understand that
everything has its price, and that he who is willing to pay the price can
get almost anything he wishes. So now, instead of bewailing the fact that
he was where he was, as many another lad would have done under the
circumstances, he rejoiced. He rejoiced because he had sense enough to
understand that his opportunity was at hand, here in the forest, and now.

In another respect Charley was mature for his years. He had come to
understand, at least in a measure, that real success is always won by long
and persistent effort in a given direction. Like other boys, Charley had
his dreams and cherished lofty ambitions. But the stern necessities of
life, as he had lived it, had taught him that dreams seldom come true as
the result of luck, but are realized most certainly through consistent
effort. He did not want to go to work in the factory because he hated the
dirt and the noise and the odors and the sense of being cooped up, like an
animal in a pen. Now he had all the freedom in the world, and the
opportunity had come to become well acquainted with the things that he
loved--trees, flowers, ferns, birds, animals, and all the other gifts of
nature.

When Charley looked abroad and realized that his opportunity had come, and
come in such a delightful way, he could hardly keep from shouting in his
happiness. Like the sensible lad he was, he immediately asked himself this
question, "What is the best thing for me to do first?" He decided that he
would go on with the training of his pup. All day, as he walked through
the forest, he labored to teach the young dog to trot quietly at his
heels, or to walk silently in front of him.

Charley's purpose, of course, was to have the dog always at hand, to give
him warning of the approach of man or beast, and to fight for him, if
necessary. That the pup should learn not to betray himself or his master,
was equally needful. So Charley had the additional task of teaching the
dog to be silent, excepting for a very low growl, upon the approach of
other creatures. Charley thought of the Leatherstocking and his dog, and
wondered how that dog had been trained so wonderfully.

Day after day the lessons continued. Charley had abundant opportunity to
work with the pup, for the forest was full of creatures that constantly
excited the young animal. The training required no end of patience: but
Charley loved the dog and never wearied in his efforts. By the time he had
completed his labors with the pup, his own shadow was hardly more constant
and quiet than the dog.

Charley was elated one day when the dog signaled the approach of a
fisherman by no more than the faintest sort of a bark, and then at
command, came promptly to heel and remained there, silent and watchful. It
was the pup's first test with human beings. The fisherman proved to be
one of two who were making their way along the margin of the run. Charley
and the dog remained quietly behind some bushes until the fishermen were
out of sight and hearing. Then Charley praised his little pup and went on.

His efforts with the dog, however, did not prevent him from thinking of
other matters. Day after day his mind returned to the problem of the
forest fire and the piece of green pasteboard. Ever since he had found the
telltale pile of ashes and the charred pasteboard beneath it, Charley had
been turning the problem over in his mind. How he was to solve the puzzle
he did not see. Somewhere, he felt sure, he had seen pasteboard like the
charred piece now in possession of Mr. Morton; but when or where he had
seen it, he had not the slightest recollection. How he was ever to find
another piece like it, he could not imagine; for as a fire patrol he had
neither time nor opportunity to mingle with people.

He could see just one possibility of success. Undoubtedly there was a
great deal more of the green pasteboard in the world than had been
contained in the burned box. Hence persons other than the incendiary must
have some of that same pasteboard. Perhaps some of those persons might
bring a bit of it into the forest. Campers and fishermen often brought
food and other things into the woods in pasteboard boxes. So Charley
resolved to examine carefully every camp he came to, and even to
scrutinize the remains of camp fires. But day followed day and Charley
found nothing to enlighten him.

One day when Charley was on his way to meet the ranger, he suddenly
realized that he was away behind time. Charley hated the idea of being
tardy, especially when he had no reason for being late. He had been
training his dog, and his work with the pup had delayed him more than he
realized. But with haste he could still reach the meeting-place on time.

At the fastest pace that he thought he could hold Charley set off. His
daily hikes through the forest had rapidly made a good walker of him, and
now he went along at a rate that would speedily have tired out most
travelers. Sometimes, to rest himself by changing his gait, he went scout
pace, walking fifty steps, then jogging fifty. He allowed nothing to
hinder him or take his attention. When he reached the meeting-place it
still lacked a few minutes of the appointed hour. Charley was pleased to
find that he had arrived before the ranger.

When the time of meeting came and the ranger was not there, Charley began
to scan the fire trail carefully and to look about for smoke clouds. He
knew that something of moment must be afoot to make the ranger tardy for
his appointment. The ranger was not visible, however, though Charley could
see straight down the fire trail for a long distance.

"I'll go meet him," said Charley. "He's sure to come this way."

In the sand of the trail he printed a message for the ranger, in case the
latter should be coming by an unaccustomed route, and continued along the
trail. He had gone a full mile before he met Mr. Morton.

"Sorry I am late, Charley," said the ranger. "A lot of stuff came to the
office for you last night and the chief asked me to fetch it out this
morning. I think your new battery has come."

"It's about time," said Charley. "I had about given up hope of ever seeing
it." Then he added, "But you couldn't pack that way out here. It must
weigh sixty pounds."

"Is that all?" laughed the ranger. "I had come to believe that it weighed
in the neighborhood of half a ton."

"Did you really try to carry it?" asked Charley.

"Sure. The chief sent all your stuff as far as he could in the truck, and
I packed it in as far as I could carry it. That's why I'm late. But I had
to drop it a distance back. I brought these along, however, and thought
we'd go back and get the battery, for I'm sure that's what it is." He
paused and handed to Charley two pasteboard boxes he had strapped to his
back. The larger one was bulky, but weighed comparatively little. The
other was small.

"I wonder what it is," said Charley, as he untied the string and opened
the smaller box. "The amplifier," he said. Then he opened the larger box.

"Your wireless!" he cried in delight. "Everything is here, even to the
aerial. Only the spreaders are lacking. We could make them and have this
outfit set up in no time if we had to. Isn't it bully? Now we can talk
directly with each other as soon as you learn to send and read. Won't that
be dandy?" With practiced eye he once more glanced over the outfit to make
sure everything was there. Then he tied the box up again.

"I'll just take it back with me," he added. "This goes to your house, you
know, and you can pick it up on your way home. We'll take it as far as the
battery and leave it there."

They strode rapidly along the trail, and in half an hour reached the
battery where the ranger had set it down. Some traps lay on top of the
battery.

"I forgot to bring them sooner," said the ranger.

Charley lifted the box. "How in the world," he said, "did you ever pack
that thing over these mountains on your back? Why, you've carried that
more than four miles."

"We'll cut a couple of saplings and tie them to the box for handles," said
the ranger. "Then we can carry it easily. Give me your axe."

Charley handed his little axe to the ranger, and began to fumble in his
pocket for the cord which he had used as a leash for his dog. The ranger
looked around him for suitable poles. Close by the trail lay the rotting
trunk of a large tree that had fallen years before. On the far side of
this log and close to it some fine saplings had grown up, probably made
thrifty by the rotting wood of the great tree. The ranger reached over the
log to chop a sapling. At the same instant the pup, ranging in the bushes,
growled savagely. Momentarily the ranger lifted his eyes, letting his axe
head sink to the ground. Something moved under it, and at the same instant
a hideous head reared itself above the leaves and struck with
lightning-like rapidity, hitting the ranger just above the wrist-bone.
With a startled exclamation the ranger drew up his arm. As he did so, a
huge rattler glided away through the brush.

Charley turned at the ranger's cry. He comprehended the situation at a
glance. "Quick!" he cried, springing to the ranger's side. "Give me your
arm."

He jerked back the ranger's sleeve, disclosing two dark spots on the back
of the wrist where the fangs had punctured the skin. Drops of blood were
oozing from them. Charley whipped out his knife and without hesitation
drew the keen blade several times across the ranger's wrist. Blood began
to flow down the hand. Putting his lips to the wound, Charley sucked out
mouthful after mouthful of blood, which he spat on the ground.

"Now squeeze your wrist tight just above the bite," said Charley. "Stop
the circulation of blood if you can."

Like a flash Charley picked up the dog leash and tied an end of it around
the ranger's arm, close to the shoulder, drawing it so tight that the
ranger winced. He cut the dangling end and took a second turn just above
the ranger's elbow. Then he made a third turn half-way down the forearm.
With little sticks he twisted the cords still tighter. Then he jerked out
his hypodermic syringe, which he carried already filled with fluid, and
thrusting the needle into the bleeding arm, injected the permanganate into
the wound.

Meantime, the ranger stood silent, his face pale, his jaws set
courageously. "Where did you learn to do all that?" he finally asked
Charley, with evident admiration. "You go about it like a doctor."

"When the Wireless Patrol was in camp at Fort Brady," replied Charley,
"one of the fellows was bitten by a copperhead. Dr. Hardy had already
drilled us in first-aid and we knew just what to do. You bet none of us
will ever forget."

"I shall owe my life to you," said Mr. Morton. "That is, I shall if----"

"There's no if about it," interrupted Charley with determination. "We got
most of the poison out of your arm. I'll bet on that. What's left may make
you sick, but it can't kill you. What we've got to do is to prevent that
poison from reaching your heart, at least in any quantity. You sit down
against this tree and keep quiet so your heart will beat as slow as
possible. In about twenty minutes loosen this bottom cord. Loosen the
middle one after another twenty minutes, and open the third at the end of
an hour. That's all I know how to do. Thank God, we've got a wireless
here! Now I'm going to get it up as quick as possible."

He tore open the pasteboard boxes and took out one instrument after
another, coupling up the wires quickly and skilfully. Then he seized the
little axe, chopped some branches for spreaders, fastened the aerial wires
to them, and added other wires to suspend them by. Quickly he selected two
trees for supports, and climbing up first one and then the other, soon had
his aerial dangling directly above the fire trail. He coupled up his
lead-in wire and ran his eye over the outfit. Everything was complete.
Only the power was lacking. With the axe he pried off the lid of the box
containing the battery, tore away the paper and excelsior wrappings, and
in another moment had his wires around the binding posts. He threw over
his switch, and springing to his key pressed his finger on it. A brilliant
flash shot between the points of his spark-gap. Rapidly he adjusted the
points until his instrument was giving a spark of maximum strength. Then
he settled himself to the task ahead.

"WXY--WXY--WXY--CBC," called Charley. (Frankfort Radio Station--Charley
Russell calling.) Several times he repeated the call. Then he shut off his
switch and sat in silence listening for a reply. None came.

"They may be talking to somebody," he muttered. Again he called.
"WXY--WXY--WXY--CBC," he flashed again and again. Once more he sat quiet
and listened. At first he got no reply. Then, clear as a bell on a frosty
morning, a signal sounded in his ear: "CBC--CBC--CBC--I--I--I." (Charley
Russell--I'm here.)

Charley sighed with relief. "Got 'em," he said to the ranger. Then he
turned intently to his key.

"Please telephone District Forester Marlin at Oakdale instantly," he
rapped out. "Ranger Morton bitten rattlesnake. Send motor-car where
battery was delivered this morning. May need man help ranger. Bring
doctor. Tell wife get ready. Will listen for answer."

As Charley sat waiting for a reply, he studied the face of the ranger. It
was set hard. Courage was written on it plainly.

The ranger started to speak. "Don't talk," interrupted Charley. "Keep as
quiet as you can, and watch your bandages. If you keep them tight too long
it harms your blood somehow."

They sat in silence a while. Then Charley said, "I wish you didn't have to
walk, but I guess there's nothing for it but to hike out to the highway at
the earliest possible moment. We'll start the instant we've heard from Mr.
Marlin."

"What about your instruments?"

"I'll nail the cover on the battery box and put the other things in the
pasteboard box. I don't think anything will touch them. It's all we can
do, anyway."

He felt in his pockets and found a stub of a pencil and a scrap of paper.
"Property of the Pennsylvania Forestry Department. Please do not touch,"
he printed in large letters. With his knife blade he pried out the tacks
that held the address tag on the battery box and tacked his sign on the
box. Then his receiver began to buzz. Charley gave the return signal.

"Forester on wire now," came the message. "Wants to know where you are and
how Morton is."

Charley ticked off the information and waited for a reply. It came very
soon. "Will rush doctor and men. Come as far to meet me as you can."




Chapter XVIII

The First Clue to the Incendiary



Slowly Charley and his friend made their way along the fire trail toward
the highway and safety, Charley assisting the ranger as much as possible.
The latter began to suffer great pain in his arm and the limb started to
swell. Meantime, the forester, with a physician and a helper, was racing
at top speed to reach the ranger. At a pace utterly reckless he drove his
car over the forest road, and the instant the rescue party arrived at the
point where Charley and Mr. Morton would reach the highway, they plunged
into the forest. Faster than he had ever raced to a forest fire, the
forester sped along the trail, his companions striving doggedly to keep up
with him. He was deep in the woods before he met Charley and the ranger.

With hand extended, the forester ran to his ranger. Their hands met in a
tight clasp. "How is it, Jim?" asked the forester, with anxious eyes.

"I'm all right," rejoined the ranger. "I'll pull out of this all O.K. That
snake got me right, though. If it hadn't been for Charley here, I don't
know how I would have made out. He's as good as a doctor."

By this time the doctor himself had come up, puffing too hard for words.
He nodded his head, clasped the ranger's hand, and with a single word of
greeting quickly began an examination of the injured arm. "How long ago
did this happen?" he puffed.

"More than two hours ago," said the ranger.

"You haven't kept these tight all that time, have you?" and the doctor
laid his finger on one of the cords around the ranger's arm.

"No, sir. Charley had me loosen them, one at a time, every twenty minutes
or so."

"That was quite right. What else have you done?"

When the ranger had told him in detail exactly how Charley had treated
him, the doctor grunted, "Confound it! Then what did you hustle me out
here this way for? I thought you were at the point of death."

Charley was amazed and offended at what he considered the heartlessness of
the physician. "You don't understand," he protested. "Mr. Morton was badly
bitten, sir."

Charley was still more astonished when both the ranger and the forester
burst out laughing. He looked from one to the other questioningly. It did
not occur to him that this was merely the doctor's way of saying that
Charley had handled the situation about as well as he could have done it
himself. Evidently the forester did not propose to enlighten Charley, for
all he said was, "Don't let him worry you, Charley. He's just naturally
lazy and a grouch. He doesn't like it because I made him hustle for once,
and he's disappointed not to find Jim at the point of death. These doctors
are strange animals, Charley. But with all their faults we love them
still." And he slapped the physician affectionately on the shoulder.

Charley looked puzzled. But concluding that silence was the best course,
he said no more. All this time the doctor was continuing his labors, and
Charley was amazed at the dexterous way he did things.

For a moment he listened to the beating of the ranger's heart. Then,
seemingly with a single motion of his knife, he slit the sleeve of the
ranger's shirt. Another motion laid open the undershirt sleeve, disclosing
the arm to the shoulder. The physician examined it closely. The arm was
swelling fast. The physician opened his case and gave the ranger some
medicine. "Now we'll get to bed as soon as possible," he said, "and rest
for a few days."

Assisted by a man on either side of him, the ranger started for the
waiting motor-car.

"Mr. Marlin," said Charley, after the party had gone a few rods, "this
morning Mr. Morton brought out a little wireless set that Lew made for
him, as well as my big battery. It's back where Mr. Morton was bitten. May
I get it and set it up in the ranger's house? It will be a good
opportunity for him to practice while he's at home. Mrs. Morton is
learning to operate the wireless, too. It would mean so much to both of
them and to the forest as well, if they could talk to each other by
wireless."

"How long will it take you to put it up, Charley?"

"Not very long, sir. Perhaps an hour or two."

"I don't like to leave the forest unprotected for a single minute at this
season, Charley, but I guess we'll take a chance on it. Get your stuff to
the road as quick as you can. I'll take Jim home and return for you."

The forester hastened after the ranger's party and Charley darted off into
the forest. At the fastest pace he could maintain he jogged along the fire
trail. In a very little time he was back at the instruments. He took down
the aerial, threw away the spreaders, uncoupled the amplifier which he
needed for use himself, and replaced the little outfit in the pasteboard
box. Then he hurried back to the road, where the forester was already
waiting to whirl him away to the ranger's house.

If Charley had had any doubts whatever about his liking the ranger's wife
(though he hadn't), they would have vanished the instant he came in sight
of the ranger's home. It was a small, weather-beaten cottage set in the
shoulder of a hill, with the forest all around it. About the house itself
was a clearing of a few acres, with a little orchard on the slope behind
the house. The home itself was enclosed by an unpainted picket fence.
Lovely old trees shaded it. Vines clambered riotously over its soft, gray
clapboards. Well arranged shrubs and bushes had been planted here and
there. There were flowers about the base of the house and along the
borders. The grass was trimmed as neatly as a city lawn. Even now before
plant growth had started, the yard was attractive. With pleasure Charley
noted that the ranger had set out two European larches, evidently brought
in from a forest plantation, at his gateway. One glance at the inviting
and neatly kept yard told Charley what he would find within the house
itself.

Nor was he disappointed when he entered the door and found the house as
clean as a whistle, plainly but neatly and attractively furnished, and
beautiful with a wealth of flowers and plants that, had quite evidently
received loving and intelligent care. On the wall Charley instantly noted
the telephone, and hanging on a nail beside it was the leather case with
the ranger's portable telephone instrument.

There was not the slightest doubt in Charley's mind that he was going to
like the ranger's wife. And when, a moment later, she came quietly into
the room and took his hand in hers and, with moist eyes, thanked him for
saving her husband's life, she won Charley's heart completely. She was
slight and girlish and good to look at, and made Charley think of some of
his nice girl friends at high school. Yet Mrs. Morton had been married a
good many years, for just behind her stood her daughter, Julia, a girl of
twelve, waiting her turn to thank Charley.

But girlish though the ranger's wife appeared, Charley did not need to be
told that she was not of the weeping, hysterical sort. On every hand were
evidences of efficiency and foresight. A fire was evidently burning
briskly in the stove, and kettles of water, presumably heated in case of
need, were steaming on the range, easily seen through the open kitchen
door. In the sick-room were evidences of the same sort of forethought.
Everything that the house possessed that could possibly be useful in
treating the ranger had been assembled in handy little piles. This must
have been done before the ranger reached home, for most of the piles were
untouched.

The ranger was resting comfortably in bed, though his arm was badly
swollen and his face was distorted with pain. At sight of Charley his
countenance lighted up. He reached out his left arm and wrung Charley's
hand until the lad winced.

"The doctor says I'll pull through this all right, though I'll have a
painful time of it," said the ranger, "and he told the truth, at least as
far as the pain is concerned. But the pain's nothing. The thing that
counts is the fact that I am safe at home. I owe it to you, Charley, and
you may be sure I'll never forget."

That was as much as the ranger, reticent, hating any display of emotion,
quiet like most men of the woods, could bring himself to say. But Charley
knew that it meant volumes. He tried to reply, but found himself also
suffering from a strange embarrassment. So Charley said good-bye to the
ranger, assured him that he would take good care of the forest, and set
about fixing the wireless outfit. The forester helped him. Quickly they
got up the aerial, brought the lead-in wire into the living-room, and set
up the instruments on a board table close beside the telephone instrument.

"Now everything is complete except for the battery," Charley said to the
forester when they had finished wiring up the outfit. "Half a dozen dry
cells will supply all the current needed."

"I'll send them out by the doctor in the morning," said the forester.

Charley showed Mrs. Morton how to wire the cells and couple them to the
instruments. Then he told her how to adjust her spark-gap and tune the
instrument to any given wave-length. He compared his watch with the clock
on the wall.

"At eight o'clock every night," he said, "I will call you up. Suppose you
take Mr. Morton's initials as your call signal. What are they?"

"J. V. M.," replied Mrs. Morton.

"Very well. Then at eight o'clock every night I will call J. V. M. slowly
a number of times. Then I will tick off the alphabet slowly and the
numerals one to ten. You listen in, and if the sounds are blurred or not
sharp, tune your instrument as I have shown you until you can hear
distinctly. If you make the letters with a pencil as you read them, it
may help you. I'm sure you will soon learn to read. I'll repeat the
alphabet and the numbers three times slowly. Then I'll listen in for five
or ten minutes. If you want to try to call me, give my signal and follow
it with your own, thus: 'CBC--CBC--CBC--JVM.' That means 'Charley
Russell--James Morton calling.' If I hear you, I will send the letters
'JVM--JVM--JVM--I--I--I.' That means 'James Morton--I am here.' Then you
can begin to send your message. I hope we'll be able to talk to each other
very soon."

"It won't be my fault if we don't," smiled the ranger's wife.

"Now I must be off," said Charley. "I've no doubt Mr. Marlin is getting
impatient. We'll just clean up this mess and then I'll go."

"I'll clean things up," insisted Mrs. Morton.

"No; I made the mess and I'll clean it up," protested Charley.

He began to pile the torn pieces of pasteboard together so he could thrust
them into the stove. The bottom of the pasteboard box had been built up
with several layers of pasteboard, evidently cut from other boxes. Charley
took them out one at a time, preparatory to crumpling up the box itself.
As he lifted the last layer of pasteboard he stopped in blank amazement.
Then he called excitedly for Mr. Marlin. Before him lay a piece of green
pasteboard exactly like the charred fragment taken from the ash heap in
the burned forest.




Chapter XIX

The Forester's Problem



For a moment the two men looked at each other in astonishment. Then, "Keep
that," said the forester. "We'll talk the matter over on our way back."
Mrs. Morton, not comprehending what had happened, also looked astonished.
But like the wise woman she was, she held her peace. Charley tossed the
other pasteboards in the fire, stuffed the green piece in his pocket, and
said good-bye to his new friend. The forester, after telephoning to his
office, followed Charley, and a moment later the two were spinning up the
road toward the fire trail.

"I can't understand it," said Charley. "Here's a package direct from Lew,
with the very clue we're looking for, and Lew never said a word about it.
I can't understand it. I'm certain Lew sent the box. That was his
handwriting on it. And I'm just as sure he never saw that bit of
pasteboard, for Lew would never slip up that way. I just can't understand
it."

They reached the point where Charley was to leave the car and plunge into
the forest. But Mr. Marlin, instead of stopping his motor, turned into a
natural opening in the woods and drove slowly among the forest trees. In
a moment he ran the car into a stand of pines, where it was protected by
the dense tops above and well hidden from sight of the highway.

"You couldn't get in here with anything but a Henry," laughed the
forester. "This old bus has taken me lots of places you would never have
believed possible."

He took the key from the switch on the dashboard, and the two stepped to
the ground. Charley wondered what the forester intended to do, but by this
time he knew enough not to ask questions. The forester started up the
trail with him. When they came to the big battery Charley understood, for
without a word the forester took Charley's little axe and began to chop
poles to carry the battery with. In a few moments these handles were bound
fast. The forester tossed the traps over his shoulder. Charley tied the
amplifier box to his belt. Then they picked up the battery and started
toward camp.

Suddenly Charley stopped. "By George!" he cried. "I forgot all about the
pup. I wonder where he got to."

He whistled and whistled, but apparently in vain. They went on, and at
intervals Charley whistled for the dog while he and the forester were
resting. Still no dog appeared. Charley's face grew long. "Gee! I'll miss
that pup," he said regretfully. "Why didn't I think of him sooner?"

Night was at hand when the two reached Charley's camp. Nothing had been
disturbed. Charley took advantage of the remaining daylight to couple up
the battery and the amplifier to his wireless. He tested the outfit and
found he had a strong spark that cracked like a whip when he touched the
key.

"Look at that!" he cried. "Now I feel better. I can always get into
communication with somebody now."

"You aren't a bit more pleased than I am, Charley," smiled the forester.
"I'll take back all I ever said about the wireless. If Morton can learn to
talk by wireless, the rest of my crew can also. When the dull season
comes, I'll start a radio school with you as instructor and we'll make
every man in the service learn to operate the wireless. The Department
ought to be glad to supply a good outfit; but if we can't get the money,
we can at least make some outfits like yours. We're going on a wireless
basis or my name is not Marlin."

The forester was interrupted by a joyous bark and in rushed Charley's pup.
"You blessed little fellow," said Charley, fondling the animal. "I suppose
you lost our trail when we got into the motor-car and you probably hung
around the battery all day and followed our trail back here. That's pretty
good. You've got great stuff in you, pup. The next thing I teach you will
be to stand guard over things as you probably did over that battery
to-day."

Darkness fell. Supper was cooked and eaten. "Have you heard that cat
lately, Charley?" asked the forester.

"No," replied Charley, "but I think I'll put the traps out anyway."

"We can attract it even if it isn't near by," said the forester. "Have you
a can of salmon that you can spare?"

"Sure."

"Then give me the traps and bring your can."

Charley got the things asked for. The forester, taking the flash-light,
led the way through the thicket to the open forest. At some distance from
the camp the forester stopped and turned the beam from the search-light
upward. Finally he found what he was looking for--a small branch about
seven feet from the ground. Then he cut the top of the salmon can, and
punching holes in the sides near the top, fastened a string to the can and
suspended the can from the limb. Then he set the traps in a circle under
the can, fastening the chains to convenient saplings, and threw two or
three small pieces of the salmon on the ground within the circle of traps.
Then they made their way back to camp.

Charley lighted a little friendship fire in the fireplace the ranger had
made, and the two sat down beside the flames. It was little more than
three weeks since Charley had first entered the forest. During that time
he had really seen very little of the forester. Yet as he sat beside his
chief, Charley felt as though he had known him always. A common emotion
had drawn them close together this day, and somehow Charley believed that
his feeling of affection for his chief was fully reciprocated. For a time
they sat in silence, each busy with his own thoughts.

"Charley," said the forester, after a time, "this accident to Jim hits me
pretty hard. It not only leaves the finest piece of forest under my care
without a direct overseer at the most dangerous time of the year, but
there were so many things we had planned to do this spring that cannot be
done without a ranger to supervise them. To be sure, I could transfer a
ranger here, but I have work for every man in his particular district.
Besides, nobody knows this territory like Jim. I believe you know it
better than anybody besides Jim. I only wish you were old enough to take
his place for a time.

"We're away behind with our planting, and there are trails to be brushed
out, new ones to be cut, roads to be built, camp sites to be selected,
timber to be cruised, a big lumber operation to be watched and the trees
to be marked for cutting and the lumber scaled, improvement cuttings to be
made, camp sanitation to be enforced, a fire-tower to be built on the
mountain here where your watch tree is. There's a tremendous lot of work
that Jim and I had mapped out for the spring and summer.

"Now it looks as though we should not be able to get any of it done. We
can't do a thing without a ranger to direct operations. Part of the
timber to be cut is in Lumley's district. He joins you here on the north.
He will look after all the lumbering in his territory, and I may have to
let him take charge of it all. It's a big operation and will have to be
watched closely. I just wish I knew where I could find a man capable of
taking Jim's place for a while."

"What will the ranger have to do in looking after this operation?"

"He'll have to mark the trees to be cut and see that only those marked are
cut; and he'll have to make sure the regulations are observed in felling
the trees and disposing of the tops; and finally he'll have to scale the
lumber and make sure that the state gets paid for all that is cut."

"What is there so difficult about that?" demanded Charley. "Tell me what
sort of trees are to be cut, and I can select and mark them as well as the
next man. And if you give me a copy of the regulations, I can tell whether
or not the lumbermen are observing them. If I can't make them live up to
regulations, I can easily report to you. And as for scaling timber, that's
a mere matter of arithmetic. I could learn to do that in five minutes.
Couldn't I help you with the lumbering? And as for the other jobs, Mr.
Marlin, give me some books that tell about them and let me study up on
them. I could put in several hours here every night in study. You don't
know how much I could learn in a week. And then you could give me some
practical lessons after I had studied up the theory of things. I'm sure I
can do lots of the work you were counting on Mr. Morton to do. Won't you
let me help you?"

"Bless your heart, Charley! I know you mean every word you say. But you
don't realize the difficulties you would encounter. Your chief job would
be in handling men, tough men some of them, too. You could never do it,
never. But I certainly wish you were old enough to attempt it. There's
nobody I'd trust sooner than you, Charley. You've got a good education,
and you think quickly and clearly. You've been equal to every emergency
you've faced yet."

"Then why isn't that a pretty good reason to trust me further?"

"Trust you, Charley? I trust you absolutely. But you are too young. You
could never do it."

Charley said no more. The hope that had sprung up in his heart died as
suddenly as it had been born. In his heart he believed that with all the
study and effort he was willing to put into it, he could do a ranger's
work all right. But he saw it was not to be.

"Anyway," he muttered to himself, "I'm going to be a ranger some day, and
I'll show the chief now that I'm the best fire patrol he ever had. That's
the best way to qualify for promotion."

He turned to his wireless, threw over his switch and flashed out the call
signal of the Wireless Patrol. In his delight at the power of his new
battery he almost forgot his disappointment. In a very short time he got
a reply from Henry.

"Don't say anything about that pasteboard," cautioned the chief.

"I don't intend to," answered Charley. "I'm going to write to Lew about it
and let you take the letter out in the morning. You never can tell who
will pick up a wireless message."

For several minutes Charley chatted briskly with Henry, who said the new
battery carried the signals to him as clear as a bell. Charley told Henry
about Mr. Morton's accident, omitting reference to his own part in the
affair, and then through Henry got into touch with both Mrs. Morton and
the assistant forester at headquarters. Mr. Morton was getting along all
right, though he suffered very great pain. The forester's assistant
reported everything quiet in the forest.

Charley turned away from his wireless key, and got out pencil and paper.
By the light of the candle lantern he began his letter to Lew, and had
almost finished it when the pup, his hair bristling, ran to the door of
the tent, growling savagely. An instant later both the forester and
Charley leaped to their feet as the stillness of the forest was broken by
an awful scream that rang through the dark and was thrown back by the
mountain in a magnified echo even more terrifying than the original cry.




Chapter XX

Charley Wins His First Promotion



With startled eyes, Charley looked at the forester, at the same time
reaching for his rifle. To Charley's surprise the forester began to grin.

"I guess you got your cat, Charley," he chuckled. "But it sure did startle
a fellow."

The first piercing scream of the wildcat was succeeded by a variety of
furious screams. The animal could be heard thrashing about in the leaves,
spitting, snarling, growling, rattling the chain, and evidently fighting
furiously to free itself from the trap.

Taking both the candle lantern and the flash-light, as well as rifle and
axe, the two men started for the cat.

"Grab that dog," said the forester, as the pup darted out of the tent
ahead of them.

Charley whistled and called, but the pup was too wild with excitement to
heed the command.

"Hurry up," said the forester, "or you won't have any pup left."

They pushed rapidly through the thicket, then ran toward their traps.
Faintly they could see the wildcat. The pup was worrying it. With arched
back, hair erect, eyes ablaze, and snarling furiously, the wildcat was
waiting its opportunity to strike. The pup circled about it, yelping and
barking, every second growing bolder because the animal did not spring at
it.

"Give me that rifle, quick!" said the forester. "That cat'll kill the pup
in another minute."

He seized the weapon, sank on one knee, quickly sighted along the barrel,
and pulled the trigger. Even as he fired, the cat leaped toward the pup.
For a second there was a terrific scuffling in the leaves. Then the
search-light's beam showed the pup lying motionless, its neck broken and
torn, while the cat was clawing the air wildly, and spitting and snarling
in fury.

"Don't ever let one of those critters get on your back, Charley," said the
forester, as he approached the cat for a final shot. "Sometimes they will
follow a fellow in the forest. It's seldom they really attack a man, but
if a fellow loses his nerve and runs, they will sometimes leap on him. A
single swipe of those claws will cut a fellow to ribbons."

The forester was now close to the cat, which had gotten to its feet and
had crouched, snarling, ready for a leap.

The forester circled so as to get a shot at the animal's shoulder. Quickly
raising his rifle, he fired. The cat screamed, clawed the air desperately
for a few seconds, and lay still.

Charley rushed in and tenderly lifted his motionless pup from the ground.
There were tears in his eyes as he bore the little body to one side. "Poor
fellow," he said, "I'll miss you awfully. I was counting on you a lot to
help me guard this timber. You did the best you knew how. You thought you
were helping me, didn't you?"

He passed his hand across his eyes and faced the forester. "It's some
consolation to know that that beast paid for this, and paid well. I'm sure
glad he's dead. It's a good thing for the forest."

"Yes, that's a good job done," replied the forester, "and a nice skin and
a bounty for you. That ought to be some consolation to you. But I'm mighty
sorry about the pup. Whenever you can, get rid of those fellows. How many
young deer or other harmless animals do you suppose this fellow would have
slaughtered before another spring?"

Making sure that the cat was really dead, the forester opened the trap.

Then he picked up the dead cat and led the way back to the tent. "I'll
show you how to skin this fellow," he said, and, taking out his knife,
began to remove the hide.

"Gee!" exclaimed Charley. "Wouldn't the fellows like to know about this?"
He looked at his watch. "Some of them will surely be listening in," he
said.

Then he sat down beside his key, and while he watched the forester skin
the wildcat, he kept his spark-gap snapping and cracking with the fat
sparks from the new battery. He was calling Lew. He got no answer and
flashed out the signal for the Wireless Patrol. Almost immediately Henry
answered. His workshop was the headquarters of the Wireless Patrol.

"Hello, Henry," rapped out Charley. "Do you know where Lew is?"

"He's right here," came the answer. "So are most of the other fellows."

"Tell them," replied Charley, "that we just caught the wildcat in the
traps you sent, and Mr. Marlin is skinning it. I'm going to get him to
show me how to tan it. When it's done, I'm going to send it to the
Wireless Patrol to help furnish our headquarters. I'm going to add the
eight dollars bounty money to the club fund for wireless equipment."

Then came a long pause. Finally this message came back to Charley. "The
Wireless Patrol thanks you, Charley, but we want you to sell the skin and
use the money and the bounty to pay for the field-glasses you need."

Charley turned away from his instrument with a suspicious moisture in his
eyes. It touched him deeply that his fellows were so solicitous concerning
his welfare and success. He did not realize that he was merely reaping the
reward of his own kindly good nature, that had made him a general favorite
with the boys of the Wireless Patrol.

There were no further alarms that night. Early in the morning the ranger
started back to his office, taking with him the letter to Lew. Charley
accompanied him part of the way. Then he continued on his patrol.

The next time Charley met the forester he received Lew's answer to his
letter. Lew had addressed the box, but several of the boys of the Wireless
Patrol had helped to pack it. The piece of green pasteboard proved to be
from a box in which Henry had gotten shoes by mail. The box came from
Carson and Derby, a big New York mail-order concern. Almost everybody in
the country around Central City bought articles from mail-order houses, so
Lew's letter threw no light on the problem. There might be a green
pasteboard box of that particular pattern in every farmhouse in the
county. Yet as Charley thought the matter over, he recalled that almost
everybody he knew who shopped by mail traded with Slears and Hoebuck, of
Chicago.

The days passed. Little happened to vary the monotony. Yet the sameness of
life in the forest was far from being bothersome to Charley. On the
contrary, he found new delights every day.

Spring was now well advanced. The trees would soon be in leaf, the flowers
were coming along in rotation, and the forest fairly pulsed with life. Now
Charley found a gorgeous bed of blood-root. Again he came on great patches
of arbutus. Here the Dutchman's-breeches grew in rich clumps. There
spring-beauties fairly whitened the earth. Violets, Jacks-in-the-pulpit,
marsh-marigolds, and dozens of other familiar and lovely blooms he found
as he wandered through the forest.

There was nothing Charley liked more than the flowers. He determined to
know every bloom in his section of the forest. So he divided his territory
into definite strips, patrolling a different strip each day. Thus he
became intimately acquainted with every part of his district.

There were more objects than flowers, however, to delight him. The birds
and the animals were a constant source of pleasure. Often he had
opportunity to study their actions and their habits. The mating season
brought a wealth of pleasing experiences. Sometimes he came across a
mother grouse with her brood of little ones. It pleased Charley to see how
the tiny creatures scattered and hid among the leaves, making themselves
invisible at the first warning note from the mother, while she fluttered
along before him, dragging a wing as though it were broken, and drawing
him farther and farther from her little ones. Wild turkeys, too, he saw,
and many other feathered inhabitants of the forest.

Perhaps nothing touched Charley so much as an incident that occurred late
one day when he was fighting a small fire. The fine, spring weather
brought out regiments of fishermen, and numbers of them got deep into the
woods. Whenever he possibly could, Charley avoided meeting them. Sometimes
Charley could not avoid a meeting. Then he always posed as a fisherman.
He never moved abroad these days without his rod. The rifle he had
temporarily laid aside. More than one little fire, started by careless
fishermen, Charley detected and extinguished.

One day he saw smoke at a considerable distance. By the time he could
reach the spot, the fire had a good start and had already burned over
several acres. It was blazing briskly and Charley was at first uncertain
as to whether he should attempt to fight it alone or call help. But night
was at hand, the wind was already falling, and Charley decided that he
could conquer the blaze single-handed. He judged that the best way to do
this was by beating it out with brush.

Quickly chopping a pine bough, Charley attacked the fire. It was not a
fierce blaze, though when the fitful wind blew strong it flamed up
savagely. Even the tiniest of forest fires is hot enough, and Charley
found it trying work. He had many hundreds of yards of flame to beat out.
The smoke and the heat were stifling and exhausting, and every little
while Charley had to turn away from the fire to rest and get his breath.
During such periods, Charley would walk back along the fire-line to make
sure that the blaze was extinguished behind him.

Darkness came quickly in the deep valley, and before Charley had the blaze
half extinguished, he was unable to see distinctly. Indeed he could hardly
have seen anything at all had it not been for the fitful light of the
flames; and this dancing light made objects appear uncertain and unreal.

In one of his trips back along the line, Charley came to a stump that was
ablaze. In beating out the flames just here, he had failed to extinguish
some tiny sparks in a hollow place at the base of the stump. The wind had
fanned these into life after Charley had passed on, and the fire had
communicated to the stump. Now the stump was a pillar of flame. At any
moment sparks might fly from it and rekindle the fire.

Charley beat at the stump with his brush until the flames had entirely
disappeared. But fearing that sparks might yet be smouldering under the
bark or in the dry wood, Charley began scraping the sides of the stump. As
his hand reached the top of the stump, there was a sudden startling whir
of wings and something shot upward into the dark. Charley recoiled as
though shot. His heart beat a tattoo against his ribs. His first thought
was of the sudden blow the rattler had given the ranger. Yet he knew it
was no rattler that had suddenly sprung upward into the night. He drew
forth his flash-light, which he always carried, and turned the beam of
light on the top of the stump. There lay two little turtle-doves, unharmed
despite the fierce flames that had played about them. They had been
protected by the mother dove's body.

"Little turtle-dove," said Charley, "I take off my hat to you. When
anybody tells me about a deed of heroism hereafter, I'll tell them about
you and how you hovered over your young ones while the flames were slowly
roasting you. I'm certainly glad I got here when I did. You would have
been burned in another five minutes and your little ones with you."

Charley started back to the line of flames again. "If a turtle-dove can do
a thing like that," he muttered to himself, "you're a poor thing if you
can't face a little blaze like this."

He cut a new bush, once more fell on the fire, and never ceased his
efforts until not a single blaze lighted the forest. Then he stepped
inside the burned area and made his way completely around the edge of it.
The ashes were hot and Charley knew that they might scorch the leather in
his shoes. But he also knew there would be no rattlesnakes where the fire
had burned. When Charley came to the stump again, he turned his
flash-light on its top. The dove had returned and was once more hovering
over her little ones.

When he was certain that the fire was absolutely extinguished, Charley
made his way through the dark forest to his tent and made his nightly
report. It gave him great happiness to be able to report that the fire was
extinguished and that once more all was well in the forest.

Mr. Marlin had sent out to Charley a package of books that dealt with
various phases of work in the forest. Night after night, by the light of
candles, Charley sat in his tent studying his texts. He found them
fascinating. Here in the forest, where every day he could see illustrated
the truth of what he had read the night before, he learned, with
unbelievable rapidity. Whenever he came to anything in his texts that he
did not understand, he made a note of it. Sometimes at night he got Lew on
the wireless and through him questioned the forester. He did not want to
bother the government wireless men except in case of necessity.

Two or three times a week the forester came out to see Charley and to keep
an eye on this, his finest stand of timber. From time to time he brought
supplies and more books. Indeed Charley's capacity to acquire what was in
the books astonished the forester. He knew that Charley understood because
of his intelligent questions and his increasingly intelligent practices;
for, without orders to do it, Charley was voluntarily doing many of the
tasks that Mr. Morton should have done in the forest. As he grew in
comprehension of the needs of the forest, Charley began to make
suggestions to the forester. More than one of these proved practicable,
and Charley was given permission to go ahead with the proposals. Before he
knew it, Charley found himself working sixteen hours a day and regretting
that the days were not longer. And as always happens to people who are
busy about work they love, Charley was supremely happy.

Not the least part of his happiness came from his wireless talks with the
ranger's wife. With a speed that surprised him, Mrs. Morton learned both
to read and send. On the very first evening after the doctor brought her
dry cells, Mrs. Morton managed to tick out an acknowledgment of Charley's
call. And though it was faltering and uneven, Charley read it and smiled
with delight. As he slowly ticked off the letters of the alphabet and the
first ten numerals, Mrs. Morton listened intently, jotting down the dots
and dashes on a bit of paper.

When Charley had repeated his message according to promise, he flashed out
the call signal for the Wireless Patrol and promptly got a reply from
Henry. Through Henry he made his nightly report to the forester, and
through the forester sent his congratulations to Mrs. Morton on the
success of her initial attempt at radio communication, and inquired after
the sick ranger. So both Charley and his new friend were happy that night.

It was quite evident to Charley, when he called Mrs. Morton on the
following night, that she must have spent much of the day practicing at
her key; for the certainty and assurance with which she transmitted her
brief message this time could have come only from hours of practice. Now,
in addition to acknowledging Charley's call, she added the simple message,
"Jim is improving." Charley did not guess that she had practiced that
short message for an hour. Even if he had, he would have been none the
less pleased; for practice was the very thing needed to make her an
efficient operator. By the time three weeks had elapsed, Mrs. Morton could
communicate with Charley readily. Also her husband was improving every
day, though it would still be weeks before he could resume his duties.
Altogether, Charley's cup of happiness seemed full to overflowing.

There was still more happiness in store for him, however,--a happiness he
had not dared to hope for. One day Mr. Marlin appeared at Charley's camp
just at dusk. Charley was about to cook his supper. At once he doubled the
portions of food to be cooked, and while he worked over his fire, he
reported to his superior on the condition of the forest under his charge.
By this time Charley knew every inch of it intimately. He had just
completed an inspection, lasting several days, of the entire area. He was
enthusiastic about his work and full of plans for the future. Practically
all his suggestions were good, and the forester smiled and smiled with
approval, as he sat back in the shadow, listening.

When Charley had completed his statement, the forester said, "Charley,
your report is very satisfactory, and I am especially pleased with the way
you comprehend the needs of the situation and plan for improvements. I
approve of practically all your suggestions. How would you like to go
ahead and work them out?"

"They ought to be done," said Charley impetuously. Then he stopped. "I
mean," he corrected himself, "that it seems to me they ought to be. But to
do most of them would require a ranger with a crew of men."

"But you haven't answered my question," said the forester with a kindly
smile.

Charley looked puzzled. "I told you I think that they ought to be done."

"Still you haven't answered my question."

Charley stopped a moment to try to recall exactly what the forester had
said. Then he went on. "Of course, I should like to work them out, for
they ought to be done. But I also told you it would need a ranger and a
crew of men. I <i>couldn't</i> do all those things alone."

The forester began to laugh. "Charley," he said fondly, "the Bible tells
us there are none so blind as those who won't see. If you were the ranger
in charge of those men, would you still like to do the work?"

"Oh! Mr. Marlin," cried Charley, "you don't mean----"

"Yes, I do. Your service as a fire patrol ends to-night. To-morrow you
take charge of this section as temporary ranger, pending Jim Morton's
recovery. I just can't get along without a ranger in this district. Work
is being neglected, the big lumber operation has already commenced in
Lumley's district, and things are piling up here too deep. I can't get
along another day without a new ranger."

Charley was too happy for words. "I'll do my best," he said, with
quavering tones. But in a moment he got command of himself. "You told me I
couldn't handle a crew of men," he said.

"Maybe you can't, Charley, but you've handled everything else and handled
it well. It is plain that you love the forest and understand as much about
its needs as any ranger I have. A little experience is all you need to
make a first-class ranger. I'll give the men a talking to. When I get
done, they'll know it won't pay to monkey with you, even if you are only a
high school boy. Now, Ranger Russell, I think we had better turn in and
get some sleep, for we'll have to pull foot early to-morrow."




Chapter XXI

A Trouble Maker



Pull foot early they did, too. Charley himself was no sluggard, but the
forester's capacity for work simply amazed him. He knew the forester was
on the job late every night, for he reported to him each night the last
thing before he went to bed. Yet whenever the forester spent the night
with Charley, Mr. Marlin was up at an early hour; and the present occasion
proved no exception.

Mr. Marlin had never said much about himself to Charley, and no one else
had happened to do so; but Mr. Marlin had worked himself up from the
ranks. He had been a fire patrol and later a ranger, and then had attended
the state forestry school, as the other district foresters had done.

His unusual training, great diligence, intelligence, and untiring energy
had made him one of the ablest men in the service. By sheer ability he had
won for himself the oversight of this district, which was one of the most
important in the entire million acres of state forest lands.

Hardly was the forester afoot this morning before he had a fire going and
breakfast cooking. Before breakfast was ready, the two forest guardians
began to strike camp. Charley took down his wireless and stowed it as
compactly as possible. The tent was lowered and rolled up. Everything was
gotten into portable shape, and as soon as breakfast was over, the dishes
were washed and they, too, were added to the bundles.

"I don't care to let anybody know where your camp was," said the forester.
"I may want to use this site again. So we'll have to pack our stuff out
ourselves, at least part of the way. I am going to put a crew of men in
here to-morrow and they can finish carrying out the duffel if we cave in
before we reach the road. It will be a pretty good load."

Each of them strapped a big pack to his back. The rifle and the
fishing-rod had been fastened to the battery, which in turn was roped to
poles for handles. In this way it was possible for the two to carry all
Charley's outfit. By sun-up the two were already on the trail. They toiled
up the slope and crossed the ridge close to Charley's watch-tower. The way
was rough and the going hard. But once they struck a fire trail, the path
was easy. Yet at best it was a hard and toilsome hike, and several hours
elapsed before they reached the forester's motor-car, which he had
concealed in the pines. Both of them were tired, and Charley felt as
though his arms were about ready to part from his shoulders.

Most of their journey had been made in silence. But now that they were
seated comfortably in a motor-car, they once more began to talk.

"I had to bring you in from the forest, Charley," explained Mr. Marlin,
"because as a ranger it will be necessary for you often to be at
headquarters. I have arranged for you to live with Ranger Lumley. His
district adjoins yours, and his house, right in the forest, is near the
dividing line. So it will be about as convenient for you as it is for him.
He is to be at the office to meet us and look after you. We'll pick him up
and go on to his house with your things."

Ranger Lumley was on hand as the forester had said he would be. Charley
had found Ranger Morton and his wife so likable that he was glad indeed of
the opportunity to become acquainted with this second ranger. But the
minute he laid eyes on him, he felt a chill of disappointment. Yet he
could not have told exactly why. Somewhere, too, he felt sure, he had seen
the man before; though he could not remember when or where.

Lumley was a man small of stature, with a hooked nose, fishy blue eyes, a
thin, hard mouth, and a face seamed and wrinkled. Yet he was quite
evidently not an old man. Charley had noticed that some of the tough
characters in his home town looked like that, and the more he studied
Ranger Lumley's face, the less he liked the man. Particularly did he
dislike his eye. Once he caught the ranger looking at him slyly, and the
gleam in the ranger's eye reminded Charley of the vicious look of a horse
when he shows the white of his eye. It seemed to Charley, too, as though
there was something suggestive of craftiness and cunning in the man's
countenance.

When they reached the Lumley home, Charley felt his dislike for the man
increasing. Unlike the neat and attractive dwelling of the Mortons, the
Lumley house was dirty and disorderly. The children were unclean and
ragged. They had no manners whatever. Yet they obeyed readily enough when
their father spoke to them. But it did not take Charley long to discover
that they obeyed because of fear. When he realized that, he thought of the
vicious look he had noted in the ranger's eye. There were dogs innumerable
about the place, and they all slunk away when their master approached. Yet
all the time, as he showed Charley about, the ranger was almost
obsequious. This evident contradiction between the man's actions and his
looks made Charley distrust him immediately, and it was with heavy heart
that he said good-bye to Mr. Marlin and watched him drive away.

The ranger showed Charley to the room that was to be his. Charley began to
carry his luggage up-stairs. He would much rather have taken it all
himself, but the ranger insisted upon helping him. When Charley saw how
the man eyed every package and scrutinized every article, he understood
quickly enough that Lumley wanted to help him, not because of any wish to
be courteous, but simply because of his burning curiosity. Especially was
the ranger curious about Charley's wireless outfit, but Charley
volunteered no information.

The more Charley considered his situation, the gloomier he felt concerning
it. He had looked forward to his coming, after Mr. Marlin had told him of
the arrangement, with a feeling of pleasant anticipation. Charley was not
the least bit shy and made friends readily. He had a feeling that all the
men in the Forest Service must be pretty fine men and that their interest
in their work would make them, like Mr. Marlin and Mr. Morton, eager to
help a recruit. Thus Charley had believed that Lumley would be very
helpful to him. He had intended to put himself more or less in Lumley's
hands and trust to the ranger for guidance. But a very few minutes spent
with Lumley made Charley feel that he could not take the man into his
confidence. He almost felt as though he dared not, though when he came to
consider the matter fully, that attitude seemed foolish. Lumley was a
guardian of the forest as well as himself, and surely he could trust him
with matters that pertained to the forest.

Charley tried to fight down this feeling of distrust. It seemed to him
very wrong to accept a man's hospitality, even if he was to pay well for
it, and at the same time be suspicious of the man. But hardly had he
decided that he ought to be frank with his fellow ranger when Lumley began
asking questions that caused the feeling of distrust to return with
renewed force. Lumley's questions were intended to seem innocent enough;
but Charley was sharper than he perhaps looked, and he saw the real intent
behind the questions. The man was slyly trying to find out all he could
about Charley's history, and particularly how much Charley had been paid
as a fire patrol and what he was to get as a ranger.

Charley answered most of Lumley's questions openly enough, but could not
tell him what he was to get as a ranger, for he had never once thought
about the matter, nor had Mr. Marlin mentioned it. But when Charley told
Lumley so, he could see that the ranger did not believe him.

When the ranger began to question Charley about his recent work in the
woods, Charley answered him evasively. Lumley knew that Charley had been
acting as fire patrol, because Mr. Marlin had told him so. But Charley
felt very sure he did not know where the secret camp had been pitched, for
Mr. Marlin had distinctly said that matter was a secret between Charley
and himself. So Charley answered him evasively and soon turned the
conversation to other matters.

While Charley was arranging his duffel, two or three dirty youngsters came
bouncing into the room and at once began to drag Charley's wireless
apparatus from the pasteboard box. With a cry Charley sprang toward them
and snatched the instruments out of their hands. The ranger gave a savage
oath and aimed a kick at the lads, but they dodged and ran from the room.

At first Charley was terribly annoyed. But in a second he was glad the
incident had happened. Nothing had been injured and he had had a warning
of what might be expected. It gave him a good opportunity to shut up his
things without seeming to be suspicious of his host. Charley acted at
once.

"I have no need of this wireless outfit at present," he said, "and if you
have a spare box and some nails, I will just nail these things up until I
have time to set up the outfit." So the wireless instruments were safely
boxed up and locked in a closet, along with Charley's rifle and
fishing-rod. There was nothing in his remaining luggage that could be much
harmed, even if the youngsters did get hold of things.

As soon as his belongings were stowed away, Charley decided that he would
go to the forester's office and talk over his work. He had three miles to
walk, and although he had already trudged several times that distance,
heavily loaded, he did not hesitate for a moment. When Lumley suggested
that he use the telephone and avoid the walk, Charley merely smiled.

"I don't mind it," he said.

"I'd like to see myself walk that distance for any such fool errand,"
growled the ranger.

When Charley had said he didn't mind the walk he had told the truth. Yet
he had understated it. The fact was that he hugely enjoyed the walk. He
was rested from his long carry, and with nothing to weight him down, his
feet felt light as feathers. He trudged briskly along the smooth highway,
every sense alive to the delights of the forest. All about him the woods
were vocal with the calls of birds. The wind whispered and sighed in the
pine tops. And sometimes, when the air in the bottom was still as sluggish
water, Charley could hear the wind roaring among the trees far up on the
hillsides. The scent of spring was in the air--that indescribable mixture
of the smell of opening buds and flowers and green things and rank
steaming earth, that together make such an intoxicating odor. And all
about him Charley caught glimpses of the wild life of the forest.

It was late in the day when he reached the forester's office. The forester
seemed greatly surprised to see him.

"I came to talk to you about my work," explained Charley.

The forester frowned. "What is the telephone for?" he asked a bit
brusquely.

"I didn't want to talk over my business before that man," protested
Charley.

The forester looked at him sharply. "What business do you have excepting
the business of the forest?" he asked.

"None," said Charley.

"Then surely you could discuss forest matters in the presence of a
ranger."

"It may be that I am unreasonable," said Charley, "but I don't like that
man. There's something about him that I don't trust."

The forester looked at Charley searchingly. "Sometimes," he said, "I
almost feel that way myself. I realize that Lumley is mouthy and
inquisitive and disagreeable personally, but he has been in the Forest
Service a long time and it hardly seems right not to trust him. He's a
pretty efficient ranger."

"Well, I'm here, anyway," continued Charley. "I came to find out what my
first duties are to be and how to do them."

"There's a little tree planting that simply must be done in your
territory, late though it is," said Mr. Marlin. "To-morrow I shall send
you out with a small crew to do it."

"Please show me just how it ought to be done," said Charley.

The forester smiled with approval. "Come out-of-doors," he said, picking
up a mattock. And he led the way to a bed of seedling spruces that had
been heeled in the ground, and dug up two or three of them.

"These ought to be lifted in small bunches and their roots puddled," he
said, dipping the earth-covered roots in water to show how to puddle them.
"They should be planted thus." He struck his mattock sharply into the
soil, bent it to one side, and in the hole thus opened thrust a tiny tree.
Then he stepped on the ground close to the seedling and pressed the earth
tight about it.

"That's all there is to it," he said. "Your crew will work in pairs, one
man carrying the trees in a pail of water and inserting them in the
ground, while the other man carries the mattock and opens the holes. The
trees should be planted in straight rows and about four feet apart each
way. You will have to go ahead of the crew and set up the line pole. Pick
out some trees or saplings to sight by and you will have no trouble to
keep your line straight."

"Is that all?"

"You'll have to oversee the work, of course. Make sure the planting is
done right, and watch your men. You will have to take whatever steps seem
necessary to keep them working well and cheerfully. Sometimes it is a good
thing to switch a man from one job to another. It rests him to use another
set of muscles."

"What else am I to do?"

"Day after to-morrow I want you to brush out the fire trails leading to
your old camp. That is, you must start brushing them out. It will take
several days. They are so overgrown now that they are a real menace to the
forest. These trails were originally five feet wide. We took out all the
roots and underground growths down to mineral soil. You must cut away all
the brush that has grown in, chop it into short lengths, and pile it in
little piles in the trail itself for burning on windless days. You must
grub out the roots that have grown in, too. Really the entire trail ought
to be grubbed again, but we can't do that now. You will have to assign men
to cut brush, to pile it, and to grub up the roots. That's about all I
can tell you."

"It sounds very easy," said Charley, "but I am willing to confess that
handling these tough looking mountaineers is more than I counted on."

"Are you going to quit so soon?" asked the forester with scorn. "I thought
you had more stuff in you than that, Charley."

Charley turned red. "Who said anything about quitting?" he demanded. "I
only want to know what I am to do if I get into trouble with the men."

"That's more than I can tell you. It's up to you as a ranger to find the
ways to manage your men. But I can tell you this. It is always best to
follow Mr. Roosevelt's plan and speak softly but carry a big stick. Be
kind to the men. Be square with them. Play no favorites. Look after their
interest. But don't let them loaf on the job. They expect to have to work,
and they won't have much respect for a man who doesn't hold them to their
task. After all, they are not very different from horses. They have to be
driven if they are to work."

"I suspect some of them will be hard to drive," said Charley, "if the few
I have seen hereabout are good samples."

"It all depends upon how you get started with them. Don't let them get
away with you. Let them know you are the boss. And remember this: as a
ranger you have power to hire and fire these men. If it comes to a
show-down, don't hesitate to fire a man. We're short-handed, but we can
much better afford to lose a laborer than to have an entire crew spoiled."

"Thank you," said Charley. "I feel better already. If you don't mind, I'm
coming to you before each new job and get you to show me exactly how it
should be done. A fellow can get along so much better if he really knows
what he is talking about."

"Good boy," smiled the forester. "I don't believe I am going to be
disappointed in you, Charley."

Charley shook the forester's hand and started back to his new habitation,
which he reached just as supper was ready.

After supper he and the ranger talked about the forest. Or rather Lumley
did. He was so loquacious that Charley soon stopped talking and let his
companion carry on the conversation alone. Lumley was quite able to do it,
for he was truly, as Mr. Marlin had described him, mouthy. He had
something to say about everything, and what he had to say was usually of a
derogatory character. He was guarded in what he said about Mr. Marlin, yet
Charley saw that he was trying to damn the forester by faint praise.

"You may make a good ranger in time all right," he said bluntly to
Charley, "but it seems mighty funny to me to take a raw high school boy
and put him in charge of the finest stand of timber in the entire forest.
I'm the man that post ought to go to. Besides, I have a greater interest
in that timber than any one else."

Charley choked back his resentment at the statement about himself and
asked, "Why have you a greater interest in that timber than any one else?"

"Because our family used to own that timber," he said, sudden passion
inflaming his eyes. And Charley once more saw in them that savage look he
had detected before. "If my old fool of a grandfather hadn't let himself
be bilked out of the whole holding," he said coarsely, "I'd own that
timber to-day and I'd be a millionaire instead of a poor forest-ranger. By
rights the land is mine, anyway." And again the ranger swore at his dead
ancestor.

Charley listened in disgust but made no comment. The ranger saw that he
had talked too much. He muttered an apology. "When I see somebody else
getting the money that ought to be mine," he said, "it makes me so mad
that I could almost commit murder." Then he quickly changed the
conversation and once more became the smooth, oily individual he was when
Charley first saw him.

But Charley had seen and heard enough to be utterly disgusted with the
man. As early as possible he got away to his room on the pretext of
weariness, but it was a long time before he went to bed.

Early next morning he was at headquarters, where Mr. Marlin introduced him
to the half dozen men who were to serve under him. Ordinarily ten men
would form a unit for planting, but Charley did not know that, and so was
ignorant of the fact that Mr. Marlin had tried to make his first day of
authority easy and successful by giving him only a few selected men to
handle. Mr. Marlin introduced Charley to the men one by one, as they came
in. Charley tried to talk to them, but found it rather difficult. The
mountaineers had little to say.

When the men were all on hand, Mr. Marlin turned to them and said, "By the
way, men, this is the lad who saved Morton's life."

At the mention of the sick ranger, Charley saw the men's faces light up.

"He's a little young yet, but he knows his business. Jim says he handled
the snake-bite as well as any doctor could have done. I want you all to be
good to this lad and help him as much as you can."

Now they had found something in common to talk about. All day long, at
intervals, the crew discussed rattlers; and Charley told them, at their
request, just how the ranger was bitten and what had been done to save
him.

"You see," he said, "the danger from snake-bite comes when the poison
reaches the heart. So it is necessary to suck as much of it out as
possible and to prevent the remainder from reaching the heart except a
little at a time. That's why the bandages were put on the arm so tight.
The old notion of taking a stimulant was all wrong. The thing to do is to
keep the heart beating as slowly as possible until the venom reaches it.
Then if it begins to slow up, give a stimulant."

This suggestion was contrary to all forest practice and Charley could see
that the men were greatly interested in it. How much his recital about the
snake contributed to his success that day he never realized. He kept his
lines straight, switched his men from one task to another, now relieved
this man or that, and did his work in such a highly efficient manner that
he would have had no trouble anyway; but at intervals all through the day
the men reverted to the rattlesnake story. They were so busy thinking
about something else they almost forgot about Charley.

But the next day had a different tale to tell. The forester had increased
Charley's crew by four men, and a tougher looking lot Charley had never
seen. Rough, rugged, reckless mountaineers, there was not one of them who
could not have picked Charley up and broken him in half with ease. And one
of them, a tall, surly fellow, was quite evidently bent on making trouble.

Charley's knees almost shook under him when he faced the crew and realized
that it was up to him to command and control these men. Also he knew that
he was lost if he showed any hesitation. The instant the party reached the
trail, therefore, Charley seized an axe.

"Let's get at it, men," he said, starting work himself.

"What do you want us to do?" asked the tall, surly looking chap. The
others gathered round to see what Charley would say. And Charley realized
that he was on trial with the men.

"You heard what the forester said," he replied pleasantly. "We're to brush
this trail out. I want it made as good as it was when it was first
completed. Mr. Marlin said you were a mighty good crew and knew your
business thoroughly. So you don't need any instructions from me."

Evidently the reply tickled the men. Charley saw one or two of them nudge
their fellows and chuckle; and all of them looked slyly in the direction
of the man who had asked the question. Charley judged that the fellow was
trying to make game of him and that the crew thought Charley had come out
on top. Charley did not mean to lose this slight initial advantage.

With his axe he began briskly chopping away the brush along the sides of
the trail. Here and there he noticed little bushes that had sprung up in
the trail itself.

"I wish you would take a mattock," he said to the man nearest him, "and
grub out all the plants in the trail. Take out all the roots and get
everything clean down to mineral soil." To the others he said: "We'll chop
up the brush fine and pile it right in the trail to burn on windless
days."

The crew fell to with a will and the work went forward briskly. Presently
they reached a place where the trail was badly overgrown. Charley assigned
two more men to grub up roots. He was learning fast. Most of the time he
worked at the head of the gang, so he could see what was ahead, and be
prepared for any new situation that arose. But from time to time he walked
back among the crew to see that the work was being done right.

Evidently the crew liked the way Charley was taking hold. They worked
cheerfully and skilfully. That is, all did with the exception of the tall,
surly fellow. He seemed bent on annoying Charley, but Charley paid no
attention to him. At last, however, a situation arose that he dared not
overlook. The trail had originally been five feet wide, but the bushes,
crowding in on either side, had greatly narrowed it. The main reason for
brushing out this trail at this time was to widen it again to its original
size so as to make it an effective barrier against fire. The tall laborer
was deliberately neglecting to cut bushes that had sprung up within the
original five-foot area.

The instant Charley noticed this, he spoke to the man. The others,
scenting trouble, stopped work to look on. Charley sensed the situation
and set himself for a tussle. "Let them know you're boss," he remembered
Mr. Marlin had said to him. So he stepped toward the man and said quietly,
"I neglected to say that I want this trail cleared to its original width.
Just take out those bushes you have missed."

"The trail's wide enough," said the man, sulkily. "Lots of trails aren't
half as wide as that."

"It isn't a question of how wide other trails are," said Charley
good-naturedly, "or of how wide this ought to be. All I can do is to obey
orders. Mr. Marlin told me to clear the trail just as it was originally."

The man looked angrily at Charley and sudden passion lighted up his eyes.
"If Mr. Marlin wants this trail that wide, he can say so himself. But
nobody's goin' to make me take orders from a high school boy. I know how
this trail ought to be brushed."

Charley saw that it had come to a show-down. Inwardly he was greatly
agitated. His heart beat so fast and the pulse in his temples throbbed so
violently that he was afraid the men would see how excited he was. But he
took a grip on himself and answered slowly, thinking hard all the time,
and trying not to betray his real feelings. Again he recalled what his
chief had said about letting the men know he was boss.

"You are quite right," said Charley slowly. "Nobody can make you take
orders from a high school boy. This is a free country and you do not have
to take orders from anybody if you don't want to. You are free to quit
this job at any time you like and nobody can stop you. But as long as you
stay on the job you will have to obey orders. I'll give you your time and
you can get your pay at the office if you want to quit. If you want to
stay, just brush out that trail as Mr. Marlin wants it brushed."

Without waiting for a reply Charley turned away and returned to his place
at the head of the line. The men about him resumed their work with a will.
In a moment the tall laborer picked up his axe and began clearing out the
bushes he had missed. Charley had won.




Chapter XXII

Charley Finds Another Clue



As he trudged homeward that evening, Charley pondered over the events of
the day. At first he did not know whether to rejoice or be sorry over the
outcome of his encounter with the laborer. He was sure the man would hate
him, and if he did, he might try to make more trouble for him. On the
other hand, he realized that if he had let the man get the better of him,
he could never have hoped to maintain discipline; and Charley was old
enough to know that without discipline he could not succeed in any post of
authority.

Perhaps he was most worried by the fact that he could not talk to Mr.
Marlin about the matter. Of course, he could have used the telephone, but
the idea of discussing his difficulties before the Lumley family was so
repugnant to him that he could not bring himself to attempt it. So he
decided to get up his wireless at once. Then he could talk to Mr. Morton
and Lumley could not understand what was being said. He felt free to tell
the Mortons anything. By this time Mrs. Morton could operate the wireless
readily and her husband was learning fast. So Charley hurried to eat his
supper and get his wireless installed.

He foresaw that Lumley would insist upon helping him. He steeled his mind
to the event and accepted the proffered assistance with the best grace he
could. Afterward he thanked his lucky stars that he had done so.

While there was still light enough out-of-doors, Charley assembled and
hoisted his aerial; and Lumley, who was really dexterous, was of great
help to him. As soon as the aerial dangled aloft, Lumley got tools to bore
a hole in the window-sash for the lead-in wire.

Now Charley got another insight into Lumley's character. It was a little
difficult to make the hole just where it was wanted. Lumley instantly
became impatient and went ahead recklessly. Suddenly his bit snapped. With
a volley of oaths, Lumley threw down his brace and hammered the broken bit
out of the window-frame. In doing so, he broke out a long splinter of
wood, leaving a gaping crack in the sash. He swore until he was out of
breath. Then he got some putty and puttied up the hole, forcing the putty
into the crack with his thumbs. Then the wire was brought in through the
sash and Charley began wiring up his instruments. But it had taken half an
hour to accomplish what five minutes of patience would have done. Charley
was utterly disgusted with the ranger's show of temper.

As he coupled up the instruments, he answered, as politely as he could,
the ranger's numberless questions. Behind every question he saw, or
thought he could see, some ulterior motive. By every means he could,
Lumley was trying to find out all that was possible about Charley and his
relations with the forester. And Charley could see that Lumley was envious
of his intimacy with Mr. Marlin and jealous of him because, though a mere
boy, he was already as high up in the service as Lumley was after years in
the department. Charley realized that this was an unfair way to view the
matter, as he, Charley, was not really a ranger, and did not expect to
continue as a ranger after Mr. Morton was well enough to resume his
duties. But he could see that Lumley took no account of that. He began to
understand that it was the man's nature to be suspicious and jealous.

That was clear enough from Lumley's remarks about himself; for again he
repeated the story of his family's former ownership of the big timber, and
of how he had been robbed of his heritage. Charley felt sure the man had
brooded over the matter until his judgment was warped. He listened,
however, without comment.

Presently Lumley began to make insinuations about the forester, telling
Charley that Mr. Marlin had been as much the child of luck as he had
himself; but Mr. Marlin had had all the good luck, while he had had all
the bad luck. When he spoke of Mr. Marlin's rise from the ranks, Charley
could see plainly enough that Lumley was green with jealousy. He thought
he ought not to listen to such talk, and telling Lumley flatly that Mr.
Marlin's industry, he was sure, was the main reason for his success,
Charley turned the conversation into more agreeable channels. Finally
Charley finished coupling up his instruments and tested his spark.

"It's a slower way to talk," said the ranger as he watched Charley adjust
his spark-gap, "but I can see that it beats the telephone all hollow. Why,
a wind-storm, or a snow, or a thunder-storm can put the telephone out of
business quicker than you can say scat, and it may take hours and hours to
find the trouble and remedy it. I guess you couldn't put the wireless out
of commission, could you?"

"That's where you are wrong," smiled Charley. "A piece of iron laid across
the terminals for half an hour would put this battery completely out of
business."

How easily the telephone could be put out of business was soon shown; for
the very next day a terrific wind-storm came along, uprooting large trees,
wrenching loose great limbs which it hurled for many yards, bending flat
some of the smaller, weaker saplings and ripping its way through the
forest with a roar indescribable. Charley was with his crew brushing out
the fire trail. The wind was accompanied by some rain, and the crew sought
shelter under an overhanging ledge of rock. While they waited for the
storm to blow itself out, Charley turned the situation over in his mind.
Hurricanes were something he had never thought to ask Mr. Marlin about. He
felt sure the storm would mean some new duty for him, but he did not know
exactly what. He hesitated to ask his crew, for he did not want to betray
his ignorance. But a chance remark one of his men dropped about repairing
the telephone-line furnished a clue for Charley. He thought the matter
over, and by the time the storm had ended, Charley had come to a decision.
Right or wrong, he determined to act promptly.

"I want one of you to help me look after the telephone-line," he said,
picking out one of the crew. "The rest of you can go on with the fire
trail."

With this helper, he made his way out to the telephone-line and followed
it the entire length of his territory. In several places saplings had
blown across it. One tree, partly uprooted, was leaning against it. And in
one place the line was actually broken. Charley had no tools for handling
wire, and he decided that he would henceforth carry a pair of nippers in
his clothes. Fortunately for Charley, the wire had stretched so much
before it broke that he and the man were able to get the broken ends
together and give them a twist. The repair was temporary, but it would
answer until a permanent job could be done. When Charley reported to
headquarters that night, the chief commended him for his good judgment in
repairing the telephone-line so promptly.

The few days that Charley had worked in the forest had made his hands very
sore, for he had no gloves. He had cut and scratched and torn his fingers
until it seemed to him there was room for no more bruises. He wanted to
get some gloves, but did not know when he could get to a store to buy any.
He mentioned the matter to Lumley.

"Buy them by mail," said Lumley. "We get most of our goods from mail-order
houses."

Charley had never bought anything by mail, and had not thought of securing
his gloves in that way. "That would be all right," he said, "but I
wouldn't know how to order."

"Here," said the ranger, plunging his hand into a cabinet, "these
catalogues will help you." And he drew forth three catalogues from as many
different mail-order houses. There was one from Slears and Hoebuck, one
from Montgomery Hard, and a third from Carson and Derby.

Instantly Charley thought of the telltale piece of green pasteboard and a
quick suspicion leaped into his mind. As quickly it faded out. He could
not for a single second bring himself to suspect a guardian of the forest
of being a woodland incendiary. Yet he could not refrain from asking,
"Which one of these concerns do you buy from?"

"Whichever one sells cheapest," replied the ranger.

Charley found some cheap working gloves that he thought would suit him and
ordered several pairs.

In the days that followed, he thought often over the problem of the green
pasteboard. It was true he had made another step in unraveling the
problem, but he did not see that it helped him much. He had discovered
that Lumley sometimes bought stuff from Carson and Derby, but doubtless
dozens of other near-by dwellers also did. Furthermore, it did not follow
that any near resident had fired the forest. Some one from a distance
might have done so. The more Charley thought about the matter, the less
importance he placed upon his discovery, and he decided to say nothing
about it to any one. How the guilty party was ever to be traced Charley
could not even imagine. The situation appeared hopeless.

However, Charley had small chance to worry about the matter. As the days
passed, the forester laid more and more duties upon him. Many a lad would
have thought the forester was imposing upon him, but Charley was eager to
do everything he possibly could. He realized that the more he
accomplished, the greater would be his experience; and that the larger his
experience was, the faster he ought to get ahead. He had the good sense to
know that the short way of spelling opportunity is <i>w-o-r-k</i>. And he
realized that he had his chance here and now. So he did everything he
possibly could do and asked for more.

The forester, like any other man in authority, was pleased beyond words at
this spirit. His response was to pile the work on Charley. He was testing
him out, to see whether the desire for work was just a whim or whether
Charley possessed that real ambition, that inward spirit of progress that
drives a man on and on through the years to greater and greater
accomplishments. For the best worker in the world is the man who works
because he wishes to work, and who is always striving to become a better
workman.

Certainly Charley became a better workman, as any one does who works in
the spirit he exhibited. The mere getting of a wage, the mere earning of a
living hardly figured in Charley's calculations. He was working to learn,
to get ahead, to climb up in the Forestry Service. Hence there was nothing
perfunctory in what he did. He strove for perfection; and like all who so
strive, he began to attain it.

Before he had been many weeks a ranger, Charley was as valuable a man in
many ways as the forester had under him. All Charley lacked to make him
perhaps the very best man was wider experience; and this was coming to him
daily. Furthermore, Charley was fortunate enough to have learned, through
his schooling, that although experience is the best teacher, he is a fool
who learns only through his own experience. All the information in all the
books that Charley had ever studied was the result of experience--somebody
else's experience. And he had early grasped the fact that to learn through
the experience of others is to save time and difficulty. So now he
supplemented his own experiences by much reading and study at night and by
the discussion of forest matters with the more intelligent of his workmen.

New experiences came to him frequently. The forester surveyed and laid
out a road through the forest. Charley helped with the surveying and
learned much about levels and grades and the theory of road making. And
after the road was fairly started, the forester left its completion
largely to Charley. This new road was to lead into the big timber
operation which was shortly to begin in Charley's territory.

Already a great crew had been assembled and much timber had been cut in
Lumley's district. Lumley had to oversee this operation and he was kept
far busier than he liked to be. So Charley saw little of him.

In overseeing the operation in his own tract, Charley would have to select
and mark the trees for cutting, see that they were felled so as to save
the young growths, compel the prompt removal of trees that had fallen
across little saplings that had been bent under them, and make sure the
tops were properly lopped off and either burned where possible or piled so
that they would quickly rot. Then he would have to be particular that the
trees were thrown away from the roads and lines, and that a strip at least
one hundred feet wide was kept cleared of brush between the cutting
operations and the remainder of the forest, as a protection against the
spread of fire. Then there would be timber to scale and a hundred other
things to be looked after. To safeguard the state's interests would
require both experience and determination should the timber operators
wish to be tricky. Mr. Marlin intended that Charley, as a reward for the
fine spirit he was showing, should handle the lumber operation in his own
district entirely alone, just as a full-fledged ranger would do. It was
both a high compliment to Charley and a fine reward, for the timber
operation was large, involving great sums of money, and even with the most
careful supervision the state might easily be defrauded of thousands of
dollars.

But Mr. Marlin was far too wise to put Charley in such a position without
adequate training. Personally, therefore, he began to prepare him for the
work. Accompanied by Charley, he went entirely over the operations in
Lumley's territory. He carried a duplicate of the contract under which the
wood was being cut. Together they discussed every phase of the contract,
and the forester showed Charley how each step in the operation should be
carried out; how the trees should be selected and marked, how they should
be felled and trimmed, how the brush should be disposed of, and finally
how the timber should be scaled at the skidways along the highway, whence
the timber was being carted away in huge trucks.

Then he went with Charley into the latter's own district and started him
at the task of selecting and marking the trees for cutting. These had to
be greater than ten inches in diameter, breast-high, and had to be marked.
Crooked trees and wolf trees whose unduly large tops harmed lower growths
were also to be cut. The trees were marked by blazing them at the butt and
breast-high and striking the blazes with a heavy hammer that left the
imprint of the state's marker on the wood. Merely to select and mark all
the trees to be cut was a considerable task, but Charley tried to do this
and carry on his other work as well. It meant that he worked from the
earliest possible moment in the morning until he could no longer see at
night. Day after day he worked at his tasks, content to eat cold meals
that Mrs. Lumley packed for him, and reaching home so weary that he
tumbled into bed and was asleep the instant he had telephoned his daily
report to his chief.

Darkness had already fallen, one night, when Charley drew near the Lumley
habitation. To his surprise he saw a light up-stairs in Lumley's room. As
he drew nearer, he could faintly discern the forms of two men in the
chamber. Involuntarily he stopped to scrutinize the figures. At the same
instant Lumley's dogs began to bark, as they always did when any one
approached. Quick as a flash the curtain of the chamber window was pulled
down. But in that brief instant Charley was sure he recognized the man
with Lumley. It was Bill Collins.

Charley was startled completely out of his weariness. A moment later he
got a second shock. Like a flash it came to him where he had first seen
Lumley. He had been with Collins the day the latter had appeared in the
forest. Collins had attracted Charley's attention so strongly that he had
hardly noticed Collins' companion. Yet now he was certain he was right. He
was certain that he was not mistaken.

From the beginning he had believed that he had seen Lumley somewhere
before the forester introduced Lumley to him. Now it came to him where he
had first seen Lumley. Lumley was the man he and Lew had seen with Bill
Collins.

Still another surprise awaited Charley. When he entered the house Lumley
was seated at the table opposite a stranger, and the stranger was not Bill
Collins. But he resembled Collins so much that Charley did not wonder
that, at such a distance, he had made the mistake of thinking the man was
Collins.




Chapter XXIII

A Startling Discovery



Charley was glad enough that the man was not Collins. Had he been Collins,
Charley would have had another matter to worry about. He was carrying such
a load of responsibility these days that he sometimes felt that he
couldn't stand another thing; and in moments of depression he thought he
could not continue to carry the load he already had.

For Charley was learning the lesson that every man in authority learns:
when the forester laid out a piece of work for him, the forester expected
him to get it done. No matter what the difficulties were, Charley had to
find a way to surmount them. Many and many a day he would gladly have
exchanged places with the humblest laborers in his crew.

All that was required of them was merely to do what they were told to do,
hour after hour or day after day. There was no need for them to lie awake
wrestling with problems that seemed impossible of solution, as Charley had
more than once lain awake.

For it had not all been smooth sailing for Charley, any more than it is
for any man in authority. After his first set-to with the surly laborer,
he had not had any open trouble with his men. But more than one of his
crew did not always do an honest day's work, and any failure on the men's
part put Charley behind with the amount of work he was expected to get
done. This difficulty Charley had finally remedied by asking for Mr.
Morton's help. The latter had sent for several of the laborers and had
shown them that in hindering Charley they were hurting the Forest Service
and thus, in the long run, harming themselves.

Furthermore, as the days passed, and Charley showed that he knew his job,
that he was just to everybody, that he had control of his temper, that he
expected a fair day's work every day, while he himself accomplished more
actual work each day than any man in his gang, the attitude of the men
under him changed. Before the summer ended, Charley had as loyal a crew as
any man could ask for. And to their loyalty they began to add ambition.
For Charley was able gradually to instil into them the spirit which made
them want to do as much as any other crew and a little bit more.

So his road making came on apace. Rapidly the rude highway advanced
through the forest. Every day after his crew had gone home, Charley went
over the area to be made the succeeding day, examining carefully every
inch of the ground and determining how he would meet each little problem
that would come up. Thus prepared, he speedily acquired a reputation for
unusual ability. The result was that his men, when stopped by some
obstacle, at once came to him for assistance, though at first they would
have scorned to ask a "high school boy" for enlightenment about any task
in the forest.

The road under construction was being pushed straight through the heart of
the big timber. It was to lead directly to the foot of the mountain on the
top of which Charley and Lew had had their secret watch tree. Materials
for a real fire-tower, a sixty-foot structure of steel, had been
purchased, and as soon as the road was completed, this material was to be
trucked to the foot of the mountain, and the tower itself erected on the
summit, close to the very tree that Charley and Lew had climbed so often.

The erection of the tower was another task for which Charley would be
responsible. Long before the road was completed, therefore, Charley and
the forester went over every step in the process of construction, and
decided how to do each task, from the making of the concrete foundations
to the stringing of the telephone wires when the tower was complete. The
tower itself was to be a slender steel structure made of angle-iron
supports bolted together, with a little square room at the top for the
watcher. This room would be enclosed on every side with glass windows, and
from this great elevation a watcher could see in every direction over
miles and miles of forest. A telephone would connect with the forester's
office.

At the foot of this tower Mr. Marlin intended to build a snug, little
cabin, so that the tower man could remain at his post twenty-four hours a
day throughout the fire season. The materials for the cabin would be
trucked in along the new road and carried up the mountain, and some of
them would be cut right on the spot; for the forester planned to erect a
neat log cabin.

Before the road was completed, Charley had cement carried in as far as the
trucks could travel. Then the cement was carried up the mountain by
laborers. It had been put in small sacks so that it could be handled
easily. Sand was already at hand, and water could be had at the run coming
from the spring by which Charley had camped. Tools and boards were
brought, the proper excavations made, forms fashioned and fitted into the
excavations, and then cement was mixed and poured into the forms to make
the foundation to which the tower was to be bolted. By the time the road
was finished so that the steel framework could be trucked in, the cement
foundations were hard as stone and ready for the instant erection of the
tower.

At once the steel frame began to ascend. Upright was added to upright,
cross brace bolted to cross brace, and rung after rung added to the steel
ladder that led up to what was to be the watch-tower. In a surprisingly
short time the steel work was completed. Now the forester brought in
skilled carpenters and the wood for the tower room was cut after the
patterns and the cut pieces hoisted up to the top of the steel frame where
the watch-tower itself began to take shape.

While these operations were afoot, Charley and his laborers were back in
the forest, running a telephone-line along the new road. Holes had to be
dug, poles cut, barked, hauled, and set up, and the wires strung. While
his men set the poles, Charley himself, with a helper, strung the wires.
At this job he needed no instruction. His experiences with the wireless
were now of great value to him, for he understood about insulation,
grounding, short circuits, and the like as well as any skilled lineman.

So the telephone-line came on apace, and long before the tower was
finished, Charley had the line complete from the highway, where it joined
the main line, to the summit of the hill where the tower was going up. He
installed an instrument in a waterproof box nailed to a tree, so that he
could now talk from the hilltop to the forester's office. When the tower
was finally completed, he ran the lines up inside the angle-irons to
protect them from the terrific winds, so that the tower man could
instantly communicate with the forester at Oakdale.

Now the cabin went up. Large, flat stones were assembled and a rough but
stable foundation made below the level of the ground. Trees were felled,
barked, squared on two sides, and properly notched at the corners. When a
sufficient number had been prepared, the frame of the cabin was erected,
log being laid upon log, with the corners dovetailing. Wooden pins held
the logs in place. Windows and a door were cut out and framed. Then the
rafters for the roof were fashioned, the sheathing nailed on, and
shingles, made at a former lumber operation in Mr. Marlin's own territory,
completed the job. A fireplace was made of big stones and concrete, and
the cabin was about complete. A telephone extension was run into the
building. At any time now a fire patrol could take up his twenty-four-hour
watch at the fire-tower.

The early rush of fishermen was past; but the fine weather still brought
hosts of them into the woods, and the danger of fire increased rather than
lessened. The scanty rainfall in spring had left the woods still dry, and
now but few showers came. Fire patrols were still difficult to obtain,
however, and Charley decided that he would take up his residence, at least
temporarily, in the new cabin.

There was ample room in it for two men, should a fire patrol be secured,
and by living there, Charley would, of necessity, spend much time at this
observation post. Night and morning and at intervals between, when he was
at home, he could ascend to the tower and view every part of the
neighboring forest. Furthermore, the location was very convenient, for the
tower was close to the heart of his district. By living here he would be
with his work twenty-four hours a day.

Mr. Marlin approved of Charley's decision to move into the cabin. With the
new road completed, the forester could come to the very foot of the
mountain in his motor-car. He was in instant communication with his ranger
by telephone and, when it was necessary, he could get to him by motor-car
with the greatest ease.

The forester himself helped Charley move his belongings from Lumley's
house to the new cabin. While Mr. Marlin was loading Charley's other
luggage on his truck, Charley was dismantling his wireless. When he
removed the lead-in wire from the window-sash, he noticed Lumley's
finger-marks in the puttied crack and told Mr. Marlin about the ranger's
fit of temper. When everything was finally packed, Charley thanked Mrs.
Lumley for her hospitality and then climbed into the waiting truck.

As he sat down beside the forester, he sighed with relief. Merely to get
away from Lumley's house made him feel as though a burden had been lifted
from his shoulders. Mr. Marlin laughed at him, but that did not disturb
Charley. He had never been able to rid himself of his feeling of distrust
for Lumley, and he felt oppressed when he was in the Lumley home.

Charley and the forester carried Charley's possessions from the truck to
the new cabin. A tiny stove had been brought along for Charley to cook on.
Although it was so small, it was heavy enough. Between that and the
battery, the two had all the carrying they wanted before everything was
finally placed in the cabin.

Charley fastened his aerial between the fire-tower and his old watch
tree, which was still standing, but which had been shorn of most of its
branches to allow the watchman in the tower to see past it. Finally,
everything was complete. The wireless was in working condition, Charley's
few furnishings were in place, the stores put away, and the cabin was
fully ready for his occupancy.

Immediately Charley called up Mrs. Morton on the telephone and asked her
to talk to him on the wireless. A moment later their invisible messages
were speeding back and forth over the miles of billowing pine tops that
intervened between the two little forest homes, and no listener in on the
department telephone system could either know that they were talking or
tell what they said. Charley was overjoyed when Mrs. Morton told him that
her husband was about ready to come back to work. His arm was still
painful and he could not use it much, but he could now get around well and
was fast becoming strong again.

When Charley told the forester the news, the latter expressed his
pleasure. He studied Charley's face a moment to see how Charley felt over
the news.

"You realize what it means to you when Jim is able to do his work again,
do you?" asked Mr. Marlin.

"Certainly," said Charley. A feeling of regret passed through his mind and
was mirrored on his face. But there was nothing unkind or unfair about
it. "Maybe some day I'll qualify as a real ranger," sighed Charley, "but
I'm glad I had this opportunity to learn something."

"Charley," continued the forester, "you've earned the right to see this
lumber operation through. It's a big responsibility. You've worked night
and day to get ready for the job. Do you think I'm the kind of man who
would rob you of the reward that you have justly earned?"

"I don't exactly understand," said Charley.

"I mean," replied the forester, "that no matter whether Jim gets well in
time or not, you are going to handle the lumber operation in this
district. Jim can do something else. There's plenty of work for a dozen
rangers. You are to be the boss of this job."

"Do you really mean it?" cried Charley in delight.

"Surely I mean it," said the forester. "It wouldn't be a fair deal not to
let you take charge after the way you've tried to qualify for the work."

Charley held out his hand. "Thanks," was all that he could say, for a lump
came into his throat.

"And while we are talking about the lumber job," the forester went on, "I
want to say that I was never so badly fooled about anything in my life.
The cut isn't coming anywhere near my estimate. It must be five to ten
thousand feet per acre less than I thought it would run. I guess the Big
Chief at Harrisburg will think I'm a pretty poor timber cruiser."

"How's that?" asked Charley.

"Well, you remember the day I first met you in the forest, Charley, I was
cruising with two good timber estimators. They're skilled men. We were
making the estimate on which this sale was based. I sent in my estimate
and the department made its figures on that basis. But the timber that is
actually being taken out doesn't begin to scale what I thought it would.
Of course I was wrong in not cruising a bigger strip. But I just couldn't
spare the time, then. Evidently the stand over in Lumley's district is not
so heavy as it is here. The right way to estimate timber is to cruise
strips entirely across the stand. You can't make a correct estimate by
cruising an acre or two as I did and estimating an entire stand on the
basis of that acre or two. You see the stand in the bottom may be half as
heavy again as the stand on the hillside."

Mr. Marlin paused. After a moment, he went on, "Before the lumbermen get
into your district I want to make another estimate. You and I will cruise
a few strips the entire width of the stand. That will take quite a little
time. We can't start to-day, but we'll get at it at the first opportunity.
Meantime, I want you to get all the practice you can in scaling lumber, so
that you can do it readily. You will have to scale every stick cut in your
district and keep tally on all the lumber that is taken out. It's highly
important work, for the state depends upon your figures to get its just
pay for the lumber cut. If you make mistakes, the state will lose
accordingly. I want you to practice scaling so that you can do it as
readily as you can measure a board with a yardstick."

"Then I'll do some practicing to-day," said Charley. "You sent my crew
into another district and I can put in a whole afternoon practicing."

"Very good. I'll take you out to the skidways where the logs are being
piled by the highway, and you can work there as long as you like. Do you
have that log-rule I gave you?"

"Sure. But what about this? How shall I know if my measurements are
correct?"

"I'll tell you what we'll do. You scale every pile of logs at the highway
and make a record of your measurements. When Lumley turns in his official
record we can compare your figures with his. Then you will know how nearly
right you are." They went down the mountain and climbed into the
motor-car.

"Perhaps you would rather do this some other time," said the forester
suddenly. "You'll have to walk back, for I must go right along to my
office. And it's a great deal farther back here than it would have been to
Lumley's house."

Charley's reply was a good-natured laugh. "Have you ever found me afraid
of a little hike?" he asked. "I may not have another opportunity as good
as this, for I'm going to be mighty busy when my crew gets back."

They drove on, and at the skidways Mr. Marlin dropped his subordinate.
"I'll be out to see you to-morrow," he said, "with some maps and
specifications I must work out to-night. Good-bye."

"He's a prince," muttered Charley, and fell to measuring logs.

Applying his log-rule to the small end of each log, he noted the diameter
of the log and from the scale on the rule read the number of board-feet in
the log. Already Charley had done a little scaling of logs and he went at
the work readily. As he scaled pile after pile of logs, he worked faster
and faster, acquiring greater facility with every measurement. The
contents of each pile he noted down, a log at a time, on a bit of paper.
When he had finished the work, he totaled up the board-feet, and whistled
when he realized what a tremendous quantity of lumber was contained in the
log piles he had been measuring.

"Gee!" he said to himself. "At the price lumber is selling for now, those
logs are worth a small fortune. Gad! It makes a fellow feel pretty sober
when he thinks how easily he could make a mistake that would cost the
state hundreds of dollars."

He tucked his record in his pocket, along with his pencil, and started for
his cabin. Despite the fact that he was soon to lose his place of
authority, he could not help feeling happy. His diploma had been awarded
to him on Commencement day, although he had not been able to be present to
receive it, and that was one cause for happiness. His comrades had never
yet been able to visit him, but he had received a letter that morning
telling him that the entire Wireless Patrol was coming out to spend a
Sunday with him in the new cabin. That was a second cause for happiness.
His friend, Mr. Morton, was almost well, and that was a third cause for
happiness. And finally, he had earned the confidence of his chief so
completely that his chief was entrusting to him the very important task of
overseeing the lumber operation. That made Charley's heart swell with
pride. Even the near approach of his reduction to the ranks again could
not mar his happiness; for in his heart he knew that he had made good and
that it was only a question of time until he should become a ranger in
fact as well as in name.

So he went on his way happy, rejoicing in his accomplishment, enjoying the
new life of the forest, joyous with the strength and hope and confidence
of youth. He came at last to his trail's end, and climbed the tower to
look for fire and to watch the sun go down.

"It's warm enough so that a fellow could sleep up here now," he said to
himself suddenly. "I'll just build a bunk up here and then I can sleep
here whenever I feel like it. If I wake up in the night, I can take a look
around and make sure everything is all right."

He went down to his cabin and got a rope, some boards, foot-rule, saw,
hammer, auger, and nails. He went back to the tower and made some
measurements. Then he came down, cut his boards, bored holes into them,
tied them together, and went up again with his tools and nails and the end
of the rope. He hauled up the boards and drew them into the watch-tower.
Then he nailed them together and had a snug little bunk that stretched
completely across one side of the little structure. He wove the cord back
and forth across the bunk through the auger holes in place of springs.
Then he went down to the ground, made a tick out of one of his sheets,
filled it with leaves and got it up to the tower.

"Now," he said, as he spread it on the rope, "all I need is a pillow and a
blanket and I'm fixed."

He went down and cooked his supper. Then he talked both to Mrs. Morton and
to Lew by wireless. He made a cheerful blaze in his fireplace and studied
until ten o'clock. Then he got a pillow and a pair of blankets, blew out
his lamp, and ascended to the tower. He intended to go to sleep at once,
but the night was so beautiful that for a long time he sat on his bunk,
looking out over the forest, which lay still as a sleeping infant under
the moon's white light. Finally he wrapped himself in his blanket,
stretched out on his bunk, and was quickly asleep.

Charley was up early the next morning. He glanced at his watch and saw
that it lacked three-quarters of an hour of the time he usually had a
brief wireless chat with Mrs. Morton, so he cooked his breakfast at once.
Before he had finished eating, he heard the distant chugging of the
forester's car. Sometime later a cheery voice called up the slope, and
looking out of his door, Charley saw Mr. Marlin climbing up the mountain.
Charley hustled to get a cup of coffee ready for his chief.

"I came early," said the forester, "for it will take us some time to go
over these plans. Also I brought Lumley's figures for you to check up your
estimate by." And he handed Charley some slips of paper.

While Mr. Marlin was drinking his coffee, Charley compared Lumley's
figures with those he had made on a bit of paper. At first he looked
crestfallen. Then he appeared puzzled. Then an expression of great
indignation came into his face. He seemed greatly agitated.

The forester was studying his expression closely. "What's the difficulty,
Charley?" he asked.

"I told you I never trusted Lumley," he burst out. "Just look here."

He laid his figures beside Lumley's. Mr. Marlin ran his eye over them. At
first he, too, seemed puzzled. Then his face grew black as a thundercloud.

"Are you certain that you know how to scale a log right, Charley?" he
asked.

"Absolutely, Mr. Marlin."

"How do you estimate a log?"

Charley got his rule and laid it across the end of an unburned log in his
fireplace. It was ten inches in diameter.

"If that were a twelve-foot log," he said, consulting the scale, "it
would have three board feet in it. If it were sixteen feet long, it would
have six feet."

"Absolutely correct, Charley. Did you measure those logs that way
yesterday?"

"Yes, sir."

The two men looked at each other for a full minute. "Charley," said the
forester, "I've been as blind as a bat. I never liked Lumley, any more
than you did, though I couldn't tell you that. But I trusted him because
he had been in the department a good many years and was fairly efficient.
He has betrayed my trust and attempted to rob the state by false
measurement. I understand now why my estimate seemed so far out of the
way. The estimate was probably close enough. Lumley has sold out to the
lumber operators. I'd like to know how they reached him."

The forester fell into a deep study. His face was dark and angry. A long
time he sat silent. "I wonder," he said finally, "if Bill Collins'
presence in the woods last spring had anything to do with it. I'd just
like to know who that was with him."

"Oh! Mr. Marlin," cried Charley. "I forgot to tell you what I discovered.
The other night when I got near Lumley's house, I saw Lumley and another
man up-stairs. They pulled the curtain down quick when the dogs barked. At
first I felt sure the man was Collins. But when I went into the house,
Lumley sat at the table with the man. He wasn't Collins, though he looked
like him. But I discovered this. The man I saw last spring in the forest
with Collins was Lumley. I hardly noticed him at the time, but when I saw
these two men together I felt sure they were the pair I had seen in the
woods--only the stranger wasn't Collins."

"Are you quite sure?"

"The man I saw at the table wasn't Collins."

"Are you sure he was the man you saw in the bedroom?"

Charley looked at the forester in silence. "I never thought of that," he
said, after a moment. "There must have been two strangers in the house.
Lumley thought I was coming and would recognize Collins, so he must have
hustled down-stairs with the other man and left Collins up-stairs. I'll
bet anything that's what happened. And that makes me believe more than
ever that Lumley was with Collins in the forest. Otherwise, why should he
fear to have me see Collins?"

"Charley, it is as plain as the nose on your face. Collins is the
go-between in this crooked lumber deal. These lumber operators meant to
cheat the state when they sent in their bid. They must have had it all
arranged with Lumley then. That's why they put in the highest bid, so as
to make sure to get the timber. By George! They could afford to bid high.
Just see what they've stolen in one day's cut of timber."

The forester's face grew black as a thundercloud. "But we'll fix them,
Charley," he cried. "We'll get all that money back for the state and maybe
put these fellows in prison besides. Anyway, we'll put Lumley there sure.
Don't breathe a word of this to a soul. We'll check up Lumley's figures
every day now at the skidways. When we have enough evidence, we'll act.
Meantime, don't let a soul suspect that you know anything, and don't do
anything to alarm Lumley."




Chapter XXIV

Checkmated



Charley was afoot very early next morning. At the usual time he flashed
out a wireless call for the Mortons, and the ranger himself answered. Mr.
Morton could now operate the wireless quite readily, though, of course,
with nothing like the skill his wife had acquired. He reported that he was
to return to duty the next morning, starting work, with a big crew, on a
six-foot fire-line along the summit of Old Ironsides. Charley was
overjoyed at the news. It meant that now he would have a chance to see
this friend from time to time.

Mr. Marlin had not said that he would come to see Charley this morning,
nor had he telephoned any message to that effect; but when Charley heard
the steady chugging of a motor in the valley below, he believed it must be
the forester. He was not quite certain, however, because the motor did not
seem to beat exactly like Mr. Marlin's. The dense foliage completely hid
the approaching car from view, so that Charley could not see what sort of
an automobile it was.

It mattered little to Charley, however, who it was. He was the soul of
hospitality, and at once he set some coffee to boiling for his approaching
visitor.

This proved to be the forester. He presently came puffing up the slope,
and after he had drunk some coffee and gotten his breath, the two men
began to plan how they should best watch Lumley. The logs must be checked
up carefully, yet it was desirable that no one see Charley measuring them.
Finally it was decided that each day Charley should measure them in the
early evening immediately after the last log truck had started away with
its load. There would be nobody around then, and Charley could easily
measure the day's cut and get home to his cabin before dark.

For an hour the two guardians of the forest discussed matters that pressed
for attention. Then the forester rose to go. "I have Lumley's report on
yesterday's cut," he said, "and if nobody is around when we reach the
skidways, we'll just check it up. We can drive out in a few minutes, but
you will have to walk back. Get your log-rule and come on." And they went
down the mountain to the end of the new road.

"Hello!" cried Charley in surprise, as he caught sight of the forester's
car. "You're driving a big truck, eh? I thought that motor didn't sound
like your Henry."

"Yes; there was a load of stuff to be hauled out for Jim's crew. He starts
work to-morrow. I killed two birds with one stone by bringing the stuff,
which I dumped at Jim's, and then coming on out here."

As they reached the car, Charley said, "It looks powerful."

"It's one of those old army trucks Uncle Sam gave us. Got a great battery
and tremendous power. Get in."

They climbed aboard. Mr. Marlin touched the starter and the engine began
to chug. He let in his clutch but the car would not move. The car happened
to be standing on a moist spot and its great weight had pressed the wheels
far down into the soft new road. Mr. Marlin threw on the power. The truck
jumped, something snapped sharply and a banging noise followed as the car
moved jerkily ahead.

"Thunderation!" cried the forester. "I've broken the differential. I bet
ten dollars on it." And investigation proved his diagnosis was correct. "I
suppose it will take all summer to get a new part," growled the forester.
"This truck will have to stand here idle until repairs come. But <i>we</i>
can't stand here idle. Come on."

They set off down the road. After a long hike they came to the skidways at
the main road. Nobody was in sight.

"We'll begin at one end and work toward the other until we hear somebody
coming. Then we'll have business elsewhere."

Pile by pile they scaled the logs, Charley using the log-rule under Mr.
Marlin's close observation, while the forester himself kept tally. Alone
in the big woods, they talked freely.

"Why do you suppose Lumley took a chance like this?" asked the forester.
"He might have known he'd get caught."

"Primarily because he wanted the money, of course," maintained Charley.
"But there's another thing that may play a part in the matter. Did you
know that Lumley's folks once owned this virgin timber?"

"I've heard that a generation or two back the Lumley family owned big
tracts of land hereabouts. Naturally some of that land would now be
included within the limits of the state's holdings."

"When I was living at Lumley's, he told me over and over about his
family's having owned this timber and his grandfather's having been
swindled out of it. He seemed to me to be mighty unreasonable about it. He
was awful sore, and said he'd be a millionaire to-day if he had all the
timber his grandfather owned and that it was his by rights, anyway. I
recall that he said the thought of anybody else's getting the money for
the timber made him almost want to commit murder."

The forester looked sober. "He's a bad egg," he said. "I really believe he
wouldn't hesitate to commit murder if he were cornered. You want to watch
him. We'll have to be mighty careful how we handle this business."

"Hark!" said Charley. "Isn't that the sound of a truck?" And as they
listened, faintly they could hear the sound of a motor.

"Probably a log truck coming for a load. If we'd had a few minutes more,
we could have completed the job. There are only two piles left. We'll just
disappear until this truck goes away. Then we can come back and finish."

The beating of the motor sounded louder. The two men moved toward the
forest. As they passed the farther end of the first unmeasured log pile,
the forester stopped in amazement. A man sat on the ground, leaning lazily
against the logs. It was the man Charley had seen that night at Lumley's.

"What are you doing here, Henry Collins?" demanded the forester sternly.

"I'm working for the lumber company," said the man, sullenly.

"You appear to be working hard," replied the forester scornfully.

"I help load the trucks," said the fellow, as the forester turned on his
heel and walked away, followed by Charley.

"You don't suppose that he could have heard what we said, do you?" asked
Charley, anxiously.

"Heard every word of it," replied the forester. "The jig is up. That was
Bill Collins' cousin and he's as crooked as Bill. Lumley will know what's
afoot as quick as Collins can get word to him. We've got to act quick.
There's a detail of state constabulary at Ironton, and they could get here
in a motor in thirty minutes if I could only telephone them. Why in
thunderation did I ever leave the office without my portable instrument?
The nearest 'phone is at Jim Morton's. It will take me three-quarters of
an hour at my best pace to make it. But it's the best I can do. I'll hike
for Jim's. You hustle back to your tower and keep a close watch on things.
I'll telephone you as soon as I can. We've got to step lively if we are to
catch that scoundrel Lumley."




Chapter XXV

The Crisis



The forester hastened down the highway at a A tremendous pace. Charley set
out along the forest road he had so recently built. Before he knew it, he
was running madly. He ran for a long distance, hardly conscious that he
was running. Presently he stopped from very fatigue. Then he realized that
he was greatly excited and that he was running from sheer nervousness.

"This won't do at all," he muttered to himself. "You're worse than an old
hen. If ever you needed to keep your head, it's right now."

He took a grip on himself, drew a long breath, and settled to a fast walk,
thinking hard. He could not see how he himself could accomplish the arrest
of Lumley. If his chief did not think it advisable to attempt it, he was
very certain that he ought not to try it himself. And he was glad at the
thought. For he could not help but recall the wicked gleam in Lumley's
eyes, the man's savage outburst of temper, and his vicious talk. He
understood well enough that Lumley would not submit to arrest without a
struggle.

Then the thought came to him that he had no business trying to arrest
Lumley, even if he could do it. The chief was attending to that and the
chief knew best what to do under the circumstances. Also, the chief had
given him his orders. His business was to obey orders. And those orders
were to take care of the forest.

Fresh alarm seized him. Why had the forester given him those orders? Was
there danger of any one's setting fire to the forest? At the thought
Charley was almost in a panic again. A passionate love for the great woods
he was guarding had sprung up in Charley's heart. He held come to dread
fire with a dread unspeakable. He had come to regard it with a feeling of
absolute terror. In this feeling there was nothing of physical fear. A
little blaze in the forest made him so wild with anger that nowadays he
would fight it recklessly. His fear was the dread lest the immemorial
trees he was guarding should be wasted and the forest destroyed. It was
apprehension for the forest, not for himself, that troubled Charley.

Rapidly he passed along the road, now jogging to relieve the nervous
tension, now proceeding at a fast walk. He came to the slope of the
mountain but his pace was no whit slower. At last, panting and almost
exhausted from his terrific efforts, he reached the crest. He staggered to
the ladder and climbed painfully to the watch-tower. Steadying himself, he
swept the horizon in every direction. The forest seemed to slumber. No
smoke arose, no winds swayed the tree tops. The twilight peace enfolded
everything. Satisfied that all was safe, Charley sank down on his bunk and
lay there until he was rested. Then he climbed down to his cabin and
cooked supper.

Never since he had been alone in the forest had Charley so much felt the
need of companionship as he did now. He lighted a little fire in his
hearth and the cheery snapping of the burning sticks comforted him. He sat
down at his wireless and talked with Mr. Morton. The latter could not tell
him much about the situation. The forester had telephoned from his place
for the police and the latter had started at once for the forest. That was
all Mr. Morton knew. Charley called up Lew and told him as much of the
situation as he thought wise, and got the news from Central City. When he
threw over his switch and turned away from his wireless table, he felt
somewhat comforted. But the feeling of dread and apprehension had not
altogether left him.

For some time he read, or tried to read. Study he could not. At last he
went to the telephone and called Mr. Marlin. He reported that all was well
in the forest. He was burning to ask his chief all about the situation,
yet hardly dared. He might say something that the chief would rather have
unsaid; for always there was the possibility of listeners in on the
telephone. And Lumley's family could listen in as readily as any others.

Doubtless Mr. Marlin appreciated Charley's self-restraint. Before he said
good-night, he remarked casually to Charley, "I may want you to do some
work at the lumber camp to-morrow. I tried to find Lumley there late this
afternoon to give him some orders, but he had gone away. I have asked his
wife to have him call me the moment he comes home. Don't forget my final
instructions to you this afternoon. Good-night."

To an outsider the message would mean nothing, as Mr. Marlin intended it
should. But to Charley it told the whole story. Lumley had fled before the
arrival of the forester and the state police.

Charley reviewed the forester's words to him, as they talked at the log
piles. "He's a bad egg. I really believe he wouldn't hesitate to commit
murder if he were cornered. You want to watch him. We'll have to be mighty
careful how we handle this business.... You hustle back to your tower and
keep a close watch on things."

Again a feeling of apprehension came to Charley, and this time there was
something of personal fear about it. Again Charley recalled the fugitive
ranger's violence of temper, and his evident jealousy of the chief. And as
Charley considered the matter now, he saw that Lumley must have been even
more jealous of him, Charley, than he was of the chief. Now he understood
all the prying efforts Lumley had made to learn the size of his pay. Quite
evidently Lumley could not endure to see another man get ahead. Charley
felt sure that it would not be safe for him to meet Lumley. He resolved
to be on his guard every second. Then he sighed with relief at the thought
that Lumley had fled.

But a moment later his face became very grave. "How do I know that Lumley
has fled?" he asked himself. "To go any distance, he would have to walk
along a highway, or ride in a motor-car, or board a train; and in any case
he might be seen and traced. On the other hand, Lumley knows the forest
like a book. He has lived in it for years. Where else could he so well
hope to elude pursuit?" Charley felt certain that Lumley must be somewhere
in the forest.

Immediately he got his rifle, filled the magazine, and stood it within
reach. He tried to read, but was too nervous. Then he thought of the open
windows and his light within the cabin. Any one could see through the
windows--or shoot through them. Charley put his flash-light in his pocket
and blew out his lamp. The evening was warm, and Charley opened the door
and sat down on the sill, leaning against the jamb of the door, and
cradling his rifle across his knees.

Soon his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. From where he sat,
Charley could look out over what seemed like infinite stretches of forest.
The moon had not yet risen, and the valleys below him were vast depths of
darkness. Mist floated above, partly obscuring the stars. A gentle breeze
was blowing up here on the mountain top, but Charley knew that down in the
valleys the air was like stagnant water. The whispering of the trees
around him was like the quiet breathing of a babe asleep, and the
occasional sounds of the forest creatures were no more disturbing than the
gentle murmurs of a dreaming child. Peace enfolded the forest. It seemed
to Charley as though that great, invisible, beneficent Spirit we call God
had cradled the forest in His arms as a mother cradles her little ones.
The thought comforted him. Something of the peace about him crept into his
own heart. He drew a long sigh and sat back.

After a time he began to feel drowsy. He took his blanket and his rifle,
and, closing his cabin door, climbed to the fire-tower. He closed and
bolted the trap-door in the floor of the tower. For some time he sat on
the edge of his bunk, watching the forest. Behind the eastern mountains
the sky began to glow. The moon was coming up. In another hour or two,
Charley knew, the forest would be flooded with silvery light. He loved the
moonlight on the pines, but he was becoming too sleepy to stay awake to
see it. The moment the moon's first rays shot over the eastern hilltops,
Charley lay back in his bunk, stood his rifle within reach, drew the
blankets about him, and was almost instantly asleep.

Yet he slumbered uneasily. Terrible dreams disturbed him. Once or twice he
awoke and started up in alarm. Once the slender tower seemed to vibrate as
though some one were mounting the ladder. But Charley dismissed the idea
as idle fancy, for the nocturnal stillness was unbroken. So, fitfully,
Charley slept through the night.

Dawn found him afoot. Eagerly he scanned the horizon. Banks of mist lay
over the valleys, concealing much of the forest. Slowly Charley examined
the horizon, half fearful, half relieved. From the two sides of his tower
he could see nothing disturbing. But when he turned to the third side his
heart stood still. Unmistakable in the whitish mist, darker clouds were
rising upward. The forest was afire.

Intently Charley studied the smoke pillar, trying to locate it exactly and
to estimate the extent of the blaze. Satisfied, he swept his glance
farther along the horizon, but stopped abruptly. A second spiral of smoke
was stealing upward through the mist. Before he had completed his survey,
Charley discovered four more smoke columns. Somebody had fired the forest
in half a dozen different places.

Whoever had done it must have known the forest intimately. The blazes had
been kindled just where they would do the most damage.

Charley's mind worked like lightning. Even as he examined and located the
smoke columns, he was planning how best to extinguish the fires. It was
still very early. The wind would not rise for hours yet. Even then the
dense timber would break its force. Meanwhile the fire would spread but
slowly. If only he could get his men to the spot in time, Charley felt
sure he could put out every blaze with but slight damage done. By the
time he reached for the telephone, he had his plan of campaign mapped out.
Morton's big crew would be assembling in a short time. The forester might
be able to hasten their assembling and to collect more men. With trucks he
could rush the gang clear to the foot of the mountain, where the broken
army truck lay. An excellent fire trail would take some of them afoot
direct to the first blazes. Other groups could strike through the passes
for the other fires. With the chief and Mr. Morton and himself to head
three of the crews, and experienced fire fighters to lead the other
groups, Charley felt sure that they would hold the fires.

Sharply Charley whirled the bell handle and put the receiver to his ear.
There was no response. Impatiently he rang again. Still he got no reply. A
feeling of alarm took possession of him. Frantically he rang and rang, but
the receiver at his ear was mute. The wire was cut.

"Thank God for the wireless!" cried Charley, snatching up the trap-door
and descending the ladder recklessly. "There aren't any wires about that
to be cut."

Involuntarily he glanced toward his aerial. Then he stopped dead. His
aerial had disappeared. Now he knew why the tower had vibrated during the
night. Somebody <i>had</i> been on the ladder. If only he had gotten up to
investigate! But it was too late now for regrets. He must act. He must get
up another aerial. An idea came to him and he shouted for joy. He would
use the tower itself as an aerial.

He raced to the cabin and flung open the door. A single glance showed him
his cupboard had been rifled of its food supplies. He leaped toward his
operating-table and stopped aghast. His face turned pale, his hands fell
helplessly to his sides, and he stood looking at the instruments before
him, the picture of despair. A heavy file lay across the terminals of his
battery, and the battery was useless.

Unnerved, Charley sank down on a chair. He covered his face with his
hands. It would take him hours to reach the Morton home on foot. And it
might be hours more before the forester could be notified. It looked as
though the forest were doomed.

Fairly shaking himself, as a terrier shakes a rat, Charley freed himself
of the fear that clutched at his heart and forced himself to think. Calmly
he began to consider what he could do. He thought of the dry cells he had
first used. They were still wired together and in the cabin. Like a flash
Charley coupled them to his instrument, but the cells were exhausted. He
could get no spark from them.

Again he sat down and thought. Suddenly he leaped to his feet. "The army
truck!" he cried. "If he overlooked that, I'll beat him yet."

He began to assemble tools and instruments. But when he looked for wire to
fashion an aerial, his face grew black. The intruder had taken both
aerial and lead-in wire, and Charley hadn't a hundred feet of wire left in
the place. What should he do? What could he do?

Again he paused and pondered. And again an idea came to him. "They use
trees for aerials," he muttered, "and they make perfect ones to receive
by. I don't know whether one could send from them or not. But it's my last
chance. I'll try it."

He gathered together his tools and instruments, including the creepers he
had used in putting up the telephone-line, carefully stowed them all in a
big basket and started down the mountain. A hundred yards from the door he
turned about and ran back. When he came out of the cabin again, his rifle
was tucked under his arm. Then he went down the mountain as fast as he
could travel.

Fearfully he studied the truck as he drew near. It was untouched. With a
cry of joy, Charley tore open the battery box. In no time he had some
wires fast to the battery. He spread out his instruments and coupled
everything carefully together. The outfit lacked only an aerial.

Buckling on his creepers, and stuffing some spikes and a hammer in his
pocket, Charley rapidly mounted a tall tree that stood close beside the
truck. As luck would have it, the tree stood all by itself, its nearest
neighbors having been cut in making the road. Two-thirds of the way up the
tree, Charley drove a spike deep into the wood. He sank a second spike
not far from the first. Then he drove home a third. The lead-in wire
dangled behind him at his belt. He unfastened it and twisted it tight to
the spikes, wrapping it close about one after the other. Then he climbed
down and made sure his wire did not touch the earth. Trembling with
eagerness, he sat down at his key.

One moment he paused, drawing out his watch. With a cry of joy, he put his
finger on the key. It was almost the hour at which he was accustomed to
exchange morning greetings with Mr. Morton. He pressed his key and a sharp
flash resulted. Joyously he adjusted his spark-gap until he had a fine,
fat stream of fire leaping between the posts. Then he fairly held his
breath as he rapped out the ranger's call signal.

"JVM--JVM--JVM--CBC," he called and listened. There was no response. Again
he called. And again there was no response. His face became pale. His
fingers began to tremble.

"JVM--JVM--JVM--CBC," he rapped out frantically, sending the call again
and again. Then he sat back to listen. Suddenly his receivers buzzed. With
startling distinctness came the answer.

"CBC--CBC--CBC--I--I--I. Your signals very weak."

So the ranger could hear, Charley did not care how weak the signals were.

"Forest afire in six places," he flashed back. "Wires cut. Wireless
broken. Talking over temporary outfit. Notify forester. Collect all men
possible. Come immediately in trucks to end of new road. Can get to fires
on foot from here easily."

"Where are fires?" replied Mr. Morton.

"South and west of fire-tower. In valleys both sides of fire-tower
mountain."

"How far away?"

"About two miles--maybe three."

"How big are they?"

"Still small. Can put out before wind rises. Must have help quick."

There was a long pause. Then came this message, "Have sent neighbor with
his automobile to notify forester. Will rush crew. Hold fire best you can.
Good-bye."

With a cry of relief that came from his very soul, Charley threw over his
switch and leaped to his feet. He seized his rifle, then stood a second,
hesitating.

"No," he said decisively, "the man who set those fires won't wait around
to be seen, even if he is a desperate man."

He slipped his rifle under a clump of bushes and buckled on his little
axe. Then he started down the fire trail at a fast pace. Now running, now
walking, advancing as fast as he could without exhausting himself, Charley
hastened toward the fire. Long before he reached the nearest blaze,
Charley smelled smoke. As he drew near the fire, he studied it as best he
could. He rejoiced that it was so small. The mist bank and the heavy fall
of dew had so moistened things that the fire crept but slowly.

Charley cut a pine branch and fell upon the flames ferociously. A great
anger surged up in his heart, like the fierce passion that takes
possession of a bull when he sees red. It lent power and determination to
him. Yet Charley tried to conserve his strength. Yard after yard he beat
out the flames, thankful that he had to face only a little creeping fire.
Small as it was, the blaze was, nevertheless, hot and stifling.

Rod after rod Charley fought his way around the ring of fire, never
pausing for a single instant to rest. By the time he had completed the
circle and the blaze was out, Charley was beginning to tire badly. He
doubted if he could beat out the six fires alone. If they grew any larger,
he knew he could not. And larger they were becoming, for the first faint
puffs of the morning breeze were beginning to stir the tree tops.

Half a mile through the trees Charley smashed his way to the next ring of
fire. He could see that the flames were leaping a little higher and that
they were eating their way along at a faster pace than the first fire had
traveled. He knew it would be hard to stop this blaze. But he cut a new
bough, and gritting his teeth, once more fell to fighting fire.

Quickly he found it was quite a different fire from the one he had
extinguished. Fitfully the wind was coming up. When it blew, the flames
seemed to leap at Charley. His shoes, his clothes, his hands and wrists
were blistered by the heat. His fingers were torn and his muscles ached.
His lungs and throat became painful. His eyes grew blurred. He could no
longer see clearly. There was a ringing noise in his ears. Yet coughing,
choking, gasping for breath, stumbling and tripping, and at times falling
prone, he fought his way along the line of fire.

He was so weak, so worn out from physical exertion and nervous strain that
he could no longer think clearly. But blindly, stubbornly, doggedly, he
fought the flames. His movements became mechanical. Sometimes his
descending bough hit the fire and sometimes it struck the unignited
leaves. Charley was fast nearing the point of exhaustion. He could
scarcely control his movements. Yet he tried valiantly to hold himself to
his task. He thought of the turtle-dove on the burning stump and for a
moment the thought seemed to give him new strength. But the inspiration
was only momentary. Blindly now he staggered along the line of fire,
gasping, reeling, swaying, hardly able to keep his feet. He tottered on.

He could hardly raise his brush. His efforts were useless. Yet he hung
doggedly to his duty. Just as he was about to plunge headlong into the
flames, a shout sounded in his ears, forms came rushing through the smoke,
and Charley was lifted in the forester's strong arms and borne to one
side.




Chapter XXVI

More Thumb-Prints



For a long time Charley lay on his back, hardly conscious of anything. But
slowly the pure air revived him and his powers came back. He sat up, then
rose unsteadily to his feet. In a few moments he felt all right. He began
to look about him. The fire he had been fighting was extinguished. He
ascended an easily climbed tree and saw that the third fire in the valley
was also out. He knew that the fire fighters had gone on to the next
valley to subdue the blazes there. The wind was still no more than a
zephyr and he knew they would succeed. The forest was saved. A feeling of
great relief came to him.

He sat down and rested, thinking what he ought to do. He remembered what
the forester had said about the desirability of an immediate investigation
of incendiary fires. Here was his job.

He made his way to the blackened area where he had put out the first fire.
The space burned over was small. Charley stood and looked at it for some
moments, thinking the problem over. Then he walked slowly around the
burned area, examining it closely, but not stepping within the fire-line.
Then he wet a finger and held it aloft. Unmistakably the light breeze was
from the west. It had doubtless been blowing from that quarter all the
morning, though this particular fire had been extinguished when there was
hardly more than a suspicion of a breeze. The fire would have spread in an
elongated circle, or more exactly an oval. Charley tried to figure out the
exact starting point. He felt sure he could estimate it within a few
yards.

When he had decided about where the fire must have originated, he made his
way cautiously, a yard at a time, toward that point. He was careful not to
disturb the leaves any more than was necessary in putting down his feet.
Carefully he scrutinized every inch of the ground he covered. He was
looking for a mound of burned leaves or any other suspicious thing. But he
found none. Look where he would, the leaves seemed to have been disturbed
before the fire started.

Not far from the point selected by Charley as the probable place of the
fire's origin, the ground thrust up in a little, low shoulder, as though
there might be an outcropping ledge of rock there. Immediately around this
elevation the ground was clear of brush. No trees stood near. Charley paid
little attention to the mound until he noticed that it was hollowed out on
top. At the same time a piece of freshly dug earth caught his eye near by.
At least Charley judged it to be freshly dug, although it was blackened by
fire. He made his way very carefully to the little mound. Now he noticed
that the leaves about this mound had been raked together, for the ashes
lay thick in the hollow centre in the elevation.

Cautiously Charley began to scratch among the ashes at the edge of the
pile. His fingers encountered many rough chunks of earth, partly hardened
by fire. The rain, the frost, and the cold of winter would naturally have
broken those chunks down into loose soil. So Charley knew they could not
be very old. As he scratched more of them out of the leaves, he blew the
ashes from them and examined them critically. He could think of no
connection between these chunks of earth and the fire, yet something made
him scrutinize them closely.

All the time he was carefully digging the ashes away, and working toward
the centre of the pile. Suddenly he picked up a chunk that was quite
different from the crumbly earth masses he had been handling. This piece
was partly hardened and reddened. At once Charley saw it was clay.

Charley continued to scrape aside the ashes. He found more and more little
chunks of clay, while the hollow place in the centre of the mound proved
to be a square, small depression that must have been made with human
hands. Even before he had it cleared of ashes, Charley knew that. The
depression was much too rectangular to be natural. It was about eighteen
inches square and almost a foot deep. In the bottom of it were charred
ends of sticks and a little candle grease, buried under the mass of ashes.

When Charley had carefully scraped and blown out all the ashes possible,
he lay flat on his belly and examined the place minutely. Some person or
persons had dug a little square chamber, like a sunken box, right in the
shoulder of the mound. Charley decided that a candle had been placed in
the centre of the box-like excavation, leaves packed loosely about the
base of the candle, some fine, dry twigs stacked across the edges of the
excavation, and across the top of the hole other dry twigs had been
placed. Then the candle had been lighted, the open side of the excavation
closed with twigs thrust vertically into the clay, and leaves heaped over
and about the excavation.

As Charley examined the mound, he could not but admire the devilish
cunning exhibited in the construction of this fire box. The open space
about the mound would give full sweep to the morning breeze, and the box
was located in the windward shoulder of the little mound, exactly where
the breeze would hit it hardest. The piles of leaves heaped about the box
would spread the flames on all sides.

The candle grease in the bottom of the excavation, Charley had no doubt,
was the remains of one of his own candles, taken with the food supplies
from his cupboard. Nor did he doubt that the man who had taken it was
Lumley. He must have disappeared in the forest the moment Henry Collins
had told him what was afoot, for there could be no doubt Collins had
informed him. After the moon rose, so that he could see well, Lumley must
have come to the cabin, stolen food and candles, cautiously removed the
aerial and grounded the battery, and gone straight down the valley to set
his fires. If he could not get the money for the timber, or at least some
of it, quite evidently Lumley did not intend to allow any one else to have
it, not even the state.

In his own mind Charley had no doubt whatever that the incendiary was
Lumley, and that he had done exactly the things Charley pictured him as
doing. Even now he must be somewhere in the forest. But Charley felt
relieved when he realized that in all probability Lumley had no firearms.
He must have fled without taking time to equip himself. Also Charley
doubted if he would remain in the forest. The forester would be certain to
scour the woods for him, and Lumley could hardly hope to evade pursuit
indefinitely. He would probably make his way out of the forest at some
distant point and try to get away. Sooner or later, Charley felt sure, the
man would be captured and doubtless sent to prison for cheating the state.
It made Charley feel bad to think that he did not have enough direct
evidence to insure Lumley's conviction for arson as well.

An idea came to Charley. Blowing away the remaining dust and ashes,
Charley once more began an examination of the little excavation. Inch by
inch he scrutinized the surface of the pit. He found it partly baked.
Suddenly he gave a cry. He had found the distinct prints of some one's
fingers. On the second side of the excavation he found more prints, and
the third side yielded still others. Carefully Charley chopped out the
incriminating bits of clay. When he laid them side by side and examined
them under his microscope, he found they had been made, not by one person,
but by three. Apparently each side of the pit had been fashioned by a
different man.




Chapter XXVII

Trapped



While Charley was turning the matter over in his mind, the forester
suddenly appeared. Charley gave a glad cry when he saw him.

"Did you get them all out?" he asked anxiously.

"All will be out in a short time," was the reply. "Morton and his big gang
crossed directly into the other valley when I came here with my crew. As
soon as we had finished your job here, we hustled over to the other
valley. The fires there had spread considerably, but as there was little
wind and we had a big force of men, we quickly got them under control. The
minute I was satisfied we had them in hand, I came back to see how you
were. Jim is in charge over there, so everything will be all right. How
are you?"

"All O.K.," said Charley, "but I guess I must have been about all in when
you got here. I don't remember much about it."

"Yes, you were about gone. We got to you just in time. Now tell me what
you know about this fire."

The two men sat down in the shade and Charley told his chief all that had
happened to him since the two had parted on the preceding evening. When
he showed the forester the marks in the clay, the forester was elated.

"He's a pretty clever rascal who doesn't trip himself up somewhere," he
said. "It's an easy guess who your three fire bugs are. I have a very
great suspicion that the thumb-prints in that ball of clay I took from
your secret camp will match up with some of these marks, and that both
sets of prints will correspond with the marks on the thumbs of one Bill
Collins, though I didn't know that he was in the neighborhood at present.
And it's just as safe a bet that another set of those marks will match the
ends of Lumley's thumbs. If only he had been as considerate as his friend
Collins, and left his calling cards behind him, we'd have a complete case
against him."

"We have," cried Charley, leaping to his feet in sudden excitement.
"Lumley left his thumb-prints in the putty he stuck in his window-sash. I
never thought of them until this moment."

"Excellent!" cried the forester. "I suspect we can find the duplicates for
this third set of prints only when we lay hands on Henry Collins. But I
have a strong suspicion we'll have a chance to make that comparison very
soon."

"How?" asked Charley eagerly. "What do you mean? Have the police made any
arrests?"

"I don't know," replied the forester. "But this is the situation. Lumley
will never dare hang around in the forest, for he will know that every
man in the Forest Service is looking for him. Then, too, he can't have
much food with him."

"Only what he took from me, I suspect."

"That makes it certain that he must leave the forest soon. It's a good
many miles from the lumber camp to this neighborhood, so the three
fugitives must be traveling in this direction. If they keep on for fifteen
or twenty miles further, they will come out of the mountains near
Pleasantville or Maple Gap. They can board a train at either place. The
state police already are watching both stations. If Lumley and his fellows
went straight on after they started the fires, and Goodness knows they
wouldn't hang around here, they could reach the railroad in six or eight
hours. That means they would be there by this time. There is a train that
reaches Pleasantville about eleven o'clock. They would have time to make
it. I should not be at all surprised, when I get back to the office, to
find a message saying that the police had caught them."

"Let us hope you do," said Charley.

The forester arose. "Would you like to go see?" he asked.

"Surest thing you know," replied Charley.

"Then we'll hike back to the road and slip out to Lumley's house in my
car. We can get that window-sash and put it in a safe place in my office
and be back here before Jim brings his gang out."

Rapidly the two walked back along the fire trail. "Charley," said the
forester suddenly, "just how did you manage to get that message to Jim?
It's all that saved the forest. The telephone was put as completely out
of commission as your wireless was."

Charley then told the forester how he had used a tree for an aerial. "It
was my last chance," he said. "If it hadn't worked, the forest would have
burned. I had read about the use of trees to receive by, and I thought I
had read that messages had been sent through trees, but I wasn't sure. It
was my only chance and I took it."

"You're a wonder, Charley. I take back everything I ever said about the
wireless. I have telegraphed for the Commissioner to come on from the
capital. I shall put this entire matter before him and urge the
installation of a wireless outfit in every district of the state forests.
No matter what is done elsewhere, we're going on a wireless basis here as
soon as we can get the outfit, just as I told you. If I can't get money
from the state for the outfit, I'll pay for it myself and have your
Wireless Club make it. This coming winter we'll start a radio school and
you shall have charge of it. Maybe Jim can help you now."

"That will be grand," said Charley with sparkling eyes. "If only we had
the money Lumley robbed the state of, we could buy a dozen outfits."

"We'll get every cent of it," said the forester with decision. "Don't you
worry about that. When we went to the lumber camp after Lumley last night,
I stopped all cutting. Before another stick is felled, you and I are going
in there and measure every stump. Then we'll estimate the timber that
came from those stumps and the lumber operators will pay for it or they
will face a criminal prosecution. If we catch Lumley, we've got the
operators dead to rights. He's the kind of a rat that will squeal quick
when he's caught."

They reached the road, jumped into the forester's car and sped away to
Lumley's house. Half an hour later they entered the forester's office,
carefully carrying a window-sash. As the forester reached his desk, the
man in charge handed him a message from the state police at Maple Gap. It
read, "Have arrested three men who came out of the forest here and tried
to board a train. They give fictitious names, but no doubt two of the men
are wanted. Third has gold teeth and scar over right cheek. Do you want
him?"

"Do we want him?" echoed the forester, as he began to write an answer.
"Well, I should say we do."

He dashed off his message, and handed it to his assistant. "Rush that," he
directed.

Then he took a long coil of wire from a closet and led the way back to his
car. "That's for a temporary aerial in case you decide to make one," he
said, as Charley climbed up beside him and they went whirling back to the
fire-tower in the mountains.




Chapter XXVIII

Victory



In due time Ranger Morton came out of the forest with his big crew. The
men were black with smoke and their hands and faces were blistered and
scratched. But they were a happy crew for all that. They had extinguished
what at first bade fair to be the worst fire ever seen in their district.

By this time every man in the gang had heard the story of Lumley's
dastardly act and Charley's quick wit. Most of the men lived in or near
the forest, and a great fire might have consumed their homes just as truly
as it would have destroyed the forest. It was small wonder, then, that to
a man they had only admiration and gratitude for Charley. The last vestige
of ill-will that any of them might have had for Charley was gone. Like men
of the forest, they said little. But Charley knew that this little meant
much. He had won the good-will and respect of every man in the district.
No wonder he was happy.

This thought did much to offset the feeling of regret that he could not
help experiencing at the realization that his days as a ranger were
numbered. When he became a patrol again, or a member of Jim's crew, for he
believed that Mr. Marlin would grant him that wish, he knew that he would
stand on a par with the men in their own estimation. So he waved good-bye
to the departing trucks with a mixture of happiness and regret.

But he was not allowed many hours to indulge in either emotion. Very early
next morning the telephone, which Ranger Morton had promptly repaired,
began to ring. Charley answered the call and received a brusque order from
the forester to remain at the tower, as the forester was coming out to see
him.

"I wonder if Mr. Marlin ever sleeps," said Charley to himself. "He's
probably on his way here now and I'm hardly out of bed. I'll make him a
cup of coffee and some toast anyway."

But when Charley came to make the toast, he could find only three slices
of bread. Lumley had cleaned him out of food. It seemed no time at all to
Charley before he heard the chugging of the forester's motor in the
valley. A short time afterward two men ascended to the cabin. Charley was
surprised.

"Let me introduce you to the Chief Forester of Pennsylvania," said Mr.
Marlin. Charley was suddenly abashed. He held out his hand and responded
to the Commissioner's greeting, but was at a joss for anything further to
say. He thought of his toast and coffee and was more than ever
embarrassed, because he had only three slices to offer. Nevertheless, he
set what he had before his guests.

"I'm awfully sorry this is all I can offer you," he said, "but I had some
visitors yesterday who cleaned me out of food."

"So I have heard," replied the Chief Forester, with a smile.

"You will be glad to know, Charley," said the forester, "that those same
visitors have confessed to their crime, or rather Lumley did. When we
produced the thumb-prints in the putty and in the clay and compared them
with Lumley's thumbs, he made a clean breast of everything. It won't
surprise you to learn that he set the previous fires in this virgin
timber. He wants to be state's evidence."

"Excellent!" cried Charley. "They won't burn any more forests--or rob any
more cabins. By the way, Mr. Marlin, did you bring me any more supplies?"

"No," said the forester.

Charley looked vastly perplexed, but said nothing. He didn't want to
bother the forester, but how he was to live without food he could not
imagine. Evidently his face must have mirrored his thoughts, for the
forester, after studying Charley's countenance, burst into a laugh.

"Charley," he said, "it's clear that you don't pay much attention to your
Bible."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, don't you recall that we are admonished to take no thought for the
morrow, as to what we shall eat, and so on? Here you are worrying over a
little matter like food. Don't you have any ravens out in these mountains
to bring you grub if you get hungry?"

"It isn't any laughing matter," replied Charley. "What am I going to do? I
haven't an ounce of food left in the cabin."

The forester's eyes sparkled. "Shall we tell him what he's to do,
Commissioner?" he asked.

The Chief Forester turned toward them with a smile. "I guess you had
better. It would be a shame to torment this young man after what he has
accomplished."

"Very well, then. Listen, Charley. Here are your orders. To begin with,
Jim is now on deck again and you are relieved of your position as
temporary ranger."

Charley tried hard to choke back the lump that came into his throat.
Evidently his face betrayed his feelings.

"Look at him, Commissioner," said the forester. "I believe he's going to
pout."

Charley bit his lip and tried to smile.

"In the second place," continued the forester, "you are to remove your
belongings from this post and oversee the cutting of the lumber
operation."

The smile that now came to Charley's face was not forced.

"In the third place," the forester went on, "you are hereby appointed a
ranger in the Pennsylvania Forest Service to succeed one George Lumley."

"Oh! Mr. Marlin," cried Charley, "you don't mean it honestly?"

"I sure do. And there is nothing temporary about your appointment. You
are a full-fledged ranger. You have earned the place and I congratulate
you heartily on having won it." He held out his hand and clasped Charley's
warmly.

"Now, that is all I have to say to you," concluded the forester, "but I
think the Commissioner wants to speak a few words with you."

Charley turned to the Chief Forester and stood expectant.

"Mr. Marlin tells me that it is your ambition to become a forester," said
the Commissioner.

"It is," replied Charley.

"He also tells me that you are hindered by lack of funds and some family
obligations and that you cannot see your way clear to take the regular
course of studies at the state forestry academy and so achieve your
ambition."

"That is true, sir," said Charley. "There is nothing I would rather do
than become a forester if only it were possible. I love the forest."

"The way you have striven to protect it is proof enough of that. How would
you like to become a forester without attending Mont Alto?"

"Oh! Sir, if there is any way it could be done, I would work until I
dropped to accomplish it."

"There is, and you shall have the chance. It is the policy of this
department to promote men for merit and to make it possible for good men
to advance in the service. Mr. Marlin tells me that you came into the
forest absolutely ignorant of forestry practice, but that in a short time
by great application to your work and by study at night you have become
one of the best men he has. All you lack is experience. Time will remedy
that. If you could become a forester through a continuation of such study
and work, would you like to do it? Mr. Marlin is willing to teach you the
technical branches that you would study if you went to Mont Alto. He will
take you into his office in winter and you can assist him in technical
work from time to time in the forest, thus obtaining a complete training
for the position of forester. What about it? Do you wish to do it?"

"Oh! Mr. Commissioner," cried Charley, "I can't tell you how much I want
to do it. If you will just give me that chance, you'll find I'm no
shirker."

"Then the chance is yours. You have earned it. Now we must hurry back to
headquarters, Ranger Russell. I hope that some day I shall be able to call
you Forester Russell."

Charley's heart was too full for utterance. He grasped the proffered hand
and wrung it, but was afraid to say a word, for a big lump had come into
his throat.

A moment later he was bustling busily about the cabin collecting his
luggage. His heart was singing merrily.

"Some day," he said to himself, "we may get enough timber back on these
hills so that when a poor boy wants to build a boat he can do it, and so
that a working man can build a house without having to slave for a
lifetime to pay for it. I tell you it makes a fellow feel mighty big to
think he's going to have a hand in making life easier for so many million
people."






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