Boy With the U. S. Foresters

  CHAPTER X

  A FOURTH OF JULY PERIL

  Wilbur stayed but a few days at headquarters, the Supervisor andRifle-Eye having succeeded in trailing the wagon that had deposited thetrees from the point of its entrance into the forest to the place itwent out, by this means ensuring the discovery of all the spots wherediseased trees had been placed. One of them was in Wilbur's section ofthe forest, and he was required to go weekly and examine all the treesin the vicinity of the infected spot to make sure that the danger wasover. But, thanks to Rifle-Eye's discovery, the threatened pest wasspeedily held down to narrow limits.

  This added not a little to the lad's riding, for the place where PeaveyJo had deposited the infected tree in his particular part of the forestwas a long way from the trail to the several lookout points to which hewent daily to watch for fires. Fortunately, having built the littlebridge across the canyon, and thus on one of the days of the weekhaving shortened his ride, he was able to use the rest of the daylooking after bark-beetles. But it made a very full week. He could notneglect any part of these rides, for June was drawing to an end andthere had been no rain for weeks.

  One night, returning from a hard day, on which he had not only riddenhis fire patrol, but had also spent a couple of hours rolling big rocksinto a creek to keep it from washing out a trail should a freshet come,he found a large party of people at his camp. There was an ex-professorof social science of the old regime, his wife and little daughter, aguide, and a lavish outfit. Although the gate of Wilbur's corral waspadlocked and had "Property of the U. S. Forest Service" painted on it,the professor had ordered the guide to smash the gate and let theanimals in.

  Wilbur was angry, and took no pains to conceal it.

  "Who turned those horses into my corral?" he demanded.

  The professor, who wore gold-rimmed eyeglasses above a very dirty andtired face, replied:

  "I am in charge of this party, and it was done at my orders."

  "By what right do you steal my pasture?" asked the boy hotly.

  "I understood," said the professor loftily, "that it was the custom ofthe West to be hospitable. But you are probably too young to know. Yourparents live here?"

  "No," replied the lad. "I am a Forest Guard, and in charge of thisstation. You will have to camp elsewhere."

  At these last words the flap of the tent was parted and a woman cameout, the professor's wife, in fact. She looked very tired and muchtroubled.

  "What is this?" she asked querulously. "Have we got to start againto-night?"

  Wilbur took off his hat.

  "I beg your pardon," he said, "I did not know there were ladies in theparty." He turned to the professor. "I suppose if it will bother themI'll have to let you stay. But if it hadn't been for that I'd haveturned every beast you've got out into the forest and let them rustlefor themselves."

  "Yes, you would!" said the guide. "An' what would I have had to say?"

  "Nothing," said Wilbur, "except that I'd have you arrested for touchingU. S. property." He turned to the professor: "How did you get here?" hesaid.

  "Up that road," said the older man, pointing to the southwest.

  "And why didn't you camp a couple of miles down? There's much betterground down there."

  "The guide said there was no place at all, and he didn't know anythingabout this camp, either, and we thought we would have to go on allnight."

  Wilbur snorted.

  "Guide!" he said contemptuously. "Acts more like a stable hand!"

  "Well," said the professor testily, "if there's been any damage done youcan tell your superiors to send me a bill and I'll take the matter up inWashington. In the meantime, we will stay here, and if I like it here, Iwill stay a week or two."

  "Not much, you won't," said Wilbur, "at least you won't have any horsesin the corral after daybreak to-morrow morning. I'll let them have onegood feed, anyhow, and if they're traveling with a thing like that tolook after them,"--he pointed to the "guide,"--"they'll need a rest. Butout they go to-morrow."

  "We will see to-morrow," said the camper.

  "In the meantime, I see a string of trout hanging there. Are theyfresh?"

  "I caught them early this morning," answered Wilbur, "before I began myday's work."

  The professor took out a roll of bills.

  "How much do you want for them!" he asked.

  "They are not for sale," the boy replied.

  "Oh, but I must have them," the other persisted. "I had quite made up mymind to have those for supper to-night."

  "And I suppose, if I hadn't come home when I did," said Wilbur, "youwould have stolen those, too!"

  "I would have recompensed you adequately," the former college officialreplied. "And you have no right to use the word 'stolen.' I shall reportyou for impertinence."

  By this time Wilbur was almost too angry to talk, and, thinking itbetter not to say too much, he turned on his heel and went to his owntent. Before going down to the corral with Kit, however, he took theprecaution of carrying the string of fish with him, for he realized thatalthough the professor would not for the world have taken them withoutpaying, he would not hesitate to appropriate them in his absence. Hecooked his trout with a distinct delight in the thought that theintruders had nothing except canned goods.

  In the morning Wilbur was up and had breakfast over before the othercamp was stirring. As soon as the "guide" appeared Wilbur walked over tohim.

  "I've given you a chance to look after your animals," he said, "beforeturning them out. You take them out in ten minutes or I'll turn themloose."

  "Aw, go on," said the other, "I've got to rustle grub. You haven't gotthe nerve to monkey with our horses."

  Promptly at the end of the ten minutes Wilbur went over to the "guide"again.

  "Out they go," he said.

  But the other paid no attention. Wilbur went down to the corral, thegate of which he had fixed early that morning, caught his own twomounts, and tied them. Then he opened the gate of the corral and drovethe other eight horses to the gate. In a moment he heard a wild shoutand saw the "guide" coming down the trail in hot haste. He reached thecorral in time to head off the first of his horses which was just comingthrough. Wilbur had no special desire to cause the animals to stray,and was only too well satisfied to help the "guide" catch them and tiethem up to trees about the camp. By this time it was long after the hourthat the boy usually began his patrol, but he waited to see the partystart. As they were packing he noticed a lot of sticks that looked likerockets.

  "What are those?" he asked. "If they're heavy, you're putting that packon all wrong."

  "These ain't got no weight," said the "guide"; "that's just somefireworks for the Fourth. We've got a bunch of them along for the littlegirl. She's crazy about fireworks."

  Wilbur said no more, but waited until the professor came out. Then hewalked up to him.

  "I understand," he said, "that you have some fireworks for the Fourth."

  The man addressed made no reply, but walked along as though he had notheard.

  "I give you fair warning," said Wilbur, "that you can't set those off inthis forest, Independence Day or no Independence Day."

  "We shan't ask your permission," said the old pedant loftily. "In fact,some will be set off this evening, and some to-morrow, wherever we maybe."

  "But don't you understand," the boy said, "that you're putting theforest in danger, in awful danger of fire? And if a big forest firestarts, you are just as likely to suffer as any one else. You mightcause a loss of millions of dollars for the sake of a few rockets."

  "The man that sold me them," said the other, "said they were harmless,and he ought to know."

  "All right," said Wilbur. "I've been told off to protect this forestfrom danger of fire, and if there's any greater danger around than abunch like yours I haven't seen it. I reckon I'll camp on your trailtill you're out of my end of the forest, and then I'll pass the wordalong and see that there's some one with you to keep you from makingfools of yourselves."


  He turned on his heel and commenced to make up a pack for his heavierhorse, intending to ride Kit. He then went to the telephone and, findingno one at headquarters, called up the old hunter's cabin. The Ranger hada 'phone put in for Ben, who had learned how to use it, and by goodfortune the half-witted lad knew where to find Rifle-Eye. He explainedto Ben how matters stood, and asked him to get word to the Ranger ifpossible. Then Wilbur went back to the party and gave them a hand toget started.

  Although he had been made very angry, Wilbur could see no gain insulking and he spent the day trying to establish a friendly relationwith the professor, so that, as he expressed it afterwards, "he couldjolly him out of the fireworks idea." But while this scholastic visitorwas willing to talk about subjects in connection with the government,and was quite well-informed on reclamation projects, Wilbur found theprofessor as stubborn as a mule, and every time he tried to bring theconversation round to forest fires he would be snubbed promptly.

  That evening Wilbur led the party to a camping place where, he reasoned,there would be little likelihood of fire trouble, as it was a very openstand and all the brush on it had been piled and burned in the spring.But the lad was at his wits' end what further to do. He could not seizeand carry off all the fireworks, and even if he were able to do so, hecouldn't see that he had any right to. It was a great relief to the boywhen he heard a horse on the trail and the old Ranger cantered up.

  "Oh, Rifle-Eye," he said, "I'm so glad you've come. Tell me what todo," and the boy recounted his difficulty with the party from first tolast.

  The old woodsman listened attentively, and then said:

  "I reckon, son, we'll stroll over and sorter see just how the land lies.There's a lot of things can be done with a mule by talkin' to him,although there is some that ain't wholly convinced by a stick ofdynamite. We'll see which-all these here are."

  "I think they're the dynamite kind," the boy replied.

  "Well, we'll see," the Ranger repeated. He stepped in his loose-jointedway to where the party was sitting around the campfire. Then, lookingstraight at the man of the party, he said:

  "You're a professor?"

  The remark admitted of no reply but:

  "I was for twenty years."

  "And what did you profess?"

  At this the camper rose to his feet, finding it uncomfortable to sit andlook up at the tall, gaunt mountaineer. He replied testily that itwasn't anything to do with Rifle-Eye what chair he had held or in whatcollege, and he'd trouble him to go about his business.

  Rifle-Eye heard him patiently to the end, and then asked again, withoutany change of voice:

  "And what did you profess?"

  Once again the reputed educator expressed himself as to the Ranger'sinterference and declared that he had been more annoyed since cominginto the forest than if he had stayed out of it. He worked himself upinto a towering rage. Presently Rifle-Eye replied quietly:

  "You refuse to tell?"

  "I do," snapped the professor.

  "Is it because you are ashamed of what you taught, or of where youtaught it?" the Ranger asked.

  This was touching the stranger in a tender place. He was proud of hiscollege and of his hobby, and he retorted immediately:

  "Ashamed? Certainly not. I was Professor of Social Economy in BlurtvilleUniversity."

  "And what do you call Social Economy?" asked Rifle-Eye.

  The educator fell into the trap thus laid out for him and launched intoa vigorous description of his own peculiar personal views towardsecuring a better understanding of the rights of the poor and of modernplans for ensuring better conditions of life, until he painted a pictureof his science and his own aims which was most admirable. When he drewbreath, he seemed quite pleased with himself.

  The Ranger thought a minute.

  "An' under which of these departments," he said, "would you put breakin'into this young fellow's corral, and havin' your eight horses eatin' upfeed which will hardly be enough for his two when the dry weathercomes?"

  "That's another matter entirely," replied the professor, becoming angryas soon as he was criticised.

  "Yes, it's another matter," said Rifle-Eye. "It's doin' instead oftalkin'. I reckon you're one o' the talkin' kind, so deafened by thesound o' your own splutterin' that you can't hear any one else. It's apity, too, that you don't learn somethin' yourself before you set othersto learnin'."

  "Are you trying to teach me?" snapped the traveler.

  The old Ranger leaned his arm on the barrel of his rifle, which,according to his invariable custom, he was carrying with him, a habitfrom old hunting days, and looking straight at the professor, said:

  "I ain't no great shakes on Social Economy, as you call it, and I ain'tbeen to college. But I c'n see right enough that there's no real meanin'to you in all you know about the rich an' the poor when you'll go an'rob a lad o' the pasture he'll need for his horses; an' you're onlyactin' hypocrite in lecturin' about promotin' good feelin's in societywhen you're busy provokin' bad feelin' yourself. An' when you're harpin'on the deep canyon that lies between Knowledge an' Ignorance, it don'tpay to forget that Politeness is a mighty easy bridge to rear, an' onethat's always safe. You may profess well enough, Mister Professor, butyou're a pretty ornery example o' practisin'."

  "But it's none of your business--" interrupted the stranger angrily.

  Rifle-Eye with a gesture stopped him.

  "It's just as much my business to talk to you," he said, "as it'd beyours to talk to me. In fact it's more. You c'n talk in your lectureroom, an' I'll talk here. Perhaps it ain't altogether your fault; it'sjust that you don't know any better. You're just a plumb ignorantcritter out here, Mister Professor, an' by rights you oughtn't to bearound loose.

  "An' you tried to threaten a boy here who was doin' his duty by sayin'that you'd write to Washington. What for? Are you so proud o' thievin'an' bullyin' that you want every one to know, or do you want to tellonly a part o' the story so as you'll look all right an' the otherfellow all wrong. That breed o' Social Economy don't go, not out here.We calls it lyin', an' pretty mean lyin' at that."

  He broke off suddenly and looked down with a smile.

  "Well, Pussy," he said, "that's right. You come an' back me up," andreaching out his brown gnarled hand he drew to his side the little girlwho had come trustingly forward to him as all children did, and now hadslipped her little hand into his.

  "An' then there's this question o' fire," he continued. "Haven't you gotsome fireworks for the Fourth, Pussy?" he said, looking down at hislittle companion.

  "Oh, yeth," she lisped, "pin-wheelth, and crackerth, and thnaketh, andheapth of thingth."

  "What a time we'll have," he said. "Shall we look at them now?"

  "Oh, yeth," the little girl replied, and ran across to her father, "canwe thee them now?"

  "No, not now," the father replied.

  The old Ranger called the "guide" by name.

  "Miguel," he said, "the fireworks are wanted to-night. Bring 'em to me."

  The professor protested, but a glance at the sinewy frame of themountaineer decided Miguel, and he brought several packages. In order toplease the little girl, Rifle-Eye lent her his huge pocket-knife and lether open the packages, sharing the surprises with her. Some of them heput aside, especially the rockets, but by far the larger number he letthe child make up into a pile.

  "Will you give me your word you won't set off these?" queried themountaineer, pointing to the smaller pile of dangerous explosives withhis foot.

  "I'll say nothing," said the professor.

  Without another word the Ranger stooped down, picked them up in one bigarmful, and disappeared beyond the circle of the light of the campfireinto the darkness. He reappeared in a few minutes.

  "I'm afeard," he said, "your fireworks may be a little wet. I tied 'emin a bundle, fastened a stone to 'em, an' then dropped 'em in thatlittle lake. You can't do any harm with those you've got now." He waiteda moment. "You can get those rockets," he said, "any time you have amind to. T
hat lake dries up about the middle of September."

  "By what right--" began the professor.

  "I plumb forget what sub-section you called that partickler right justnow," Rifle-Eye replied, "but out here we calls it fool-hobblin'. You'reoff your range, Mister Professor, an' the change o' feed has got youlocoed mighty bad. I reckon you'd better trot back to your own pasturesin the East, an' stay there till you know a little more."

  "What is your name and address?" blustered the professor; "I'll have thelaw invoked for this."

  "There's few in the Rockies as don't know old Rifle-Eye Bill," theRanger replied, "an' my address is wherever I c'n find some good to bedone. Any one c'n find me when I'm wanted, an' I'm ready any time yousay. Now, you're goin' to celebrate the Fourth to-morrow, to show howfond you are o' good government. You c'n add to your lectures on SocialEconomy one rule you don't know any thin' about. It's a Western rule,this one, an' it's just that no man that can't govern himself can governanythin' else."

  He turned on his heel, ignoring the reply shouted after him, andfollowed by Wilbur, mounted and rode away up the trail.

  "I've got to get right back," said the Ranger; "we're goin' to startworkin' out a special sale of poles."

  "Telegraph poles?" queried Wilbur.

  "Yes."

  "When you come to think of it," said the boy, "there must be quite a lotof poles all over the country."

  "Merritt said he reckoned there was about sixteen million poles now inuse, an' three and a half million poles are needed every year just fortelegraph and telephone purposes alone."

  "When you think," said Wilbur, "that every telegraph and telephone polemeans a whole tree, there's some forest been cut down, hasn't there?"

  "How many poles do you s'pose are used in a mile?"

  "About forty, I heard at school," the boy replied, "and it takes anarmy of men working all the year round just puttin' in poles."

  The old hunter struck a match and put a light to his pipe.

  "More forest destruction," said the boy mischievously, "I should think,Rifle-Eye, you'd be ashamed to waste wood by burning it up in the formof matches."

  "Go on talkin'," said Rifle-Eye, "you like tellin' me these things youpicked up at the Ranger School. Can you tell how much timber is used, orhow many matches are lighted an' thrown away?"

  "Three million matches a minute, every minute of the twenty-four hours,"said Wilbur immediately. "That is," he added after a moment'scalculation, "nearly four and a half billion a day. And then only thevery best portion of the finest wood can be used, and, as I hear, thebig match factories turn out huge quantities of other stuff, like doorsand window sashes, in order to use up the wood which is not of the veryfinest quality, such as is needed for matches."

  "How do they saw 'em so thin, I wonder?" interposed the Ranger.

  "Some of it is sawed both ways," the boy replied. "Some logs are boiledand then revolved on a lathe which makes a continuous shaving thethickness of a match, and a lot of matches are paper-pulp, which isreally wood after all. There's no saying, Rifle-Eye," he continued,laughing, "how many good trees have been cut down to make a light foryour pipe."

  The old hunter puffed hard, as the pipe was not well lighted.

  "Well," he said, "I guess I'll let the Forest Guards handle it." Helooked across at the boy. "It's up to you," he said, "to keep me goin.'Got a match?"

  MEASURING A FAIR-SIZED TREE.

  Lumberman on the scene of felling operations checking up a timber sale.

  _Photograph by U. S. Forest Service._]

  RUNNING A TELEPHONE LINK.]

  RUNNING A TELEPHONE LINK.

  Using the poles planted by Nature for annihilating space in sparselysettled regions.

  _Photographs by U. S. Forest Service._]