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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1882-0.txt b/1882-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d87ad07 --- /dev/null +++ b/1882-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5930 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Forester, by Zane Grey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Young Forester + +Author: Zane Grey + +Posting Date: November 25, 2008 [EBook #1882] +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG FORESTER *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Brewer + + + + + +THE YOUNG FORESTER + +By Zane Grey + + + + +I. CHOOSING A PROFESSION + +I loved outdoor life and hunting. Some way a grizzly bear would come in +when I tried to explain forestry to my brother. + +“Hunting grizzlies!” he cried. “Why, Ken, father says you've been +reading dime novels.” + +“Just wait, Hal, till he comes out here. I'll show him that forestry +isn't just bear-hunting.” + +My brother Hal and I were camping a few days on the Susquehanna River, +and we had divided the time between fishing and tramping. Our camp was +on the edge of a forest some eight miles from Harrisburg. The property +belonged to our father, and he had promised to drive out to see us. But +he did not come that day, and I had to content myself with winning Hal +over to my side. + +“Ken, if the governor lets you go to Arizona can't you ring me in?” + +“Not this summer. I'd be afraid to ask him. But in another year I'll do +it.” + +“Won't it be great? But what a long time to wait! It makes me sick to +think of you out there riding mustangs and hunting bears and lions.” + +“You'll have to stand it. You're pretty much of a kid, Hal--not yet +fourteen. Besides, I've graduated.” + +“Kid!” exclaimed Hal, hotly. “You're not such a Methuselah yourself! I'm +nearly as big as you. I can ride as well and play ball as well, and I +can beat you all--” + +“Hold on, Hal! I want you to help me to persuade father, and if you get +your temper up you'll like as not go against me. If he lets me go I'll +bring you in as soon as I dare. That's a promise. I guess I know how +much I'd like to have you.” + +“All right,” replied Hal, resignedly. “I'll have to hold in, I suppose. +But I'm crazy to go. And, Ken, the cowboys and lions are not all that +interest me. I like what you tell me about forestry. But who ever heard +of forestry as a profession?” + +“It's just this way, Hal. The natural resources have got to be +conserved, and the Government is trying to enlist intelligent young +men in the work--particularly in the department of forestry. I'm not +exaggerating when I say the prosperity of this country depends upon +forestry.” + +I have to admit that I was repeating what I had read. + +“Why does it? Tell me how,” demanded Hal. + +“Because the lumbermen are wiping out all the timber and never thinking +of the future. They are in such a hurry to get rich that they'll +leave their grandchildren only a desert. They cut and slash in every +direction, and then fires come and the country is ruined. Our rivers +depend upon the forests for water. The trees draw the rain; the leaves +break it up and let it fall in mists and drippings; it seeps into the +ground, and is held by the roots. If the trees are destroyed the rain +rushes off on the surface and floods the rivers. The forests store up +water, and they do good in other ways.” + +“We've got to have wood and lumber,” said Hal. + +“Of course we have. But there won't be any unless we go in for forestry. +It's been practiced in Germany for three hundred years.” + +We spent another hour talking about it, and if Hal's practical sense, +which he inherited from father, had not been offset by his real love for +the forests I should have been discouraged. Hal was of an industrious +turn of mind; he meant to make money, and anything that was good +business appealed strongly to him. But, finally, he began to see what I +was driving at; he admitted that there was something in the argument. + +The late afternoon was the best time for fishing. For the next two hours +our thoughts were of quivering rods and leaping bass. + +“You'll miss the big bass this August,” remarked Hal, laughing. “Guess +you won't have all the sport.” + +“That's so, Hal,” I replied, regretfully. “But we're talking as if it +were a dead sure thing that I'm going West. Well, I only hope so.” + +What Hal and I liked best about camping--of course after the +fishing--was to sit around the campfire. Tonight it was more pleasant +than ever, and when darkness fully settled down it was even thrilling. +We talked about bears. Then Hal told of mountain-lions and the habit +they have of creeping stealthily after hunters. There was a hoot-owl +crying dismally up in the woods, and down by the edge of the river +bright-green eyes peered at us from the darkness. When the wind came up +and moaned through the trees it was not hard to imagine we were out +in the wilderness. This had been a favorite game for Hal and me; only +tonight there seemed some reality about it. From the way Hal whispered, +and listened, and looked, he might very well have been expecting a visit +from lions or, for that matter, even from Indians. Finally we went to +bed. But our slumbers were broken. Hal often had nightmares even on +ordinary nights, and on this one he moaned so much and thrashed about +the tent so desperately that I knew the lions were after him. + +I dreamed of forest lands with snow-capped peaks rising in the +background; I dreamed of elk standing on the open ridges, of +white-tailed deer trooping out of the hollows, of antelope browsing +on the sage at the edge of the forests. Here was the broad track of a +grizzly in the snow; there on a sunny crag lay a tawny mountain-lion +asleep. The bronzed cowboy came in for his share, and the lone bandit +played his part in a way to make me shiver. The great pines, the shady, +brown trails, the sunlit glades, were as real to me as if I had been +among them. Most vivid of all was the lonely forest at night and the +campfire. I heard the sputter of the red embers and smelled the wood +smoke; I peered into the dark shadows watching and listening for I knew +not what. + +On the next day early in the afternoon father appeared on the river +road. + +“There he is,” cried Hal. “He's driving Billy. How he's coming.” + +Billy was father's fastest horse. It pleased me immensely to see the +pace, for father would not have been driving fast unless he were in a +particularly good humor. And when he stopped on the bank above camp +I could have shouted. He wore his corduroys as if he were ready for +outdoor life. There was a smile on his face as he tied Billy, and, +coming down, he poked into everything in camp and asked innumerable +questions. Hal talked about the bass until I was afraid he would want to +go fishing and postpone our forestry tramp in the woods. But presently +he spoke directly to me. + +“Well, Kenneth, are you going to come out with the truth about that +Wild-West scheme of yours? Now that you've graduated you want a fling. +You want to ride mustangs, to see cowboys, to hunt and shoot--all that +sort of thing.” + +When father spoke in such a way it usually meant the defeat of my +schemes. I grew cold all over. + +“Yes, father, I'd like all that--But I mean business. I want to be +a forest ranger. Let me go to Arizona this summer. And in the fall +I'd--I'd like to go to a school of forestry.” + +There! the truth was out, and my feelings were divided between relief +and fear. Before father could reply I launched into a set speech upon +forestry, and talked till I was out of breath. + +“There's something in what you say,” replied my father. “You've been +reading up on the subject?” + +“Everything I could get, and I've been trying to apply my knowledge +in the woods. I love the trees. I'd love an outdoor life. But forestry +won't be any picnic. A ranger must be able to ride and pack, make trail +and camp, live alone in the woods, fight fire and wild beasts. Oh! It'd +be great!” + +“I dare say,” said father, dryly; “particularly the riding and shooting. +Well, I guess you'll make a good-enough doctor to suit me.” + +“Give me a square deal,” I cried, jumping up. “Mayn't I have one word to +say about my future? Wouldn't you rather have me happy and successful as +a forester, even if there is danger, than just an ordinary, poor doctor? +Let's go over our woodland. I'll prove that you are letting your forest +run down. You've got sixty acres of hard woods that ought to be bringing +a regular income. If I can't prove it, if I can't interest you, I'll +agree to study medicine. But if I do you're to let me try forestry.” + +“Well, Kenneth, that's a fair proposition,” returned father, evidently +surprised at my earnestness “Come on. We'll go up in the woods. Hal, I +suppose he's won you over?” + +“Ken's got a big thing in mind,” replied Hal, loyally “It's just +splendid.” + +I never saw the long, black-fringed line of trees without joy in the +possession of them and a desire to be among them. The sixty acres of +timber land covered the whole of a swampy valley, spread over a rolling +hill sloping down to the glistening river. + +“Now, son, go ahead,” said my father, as we clambered over a rail fence +and stepped into the edge of shade.. + +“Well, father--” I began, haltingly, and could not collect my thoughts. +Then we were in the cool woods. It was very still, there being only a +faint rustling of leaves and the mellow note of a hermit-thrush. The +deep shadows were lightened by shafts of sunshine which, here and there, +managed to pierce the canopy of foliage. Somehow, the feeling roused by +these things loosened my tongue. + +“This is an old hard-wood forest,” I began. “Much of the white oak, +hickory, ash, maple, is virgin timber. These trees have reached +maturity; many are dead at the tops; all of them should have been cut +long ago. They make too dense a shade for the seedlings to survive. Look +at that bunch of sapling maples. See how they reach up, trying to get +to the light. They haven't a branch low down and the tops are thin. Yet +maple is one of our hardiest trees. Growth has been suppressed. Do you +notice there are no small oaks or hickories just here? They can't live +in deep shade. Here's the stump of a white oak cut last fall. It was +about two feet in diameter. Let's count the rings to find its age--about +ninety years. It flourished in its youth and grew rapidly, but it had a +hard time after about fifty years. At that time it was either burned, or +mutilated by a falling tree, or struck by lightning.” + +“Now, how do you make that out?” asked father, intensely interested. + +“See the free, wide rings from the pith out to about number forty-five. +The tree was healthy up to that time. Then it met with an injury of +some kind, as is indicated by this black scar. After that the rings grew +narrower. The tree struggled to live.” + +We walked on with me talking as fast as I could get the words out. I +showed father a giant, bushy chestnut which was dominating all the trees +around it, and told him how it retarded their growth. On the other hand, +the other trees were absorbing nutrition from the ground that would have +benefited the chestnut. + +“There's a sinful waste of wood here,” I said, as we climbed over and +around the windfalls and rotting tree-trunks. “The old trees die and are +blown down. The amount of rotting wood equals the yearly growth. Now, I +want to show you the worst enemies of the trees. Here's a big white oak, +a hundred and fifty years old. It's almost dead. See the little holes +bored in the bark. They were made by a beetle. Look!” + +I swung my hatchet and split off a section of bark. Everywhere in the +bark and round the tree ran little dust-filled grooves. I pried out a +number of tiny brown beetles, somewhat the shape of a pinching-bug, only +very much smaller. + +“There! You'd hardly think that that great tree was killed by a lot of +little bugs, would you? They girdle the trees and prevent the sap from +flowing.” + +I found an old chestnut which contained nests of the deadly white moths, +and explained how it laid its eggs, and how the caterpillars that came +from them killed the trees by eating the leaves. I showed how mice and +squirrels injured the forest by eating the seeds. + +“First I'd cut and sell all the matured and dead timber. Then I'd thin +out the spreading trees that want all the light, and the saplings that +grow too close together. I'd get rid of the beetles, and try to check +the spread of caterpillars. For trees grow twice as fast if they are not +choked or diseased. Then I'd keep planting seeds and shoots in the open +places, taking care to favor the species best adapted to the soil, and +cutting those that don't grow well. In this way we'll be keeping our +forest while doubling its growth and value, and having a yearly income +from it.” + +“Kenneth, I see you're in dead earnest about this business,” said my +father, slowly. “Before I came out here today I had been looking up +the subject, and I believe, with you, that forestry really means the +salvation of our country. I think you are really interested, and I've a +mind not to oppose you.” + +“You'll never regret it. I'll learn; I'll work up. Then it's an outdoor +life--healthy, free--why! all the boys I've told take to the idea. +There's something fine about it.” “Forestry it is, then,” replied he. “I +like the promise of it, and I like your attitude. If you have learned so +much while you were camping out here the past few summers it speaks well +for you. But why do you want to go to Arizona?” + +“Because the best chances are out West. I'd like to get a line on +the National Forests there before I go to college. The work will be +different; those Western forests are all pine. I've a friend, Dick +Leslie, a fellow I used to fish with, who went West and is now a fire +ranger in the new National Forest in Arizona--Penetier is the name of +it. He has written me several times to come out and spend a while with +him in the woods.” + +“Penetier? Where is that--near what town?” + +“Holston. It's a pretty rough country, Dick says; plenty of deer, bears, +and lions on his range. So I could hunt some while studying the forests. +I think I'd be safe with Dick, even if it is wild out there.” + +“All right, I'll let you go. When you return we'll see about the +college.” Then he surprised me by drawing a letter from his pocket +and handing it to me. “My friend, Mr. White, got this letter from the +department at Washington. It may be of use to you out there.” + +So it was settled, and when father drove off homeward Hal and I went +back to camp. It would have been hard to say which of us was the more +excited. Hal did a war dance round the campfire. I was glad, however, +that he did not have the little twinge of remorse which I experienced, +for I had not told him or father all that Dick had written about the +wilderness of Penetier. I am afraid my mind was as much occupied with +rifles and mustangs as with the study of forestry. But, though the +adventure called most strongly to me, I knew I was sincere about +the forestry end of it, and I resolved that I would never slight my +opportunities. So, smothering conscience, I fell to the delight of +making plans. I was for breaking camp at once, but Hal persuaded me to +stay one more day. We talked for hours. Only one thing bothered me. Hal +was jolly and glum by turns. He reveled in the plans for my outfit, but +he wanted his own chance. A thousand times I had to repeat my promise, +and the last thing he said before we slept was: “Ken, you're going to +ring me in next summer!” + + + + +II. THE MAN ON THE TRAIN + +Travelling was a new experience to me, and on the first night after I +left home I lay awake until we reached Altoona. We rolled out of smoky +Pittsburg at dawn, and from then on the only bitter drop in my cup of +bliss was that the train went so fast I could not see everything out of +my window. + +Four days to ride! The great Mississippi to cross, the plains, the Rocky +Mountains, then the Arizona plateaus-a long, long journey with a wild +pine forest at the end! I wondered what more any young fellow could have +wished. With my face glued to the car window I watched the level country +speed by. + +There appeared to be one continuous procession of well-cultivated +farms, little hamlets, and prosperous towns. What interested me most, of +course, were the farms, for all of them had some kind of wood. We passed +a zone of maple forests which looked to be more carefully kept than the +others. Then I recognized that they were maple-sugar trees. The farmers +had cleaned out the other species, and this primitive method of forestry +had produced the finest maples it had ever been my good-fortune to see. +Indiana was flatter than Ohio, not so well watered, and therefore less +heavily timbered. I saw, with regret, that the woodland was being cut +regularly, tree after tree, and stacked in cords for firewood. + +At Chicago I was to change for Santa Fe, and finding my train in +the station I climbed aboard. My car was a tourist coach. Father had +insisted on buying a ticket for the California Limited, but I had argued +that a luxurious Pullman was not exactly the thing for a prospective +forester. Still I pocketed the extra money which I had assured him he +need not spend for the first-class ticket. + +The huge station, with its glaring lights and clanging bells, and the +outspreading city, soon gave place to prairie land. + +That night I slept little, but the very time I wanted to be awake--when +we crossed the Mississippi--I was slumbering soundly, and so missed it. + +“I'll bet I don't miss it coming back,” I vowed. + +The sight of the Missouri, however, somewhat repaid me for the loss. +What a muddy, wide river! And I thought of the thousands of miles of +country it drained, and of the forests there must be at its source. Then +came the never-ending Kansas corn-fields. I do not know whether it was +their length or their treeless monotony, but I grew tired looking at +them. + +From then on I began to take some notice of my fellow-travelers. The +conductor proved to be an agreeable old fellow; and the train-boy, +though I mistrusted his advances because he tried to sell me everything +from chewing-gum to mining stock, turned out to be pretty good company. +The Negro porter had such a jolly voice and laugh that I talked to him +whenever I got the chance. Then occasional passengers occupied the seat +opposite me from town to town. They were much alike, all sunburned and +loud-voiced, and it looked as though they had all bought their high +boots and wide hats at the same shop. + +The last traveller to face me was a very heavy man with a great bullet +head and a shock of light hair. His blue eyes had a bold flash, his long +mustache drooped, and there was something about him that I did not like. +He wore a huge diamond in the bosom of his flannel shirt, and a +leather watch-chain that was thick and strong enough to have held up a +town-clock. + +“Hot,” he said, as he mopped his moist brow. + +“Not so hot as it was,” I replied. + +“Sure not. We're climbin' a little. He's whistlin' for Dodge City now.” + +“Dodge City?” I echoed, with interest. The name brought back vivid +scenes from certain yellow-backed volumes, and certain uncomfortable +memories of my father's displeasure. “Isn't this the old cattle town +where there used to be so many fights?” + +“Sure. An' not so very long ago. Here, look out the window.” He clapped +his big hand on my knee; then pointed. “See that hill there. Dead Man's +Hill it was once, where they buried the fellers as died with their boots +on.” + +I stared, and even stretched my neck out of the window. + +“Yes, old Dodge was sure lively,” he continued, as our train passed +on. “I seen a little mix-up there myself in the early eighties. Five +cow-punchers, friends they was, had been visitin' town. One feller, +playful-like, takes another feller's quirt--that's a whip. An' the other +feller, playful-like, says, 'Give it back.' Then they tussles for +it, an' rolls on the ground. I was laughin', as was everybody, when, +suddenly, the owner of the quirt thumps his friend. Both cowboys got up, +slow, an' watchin' of each other. Then the first feller, who had started +the play, pulls his gun. He'd hardly flashed it when they all pulls +guns, an' it was some noisy an' smoky. In about five seconds there was +five dead cowpunchers. Killed themselves, as you might say, just for +fun. That's what life was worth in old Dodge.” After this story I felt +more kindly disposed ward my travelling companion, and would have +asked for more romances but the conductor came along and engaged him in +conversation. Then my neighbor across the aisle, a young fellow not much +older than myself, asked me to talk to him. + +“Why, yes, if you like,” I replied, in surprise. He was pale; there were +red spots in his cheeks, and dark lines under his weary eyes. + +“You look so strong and eager that it's done me good to watch you,” he +explained, with a sad smile. “You see--I'm sick.” + +I told him I was very sorry, and hoped he would get well soon. + +“I ought to have come West sooner,” he replied, “but I couldn't get the +money.” + +He looked up at me and then out of the window at the sun setting +red across the plains. I tried to make him think of something beside +himself, but I made a mess of it. The meeting with him was a shock to +me. Long after dark, when I had stretched out for the night, I kept +thinking of him and contrasting what I had to look forward to with his +dismal future. Somehow it did not seem fair, and I could not get rid of +the idea that I was selfish. + +Next day I had my first sight of real mountains. And the Pennsylvania +hills, that all my life had appeared so high, dwindled to nothing. At +Trinidad, where we stopped for breakfast, I walked out on the platform +sniffing at the keen thin air. When we crossed the Raton Mountains +into New Mexico the sick boy got off at the first station, and I waved +good-bye to him as the train pulled out. Then the mountains and the +funny little adobe huts and the Pueblo Indians along the line made me +forget everything else. + +The big man with the heavy watch-chain was still on the train, and after +he had read his newspaper he began to talk to me. + +“This road follows the old trail that the goldseekers took in +forty-nine,” he said. “We're comin' soon to a place, Apache Pass, where +the Apaches used to ambush the wagon-trains, It's somewheres along +here.” + +Presently the train wound into a narrow yellow ravine, the walls of +which grew higher and higher. + +“Them Apaches was the worst redskins ever in the West. They used to hide +on top of this pass an' shoot down on the wagon-trains.” + +Later in the day he drew my attention to a mountain standing all by +itself. It was shaped like a cone, green with trees almost to the +summit, and ending in a bare stone peak that had a flat top. + +“Starvation Peak,” he said. “That name's three hundred years old, dates +back to the time the Spaniards owned this land. There's a story about it +that's likely true enough. Some Spaniards were attacked by Indians an' +climbed to the peak, expectin' to be better able to defend themselves +up there. The Indians camped below the peak an' starved the Spaniards. +Stuck there till they starved to death! That's where it got its name.” + +“Those times you tell of must have been great,” I said, regretfully. +“I'd like to have been here then. But isn't the country all settled now? +Aren't the Indians dead? There's no more fighting?” + +“It's not like it used to be, but there's still warm places in the West. +Not that the Indians break out often any more. But bad men are almost as +bad, if not so plentiful, as when Billy the Kid run these parts. I saw +two men shot an' another knifed jest before I went East to St. Louis.” + +“Where?” + +“In Arizona. Holston is the station where I get off, an' it happened +near there.” + +“Holston is where I'm going.” + +“You don't say. Well, I'm glad to meet you, young man. My name's Buell, +an' I'm some known in Holston. What's your name?” + +He eyed me in a sharp but not unfriendly manner, and seemed pleased to +learn of my destination. + +“Ward. Kenneth Ward. I'm from Pennsylvania.” + +“You haven't got the bugs. Any one can see that,” he said, and as I +looked puzzled he went on with a smile, and a sounding rap on his chest: +“Most young fellers as come out here have consumption. They call it +bugs. I reckon you're seekin' your fortune.”' + +“Yes, in a way.” + +“There's opportunities for husky youngsters out here. What're you goin' +to rustle for, if I may ask?” + +“I'm going in for forestry.” + +“Forestry? Do you mean lumberin'?” + +“No. Forestry is rather the opposite of lumbering. I'm going in for +Government forestry--to save the timber, not cut it.” + +It seemed to me he gave a little start of surprise; he certainly +straightened up and looked at me hard. + +“What's Government forestry?” + +I told him to the best of my ability. He listened attentively enough, +but thereafter he had not another word for me, and presently he went +into the next car. I took his manner to be the Western abruptness that I +had heard of, and presently forgot him in the scenery along the line. +At Albuquerque I got off for a trip to a lunch-counter, and happened to +take a seat next to him. + +“Know anybody in Holston?” he asked. + +As I could not speak because of a mouthful of sandwich I shook my head. +For the moment I had forgotten about Dick Leslie, and when it did occur +to me some Indians offering to sell me beads straightway drove it out of +my mind again. + +When I awoke the next day, it was to see the sage ridges and red buttes +of Arizona. We were due at Holston at eight o'clock, but owing to a +crippled engine the train was hours late. At last I fell asleep to be +awakened by a vigorous shake. + +“Holston. Your stop. Holston,” the conductor was saying. + +“All right,” I said, sitting up and then making a grab for my grip. +“We're pretty late, aren't we?” + +“Six hours. It's two o'clock.” + +“Hope I can get a room,” I said, as I followed him out on the platform. +He held up his lantern so that the light would shine in my face. +“There's a hotel down the street a block or so. Better hurry and look +sharp. Holston's not a safe place for a stranger at night.” + +I stepped off into a windy darkness. A lamp glimmered in the station +window. By its light I made out several men, the foremost of whom had +a dark, pointed face and glittering eyes. He wore a strange hat, and I +knew from pictures I had seen that he was a Mexican. Then the bulky form +of Buell loomed up. I called, but evidently he did not hear me. The men +took his grips, and they moved away to disappear in the darkness. While +I paused, hoping to see some one to direct me, the train puffed out, +leaving me alone on the platform. + +When I turned the corner I saw two dim lights, one far to the left, +the other to the right, and the black outline of buildings under what +appeared to be the shadow of a mountain. It was the quietest and darkest +town I had ever struck. + +I decided to turn toward the right-hand light, for the conductor had +said “down the street.” I set forth at a brisk pace, but the loneliness +and strangeness of the place were rather depressing. + +Before I had gone many steps, however, the sound of running water halted +me, and just in the nick of time, for I was walking straight into a +ditch. By peering hard into the darkness and feeling my way I found +a bridge. Then it did not take long to reach the light. But it was a +saloon, and not the hotel. One peep into it served to make me face about +in double-quick time, and hurry in the opposite direction. + +Hearing a soft footfall, I glanced over my shoulder, to see the Mexican +that I had noticed at the station. He was coming from across the street. +I wondered if he were watching me. He might be. My heart began to beat +violently. Turning once again, I discovered that the fellow could not be +seen in the pitchy blackness. Then I broke into a run. + + + + +III. THE TRAIL + +A short dash brought me to the end of the block; the side street was not +so dark, and after I had crossed this open space I glanced backward. + +Soon I sped into a wan circle of light, and, reaching a door upon which +was a hotel sign, I burst in. Chairs were scattered about a bare office; +a man stirred on a couch, and then sat up, blinking. + +“I'm afraid--I believe some one's chasing me,” I said. + +He sat there eying me, and then drawled, sleepily: + +“Thet ain't no call to wake a feller, is it?” + +The man settled himself comfortably again, and closed his eyes. + +“Say, isn't this a hotel? I want a room!” I cried. + +“Up-stairs; first door.” And with that the porter went to sleep in good +earnest. + +I made for the stairs, and, after a backward look into the street, I ran +up. A smelly lamp shed a yellowish glare along a hall. I pushed open +the first door, and, entering the room, bolted myself in. Then all the +strength went out of my legs. When I sat down on the bed I was in a cold +sweat and shaking like a leaf. Soon the weakness passed, and I moved +about the room, trying to find a lamp or candle. Evidently the hotel, +and, for that matter, the town of Holston, did not concern itself +with such trifles as lights. On the instant I got a bad impression of +Holston. I had to undress in the dark. When I pulled the window open a +little at the top the upper sash slid all the way down. I managed to +get it back, and tried raising the lower sash. It was very loose, but it +stayed up. Then I crawled into bed. + +Though I was tired and sleepy, my mind whirled so that I could not get +to sleep. If I had been honest with myself I should have wished myself +back home. Pennsylvania seemed a long way off, and the adventures that I +had dreamed of did not seem so alluring, now that I was in a lonely room +in a lonely, dark town. Buell had seemed friendly and kind--at least, +in the beginning. Why had he not answered my call? The incident did +not look well to me. Then I fell to wondering if the Mexican had really +followed me. The first thing for me in the morning would be to buy a +revolver. Then if any Mexicans-- + +A step on the tin roof outside frightened me stiff. I had noticed a +porch, or shed, under my window. Some one must have climbed upon it. I +stopped breathing to listen. For what seemed moments there was no sound. +I wanted to think that the noise might have been made by a cat, but I +couldn't. I was scared--frightened half to death. + +If there had been a bolt on the window the matter would not have been so +disturbing. I lay there a-quiver, eyes upon the gray window space of my +room. Dead silence once more intervened. All I heard was the pound of my +heart against my ribs. + +Suddenly I froze at the sight of a black figure against the light of +my window. I recognized the strange hat, the grotesque outlines. I was +about to shout for help when the fellow reached down and softly began to +raise the sash. + +That made me angry. Jerking up in bed, I caught the heavy pitcher from +the wash-stand and flung it with all my might. + +Crash! + +Had I smashed out the whole side of the room it could scarcely have made +more noise. Accompanied by the clinking of glass and the creaking of +tin, my visitor rolled off the roof. I waited, expecting an uproar from +the other inmates of the hotel. No footstep, no call sounded within +hearing. Once again the stillness settled down. + +Then, to my relief, the gray gloom lightened, and dawn broke. Never +had I been so glad to see the morning. While dressing I cast gratified +glances at the ragged hole in the window. With the daylight my courage +had returned, and I began to have a sort of pride in my achievement. + +“If that fellow had known how I can throw a baseball he'd have been +careful,” I thought, a little cockily. + +I went down-stairs into the office. The sleepy porter was mopping the +floor. Behind the desk stood a man so large that he made Buell seem +small. He was all shoulders and beard. + +“Can I get breakfast?” + +“Nobody's got a half-hitch on you, has they?” he replied, jerking a +monstrous thumb over his shoulder toward a door. + +I knew the words half-hitch had something to do with a lasso, and I was +rather taken back by the hotel proprietor's remark. The dining-room was +more attractive than anything I had yet seen about the place: the linen +was clean, and the ham and eggs and coffee that were being served to +several rugged men gave forth a savory odor. But either the waiter was +blind or he could not bear, for he paid not the slightest attention to +me. I waited, while trying to figure out the situation. Something was +wrong, and, whatever it was, I guessed that it must be with me. After +about an hour I got my breakfast. Then I went into the office, intending +to be brisk, businesslike, and careful about asking questions. + +“I'd like to pay my bill, and also for a little damage,” I said, telling +what had happened. + +“Somebody'll kill thet Greaser yet,” was all the comment the man made. + +I went outside, not knowing whether to be angry or amused with these +queer people. In the broad light of day Holston looked as bad as it +had made me feel by night. All I could see were the station and +freight-sheds, several stores with high, wide signs, glaringly painted, +and a long block of saloons. When I had turned a street corner, +however, a number of stores came into view with some three-storied brick +buildings, and, farther out, many frame houses. + +Moreover, this street led my eye to great snowcapped mountains, and I +stopped short in my tracks, for I realized they were the Arizona peaks. +Up the swelling slopes swept a black fringe that I knew to be timber. +The mountains appeared to be close, but I knew that even the foot-bills +were miles away. Penetier, I remembered from one of Dick's letters, was +on the extreme northern slope, and it must be anywhere from forty to +sixty miles off. The sharp, white peaks glistened in the morning sun; +the air had a cool touch of snow and a tang of pine. I drew in a full +breath, with a sense on being among the pines. + +Now I must buy my outfit and take the trail for Penetier. This I +resolved to do with as few questions as possible. I never before was +troubled by sensitiveness, but the fact had dawned upon me that I did +not like being taken for a tenderfoot. So, with this in mind, I entered +a general merchandise store. + +It was very large, and full of hardware, harness, saddles, +blankets--everything that cowboys and ranchmen use. Several men, two +in shirt-sleeves, were chatting near the door. They saw me come in, and +then, for all that it meant to them, I might as well not have been in +existence at all. So I sat down to wait, determined to take Western ways +and things as I found them. I sat there fifteen minutes by my watch. +This was not so bad; but when a lanky, red-faced, leather-legged +individual came in too he at once supplied with his wants, I began to get +angry. I waited another five minutes, and still the friendly chatting +went on. Finally I could stand it no longer. + +“Will somebody wait on me?” I demanded. + +One of the shirt-sleeved men leisurely got up and surveyed me. + +“Do you want to buy something?” he drawled. + +“Yes, I do.” + +“Why didn't you say so?” + +The reply trembling on my lips was cut short by the entrance of Buell. + +“Hello!” he said in a loud voice, shaking hands with me. “You've trailed +into the right place. Smith, treat this lad right. It's guns an' knives +an' lassoes he wants, I'll bet a hoss.” + +“Yes, I want an outfit,” I said, much embarrassed. “I'm going to meet a +friend out in Penetier, a ranger--Dick Leslie.” + +Buell started violently, and his eyes flashed. “Dick--Dick Leslie!” he +said, and coughed loudly. “I know Dick.... So you're a friend of his'n? +... Now, let me help you with the outfit.” + +Anything strange in Buell's manner was forgotten, in the absorbing +interest of my outfit. Father had given me plenty of money, so that I +had but to choose. I had had sense enough to bring my old corduroys and +boots, and I had donned them that morning. One after another I made my +purchases--Winchester, revolver, holsters, ammunition, saddle, bridle, +lasso, blanket. When I got so far, Buell said: “You'll need a mustang +an' a pack-pony. I know a feller who's got jest what you want.” And with +that he led me out of the store. + +“Now you take it from me,” he went on, in a fatherly voice, “Holston +people haven't got any use for Easterners. An' if you mention your +business--forestry an' that--why, you wouldn't be safe. There's many in +the lumberin' business here as don't take kindly to the Government. See! +That's why I'm givin' you advice. Keep it to yourself an' hit the trail +today, soon as you can. I'll steer you right.” + +I was too much excited to answer clearly; indeed, I hardly thanked him. +However, he scarcely gave me the chance. He kept up his talk about the +townspeople and their attitude toward Easterners until we arrived at a +kind of stock-yard full of shaggy little ponies. The sight of them drove +every other thought out of my head. + +“Mustangs!” I exclaimed. + +“Sure. Can you ride?” + +“Oh yes. I have a horse at home.... What wiry little fellows! They're so +wild-looking.” + +“You pick out the one as suits you, an' I'll step into Cless's here. +He's the man who owns this bunch.” + +It did not take me long to decide. A black mustang at once took my eye. +When he had been curried and brushed he would be a little beauty. I was +trying to coax him to me when Buell returned with a man. + +“Thet your pick?” he asked, as I pointed. “Well, now, you're not so much +of a tenderfoot. Thet's the best mustang in the lot. Cless, how much for +him, an' a pack-pony an' pack-saddle?” + +“I reckon twenty dollars'll make it square,” replied the owner. + +This nearly made me drop with amazement. I had only about seventy-five +dollars left, and I had been very much afraid that I could not buy the +mustang, let alone the pack-pony and saddle. + +“Cless, send round to Smith for the lad's outfit, an' saddle up for him +at once.” Then he turned to me. “Now some grub, an' a pan or two.” + +Having camped before, I knew how to buy supplies. Buell, however, cut +out much that I wanted, saying the thing to think of was a light pack +for the pony. + +“I'll hurry to the hotel and get my things,” I said, “and meet you here. +I'll not be a moment.” + +But Buell said it would be better for him to go with me, though he did +not explain. He kept with me, still he remained in the office while I +went up-stairs. Somehow this suited me, for I did not want him to see +the broken window. I took a few things from my grip and rolled them in a +bundle. Then I took a little leather case of odds and ends I had always +carried when camping and slipped it into my pocket. Hurrying down-stairs +I left my grip with the porter, wrote and mailed a postal card to my +father, and followed the impatient Buell. + +“You see, it's a smart lick of a ride to Penetier, and I want to get +there before dark,” he explained, kindly. + +I could have shouted for very glee when I saw the black mustang saddled +and bridled. + +“He's well broke,” said Cless. “Keep his bridle down when you ain't +in the saddle. An' find a patch of grass fer him at night. The pony'll +stick to him.” + +Cless fell to packing a lean pack-pony. + +“Watch me do this,” said he; “you'll hev trouble if you don't git the +hang of the diamondhitch.” + +I watched him set the little wooden criss-cross on the pony's back, +throw the balance of my outfit (which he had tied up in a canvas) over +the saddle, and then pass a long rope in remarkable turns and wonderful +loops round pony and pack. + +“What's the mustang's name?” I inquired. + +“Never had any,” replied the former owner. + +“Then it's Hal.” I thought how that name would please my brother at +home. + +“Climb up. Let's see if you fit the stirrups,” said Cless. “Couldn't be +better.” + +“Now, young feller, you can hit the trail,” put in Buell, with his big +voice. “An' remember what I told you. This country ain't got much use +for a feller as can't look out for himself.” + +He opened the gate, and led my mustang into the road and quite some +distance. The pony jogged along after us. Then Buell stopped with a +finger outstretched. + +“There, at the end of this street, you'll find a trail. Hit it an' stick +to it. All the little trail's leadin' into it needn't bother you.” + +He swept his hand round to the west of the mountain. The direction did +not tally with the idea I had gotten from Dick's letter. + +“I thought Penetier was on the north side of the mountains.” + +“Who said so?” he asked, staring. “Don't I know this country? Take it +from me.” + +I thanked him, and, turning, with a light heart I faced the black +mountain and my journey. + +It was about ten o'clock when Hal jogged into a broad trail on the +outskirts of Holston. A gray flat lay before me, on the other side of +which began the slow rise of the slope. I could hardly contain myself. +I wanted to run the mustang, but did not for the sake of the burdened +pony. That sage-flat was miles wide, though it seemed so narrow. The +back of the lower slope began to change to a dark green, which told me I +was surely getting closer to the mountains, even if it did not seem so. +The trail began to rise, and at last I reached the first pine-trees. +They were a disappointment to me, being no larger than many of the white +oaks at home, and stunted, with ragged dead tops. They proved to me that +trees isolated from their fellows fare as poorly as trees overcrowded. +Where pines grow closely, but not too closely, they rise straight and +true, cleaning themselves of the low branches, and making good lumber, +free of knots. Where they grow far apart, at the mercy of wind and heat +and free to spread many branches, they make only gnarled and knotty +lumber. + +As I rode on the pines became slowly more numerous and loftier. Then, +when I had surmounted what I took to be the first foot-hill, I came upon +a magnificent forest. A little farther on the trail walled me in with +great seamed trunks, six feet in diameter, rising a hundred feet before +spreading a single branch. + +Meanwhile my mustang kept steadily up the slow-rising trail, and the +time passed. Either the grand old forest had completely bewitched me or +the sweet smell of pine had intoxicated me, for as I rode along utterly +content I entirely forgot about Dick and the trail and where I was +heading. Nor did I come to my senses until Hal snorted and stopped +before a tangled windfall. + +Then I glanced down to see only the clean, brown pine-needles. There was +no trail. Perplexed and somewhat anxious, I rode back a piece, expecting +surely to cross the trail. But I did not. I went to the left and to +the right, then circled in a wide curve. No trail! The forest about me +seemed at once familiar and strange. + +It was only when the long shadows began to creep under the trees that I +awoke fully to the truth. + +I had missed the trail! I was lost in the forest! + + + + +IV. LOST IN THE FOREST + +For a moment I was dazed. And then came panic. I ran up this ridge and +that one, I rushed to and fro over ground which looked, whatever way I +turned, exactly the same. And I kept saying, “I'm lost! I'm lost!” Not +until I dropped exhausted against a pine-tree did any other thought come +to me. + +The moment that I stopped running about so aimlessly the panicky feeling +left me. I remembered that for a ranger to be lost in the forest was an +every-day affair, and the sooner I began that part of my education the +better. Then it came to me how foolish I had been to get alarmed, when I +knew that the general slope of the forest led down to the open country. + +This put an entirely different light upon the matter. I still had some +fears that I might not soon find Dick Leslie, but these I dismissed for +the present, at least. A suitable place to camp for the night must be +found. I led the mustang down into the hollows, keeping my eye sharp for +grass. Presently I came to a place that was wet and soggy at the bottom, +and, following this up for quite a way, I found plenty of grass and a +pool of clear water. + +Often as I had made camp back in the woods of Pennsylvania, the doing +of it now was new. For this was not play; it was the real thing, and it +made the old camping seem tame. I took the saddle off Hal and tied him +with my lasso, making as long a halter as possible. Slipping the pack +from the pony was an easier task than the getting it back again was +likely to prove. Next I broke open a box of cartridges and loaded +the Winchester. My revolver was already loaded, and hung on my belt. +Remembering Dick's letters about the bears and mountain-lions in +Penetier Forest, I got a good deal of comfort out of my weapons. Then +I built a fire, and while my supper was cooking I scraped up a mass of +pine-needles for a bed. Never had I sat down to a meal with such a sense +of strange enjoyment. + +But when I had finished and had everything packed away and covered, +my mind began to wander in unexpected directions. Why was it that the +twilight seemed to move under the giant pines and creep down the +hollow? While I gazed the gray shadows deepened to black, and night came +suddenly. My campfire seemed to give almost no light, yet close at hand +the flickering gleams played hide-and-seek among the pines and chased up +the straight tree trunks. The crackling of my fire and the light steps +of the grazing mustangs only emphasized the silence of the forest. Then +a low moaning from a distance gave me a chill. At first I had no idea +what it was, but presently I thought it must be the wind in the pines. +It bore no resemblance to any sound I had ever before heard in the +woods. It would murmur from different parts of the forest; sometimes it +would cease for a little, and then travel and swell toward me, only to +die away again. But it rose steadily, with shorter intervals of silence, +until the intermittent gusts swept through the tree-tops with a rushing +roar. I had listened to the crash of the ocean surf, and the resemblance +was a striking one. + +Listening to this mournful wind with all my ears I was the better +prepared for any lonesome cries of the forest; nevertheless, a sudden, +sharp “Ki-yi-i!” seemingly right at my back, gave me a fright that sent +my tongue to the roof of my mouth. + +Fumbling at the hammer of my rifle, I peered into the black-streaked +gloom of the forest. The crackling of dry twigs brought me to my feet. +At the same moment the mustangs snorted. Something was prowling about +just beyond the light. I thought of a panther. That was the only beast I +could think of which had such an unearthly cry. + +Then another howl, resembling that of a dog, and followed by yelps and +barks, told me that I was being visited by a pack of coyotes. I spent +the good part of an hour listening to their serenade. The wild, mournful +notes sent quivers up my back. By-and-by they went away, and as my fire +had burned down to a red glow and the night wind had grown cold I began +to think of sleep. + +But I was not sleepy. When I had stretched out on the soft bed of +pine-needles with my rifle close by, and was all snug and warm under the +heavy blanket, it seemed that nothing was so far away from me as sleep. +The wonder of my situation kept me wide awake, my eyes on the dim huge +pines and the glimmer of stars, and my ears open to the rush and roar +of the wind, every sense alert. Hours must have passed as I lay there +living over the things that had happened and trying to think out what +was to come. At last, however, I rolled over on my side, and with my +hand on the rifle and my cheek close to the sweet-smelling pine-needles +I dropped asleep. + +When I awoke the forest was bright and sunny. + +“You'll make a fine forester,” I said aloud, in disgust at my tardiness. +Then began the stern business of the day. While getting breakfast I +turned over in my mind the proper thing for me to do. Evidently I must +pack and find the trail. The pony had wandered off into the woods, +but was easily caught--a fact which lightened my worry, for I knew how +dependent I was upon my mustangs. When I had tried for I do not know how +long to get my pack to stay on the pony's back I saw where Mr. Cless +had played a joke on me. All memory of the diamond-hitch had faded into +utter confusion. First the pack fell over the off-side; next, on top of +me; then the saddle slipped awry, and when I did get the pack to remain +stationary upon the patient pony, how on earth to tie it there became +more and more of a mystery. Finally, in sheer desperation, I ran round +the pony, pulled, tugged, and knotted the lasso; more by luck than +through sense I had accomplished something in the nature of the +diamond-hitch. + +I headed Hal up the gentle forest slope, and began the day's journey +wherever chance might lead me. As confidence came, my enjoyment +increased. I began to believe I could take care of myself. I reasoned +out that, as the peaks were snow-capped, I should find water, and very +likely game, up higher. Moreover, I might climb a foothill or bluff from +which I could get my bearings. + +It seemed to me that I passed more pine-trees than I could have imagined +there were in the whole world. Miles and miles of pines! And in every +mile they grew larger and ruggeder and farther apart, and so high that +I could hardly see the tips. After a time I got out of the almost level +forest into ground ridged and hollowed, and found it advisable to turn +more to the right. On the sunny southern slopes I saw trees that dwarfed +the ones on the colder and shady north sides. I also found many small +pines and seedlings growing in warm, protected places. This showed me +the value of the sun to a forest. Though I kept a lookout for deer or +game of any kind, I saw nothing except some black squirrels with white +tails. They were beautiful and very tame, and one was nibbling at what I +concluded must have been a seed from a pine-cone. + +Presently I fancied that I espied a moving speck far down through the +forest glades. I stopped Hal, and, watching closely, soon made certain +of it. Then it became lost for a time, but reappeared again somewhat +closer. It was like a brown blur and scarcely moved. I reined Hal more +to the right. Not for quite a while did I see the thing again, and when +I did it looked so big and brown that I took up my Winchester. Then it +disappeared once more. + +I descended into a hollow, and tying Hal, I stole forward on foot, +hoping by that means to get close to the strange object without being +seen myself. + +I waited behind a pine, and suddenly three horsemen rode across a glade +not two hundred yards away. The foremost rider was no other than the +Mexican whom I had reason to remember. + +The huge trunk amply concealed me, but, nevertheless, I crouched down. +How strange that I should run into that Mexican again! Where was he +going? Had he followed me? Was there a trail? + +As long as the three men were in sight I watched them. When the last +brown speck had flitted and disappeared far away in the forest I +retraced my steps to my mustang, pondering upon this new turn in my +affairs. + +“Things are bound to happen to me,” I concluded, “and I may as well make +up my mind to that.” + +While standing beside Hal, undecided as to my next move, I heard a +whistle. It was faint, perhaps miles away, yet unmistakably it was the +whistle of an engine. I wondered if the railroad turned round this side +of the peaks. Mounting Hal, I rode down the forest to the point where I +had seen the men, and there came upon a trail. I proceeded along this +in the direction the men had taken. I had come again to the slow-rising +level that I had noted earlier in my morning's journey. After several +miles a light or opening in the forest ahead caused me to use more +caution. As I rode forward I saw a vast area of tree-tops far below, and +then I found myself on the edge of a foot-hill. + +Right under me was a wide, yellow, bare spot, miles across, a horrible +slash in the green forest, and in the middle of it, surrounded by stacks +on stacks of lumber, was a great sawmill. + +I stared in utter amazement. A sawmill on Penetier! Even as I gazed a +train of fresh-cut lumber trailed away into the forest. + + + + +V. THE SAWMILL + +In my surprise I almost forgot the Mexican. Then I thought that if Dick +were there the Mexican would be likely to have troubles of his own. I +remembered Dick's reputation as a fighter. But suppose I did not find +Dick at the sawmill? This part of the forest was probably owned by +private individuals, for I couldn't imagine Government timber being +cut in this fashion. So I tied Hal and the pony amidst a thick clump of +young pines, and, leaving all my outfit except my revolver, I struck out +across the slash. + +No second glance was needed to tell that the lumbering here was careless +and without thought for the future. It had been a clean cut, and what +small saplings had escaped the saw had been crushed by the dropping and +hauling of the large pines. The stumps were all about three feet high, +and that meant the waste of many thousands of feet of good lumber. Only +the straight, unbranched trunks had been used. The tops of the pines had +not been lopped, and lay where they had fallen. It was a wilderness of +yellow brush, a dry jungle. The smell of pine was so powerful that I +could hardly breathe. Fire must inevitably complete this work of ruin; +already I was forester enough to see that. + +Presently the trail crossed a railroad track which appeared to have been +hastily constructed. Swinging along at a rapid step on the ties I soon +reached the outskirts of the huge stacks of lumber; I must have walked +half a mile between two yellow walls. Then I entered the lumber camp. + +It was even worse-looking than the slash. Rows of dirty tents, lines +of squatty log-cabins, and many flat-board houses clustered around an +immense sawmill. Evidently I had arrived at the noon hour, for the mill +was not running, and many rough men were lounging about smoking pipes. +At the door of the first shack stood a fat, round-faced Negro wearing a +long, dirty apron. + +“Is Dick Leslie here?” I asked. + +“I dunno if Dick's come in yet, but I 'specks him,” he replied. “Be you +the young gent Dick's lookin' fer from down East?” + +“Yes.” + +“Come right in, sonny, come right in an' eat. Dick allus eats with me, +an' he has spoke often 'bout you.” He led me in, and seated me at a +bench where several men were eating. They were brawny fellows, clad +in overalls and undershirts, and one, who spoke pleasantly to me, had +sawdust on his bare arms and even in his hair. The cook set before me +a bowl of soup, a plate of beans, potroast, and coffee, all of which I +attacked with a good appetite. Presently the men finished their meat and +went outside, leaving me alone with the cook. + +“Many men on this job?” I asked. + +“More'n a thousand. Buell's runnin' two shifts, day an' night.” + +“Buell? Does he own this land?” + +“No. He's only the agent of a 'Frisco lumber company, an' the land +belongs to the Government. Buell's sure slashin' the lumber off, though. +Two freight-trains of lumber out every day.” + +“Is this Penetier Forest?” I queried, carelessly, but I had begun to +think hard. + +“Sure.” + +I wanted to ask questions, but thought it wiser to wait. I knew enough +already to make out that I had come upon the scene of a gigantic lumber +steal. Buell's strange manner on the train, at the station, and his +eagerness to hurry me out of Holston now needed no more explanation. I +began to think the worst of him. + +“Did you see a Mexican come into camp?” I inquired of the Negro. + +“Sure. Greaser got here this mornin'.” + +“He tried to rob me in Holston.” + +“'Tain't nothin' new fer Greaser. He's a thief, but I never heerd of him +holdin' anybody up. No nerve 'cept to knife a feller in the back.” + +“What'll I do if I meet him here?” + +“Slam him one! You're a strappin' big lad. Slam him one, an' flash your +gun on him. Greaser's a coward. I seen a young feller he'd cheated make +him crawl. Anyway, it'll be all day with him when Dick finds out he +tried to rob you. An' say, stranger, if a feller stays sober, this +camp's safe enough in daytime, but at night, drunk or sober, it's a +tough place.” + +Before I had finished eating a shrill whistle from the sawmill called +the hands to work; soon it was followed by the rumble of machinery and +the sharp singing of a saw. + +I set out to see the lumber-camp, and although I stepped forth boldly, +the truth was that with all my love for the Wild West I would have liked +to be at home. But here I was, and I determined not to show the white +feather. + +I passed a row of cook-shacks like the one I had been in, and several +stores and saloons. The lumber-camp was a little town. A rambling log +cabin attracted me by reason of the shaggy mustangs standing before it +and the sounds of mirth within. A peep showed me a room with a long bar, +where men and boys were drinking. I heard the rattle of dice and the +clink of silver. Seeing the place was crowded, I thought I might find +Dick there, so I stepped inside. My entrance was unnoticed, so far as I +could tell; in fact, there seemed no reason why it should be otherwise, +for, being roughly dressed, I did not look very different from the many +young fellows there. I scanned all the faces, but did not see Dick's, +nor, for that matter, the Mexican's. Both disappointed and relieved, I +turned away, for the picture of low dissipation was not attractive. + +The hum of the great sawmill drew me like a magnet. I went out to the +lumber-yard at the back of the mill, where a trestle slanted down to +a pond full of logs. A train loaded with pines had just pulled in, +and dozens of men were rolling logs off the flat-cars into a canal. At +stations along the canal stood others pike-poling the logs toward the +trestle, where an endless chain caught them with sharp claws and hauled +them up. Half-way from, the ground they were washed clean by a circle of +water-spouts. + +I walked up the trestle and into the mill. The noise almost deafened me. +High above all other sounds rose the piercing song of the saw, and the +short intervals when it was not cutting were filled with a thunderous +crash that jarred the whole building. After a few confused glances I got +the working order into my head, and found myself in the most interesting +place I had ever seen. + +As the stream of logs came up into the mill the first log was shunted +off the chain upon a carriage. Two men operated this carriage by levers, +one to take the log up to the saw, and the other to run it back for +another cut. The run back was very swift. Then a huge black iron head +butted up from below and turned the log over as easily as if it had been +a straw. This was what made the jar and crash. On the first cut the long +strip of bark went to the left and up against five little circular saws. +Then the five pieces slipped out of sight down chutes. When the log was +trimmed a man stationed near the huge band-saw made signs to those on +the carriage, and I saw that they got from him directions whether to +cut the log into timbers, planks, or boards. The heavy timbers, after +leaving the saw, went straight down the middle of the mill, the planks +went to the right, the boards in another direction. Men and boys were +everywhere, each with a lever in hand. There was not the slightest +cessation of the work. And a log forty feet long and six feet thick, +which had taken hundreds of years to grow, was cut up in just four +minutes. + +The place fascinated me. I had not dreamed that a sawmill could be +brought to such a pitch of mechanical perfection, and I wondered how +long the timber would last at that rate of cutting. The movement and din +tired me, and I went outside upon a long platform. Here workmen caught +the planks and boards as they came out, and loaded them upon trucks +which were wheeled away. This platform was a world in itself. It sent +arms everywhere among the piles of lumber, and once or twice I was as +much lost as I had been up in the forest. + +While turning into one of these byways I came suddenly upon Buell and +another man. They were standing near a little house of weather-strips, +evidently an office, and were in their shirt-sleeves. They had not seen +or heard me. I dodged behind a pile of planks, intending to slip back +the way I had come. Before I could move Buell's voice rooted me to the +spot. + +“His name's Ward. Tall, well-set lad. I put Greaser after him the other +night, hopin' to scare him back East. But nix!” + +“Well, he's here now--to study forestry! Ha! ha!” said the other. + +“You're sure the boy you mean is the one I mean?” + +“Greaser told me so. And this boy is Leslie's friend.” + +“That's the worst of it,” replied Buell, impatiently. “I've got Leslie +fixed as far as this lumber deal is concerned, but he won't stand for +any more. He was harder to fix than the other rangers, an' I'm afraid of +him.” he's grouchy now. + +“You shouldn't have let the boy get here.” + +“Stockton, I tried to prevent it. I put Greaser with Bud an' Bill on his +trail. They didn't find him, an' now here he turns up.” + +“Maybe he can be fixed.” + +“Not if I know my business, he can't; take that from me. This kid is +straight. He'll queer my deal in a minute if he gets wise. Mind you, I'm +gettin' leary of Washington. We've seen about the last of these lumber +deals. If I can pull this one off I'll quit; all I want is a little more +time. Then I'll fire the slash, an' that'll cover tracks.” + +“Buell, I wouldn't want to be near Penetier when you light that fire. +This forest will burn like tinder.” + +“It's a whole lot I care then. Let her burn. Let the Government put out +the fire. Now, what's to be done about this boy?” + +“I think I'd try to feel him out. Maybe he can be fixed. Boys who want +to be foresters can't be rich. Failing that--you say he's a kid who +wants to hunt and shoot--get some one to take him up on the mountain.” + +“See here, Stockton. This young Ward will see the timber is bein' cut +clean. If it was only a little patch I wouldn't mind. But this slash an' +this mill! He'll know. More'n that, he'll tell Leslie about the Mexican. +Dick's no fool. We're up against it.” + +“It's risky, Buell. You remember the ranger up in Oregon.” + +“Then we are to fall down on this deal all because of a fresh tenderfoot +kid?” demanded Buell. + +“Not so loud.... We'll not fall down. But caution--use caution. You made +a mistake in trusting so much to the Greaser.” + +“I know, an' I'm afraid of Leslie. An' that other fire-ranger, Jim +Williams, he's a Texan, an' a bad man. The two of them could about trim +up this camp. They'll both fight for the boy; take that from me.” + +“We are sure up against it. Think now, and think quick.” + +“First, I'll try to fix the boy. If that won't work... we'll kidnap him. +Then we'll take no chances with Leslie. There's a cool two hundred an' +fifty thousand in this deal for us, an' we're goin' to get it.” + +With that Buell went into his office and closed the door; the other man, +Stockton, walked briskly down the platform. I could not resist peeping +from my hiding-place as he passed. He was tall and had a red beard, +which would enable me to recognize him if we met. + +I waited there for some little time. Then I saw that by squeezing +between two piles of lumber could reach the other side of the platform. +When I reached the railing I climbed over, and, with the help of braces +and posts, soon got to where I could drop down. Once on the ground I ran +along under the platform until I saw a lane that led to the street. My +one thought was to reach the cabin where the Negro cook stayed and +ask him if Dick Leslie had come to camp. If he had not arrived, then I +intended to make a bee-line for my mustang. + + + + +VI. DICK LESLIE, RANGER + +Which end of the street I entered I had no idea. The cabins were all +alike, and in my hurry I would have passed the cook's shack had it not +been for the sight of a man standing in the door. That stalwart figure I +would have known anywhere. + +“Dick!” I cried, rushing at him. + +What Dick's welcome was I did not hear, but judging from the grip he put +on my shoulders and then on my hands, he was glad to see me. + +“Ken, blessed if I'd have known you,” he said, shoving me back at +arm's-length. “Let's have a look at you.... Grown I say, but you're a +husky lad!” + +While he was looking at me I returned the scrutiny with interest. Dick +had always been big, but now he seemed wider and heavier. Among these +bronzed Westerners he appeared pale, but that was only on account of his +fair skin. + +“Ken, didn't you get my letter--the one telling you not to come West yet +a while?” + +“No,” I replied, blankly. “The last one I got was in May--about the +middle. I have it with me. You certainly asked me to come then. Dick, +don't you want me--now?” + +Plain it was that my friend felt uncomfortable; he shifted from one foot +to another, and a cloud darkened his brow. But his blue eyes burned with +a warm light as he put his hand on my shoulder. + +“Ken, I'm glad to see you,” he said, earnestly. “It's like getting +a glimpse of home. But I wrote you not to come. Conditions have +changed--there's something doing here--I'll--” + +“You needn't explain, Dick,” I replied, gravely. “I know. Buell and--” I +waved my hand from the sawmill to the encircling slash. + +Dick's face turned a fiery red. I believed that was the only time Dick +Leslie ever failed to look a fellow in the eye. + +“Ken!... You're on,” he said, recovering his composure. “Well, wait till +you hear--Hello! here's Jim Williams, my pardner.” + +A clinking of spurs accompanied a soft step. + +“Jim, here's Ken Ward, the kid pardner I used to have back in the +States,” said Dick. “Ken, you know Jim.” + +If ever I knew anything by heart it was what Dick had written me about +this Texan, Jim Williams. + +“Ken, I shore am glad to see you,” drawled Jim, giving my hand a squeeze +that I thought must break every bone in it. + +Though Jim Williams had never been described to me, my first sight of +him fitted my own ideas. He was tall and spare; his weather-beaten +face seemed set like a dark mask; only his eyes moved, and they had a +quivering alertness and a brilliancy that made them hard to look into. +He wore a wide sombrero, a blue flannel shirt with a double row of big +buttons, overalls, top-boots with very high heels, and long spurs. A +heavy revolver swung at his hip, and if I had not already known that Jim +Williams had fought Indians and killed bad men, I should still have seen +something that awed me in the look of him. + +I certainly felt proud to be standing with those two rangers, and for +the moment Buell and all his crew could not have daunted me. + +“Hello! what's this?” inquired Dick, throwing back my coat; and, +catching sight of my revolver, he ejaculated: “Ken Ward!” + +“Wal, Ken, if you-all ain't packin' a gun!” said Jim, in his slow, +careless drawl. “Dick, he shore is!” + +It was now my turn to blush. + +“Yes, I've got a gun,” I replied, “and I ought to have had it the other +night.” + +“How so?” inquired Dick, quickly. + +It did not take me long to relate the incident of the Mexican. + +Dick looked like a thunder-cloud, but Jim swayed and shook with +laughter. + +“You knocked him off the roof? Wal, thet shore is dee-lightful. It shore +is!” + +“Yes; and, Dick,” I went on, breathlessly, “the Greaser followed me, +and if I hadn't missed the trail, I don't know what would have happened. +Anyway, he got here first.” + +“The Greaser trailed you?” interrupted Dick, sharply. + +When I replied he glanced keenly at me. “How do you know?” + +“I suspected it when I saw him with two men in the forest. But now I +know it.” + +“How?” + +“I heard Buell tell Stockton he had put the Greaser on my trail.” + +“Buell--Stockton!” exclaimed Dick. “What'd they have to do with the +Greaser?” + +“I met Buell on the train. I told him I had come West to study forestry. +Buell's afraid I'll find out about this lumber steal, and he wants to +shut my mouth.” + +Dick looked from me to Jim, and Jim slowly straitened his tall form. For +a moment neither spoke. Dick's white face caused me to look away from +him. Jim put a hand on my arm. + +“Ken, you shore was lucky; you shore was.” + +“I guess he doesn't know how lucky,” added Dick, somewhat huskily. “Come +on, we'll look up the Mexican.” + +“It shore is funny how bad I want to see thet Greaser.” + +Dick's hard look and tone were threatening enough, yet they did not +affect me so much as the easy, gay manner of the Texan. Little cold +quivers ran over me, and my knees knocked together. For the moment my +animosity toward the Mexican vanished, and with it the old hunger to be +in the thick of Wild Western life. I was afraid that I was going to see +a man killed without being able to lift a hand to prevent it. + +The rangers marched me between them down the street and into the corner +saloon. Dick held me half behind him with his left hand while Jim +sauntered ahead. Strangest of all the things that had happened was the +sudden silencing of the noisy crowd. + +The Mexican was not there. His companions, Bud and Bill, as Buell had +called them, were sitting at a table, and as Jim Williams walked into +the center of the room they slowly and gradually rose to their feet. One +was a swarthy man with evil eyes and a scar on his cheek; the other +had a brick-red face and a sandy mustache with a vicious curl. Neither +seemed to be afraid, only cautious. + +“We're all lookin' for thet Greaser friend of yourn,” drawled Jim. “I +shore want to see him bad.” + +“He's gone, Williams,” replied one. “Was in somethin' of a rustle, an' +didn't leave no word.” + +“Wal, I reckon he's all we're lookin' for this pertickler minnit.” + +Jim spoke in a soft, drawling voice, and his almost expressionless tone +seemed to indicate pleasant indifference; still, no one could have been +misled by it, for the long, steady gaze he gave the men and his cool +presence that held the room quiet meant something vastly different. +No reply was offered. Bud and Bill sat down, evidently to resume their +card-playing. The uneasy silence broke to a laugh, then to subdued +voices, and finally the clatter and hum began again. Dick led me +outside, where we were soon joined by Jim. + +“He's holed up,” suggested Dick. + +“Shore. I don't take no stock in his hittin' the trail. He's layin' +low.” + +“Let's look around a bit, anyhow.” + +Dick took me back to the cook's cabin and, bidding me remain inside, +strode away. I heard footsteps so soon after his departure that I made +certain he had returned, but the burly form which blocked the light in +the cabin door was not Dick's. I was astounded to recognize Buell. + +“Hello!” he said, in his blustering voice. “Heard you had reached camp, +an' have been huntin' you up.” + +I greeted him pleasantly enough--more from surprise than from a desire +to mislead him. It seemed to me then that a child could have read Buell. +He'd an air of suppressed excitement; there was a glow on his face and +a kind of daring flash in his eyes. He seemed too eager, too glad to see +me. + +“I've got a good job for you,” he went on, glibly, “jest what you want, +an' you're jest what I need. Come into my office an' help me. There'll +be plenty of outside work--measurin' lumber, markin' trees, an' such.” + +“Why, Mr. Buell--I--you see, Dick--he might not--” + +I hesitated, not knowing how to proceed. But at my halting speech Buell +became even more smiling and voluble. + +“Dick? Oh, Dick an' I stand all right; take thet from me. Dick'll agree +to what I want. I need a young feller bad. Money's no object. You're a +bright youngster. You'll look out for my interests. Here!” He pulled +out a large wad of greenbacks, and then spoke in a lower voice. “You +understand that money cuts no ice 'round this camp. We've a big deal. +We need a smart young feller. There's always some little irregularities +about these big timber deals out West. But you'll wear blinkers, an' +make some money while you're studyin' forestry. See?” + +“Irregularities? What kind of irregularities?” + +For the life of me I could not keep a little scorn out of my question. +Buell slowly put the bills in his pocket while his eyes searched; I +could not control my rising temper. + +“You mean you want to fix me?” + +He made no answer, and his face stiffened. + +“You mean you want to buy my silence, shut my mouth about this lumber +steal?” + +He drew in his breath audibly, yet still he did not speak. Either he was +dull of comprehension or else he was astonished beyond words. I knew I +was mad to goad him like that, but I could not help it. I grew hot with +anger, and the more clearly I realized that he had believed he could +“fix” me with his dirty money the hotter I got. + +“You told Stockton you were leary of Washington, and were afraid I'd +queer your big deal.... Well, Mr. Buell, that's exactly what I'm going +to do--queer it!” + +He went black in the face, and, cursing horribly, grasped me by the arm. +I struggled, but I could not loose that iron hand. Suddenly I felt a +violent wrench that freed me. Then I saw Dick swing back his shoulder +and shoot out his arm. He knocked Buell clear across the room, and +when the man fell I thought the cabin was coming down in the crash. He +appeared stunned, for he groped about with his hands, found a chair, +and, using it as a support, rose to his feet, swaying unsteadily. + +“Leslie, I'll get you for this--take it from me,” he muttered. + +Dick's lips were tight, and he watched Buell with flaming eyes. The +lumberman lurched out of the door, and we heard him cursing after he had +disappeared. Then Dick looked at me with no little disapproval. + +“What did you say to make Buell wild like that?” + +I told Dick, word for word. First he looked dumfounded, then angry, and +he ended up with a grim laugh. + +“Ken, you're sure bent on starting something, as Jim would say. You've +started it all right. And Jim'll love you for it. But I'm responsible to +your mother. Ken, I remember your mother--and you're going back home.” + +“Dick!” + +“You're going back home as fast as I can get you to Holston and put you +on a train, that's all.” + +“I won't go!” I cried. + +Without any more words Dick led me down the street to a rude corral; +here he rapidly saddled and packed his horses. The only time he spoke +was when he asked me where I had tied my mustangs. Soon we were hurrying +out through the slash toward the forest. Dick's troubled face kept +down my resentment, but my heart grew like lead. What an ending to +my long-cherished trip to the West! It had lasted two days. The +disappointment seemed more than I could bear. + +We found the mustangs as I had left them, and the sight of Hal and +the feeling of the saddle made me all the worse. We did not climb the +foot-hill by the trail which the Mexican had used, but took a long, +slow ascent far round to the left. Dick glanced back often, and when we +reached the top he looked again in a way to convince me that he had some +apprehensions of being followed. + +Twilight of that eventful day found us pitching camp in a thickly +timbered hollow. I could not help dwelling on how different my feelings +would have been if this night were but the beginning of many nights with +Dick. It was the last, and the more I thought about it the more wretched +I grew. Dick rolled in his blanket without saying even good-night, and +I lay there watching the veils and shadows of firelight flicker on the +pines, and listening, to the wind. Gradually the bitterness seemed to go +away; my body relaxed and sank into the soft, fragrant pine-needles; the +great shadowy trees mixed with the surrounding darkness. When I awoke it +was broad daylight, and Dick was shaking my arm. + +“Hunt up the horses while I get the grub ready,” he said, curtly. + +As the hollow was carpeted with thick grass our horses had not strayed. +I noticed that here the larger trees had been cut, and the forest +resembled a fine park. In the sunny patches seedlings were sprouting, +many little bushy pines were growing, and the saplings had sufficient +room and light to prosper. I commented to Dick upon the difference +between this part of Penetier and the hideous slash we had left. + +“There were a couple of Government markers went through here and marked +the timber to be cut,” said Dick. + +“Was the timber cut in the mill I saw?” + +“No. Buell's just run up that mill. The old one is out here a ways, +nearer Holston.” + +“Is it possible, Dick, that any of those loggers back there don't know +the Government is being defrauded?” + +“Ken, hardly any of them know it, and they wouldn't care if they did. +You see, this forest-preserve business is new out here. Formerly the +lumbermen bought so much land and cut over it--skinned it. Two years +ago, when the National Forests were laid out, the lumbering men--that +is, the loggers, sawmill hands, and so on--found they did not get as +much employment as formerly. So generally they're sore on the National +Forest idea.” + +“But, Dick, if they understand the idea of forestry they'd never oppose +it.” + +“Maybe. I don't understand it too well myself. I can fight fire--that's +my business; but this ranger work is new. I doubt if the Westerners +will take to forestry. There've been some shady deals all over the West +because of it. Buell, now, he's a timber shark. He bought so much timber +from the Government, and had the markers come in to mark the cut; then +after they were gone, he rushed up a mill and clapped on a thousand +hands.” + +“And the rangers stand for it? Where'll their jobs be when the +Government finds out?” + +“I was against it from the start. So was Jim, particularly. But the +other rangers persuaded us.” + +It began to dawn upon me that Dick Leslie might, after all, turn out to +be good soil in which to plant some seeds of forestry. I said no more +then, as we were busy packing for the start, but when we had mounted +I began to talk. I told him all I had learned about trees, how I loved +them, and how I had determined to devote my life to their study, care, +and development. As we rode along under the wide-spreading pines I +illustrated my remarks by every example I could possibly use. The more I +talked the more interested Dick became, and this spurred me on. Perhaps +I exaggerated, but my conscience never pricked me. He began to ask +questions. + +We reached a spring at midday, and halted for a rest. I kept on +pleading, and presently I discovered, to my joy, that I had made a +strong impression upon Dick. It seemed a strange thing for me to be +trying to explain forestry to a forest ranger, but so it was. + +“Ken, it's all news to me. I've been on Penetier about a year, and I +never heard a word of what you've been telling me. My duties have +been the practical ones that any woodsman knows. Jim and the other +rangers--why, they don't know any more than I. It's a great thing, and +I've queered my chance with the Government.” + +“No, you haven't--neither has Jim--not if you'll be straight from now +on. You can't keep faith with Buell. He tried to kidnap me. That lets +you out. We'll spoil Buell's little deal and save Penetier. A letter +to father will do it. He has friends in the Forestry Department at +Washington. Dick, what do you say? It's not too late!” + +The dark shade lifted from the ranger's face, and he looked at me with +the smile of the old fishing days. + +“Say? I say yes!” he exclaimed, in ringing voice, “Ken, you've made a +man of me!” + + + + +VI. BACK TO HOLSTON + +Soon we were out of the forest, and riding across the sage-flat with +Holston in sight. Both of us avoided the unpleasant subject of my +enforced home-going. Evidently Dick felt cut up about it, and it caused +me such a pang that I drove it from my mind. Toward the end of our ride +Dick began again to talk of forestry. + +“Ken, it's mighty interesting--all this you've said about trees. Some of +the things are so simple that I wonder I didn't hit on them long ago; in +fact, I knew a lot of what you might call forestry, but the scientific +ideas--they stump me. Now, what you said about a pine-tree cleaning +itself--come back at me with that.” + +“Why, that's simple enough, Dick,” I answered. “Now, say here we have +a clump of pine saplings. They stand pretty close--close enough to make +dense shade, but not too crowded. The shade has prevented the lower +branches from producing leaves. As a consequence these branches die. +Then they dry, rot, and fall off, so when the trees mature they +are clean-shafted. They have fine, clear trunks. They have cleaned +themselves, and so make the best of lumber, free from knots.” + +So our talk went on. Once in town I was impatient to write to my father, +for we had decided that we would not telegraph. Leaving our horses +in Cless's corral, we went to the hotel and proceeded to compose the +letter. This turned out more of a task than we had bargained for. But +we got it finished at last, not forgetting to put in a word for Jim +Williams, and then we both signed it. + +“There!” I cried. “Dick, something will be doing round Holston before +many days.” + +“That's no joke, you can bet,” replied Dick, wiping his face. “Ken, it's +made me sweat just to see that letter start East. Buell is a tough sort, +and he'll make trouble. Well, he wants to steer clear of Jim and me.” + +After that we fell silent, and walked slowly back toward Cless's corral. +Dick's lips were closed tight, and he did not look at me. Evidently +he did not intend to actually put me aboard a train, and the time for +parting had come. He watered his horses at the trough, and fussed over +his pack and fumbled with his saddle-girths. It looked to me as though +he had not the courage to say goodby. + +“Ken, it didn't look so bad--so mean till now,” he said. “I'm all broken +up.... To get you way out here! Oh! what's the use? I'm mighty sorry +....Good-bye--maybe-- + +He broke off suddenly, and, wringing my hand, he vaulted into the +saddle. He growled at his pack-pony, and drove him out of the corral. +Then he set off at a steady trot down the street toward the open +country. + +It came to me in a flash, as I saw him riding farther and farther away, +that the reason my heart was not broken was because I did not intend to +go home. Dick had taken it for granted that I would board the next train +for the East. But I was not going to do anything of the sort. To my +amaze I found my mind made up on that score. I had no definite plan, +but I was determined to endure almost anything rather than give up my +mustang and outfit. + +“It's shift for myself now,” I thought, soberly. “I guess I can make +good. ... I'm going back to Penetier.” + +Even in the moment of impulse I knew how foolish this would be. But I +could not help it. That forest had bewitched me. I meant to go back to +it. + +“I'll stay away from the sawmill,” I meditated, growing lighter of heart +every minute. “I'll keep out of sight of the lumbermen. I'll go higher +up on the mountain, and hunt, and study the trees.... I'll do it.” + +Whereupon I marched off at once to a store and bought the supply of +provisions that Buell had decided against when he helped me with my +outfit. This addition made packing the pony more of a problem than ever, +but I contrived to get it all on to my satisfaction. It was nearing +sunset when I rode out of Holston this second time. The sage flat was +bare and gray. Dick had long since reached the pines, and would probably +make camp at the spring where we had stopped for lunch. I certainly did +not want to catch up with him, but as there was small chance of that; it +caused me no concern. + +Shortly after sunset twilight fell, and it was night when I reached the +first pine-trees. Still, as the trail was easily to be seen, I kept on, +for I did not want to camp without water. The forest was very dark, in +some places like a huge black tent, and I had not ridden far when the +old fear of night, the fancy of things out there in the darkness, once +more possessed me. It made me angry. Why could I not have the same +confidence that I had in the daytime? It was impossible. The forest was +full of moving shadows. When the wind came up to roar in the pine-tips +it was a relief because it broke the silence. + +I began to doubt whether I could be sure of locating the spring, and I +finally decided to make camp at once. I stopped Hal, and had swung my +leg over the pommel when I saw a faint glimmer of light far ahead. It +twinkled like a star, but was not white and cold enough for a star. + +“That's Dick's campfire,” I said. “I'll have to stop here. Maybe I'm too +close now.” + +I pondered the question. The blaze was a long way off, and I concluded +I could risk camping on the spot, provided I did not make a fire. +Accordingly I dismounted, and was searching for a suitable place when +I happened to think that the campfire might not be Dick's, after all. +Perhaps Buell had sent the Mexican with Bud and Bill on my trail again. +This would not do. But I did not want to go back or turn off the trail. + +“I'll slip up and see who it is,” I decided. + +The idea pleased me; however, I did not yield to it without further +consideration. I had a clear sense of responsibility. I knew that from +now on I should be called upon to reason out many perplexing things. I +did not want to make any mistakes. So I tied Hal and the pack-pony to a +bush fringing the trail, and set off through the forest. + +It dawned upon me presently that the campfire was much farther away than +it appeared. Often it went out of sight behind trees. By degrees it grew +larger and larger. Then I slowed down and approached more cautiously. +Once when the trees obscured it I traveled some distance without getting +a good view of it. Passing down into a little hollow I lost it again. +When I climbed out I hauled up short with a sharp catch of my breath. +There were several figures moving around the campfire. I had stumbled on +a camp that surely was not Dick Leslie's. + +The ground was as soft as velvet, and my footsteps gave forth no sound. +When the wind lulled I paused behind a tree and waited for another gusty +roar. I kept very close to the trail, for that was the only means by +which I could return to my horses. I felt the skin tighten on my face. +Suddenly, as I paused, I heard angry voices, pitched high. But I could +not make out the words. + +Curiosity got the better of me. If the men were hired by Buell I wanted +to know what they were quarrelling about. I stole stealthily from tree +to tree, and another hollow opened beneath me. It was so wide and the +pines so overshadowed it that I could not tell how close the opposite +side might be to the campfire. I slipped down along the edge of the +trail. The blaze disappeared. Only a faint arc of light showed through +the gloom. + +I peered keenly into the blackness. At length I reached the slope. Here +I dropped to my hands and knees. + +It was a long crawl to the top. Reaching it, I cautiously peeped over. +There were trees hiding the fire. But it was close. I heard the voices +of men. I backed down the slope, crossed the trail, and came up on the +other side. Pines grew thick on this level, and I stole silently from +one to another. Finally I reached the black trunk of a tree close to the +campfire. + +For a moment I lay low. I did not seem exactly afraid, but I was all +tense and hard, and my heart drummed in my ears. There was something +ticklish about this scouting. Then I peeped out. + +It added little to my excitement to recognize the Mexican. He sat near +the fire smoking a cigarette. Near him were several men, one of whom +was Bill. Facing them sat a man with his back to a small sapling. He was +tied with a lasso. + +One glance at his white face made me drop behind the tree, where I lay +stunned and bewildered--for that man was Dick Leslie. + + + + +VIII. THE LUMBERMEN + +For a full moment I just lay still, hugging the ground, and I did not +seem to think at all. Voices loud in anger roused me. Raising myself, I +guardedly looked from behind the tree. + +One of the lumbermen threw brush on the fire, making it blaze brightly. +He was tall and had a red beard. I recognized Stockton, Buell's right +hand in the lumber deal. + +“Leslie, you're a liar!” he said. + +Dick's eyes glinted from his pale face. + +“Yes, that's your speed, Stockton,” he retorted. “You bring your thugs +into my camp pretending to be friendly. You grab a fellow behind his +back, tie him up, and then call him a liar. Wait, you timber shark!” + +“You're lying about that kid, Ward,” declared the other. “You sent him +back East, that's what. He'll have the whole forest service down here. +Buell will be wild. Oh, he won't do a thing when he learns Ward has +given us the slip!” + +“I tell you, Ken Ward gave me the slip,” replied Dick. “I'll admit I +meant to see him safe in Holston. But he wouldn't go. He ran off from me +right here in this forest.” + +What could have been Dick's object in telling such a lie? It made me +wonder. Perhaps these lumbermen were more dangerous than I had supposed, +and Dick did not wish them to believe I had left Penetier. Maybe he was +playing for time, and did not want them to get alarmed and escape before +the officers came. + +“Why did he run off?” asked Stockton. + +“Because I meant to send him home, and he didn't want to go. He's crazy +to camp out, to hunt and ride.” + +“If that's true, Leslie, there's been no word sent to Washington.” + +“How could there be?” + +“Well, I've got to hold you anyway till we see Buell. His orders were to +keep you and Ward prisoners till this lumber deal is pulled off. We're +not going to be stopped now.” + +Leslie turned crimson, and strained on the lasso that bound him to the +sapling. “Somebody is going to pay for this business!” he declared, +savagely. “You forget I'm an officer in this forest.” + +“I'll hold you, Leslie, whatever comes of it,” answered the lumberman. +“I'd advise you to cool down.” + +“You and Buell have barked up the wrong tree, mind that, Stockton. Jim +Williams, my pardner, is wise. He expects me back tomorrow.” + +“See hyar, Stockton,” put in Bill, “you're new in Arizona, an' I want to +give you a hunch. If Jim Williams hits this trail, you ain't goin' to be +well enough to care about any old lumber steal.” + +“Jim hit the trail all right,” went on Dick. “He's after Greaser. It'd +go hard with you if Jim happened to walk in now.” + +“I don't want to buck against Williams, that's certain,” replied +Stockton. “I know his record. But I'll take a chance--anyway, till Buell +knows. It's his game.” + +Dick made no answer, and sat there eyeing his captors. There was little +talk after this. Bud threw a log on the fire. Stockton told the Mexican +to take a look at the horses. Greaser walked within twenty feet of where +I lay, and I held my breath while he passed. The others rolled in their +blankets. It was now so dark that I could not distinguish anything +outside of the campfire circle. But I heard Greaser's soft, shuffling +footsteps as he returned. Then his dark, slim figure made a shadow +between me and the light. He sat down before the fire and began to roll +a cigarette. He did not seem sleepy. + +A daring scheme flashed into my mind. I would crawl into camp and free +Dick. Not only would I outwit the lumber thieves, but also make Dick +think well of me. What would Jim Williams say of a trick like that? The +thought of the Texan banished what little hesitation I felt. Glancing +round the bright circle, I made my plan; it was to crawl far back into +the darkness, go around to the other side of the camp, and then slip +up behind Dick. Already his head was nodding on his breast. It made me +furious to see him sitting so uncomfortably, sagging in the lasso. + +I tried to beat down my excitement, but there was a tingling all over +me that would not subside. But I soon saw that I might have a long wait. +The Mexican did not go to sleep, so I had time to cool off. + +The campfire gradually burned out, and the white glow changed to red. +One of the men snored in a way that sounded like a wheezy whistle. +Coyotes howled in the woods, and the longer I listened to the long, +strange howls the better I liked them. The roar in the wind had died +down to a moaning. I thought of myself lying there, with my skin +prickling and my eyes sharp on the darkening forms. I thought of the +nights I had spent with Hal in the old woods at home. How full the +present seemed! My breast swelled, my hand gripped my revolver, my eyes +pierced the darkness, and I would not have been anywhere else for the +world. + +Greaser smoked out his cigarette, and began to nod. That was the signal +for me. I crawled noiselessly from the tree. When I found myself going +down into the hollow, I stopped and rose to my feet. The forest was so +pitchy black that I could not tell the trees from the darkness. I groped +to the left, trying to circle. Once I snapped a twig; it cracked like +a pistol-shot, and my heart stopped beating, then began to thump. But +Greaser never stirred as he sat in the waning light. At last I had half +circled the camp. + +After a short rest I started forward, slow and stealthy as a creeping +cat. When within fifty feet of the fire I went down on all-fours and +began to crawl. Twice I got out of line. But at last Dick's burly +shoulders loomed up between me and the light. + +Then I halted. My breast seemed bursting, and I panted so hard that I +was in a terror lest I should awaken some one. Again I thought of what I +was doing, and fought desperately to gain my coolness. + +Now the only cover I had was Dick's broad back, for the sapling to which +he was tied was small. I drew my hunting-knife. One more wriggle brought +me close to Dick, with my face near his hands, which were bound behind +him. I slipped the blade under the lasso, and cut it through. + +Dick started as if he had received an electric shock. He threw back his +head and uttered a sudden exclamation. + +Although I was almost paralyzed with fright I put my hand on his +shoulder and whispered: “S-s-s-h! It's Ken!” + +Greaser uttered a shrill cry. Dick leaped to his feet. Then I grew +dizzy, and my sight blurred. I heard hoarse shouts and saw dark forms +rising as if out of the earth. All was confusion. I wanted to run, but +could not get up. There was a wrestling, whirling mass in front of me. + +But this dimness of sight and weakness of body did not last. I saw two +men on the ground, with Dick standing over them. Stockton was closing +in. Greaser ran around them with something in his hand that glittered in +the firelight. Stockton dived for Dick's legs and upset him. They went +down together, and the Mexican leaped on them, waving the bright thing +high over his head. + +I bounded forward, and, grasping his wrist with both hands, I wrenched +his arm with all my might. Some one struck me over the head. I saw a +million darting points of light--then all went black. + +When I opened my eyes the sun was shining. I had a queer, numb feeling +all over, and my head hurt terribly. Everything about me was hazy. I +did not know where I was. After a little I struggled to sit up, and with +great difficulty managed it. My hands were tied. Then it all came back +to me. Stockton stood before me holding a tin cup of water toward my +lips. My throat was parched, and I drank. Stockton had a great bruise +on his forehead; his nostrils were crusted with blood, and his shirt was +half torn off. + +“You're all right?” he said. + +“Sure,” I replied, which was not true. + +I imagined that a look of relief came over his face. Next I saw Bill +nursing his eye, and bathing it with a wet handkerchief. It was swollen +shut, puffed out to the size of a goose-egg, and blue as indigo. Dick +had certainly landed hard on Bill. Then I turned round to see Dick +sitting against the little sapling, bound fast with a lasso. His clean +face did not look as if he had been in a fight; he was smiling, yet +there was anxiety in his eyes. + +“Ken, now you've played hob,” he said. It was a reproach, but his look +made me proud. + +“Oh, Dick, if you hadn't called out!” I exclaimed. + +“Darned if you're not right! But it was a slick job, and you'll tickle +Jim to death. I was an old woman. But that cold knife-blade made me +jump.” + +I glanced round the camp for the Mexican and Bud and the fifth man, but +they were gone. Bill varied his occupation of the moment by kneading +biscuit dough in a basin. Then there came such a severe pain in my head +that I went blind for a little while. “What's the matter with my head? +Who hit me?” I cried. + +“Bud slugged you with the butt of his pistol,” said Dick. “And, Ken, I +think you saved me from being knifed by the Greaser. You twisted his +arm half off. He cursed all night.... Ha! there he comes now with your +outfit.” + +Sure enough, the Mexican appeared on the trail, leading my horses. I was +so glad to see Hal that I forgot I was a prisoner. But Greaser's sullen +face and glittering eyes reminded me of it quickly enough. I read +treachery in his glance. + +Bud rode into camp from the other direction, and he brought a bunch of +horses, two of which I recognized as Dick's. The lumbermen set about +getting breakfast, and Stockton helped me to what little I could eat and +drink. Now that I was caught he did not appear at all mean or harsh. I +did not shrink from him, and had the feeling that he meant well by me. + +The horses were saddled and bridled, and Dick and I, still tied, were +bundled astride our mounts. The pack-ponies led the way, with Bill +following; I came next, Greaser rode behind me, and Dick was between Bud +and Stockton. So we traveled, and no time was wasted. I noticed that the +men kept a sharp lookout both to the fore and the rear. We branched off +the main trail and took a steeper one leading up the slope. We rode +for hours. There were moments when I reeled in my saddle, but for the +greater while I stood my pain and weariness well enough. Some time in +the afternoon a shrill whistle ahead attracted my attention. I made out +two horsemen waiting on the trail. + +“Huh! about time!” growled Bill. “Hyar's Buell an' Herky-Jerky.” + +As we approached I saw Buell, and the fellow with the queer name turned +out to be no other than the absent man I had been wondering about. He +had been dispatched to fetch the lumberman. + +Buell was superbly mounted on a sleek bay, and he looked very much the +same jovial fellow I had met on the train. He grinned at the disfigured +men. + +“Take it from me, you fellers wouldn't look any worse bunged up if you'd +been jolted by the sawlogs in my mill.” + +“We can't stand here to crack jokes,” said Stockton, sharply. “Some +ranger might see us. Now what?” + +“You ketched the kid in time. That's all I wanted. Take him an' Leslie +up in one of the canyons an' keep them there till further orders. You +needn't stay, Stockton, after you get them in a safe place. An' you can +send up grub.” + +Then he turned to me. + +“You'll not be hurt if--” + +“Don't you speak to me!” I burst out. It was on my lips to tell him of +the letter to Washington, but somehow I kept silent. + +“Leslie,” went on Buell, “I'll overlook your hittin' me an' let you go +if you'll give me your word to keep mum about this.” + +Dick did not speak, but looked at the lumberman with a dark gleam in his +eyes. + +“There's one thing, Buell,” said Stockton. “Jim Williams is wise. You've +got to look out for him.” + +Buell's ruddy face blanched. Then, without another word, he waved his +hand toward the slope, and, wheeling his horse, galloped down the trail. + + + + +IX. TAKEN INTO THE MOUNTAINS + +We climbed to another level bench where we branched off the trail. The +forest still kept its open, park-like character. Under the great pines +the ground was bare and brown with a thick covering of pine-needles, but +in the glades were green grass and blue flowers. + +Once across this level we encountered a steeper ascent than any I had +yet climbed. Here the character of the forest began to change. There +were other trees than pines, and particularly one kind, cone-shaped, +symmetrical, and bright, which Dick called a silver spruce. I was glad +it belonged to the conifers, or pine-tree family, because it was the +most beautiful tree I had ever seen. We climbed ridges and threaded +through aspen thickets in hollows till near sunset. Then Stockton +ordered a halt for camp. + +It came none too soon for me, and I was so exhausted that I had to be +helped off my mustang. Stockton arranged my blankets, fed me, and bathed +the bruise on my head, but I was too weary and sick to be grateful or +to care about anything except sleep. Even the fact that my hands were +uncomfortably bound did not keep me awake. + +When some one called me next morning my eyes did not want to stay open. +I had a lazy feeling and a dull ache in my bones, but the pain had gone +from my head. That made everything else seem all right. + +Soon we were climbing again, and my interest in my surroundings grew as +we went up. For a while we brushed through thickets of scrub oak. The +whole slope of the mountain was ridged and hollowed, so that we were +always going down and climbing up. The pines and spruces grew smaller, +and were more rugged and gnarled. + +“Hyar's the canyon!” sang out Bill, presently. + +We came out on the edge of a deep hollow. It was half a mile wide. I +looked down a long incline of sharp tree-tips. The roar of water rose +from below, and in places a white rushing torrent showed. Above loomed +the snow-clad peak, glistening in the morning sun. How wonderfully far +off and high it still was! + +To my regret it was shut off from my sight as we descended into the +canyon. However, I soon forgot that. I saw a troop of coyotes, and many +black and white squirrels. From time to time huge birds, almost as big +as turkeys, crashed out of the thickets and whirred away. They flew +swift as pheasants, and I asked Dick what they were. + +“Blue grouse,” he replied. “Look sharp now, Ken, there are deer ahead of +us. See the tracks?” + +Looking down I saw little, sharp-pointed, oval tracks. Presently two +foxes crossed an open patch not fifty yards from us, but I did not get +a glimpse of the deer. Soon we reached the bottom of the canyon, and +struck into another trail. The air was full of the low roar of tumbling +water. This mountain-torrent was about twenty feet wide, but its +swiftness and foam made it impossible to tell its depth. The trail led +up-stream, and turned so constantly that half the time Bill, the leader, +was not in sight. Once the sharp crack of his rifle halted the train. I +heard crashings in the thicket. Dick yelled for me to look up the slope, +and there I saw three gray deer with white tails raised. I heard a +strange, whistling sound. + +On going forward we found that Bill had killed a deer and was roping it +on his pack-horse. As we proceeded up the canyon it grew narrower, +and soon we entered a veritable gorge. It was short, but the floor was +exceedingly rough, and made hard going for the horses. Suddenly I was +amazed to see the gorge open out into a kind of amphitheatre several +hundred feet across. The walls were steep, and one side shelved out, +making a long, shallow cave, In the center of this amphitheatre was a +deep hole from which the mountain stream boiled and bubbled. + +“Hyar we are,” said Bill, and swung out of his saddle. The other men +followed suit, and helped Dick and me down. Stockton untied our hands, +saying he reckoned we would be more comfortable that way. Indeed we +were. My wrists were swollen and blistered. Stockton detailed the +Mexican to keep guard over us. + +“Ken, I've heard of this place,” said Dick. “How's that for a spring? +Twenty yards wide, and no telling how deep! This is snow-water straight +from the peaks. We're not a thousand feet below the snow-line.” + +“I can tell that. Look at those Jwari pines,” I replied, pointing up +over the wall. A rugged slope rose above our camp-site, and it was +covered with a tangled mass of stunted pines. Many of them were twisted +and misshapen; some were half dead and bleached white at the tops. “It's +my first sight of such trees,” I went on, “but I've studied about them. +Up here it's not lack of moisture that stunts and retards their growth. +It's fighting the elements--cold, storm-winds, snowslides. I suppose +not one in a thousand seedlings takes root and survives. But the forest +fights hard to live.” + +“Well, Ken, we may as well sit back now and talk forestry till Buell +skins all he wants of Penetier,” said Dick. “It's really a fine +camping-spot. Plenty of deer up here and bear, too.” + +“Dick, couldn't we escape?” I whispered. + +“We're not likely to have a chance. But I say, Ken, how did you happen +to turn up? I thought you were going to hop on the first train for +home.” + +“Dick, you had another think coming. I couldn't go home. I'll have a +great time yet--I'm having it now.” + +“Yes, that lump on your head looks like it,” replied Dick, with a laugh. +“If Bud hadn't put you out we'd have come closer to licking this bunch. +Ken, keep your eye on Greaser. He's treacherous. His arm's lame yet.” + +“We've had two run-ins already,” I said. “The third time is the worst, +they say. I hope it won't come.... But, Dick, I'm as big--I'm bigger +than he is.” + +“Hear the kid talk! I certainly ought to have put you on that train--” + +“What train?” asked Stockton, sharply, from our rear. He took us in with +suspicious eyes. + +“I was telling Ken I ought to have put him on a train for home,” + answered Dick. + +Stockton let the remark pass without further comment; still, he appeared +to be doing some hard thinking. He put Dick at one end of the long cave, +me at the other. Our bedding was unpacked and placed at our disposal. We +made our beds. After that I kept my eyes open and did not miss anything. + +“Leslie, I'm going to treat you and Ward white,” said Stockton. “You'll +have good grub. Herky-Jerky's the best cook this side of Holston, and +you'll be left untied in the daytime. But if either of you attempts to +get away it means a leg shot off. Do you get that?” + +“All right, Stockton; that's pretty square of you, considering,” replied +Dick. “You're a decent sort of chap to be mixed up with a thief like +Buell. I'm sorry.” + +Stockton turned away at this rather abruptly. Then Bill appeared on +the wall above, and began to throw down firewood. Bud returned from the +canyon, where he had driven the horses. Greaser sat on a stone puffing a +cigarette. It was the first time I had taken a good look at him. He was +smaller than I had fancied; his feet and hands and features resembled +those of a woman, but his eyes were live coals of black fire. In the +daylight I was not in the least afraid of him. + +Herky-Jerky was the most interesting one of our captors. He had a short, +stocky figure, and was the most bow-legged man I ever saw. Never on +earth could he have stopped a pig in a lane. A stubby beard covered +the lower half of his brick-red face. The most striking thing about +Herky-Jerky, however, was his perpetual grin. He looked very jolly, yet +every time he opened his mouth it was to utter bad language. He cursed +the fire, the pans, the coffee, the biscuits, all of which he handled +most skillfully. It was disgusting, and yet aside from this I rather +liked him. + +It grew dark very quickly while we were eating, and the wind that dipped +down into the gorge was cold. I kept edging closer and closer to the +blazing campfire. I had never tasted venison before, and rather disliked +it at first. But I soon cultivated a liking for it. + +That night Stockton tied me securely, but in a way which made it easy +for me to turn. I slept soundly and awoke late. When I sat up Stockton +stood by his saddled horse, and was giving orders to the men. He +spoke sharply. He made it clear that they were not to be lax in their +vigilance. Then, without a word to Dick or me, he rode down the gorge +and disappeared behind a corner of yellow wall. + +Bill untied the rope that held Dick's arms, but left his feet bound. I +was freed entirely, and it felt so good to have the use of all my limbs +once more that I pranced round in a rather lively way. Either my antics +annoyed Herky-Jerky or he thought it a good opportunity to show his +skill with a lasso, for he shot the loop over me so hard that it stung +my back. + +“I'm all there as a roper!” he said, pulling the lasso tight round my +middle. The men all laughed as I tumbled over in the gravel. + +“Better keep a half-hitch on the colt,” remarked Bud. + +So they left the lasso fast about my waist, and it trailed after me as +I walked. Herky-Jerky put me to carrying Dick's breakfast from the +campfire up into the cave. This I did with alacrity. Dick and I +exchanged commonplace remarks aloud, but we had several little whispers. + +“Ken, we may get the drop on them or give them the slip yet,” whispered +Dick, in one of these interludes. + +This put ideas into my head. There might be a chance for me to escape, +if not for Dick. I made up my mind to try if a good chance offered, but +I did not want to go alone down that canyon without a gun. Stockton had +taken my revolver and hunting-knife, but I still had the little leather +case which Hal and I had used so often back on the Susquehanna. Besides +a pen-knife this case contained salt and pepper, fishing hooks and +lines, matches--a host of little things that a boy who had never been +lost might imagine he would need in an emergency. While thinking and +planning I sat on the edge of the great hole where the spring was. +Suddenly I saw a swirl in the water, and then a splendid spotted fish. +It broke water twice. It was two feet long. + +“Dick, there's fish in this hole!” I yelled, eagerly. + +“Shouldn't wonder,” replied he. “Sure, kid, thet hole's full of +trout--speckled trout,” said Herky-Jerky. “But they can't be ketched.” + +“Why not?” I demanded. I had not caught little trout in the Pennsylvania +hills for nothing. “They eat, don't they? That fish I saw was a whale, +and he broke water for a bug. Get me a pole and some bugs or worms!” + +When I took out my little case and showed the fishing-line, Herky-Jerky +said he would find me some bait. + +While he was absent I studied that spring with new and awakened eyes. +It was round and very deep, and the water bulged up in great greenish +swirls. The outlet was a narrow little cleft through which the water +flowed slowly, as though it did not want to take its freedom. The rush +and roar came from the gorge below. + +Herky-Jerky returned with a long, slender pole. It was as pliant as a +buggy-whip, and once trimmed and rigged it was far from being a poor +tackle. Herky-Jerky watched me with extreme attention, all the time +grinning. Then he held out a handful of grubs. + +“If you ketch a trout on thet I'll swaller the pole!” he exclaimed. + +I stooped low and approached the spring, being careful to keep out of +sight. + +“You forgot to spit on yer bait, kid,” said Bill. + +They all laughed in a way to rouse my ire. But despite it I flipped the +bait into the water with the same old thrilling expectancy. + +The bait dropped with a little spat. An arrowy shadow, black and gold, +flashed up. Splash! The line hissed. Then I jerked hard. The pole bent +double, wobbled, and swayed this way and that. The fish was a powerful +one; his rushes were like those of a heavy bass. But never had a bass +given me such a struggle. Every instant I made sure the tackle would be +wrecked. Then, just at the breaking-point, the fish would turn. At last +he began to tire. I felt that he was rising to the surface, and I put on +more strain. Soon I saw him; then he turned, flashing like a gold bar. I +led my captive to the outlet of the spring, where I reached down and +got my fingers in his gills. With that I lifted him. Dick whooped when I +held up the fish; as for me, I was speechless. The trout was almost two +feet long, broad and heavy, with shiny sides flecked with color. + +Herky-Jerky celebrated my luck with a generous outburst of enthusiasm, +whereupon his comrades reminded him of his offer to swallow my fishing +pole. + +I put on a fresh bait and instantly hooked another fish, a smaller one, +which was not so bard to land. The spring hole was full of trout. They +made the water boil when I cast. Several large ones tore the hook loose; +I had never dreamed of such fishing. Really it was a strange situation. +Here I was a prisoner, with Greaser or Bud taking turns at holding the +other end of the lasso. More than once they tethered me up short for no +other reason than to torment me. Yet never in my life had I so enjoyed +fishing. + +By-and-by Bill and Herky-Jerky left the camp. I heard Herky tell Greaser +to keep his eye on the stew-pots, and it occurred to me that Greaser had +better keep his eye on Ken Ward. When I saw Bud lie down I remembered +what Dick had whispered. I pretended to be absorbed in my fishing, but +really I was watching Greaser. As usual, he was smoking, and appeared +listless, but he still held on to the lasso. + +Suddenly I saw a big blue revolver lying on a stone and I could even +catch the glint of brass shells in the cylinder. It was not close to Bud +nor so very close to Greaser. If he should drop the lasso! A wild idea +possessed me--held me in its grip. Just then the stew-pot boiled over. +There was a sputter and a cloud of steam, Greaser lazily swore in +Mexican; he got up to move the stew-pot and dropped the lasso. + +When he reached the fire I bounded up, jerking the lasso far behind +me. I ran and grabbed the revolver. Greaser heard me and wheeled with +a yell. Bud sat up quickly. I pointed the revolver at him, then at +Greaser, and kept moving it from one side to the other. + +“Don't move! I'll shoot!” I cried. + +“Good boy!” yelled Dick. “You've got the drop. Keep it, Ken, keep it! +Don't lose your nerve. Edge round here and cut me loose.... Bud, if you +move I'll make him shoot. Come on, Ken.” + +“Greaser, cut him loose!” I commanded the snarling Mexican. + +I trembled so that the revolver wabbled in my hand. Trying to hold it +steadied, I squeezed it hard. Bang! It went off with a bellow like a +cannon. The bullet scattered the gravel near Greaser. His yellow face +turned a dirty white. He jumped straight up in his fright. + +“Cut him loose!” I ordered. + +Greaser ran toward Dick. + +“Look out, Ken! Behind you! Quick!” yelled Dick. + +I heard a crunching of gravel. Even as I wheeled I felt a tremendous +pull on the lasso and I seemed to be sailing in the air. I got a blurred +glimpse of Herky-Jerky leaning back on the taut lasso. Then I plunged +down, slid over the rocks, and went souse into the spring. + + + + +X. ESCAPE + +Down, down I plunged, and the shock of the icy water seemed to petrify +me. I should have gone straight to the bottom like a piece of lead but +for the lasso. It tightened around my chest, and began to haul me up. + +I felt the air and the light, and opened my eyes to see Herky-Jerky +hauling away on the rope. When he caught sight of me he looked as if +ready to dodge behind the bank. + +“Whar's my gun?” he yelled. + +I had dropped it in the spring. He let the lasso sag, and I had to swim. +Then, seeing that my hands were empty, he began to swear and to drag me +round and round in the pool. When he had pulled me across he ran to +the other side and jerked me back. I was drawn through the water with +a force that I feared would tear me apart. Greaser chattered like a +hideous monkey, and ran to and fro in glee. Herky-Jerky soon had me +sputtering, gasping, choking. When he finally pulled me out of the hole +I was all but drowned. + +“You bow-legged beggar!” shouted Dick, “I'll fix you for that.” + +“Whar's my gun?” yelled Herky, as I fell to the ground. + +“I lost--it,” I panted. + +He began to rave. Then I half swooned, and when sight and hearing fully +returned I was lying in the cave on my blankets. A great lassitude +weighted me down. The terrible thrashing about in the icy water had +quenched my spirit. For a while I was too played out to move, and lay +there in my wet clothes. Finally I asked leave to take them off. Bud, +who had come back in the meantime, helped me, or I should never have got +out of them. Herky brought up my coat, which, fortunately, I had taken +off before the ducking. I did not have the heart to speak to Dick or +look at him, so I closed my eyes and fell asleep. + +It was another day when I awoke. I felt all right except for a soreness +under my arms and across my chest where the lasso had chafed and +bruised me. Still I did not recover my good spirits. Herky-Jerky kept on +grinning and cracking jokes on my failure to escape. He had appropriated +my revolver for himself, and he asked me several times if I wanted to +borrow it to shoot Greaser. + +That day passed quietly, and so did the two that followed. The men would +not let me fish nor move about. They had been expecting Stockton, and +as he did not come it was decided to send Bud down to the mill; in fact, +Bud decided the matter himself. He warned Greaser and Herky to keep +close watch over Dick and me. Then he rode away. Dick and I resumed our +talk about forestry, and as we were separated by the length of the cave +it was necessary to speak loud. So our captors heard every word we said. + +“Ken, what's the difference between Government forestry out here and, +say, forestry practiced by a farmer back in Pennsylvania?” asked Dick. + +“There's a big difference, I imagine. Forestry is established in some +parts of the East; it's only an experiment out here.” + +Then I went on to tell him about the method of the farmer. He usually +had a small piece of forest, mostly hard wood. When the snow was on he +cut firewood, fence-rails, and lumber for his own use in building. Some +seasons lumber brought high prices; then he would select matured logs +and haul them to the sawmill. But he would not cut a great deal, and he +would use care in the selection. It was his aim to keep the land well +covered with forest. He would sow as well as harvest. + +“Now the Government policy is to preserve the National Forests for the +use of the people. The soil must be kept productive. Agriculture would +be impossible without water, and the forests hold water. The West wants +people to come to stay. The lumberman who slashes off the timber may get +rich himself, but he ruins the land.” + +“What's that new law Congress is trying to pass?” queried Dick. + +I was puzzled, but presently I caught his meaning. Bill and Herky-Jerky +were hanging on our words with unconcealed attention. Even the Mexican +was listening. Dick's cue was to scare them, or at least to have some +fun at their expense. + +“They've passed it,” I replied. “Fellows like Buell will go to the +penitentiary for life. His men'll get twenty years on bread and water. +No whiskey! Serves 'em right.” + +“What'll the President do when he learns these men kidnapped you?” + +“Do? He'll have the whole forest service out here and the National +Guard. He's a friend of my father's. Why, these kidnappers will be +hanged!” + +“I wish the Guard would come quick. Too bad you couldn't have sent word! +I'd enjoy seeing Greaser swing. Say, he hasn't a ghost of a chance, with +the President and Jim Williams after him.” + +“Dick, I want the rings in Greaser's ears.” + +“What for? They're only brass.” + +“Souvenirs. Maybe I'll have watch-charms made of them. Anyway, I can +show them to my friends back East.” + +“It'll be great--what you'll have to tell,” went on Dick. “It'll be +funny, too.” + +Greaser had begun to snarl viciously, and Herky and Bill looked glum and +thoughtful. The arrival of Bud interrupted the conversation and put an +end to our playful mood. We heard a little of what he told his comrades, +and gathered that Jim Williams had met Stockton and had asked questions +hard to answer. Dick flashed me a significant look, which was as much +as to say that Jim was growing suspicious. Bud had brought a store of +whiskey, and his companions now kept closer company with him than ever +before. But from appearances they did not get all they wanted. + +“We've got to move this here camp,” said Bud. + +Bud and Bill and Herky walked off down the gorge. Perhaps they really +went to find another place for the camp, for the present spot was +certainly a kind of trap. But from the looks of Greaser I guessed that +they were leaving him to keep guard while they went off to drink by +themselves. Greaser muttered and snarled. As the moments passed his face +grew sullen. + +All at once he came toward me. He bound my hands and my feet. Dick was +already securely tied, but Greaser put another lasso on him. Then he +slouched down the gorge. His high-peaked Mexican sombrero bobbed above +the rocks, then disappeared. + +“Ken, now's the chance,” said Dick, low and quick. “If you can only work +loose! There's your rifle and mine, too. We could hold this fort for a +month.” + +“What can I do?” I asked, straining on my ropes. + +“You're not fast to the rock, as I am. Rollover here and untie me with +your teeth.” + +I raised my head to get the direction, and then, with a violent twist +of my body, I started toward him; but being bound fast I could not guide +myself, and I rolled off the ledge. The bank there was pretty steep, +and, unable to stop, I kept on like a barrel going down-hill. The +thought of rolling into the spring filled me with horror. Suddenly I +bumped hard into something that checked me. It was a log of firewood, +and in one end stuck the big knife which Herky-Jerky used to cut meat. + +Instantly I conceived the idea of cutting my bonds with this knife. But +how was I to set about it? + +“Dick, here's a knife. How'll I get to it so as to free myself?” + +“Easy as pie,” replied he, eagerly. “The sharp edge points down. You +hitch yourself this way--That's it---good!” + +What Dick called easy as pie was the hardest work I ever did. I lay flat +on my back, bound hand and foot, and it was necessary to jerk my body +along the log till my hands should be under the knife. I lifted my legs +and edged along inch by inch. + +“Fine work, Ken! Now you're right! Turn on your side! Be careful you +don't loosen the knife!” + +Not only were my wrists bound, but the lasso had been wrapped round my +elbows, holding them close to my body. Turning on my side, I found that +I could not reach the knife--not by several inches. This was a bitter +disappointment. I strained and heaved. In my effort to lift my body +sidewise I pressed my face into the gravel. “Hurry, Ken, hurry!” cried +Dick. “Somebody's coming!” + +Thus urged, I grew desperate. In my struggle I discovered that it was +possible to edge up on the log and stick there. I glued myself to that +log. By dint of great exertion I brought the tight cord against the +blade. It parted with a little snap, my elbows dropped free. Raising +my wrists, I sawed quickly through the bonds. I cut myself, the blood +flowed, but that was no matter. Jerking the knife from the log, I +severed the ropes round my ankles and leaped up. + +“Hurry, boy!” cried Dick, with a sharp note of alarm. + +I ran to where he lay, and attacked the heavy halter with which he +had been secured. I had cut half through the knots when a shrill cry +arrested me. It was the Mexican's voice. + +“Head him off! He's after your gun!” yelled Dick. + +The sight of Greaser running toward the cave put me into a frenzy. +Dropping the knife, I darted to where my rifle leaned across my saddle. +But I saw the Mexican would beat me to it. Checking my speed, I grabbed +up a round stone and let fly. That was where my ball-playing stood me +in good stead, for the stone hit Greaser on the shoulder, knocking him +flat. But he got up, and lunged for the rifle just as I reached him. + +I kicked the rifle out of his band, grappled with him, and down we went +together. We wrestled and thrashed off the ledge, and when we landed in +the gravel I was on top. + +“Slug him, Ken!” yelled Dick, wildly. “Oh, that's fine! Give it to him! +Punch him! Get his wind!” + +Either it was a mortal dread of Greaser's knife or some kind of a +new-born fury that lent me such strength. He screeched, he snapped +like a wolf, he clawed me, he struck me, but he could not shake me off. +Several times he had me turning, but a hard rap on his head knocked him +back again. Then I began to bang him in the ribs. + +“That's the place!” shouted Dick. “Ken, you're going to do him up! Soak +him! Oh-h, but this is great!” + +I kept the advantage over Greaser, but still he punished me cruelly. +Suddenly he got his snaky hands on my throat and began to choke me. With +all my might I swung my fist into his stomach. + +His hands dropped, his mouth opened in a gasp, his face turned green. +The blow had made him horribly sick, and he sank back utterly helpless. +I jumped up with a shout of triumph. + +“Run! Run for it!” yelled Dick, in piercing tones. “They're coming! +Never mind me! Run, I tell you! Not down the gorge! Climb out!” + +For a moment I could not move out of my tracks. Then I saw Bill and +Herky running up the gorge, and, farther down, Bud staggering and +lurching. + +This lent me wings. In two jumps I had grabbed my rifle; then, turning, +I ran round the pool, and started up the one place in the steep wall +where climbing was possible. Above the yells of the men I heard Dick's +piercing cry: + +“Go-go-go, Ken!” + +I sent the loose rocks down in my flight. Here I leaped up; there I ran +along a little ledge; in another place I climbed hand and foot. The last +few yards was a gravelly incline. I seemed to slide back as much as I +gained. + +“Come back hyar!” bawled Bill. + +Crack! Crack! Crack... The reports rang out in quick succession. A +bullet whistled over me, another struck the gravel and sent a shower of +dust into my face. I pitched my rifle up over the bank and began to dig +my fingers and toes into the loose ground. As I gained the top two more +bullets sang past my head so close that I knew Bill was aiming to more +than scare me. I dragged myself over the edge and was safe. + +The canyon, with its dense thickets and scrubby clumps of trees, lay +below in plain sight. Once hidden there, I would be hard to find. +Picking up my rifle, I ran swiftly along the base of the slope and soon +gained the cover of the woods. + + + + +XI. THE OLD HUNTER + +I ran till I got a stitch in my side, and then slowed down to a +dog-trot. The one thing to do was to get a long way ahead of my +pursuers, for surely at the outset they would stick like hounds to my +trail. + +A mile or more below the gorge I took to the stream and waded. It +was slippery, dangerous work, for the current tore about my legs and +threatened to upset me. After a little I crossed to the left bank. Here +the slope of the canyon was thick with grass that hid my tracks. It was +a long climb up to the level. Upon reaching it I dropped, exhausted. + +“I've--given them--the slip,” I panted, exultantly.... “But--now what?” + +It struck me that now I was free, I had only jumped out of the +frying-pan into the fire. Hurriedly I examined my Winchester. The +magazine contained ten cartridges. What luck that Stockton had neglected +to unload it! This made things look better. I had salt and pepper, a +knife, and matches--thanks to the little leather case--and so I could +live in the woods. + +It was too late for regrets. I might have freed Dick somehow or even +held the men at bay, but I had thought only of escape. The lack of nerve +and judgment stung me. Then I was bitter over losing my mustang and +outfit. + +But on thinking it all over, I concluded that I ought to be thankful for +things as they were. I was free, with a whole skin. That climb out of +the gorge had been no small risk. How those bullets had whistled and +hissed! + +“I'm pretty lucky,” I muttered. “Now to get good and clear of this +vicinity. They'll ride down the trail after me. Better go over this +ridge into the next canyon and strike down that. I must go down. But how +far? What must I strike for?” + +I took a long look at the canyon. In places the stream showed, also the +trail; then there were open patches, but I saw no horses or men. With +a grim certainty that I should be lost in a very little while, I turned +into the cool, dark forest. + +Every stone and log, every bit of hard ground in my path, served to help +hide my trail. Herky-Jerky very likely had the cowboy's skill at finding +tracks, but I left few traces of my presence on that long slope. Only an +Indian or a hound could have trailed me. The timber was small and rough +brush grew everywhere. Presently I saw light ahead, and I came to an +open space. It was a wide swath in the forest. At once I recognized the +path of an avalanche. It sloped up clean and bare to the gray cliffs far +above. Below was a great mass of trees and rocks, all tangled in black +splintered ruin. I pushed on across the path, into the forest, and up +and down the hollows. The sun had gone down behind the mountain, and the +shadows were gathering when I came to another large canyon. It looked so +much like the first that I feared I had been travelling in a circle. But +this one seemed wider, deeper, and there was no roar of rushing water. + +It was time to think of making camp, and so I hurried down the slope. +At the bottom I found a small brook winding among boulders and ledges +of rock. The far side of this canyon was steep and craggy. Soon I +discovered a place where I thought it would be safe to build a fire. My +clothes were wet, and the air had grown keen and cold. Gathering a store +of wood, I made my fire in a niche. For a bed I cut some sweet-scented +pine boughs (I thought they must be from a balsam-tree), and these I +laid close up in a rocky corner. Thus I had the fire between me and +the opening, and with plenty of wood to burn I did not fear visits from +bears or lions. At last I lay down, dry and warm indeed, but very tired +and hungry. + +Darkness closed in upon me. I saw a few stars, heard the cheery crackle +of my fire, and then I fell asleep. Twice in the night I awakened cold, +but by putting on more firewood I was soon comfortable again. + +When I awoke the sun was shining brightly into my rocky bedchamber. The +fire had died out completely, there was frost on the stones. To build up +another fire and to bathe my face in the ice-water of the brook were my +first tasks. The air was sweet; it seemed to freeze as I breathed, and +was a bracing tonic. I was tingling all over, and as hungry as a starved +wolf. + +I set forth on a hunt for game. Even if the sound of a shot betrayed +my whereabouts I should have to abide by it, for I had to eat. Stepping +softly along, I glanced about me with sharp eyes. Deer trails were +thick. The bottom of this canyon was very wide, and grew wider as I +proceeded. Then the pines once more became large and thrifty. I judged I +had come down the mountain, perhaps a couple of thousand feet below +the camp in the gorge. I flushed many of the big blue grouse, and I saw +numerous coyotes, a fox, and a large brown beast which moved swiftly +into a thicket. It was enough to make my heart rise in my throat. To +dream of hunting bears was something vastly different from meeting one +in a lonely canyon. + +Just after this I saw a herd of deer. They were a good way off. I began +to slip from tree to tree, and drew closer. Presently I came to a little +hollow with a thick, short patch of underbrush growing on the opposite +side. Something crashed in the thicket. Then two beautiful deer ran out. +One bounded leisurely up the slope; the other, with long ears erect, +stopped to look at me. It was no more than fifty yards away. Trembling +with eagerness, I leveled my rifle. I could not get the sight to stay +steady on the deer. Even then, with the rifle wobbling in my intense +excitement, I thought of how beautiful that wild creature was. Straining +every nerve, I drew the sight till it was in line with the gray shape, +then fired. The deer leaped down the slope, staggered, and crumpled down +in a heap. + +I tore through the bushes, and had almost reached the bottom of the +hollow when I remembered that a wounded deer was dangerous. So I halted. +The gray form was as still as stone. I ventured closer. The deer was +dead. My bullet had entered high above the shoulder at the juncture of +the neck. Though I had only aimed at him generally, I took a good deal +of pride in my first shot at a deer. + +Fortunately my pen-knife had a fair-sized blade. With it I decided to +cut out part of the deer and carry it back to my camp. Then it occurred +to me that I might as well camp where I was. There were several jumbles +of rock and a cliff within a stone's-throw of where I stood. Besides, I +must get used to making camp wherever I happened to be. Accordingly, I +took hold of the deer, and dragged him down the hollow till I came to a +leaning slab of rock. + +Skinning a deer was, of course, new to me. I haggled the flesh somewhat +and cut through the skin often, my knife-blade being much too small for +such work. Finally I thought it would be enough for me to cut out the +haunches, and then I got down to one haunch. It had bothered me how I +was going to sever the joint, but to my great surprise I found there +did not seem to be any connection between the bones. The haunch came out +easily, and I hung it up on a branch while making a fire. + +Herky-Jerky's method of broiling a piece of venison at the end of a +stick solved the problem of cooking. Then it was that the little flat +flask, full of mixed salt and pepper, rewarded me for the long carrying +of it. I was hungry, and I feasted. + +By this time the sun shone warm, and the canyon was delightful. I roamed +around, sat on sunny stones, and lay in the shade of pines. Deer browsed +in the glades. When they winded or saw me they would stand erect, shoot +up their long cars, and then leisurely lope away. Coyotes trotted out +of thickets and watched me suspiciously. I could have shot several, +but deemed it wise to be saving of my ammunition. Once I heard a low +drumming. I could not imagine what made it. Then a big blue grouse +strutted out of a patch of bushes. He spread his wings and tail and neck +feathers, after the fashion of a turkey-gobbler. It was a flap or shake +of his wings that produced the drumming. I wondered if he intended, by +his actions, to frighten me away from his mate's nest. So I went toward +him, and got very close before he flew. I caught sight of his mate in +the bushes, and, as I had supposed, she was on a nest. Though wanting to +see her eggs or young ones, I resisted the temptation, for I was afraid +if I went nearer she might abandon her nest, as some mother birds do. + +It did not seem to me that I was lost, yet lost I was. The peaks were +not in sight. The canyon widened down the slope, and I was pretty sure +that it opened out flat into the great pine forest of Penetier. The only +thing that bothered me was the loss of my mustang and outfit; I could +not reconcile myself to that. So I wandered about with a strange, full +sense of freedom such as I had never before known. What was to be the +end of my adventure I could not guess, and I wasted no time worrying +over it. + +The knowledge I had of forestry I tried to apply. I studied the north +and south slopes of the canyon, observing how the trees prospered on the +sunny side. Certain saplings of a species unknown to me had been gnawed +fully ten feet from the ground. This puzzled me. Squirrels could not +have done it, nor rabbits, nor birds. Presently I hit upon the solution. +The bark and boughs of this particular sapling were food for deer, and +to gnaw so high the deer must have stood upon six or seven feet of snow. + +I dug into the soft duff under the pines. This covering of the roots +was very thick and deep. I made it out to be composed of pine-needles, +leaves, and earth. It was like a sponge. No wonder such covering held +the water! I pried bark off dead trees and dug into decayed logs to find +the insect enemies of the trees. The open places, where little colonies +of pine sprouts grew, seemed generally to be down-slope from the parent +trees. It was easy to tell the places where the wind had blown the +seeds. + +The hours sped by. The shadows of the pines lengthened, the sun set, +and the shade deepened in the hollows. Returning to my camp, I cooked +my supper and made my bed. When I had laid up a store of firewood it was +nearly dark. + +With night came the coyotes. The carcass of the deer attracted them, and +they approached from all directions. At first it was fascinating to hear +one howl far off in the forest, and then to notice the difference in the +sound as he came nearer and nearer. The way they barked and snapped out +there in the darkness was as wild a thing to hear as any boy could have +wished for. It began to be a little too much for me. I kept up a bright +fire, and, though not exactly afraid, I had a perch picked out in the +nearest tree. Suddenly the coyotes became silent. Then a low, continuous +growling, a snapping of twigs, and the unmistakable drag of a heavy +body over the ground made my hair stand on end. Gripping my rifle, I +listened. I heard the crunch of teeth on bones, then more sounds of +something being dragged down the hollow. The coyotes began to bark +again, but now far back in the forest. + +Some beast had frightened them. What was it? I did not know whether a +bear would eat deer flesh, but I thought not. Perhaps timber-wolves +had disturbed the coyotes. But would they run from wolves? It came to me +suddenly--a mountain-lion! + +I hugged my fire, and sat there, listening with all my ears, imagining +every rustle of leaf to be the step of a lion. It was long before the +thrills and shivers stopped chasing over me, longer before I could +decide to lie down. But after a while the dead quiet of the forest +persuaded me that the night was far advanced, and I fell asleep. + +The first thing in the morning I took my rifle and went out to where I +had left the carcass of the deer. It was gone. It had been dragged away. +A dark path on the pine-needles and grass, and small bushes pressed to +the ground, plainly marked the trail. But search as I might, I could +not find the track of the animal that had dragged off the deer. After +following the trail for a few rods, I decided to return to camp and cook +breakfast before going any farther. While I was at it I cut many thin +slices of venison, and, after roasting them, I stored them away in the +capacious pocket of my coat. + +My breakfast finished, I again set out to see what had become of the +remains of the deer. In two or three places the sharp hoofs had cut +lines in the soft earth, and there were tufts of whitish-gray hair +elsewhere. A hundred yards or more down the hollow I came to a bare spot +where recently there had been a pool of water. Here I found cat tracks +as large as my two hands. I had never seen the track of a mountain-lion, +but, all the same, I knew that this was the real thing. What an enormous +brute he must have been! I cast fearful glances into the surrounding +thickets. + +It was not needful to travel much farther. Under a bush well hidden in a +clump of trees lay what now remained of my deer. A patch of gray hair, a +few long bones, a split skull, and two long ears--no more! Even the hide +was gone. Perhaps the coyotes had finished the job after the lion had +gorged himself, but I did not think so. It seemed to me that coyotes +would have scattered the remains. Those two long ears somehow seemed +pathetic. I wished for a second that the lion were in range of my rifle. + +The lion was driven from my mind when I saw a troop of deer cross a +glade below me. I had to fight myself to keep from shooting. The wind +blew rather strong in my face, which probably accounted for the deer not +winding me. + +Then the whip-like crack of a rifle riveted me where I stood. One of the +deer fell, and the others bounded away. I saw a tall man stride down +the slope and into the glade. He was not like any of the loggers or +lumbermen. They were mostly brawny and round-shouldered. This man was +lithe, erect; he walked like athletes I had seen. Surely I should find a +friend in him, and I lost no time in running down into the glade. He saw +me as soon as I was clear of the trees, and stood leaning on his rifle. + +“Wal, dog-gone my buttons!” he ejaculated. “Who're you?” + +I blurted out all about myself, at the same time taking stock of him. +He was not young, but I had never seen a young man so splendid. Hair, +beard, and skin were all of a dark gray. His eyes, too, were gray--the +keenest and clearest I had ever looked into. They shone with a kindly +light, otherwise I might have thought his face hard and stern. His +shoulders were very wide, his arms long, his hands enormous. His +buckskin shirt attracted my attention to his other clothes, which looked +like leather overalls or heavy canvas. A belt carried a huge knife and a +number of shells of large caliber; the Winchester he had was exceedingly +long and heavy, and of an old pattern. The look of him brought back my +old fancy of Wetzel or Kit Carson. + +“So I'm lost,” I concluded, “and don't know what to do. I daren't try to +find the sawmill. I won't go back to Holston just yet.” + +“An' why not, youngster? 'Pears to me you'd better make tracks from +Penetier.” + +I told him why, at which he laughed. + +“Wal, I reckon you can stay with me fer a spell. My camp's in the head +of this canyon.” + +“Oh, thank you, that'll be fine!” I exclaimed. My great good luck filled +me with joy. “Do you stay on the mountain?” + +“Be'n here goin' on eighteen years, youngster. Mebbe you've heerd my +name. Hiram Bent.” + +“Are you a hunter?” + +“Wal, I reckon so, though I'm more a trapper. Here, you pack my gun.” + +With that he drew his knife and set to work on the deer. It was +wonderful to see his skill. In a few cuts and strokes, a ripping of the +hide and a powerful slash, he had cut out a haunch. It took even less +work for the second. Then he hung the rest of the deer on a snag, and +wiped his knife and hands on the grass. + +“Come on, youngster,” he said, starting up the canyon. + +I showed him where the carcass of my deer had been devoured. + +“Cougar. Thar's a big feller has the run of this canyon.” + +“Cougar? I thought it was a mountain-lion.” + +“Cougar, painter, panther, lion--all the same critter. An' if you leave +him alone he'll not bother you, but he's bad in a corner.” + +“He scared away the coyotes.” + +“Youngster, even a silver-tip--thet's a grizzly bear--will make tracks +away from a cougar. I lent my pack of hounds to a pard over near +Springer. If I had them we'd put thet cougar up a tree in no time.” + +“Are there many lions--cougars here?” + +“Only a few. Thet's why there's plenty of deer. Other game is plentiful, +too. Foxes, wolves, an', up in the mountains, bears are thick.” + +“Then I may get to see one--get a shot at one?” + +“Wal, I reckon.” + +From that time I trod on air. I found myself wishing for my brother Hal. +I became reconciled to the loss of mustang and outfit. For a moment +I almost forgot Dick and Buell. Forestry seemed less important than +hunting. I had read a thousand books about old hunters and trappers, +and here I was in a wild mountain canyon with a hunter who might have +stepped out of one of my dreams. So I trudged along beside him, asking +a question now and then, and listening always. He certainly knew what +would interest me. There was scarcely a thing he said that I would ever +forget. After a while, however, the trail became so steep and rough that +I, at least, had no breath to spare for talking. We climbed and climbed. +The canyon had become a narrow, rocky cleft. Huge stones blocked the +way. A ragged growth of underbrush fringed the stream. Dead pines, with +branches like spears, lay along the trail. + +We came upon a little clearing, where there was a rude log-cabin with +a stone chimney. Skins of animals were tacked upon logs. Under the bank +was a spring. The mountain overshadowed this wild nook. + +“Wal, youngster, here's my shack. Make yourself to home,” said Hiram +Bent. + +I was all eyes as we entered the cabin. Skins, large and small, and of +many colors, hung upon the walls. A fire burned in a wide stone grate. A +rough table and some pans and cooking utensils showed evidence of recent +scouring. A bunch of steel traps lay in a corner. Upon a shelf were +tin cans and cloth bags, and against the wall stood a bed of glossy +bearskins. To me the cabin was altogether a most satisfactory place. + +“I reckon ye're tired?” asked the hunter. “Thet's some pumpkins of a +climb unless you're used to it.” + +I admitted I was pretty tired. + +“Wal, rest awhile. You look like you hadn't slept much.” + +He asked me about my people and home, and was so interested in forestry +that he left off his task of the moment to talk about it. I was not long +in discovering that what he did not know about trees and forests was +hardly worth learning. He called it plain woodcraft. He had never heard +of forestry. All the same I hungered for his knowledge. How lucky for me +to fall in with him! The things that had puzzled me about the pines he +answered easily. Then he volunteered information. From talking of the +forest, he drifted to the lumbermen. + +“Wal, the lumber-sharks are rippin' holes in Penetier. I reckon they +wouldn't stop at nothin'. I've heered some tough stories about thet +sawmill gang. I ain't acquainted with Leslie, or any of them fellers you +named except Jim Williams. I knowed Jim. He was in Springer fer a while. +If Jim's your friend, there'll be somethin' happenin, when he rounds up +them kidnappers. I reckon you'd better hang up with me fer a while. You +don't want to get ketched again. Your life wasn't much to them fellers. +I think they'd held on to you fer money. It's too bad you didn't send +word home to your people.” + +“I sent word home about the big steal of timber. That was before I got +kidnapped. By this time the Government knows.” + +“Wal, you don't say! Thet was pert of you, youngster. An' will the +Government round up these sharks?” + +“Indeed it will. The Government is in dead earnest about protecting the +National Forests.” + +“So it ought to be. Next to a forest fire, I hate these skinned timber +tracts. Wal, old Penetier's going to see somethin' lively before long. +Youngster, them lumbermen--leastways, them fellers you call Bud an' +Bill, an' such--they're goin' to fight.” + +The old hunter left me presently, and went outside. I waited awhile for +him, but as he did not return I lay down upon the bearskins and dropped +to sleep. It seemed I had hardly closed my eyes when I felt a hand on my +arm and heard a voice. + +“Wake up, youngster. Thar's two old bears an' a cub been foolin' with +one of my traps.” + +In a flash I was wide awake. + +“Let's see your gun. Humph! pretty small--38 caliber, ain't it? Wal, +it'll do the work if you hold straight. Can you shoot?” + +“Fairly well.” + +He took his heavy Winchester, and threw a coil of thin rope over his +shoulder. + +“Come on. Stay close to me, an' keep your eyes peeled.” + + + + +XII. BEARS + +The old hunter walked so swiftly that I had to run to keep up with him. +The trail led up the creek, now on one side, again on the other, and +I was constantly skipping from stone to stone. The grassy slopes grew +fewer, and finally gave way altogether to cracked cliffs and weathered +rocks. A fringe of pine-trees leaned over the top with here and there a +blasted spear standing out white. + +“I had my trap set up thet draw,” said Hiram Bent, as he pointed toward +an intersecting canyon. “Just before I waked you I was comin' along +here, an' I heered an all-fired racket up thar, an' so I watched. Soon +three black bears come paddlin' down, an' the biggest was draggin' the +trap with the chain an' log. Then I hurried to tell you. They can't be +far.” + +“Are they grizzlies?” I asked, trying to speak naturally. + +“Nope. Jest plain black bears. But the one with the trap is a whopper. +He'll go over four hundred. See the tracks? Looks like somebody'd been +plowin' up the stones.” + +There were deep tracks in the sand, and broad furrows, and stones +overturned, and places where a heavy object had crushed the gravel even +and smooth. + +The old hunter kept striding on, and I wondered how he could go so fast +without running. Presently we came to where the canyon forked. Hiram +started up the right-hand fork, then suddenly stopped, and, turning, +began to go back, carefully examining the ground. + +“They've split on us,” he explained. “The ole feller with the trap went +up the right-hand draw, an' the mother an' cub took to the left. Now, +youngster, can you keep your nerve?” + +“I think so.” + +“Wal, you go after the ole feller. You can't miss him, an' he won't be +far. You'll hear him bellerin' long before you git to him, though he +might lay low, so you steer clear of big boulders an' thickets. Kill +him, an' then run back an' take up this draw. The she bear is cute an' +may give me the slip, but if she doesn't climb out soon I'll head her +off. Hurry on, now. Keep your eye peeled, an' you'll be safe as if you +were to home.” + +With that he disappeared round the corner of stone wall where the +canyon divided. I wheeled and went to the right. This wing of the canyon +twisted and turned and was full of stones. A shallow sheet of water +gleamed over its colored bed of gravel. The walls were straight up, and, +in places, bulged outward. I flinched at every turn in the canyon; +but, with rifle cocked and thrust forward, I went on. The cracks in the +walls, the boulders and pieces of cliff that obstructed my path, and the +occasional thickets--all made me halt with careful step and finger on +the trigger. I followed the splashes on the stones, which told me +that the bear had passed that way. As I went cautiously on I felt a +tightening at my throat. The light above grew dimmer. When I stopped to +listen it was so silent that I heard only the pounding of my heart and +my own quick breathing. I pressed on and on, going faster all the time +not that I felt braver, but I longed to end the suspense. Suddenly the +silence was broken by a threatening roar. It swept down on me, swelling +as it continued, and it seemed to fill the canyon. It shook my pulses, +it urged me to flight, but I could not move. Then as suddenly it ceased. + +For a long moment I stood still, with no idea of advancing farther. +The clinking of a chain seemed to release my cramped muscles. Very +cautiously I peered around a projecting corner of wall. There sat a huge +black bear on his haunches holding up a great steel trap which clutched +one of his paws. It was such a strange sight that my fear was forgotten. +There was something almost human in the way the bear looked at that +trap. He touched it gingerly with his free paw, and nosed it. I crept up +close to the corner of stone and looked around again. The bear was now +close to me. I saw the heavy chain and the log to which it was attached. +He looked at trap and log in a grave, pathetic way, as if trying to +reason about them. Then he roused into furious action, swinging the +trap, dragging the log, and bellowing in such a frightful manner that I +dodged back behind the wall. + +But this sudden change in the bear, this appalling roar with its note of +pain, awakened me to his suffering. When the noise stopped and I looked +again, the bear was a sight not to be forgotten. He showed a helpless, +terrible fear of the steel-jawed thing on his foot. He dropped down on +the sand with a groan, and there was a despairing look in his eyes. + +This made me forget my fear, and I had only one thought--to put him +out of his misery. When I leveled my rifle it was as steady as the rock +beside me. Aiming just below his ear, I pressed the trigger. The dull +report re-echoed from wall to wall. The bear lurched slightly, and his +head fell upon his outstretched paws. I waited, ready to shoot again +upon the slightest movement, but there was none. + +With rifle ready I cautiously approached the bear. As I came close he +seemed larger and larger, but he showed no signs of life. I looked at +the glossy black fur, the flecks of blood on the side of his head where +my bullet had entered, the murderous saw-teeth of the heavy trap biting +to the bone, and the cruelty of that trap seemed to drive from me all +pride of achievement. It was nothing except mercy to kill a trapped +crippled bear that could not run or fight. Then and there I gained a +dislike for trapping animals. + +The crack of the old hunter's rifle made me remember that I was to hurry +back up the other canyon, so I began to run. I bounded from stone to +stone, dashed over the sand-bars, jumped the brook, and went down that +canyon perhaps in far greater danger of bodily harm than when I had gone +up. + +But when I turned the corner it was another story. The first canyon had +been easy climbing compared to this one. It was narrow, steep, and full +of dead pines fallen from above. Running was impossible. I clambered +upward over the loose stones, under the bridges of pines, round the +boulders. Presently I heard a shout. I could not tell where it came +from, but I replied. A second call I identified as coming from high up +the ragged canyon side, and I started up. It was hard work. Certainly no +bears or hunter had climbed out just here. At length, sore, spent, and +torn, I fell out of a tangle of brush upon the edge of the canyon. Above +me rose the swelling mountain slope thickly covered with dwarf pines. + +“This way, youngster!” called the old hunter from my left. + +A few more dashes in and out of the brush and trees brought me to a +fairly open space with not much slope. Hiram Bent stood under a pine, +and at his feet lay a black furry mass. + +“Wal, I heerd you shoot. Reckon you got yourn?” + +“Yes, I killed him.... Say, Mr. Bent, I don't like traps.” + +“Nary do I--for bears,” replied he, shaking his gray head. “A trapped +bear is about the pitifulest thing I ever seen. But it's seldom one ever +gits into trap of mine.” + +“This one you shot must be the old mother bear. Where's the cub? Did it +get away?” + +“Not yet. Lookup in the tree.” + +I looked up the black trunk through the network of slender branches, and +saw the bear snuggling in a fork. His sharp ears stood up against the +sky. He was most anxiously gazing down at us. + +“Wal, tumble him out of thar,” said Hiram Bent. + +With a natural impulse to shoot I raised my rifle, but the cub looked so +attractive and so helpless that I hesitated. + +“I don't like to do it,” I said. “Oh, I wish we could catch him alive!” + +“Wal, I reckon we can.” + +“How?” I inquired, eagerly, and lowered my rifle. + +“Are you good on the climb?” + +“Climb? This tree? Why, with one hand. Back in Pennsylvania I climbed +shell-bark hickory-trees with the lowest limb fifty feet from the +ground. .. But there weren't any bears up them.” + +“You must keep out of his way if he comes down on you. He's a sassy +little chap. Now take this rope an' go up an' climb round him.” + +“Climb round him?” I queried, as I gazed dubiously upward. “You mean to +slip out on the branches and go up hand-over-hand till I get above him. +The branches up there seem pretty close--I might. But suppose he goes +higher?” + +“I'm lookin' fer him to go clean to the top. But you can beat him to +it--mebbe.” + +“Any danger of his attacking me--up there?” + +“Wal, not much. If he hugs the trunk he'll have to hold on fer all he's +worth. But if he stands on the branches an' you come up close he might +bat you one. Mebbe I'd better go up.” + +“Oh, I'm going--I only wanted to know what to expect. Now, in case I get +above him, what then?” + +“Make him back down till he reaches these first branches. When he gets +so far I'll tell you what to do.” I put my arm through the coil of rope, +and, slinging it snugly over my shoulder, began to climb the pine. It +was the work of only a moment to reach the first branch. + +“Wal, I reckon you're some relation to a squirrel at thet,” said Hiram +Bent. “Jest as I thought the little cuss is climbin' higher. Thet's +goin' to worry us.” + +It was like stepping up a ladder from the first branch to the fork. +The cub had gone up the right-hand trunk some fifteen feet, and was now +hugging it. At that short distance he looked alarmingly big. But I saw +he would have all he could do to hold on, and if I could climb the left +trunk and get above him there would be little to fear. How I did it +so quickly was a mystery, but amid the cracking of dead branches +and pattering of falling bark and swaying of the tree-top I gained a +position above him. + +He was so close that I could smell him. His quick little eyes snapped +fire and fear at once; he uttered a sound that was between a whine and a +growl. + +“Hey, youngster!” yelled Hiram, “thet's high enough--'tain't safe--be +careful now.” + +With the words I looked out below me, to see the old hunter standing in +the glade waving his arms. + +“I'm all right!” I yelled down. “Now, how'll I drive him?” + +“Break off a branch an' switch him.” + +There was not a branch above me that I could break, but a few feet below +was a slender, dead limb. I slid down and got it, and, holding on with +my left arm and legs, I began to thrash the cub. He growled fiercely. +snapped at the stick, and began to back down. + +“He's started!” I cried, in glee. “Go on, Cubby--down with you!” + +Clumsy as he was, he made swift time. I was hard put to keep close to +him. I slipped down the trunk--holding on one instant and sliding down +the next. But below the fork it was harder for Cubby and easier for +me. The branches rather hindered his backward progress while they aided +mine. Growling and whining, with long claws ripping the bark, he went +down. All of a sudden I became aware of the old hunter threshing about +under the tree. + +“Hold on--not so fast!” he yelled. + +Still the cub kept going, and stopped with his haunches on the first +branch. There, looking down, he saw an enemy below him, and hesitated. +But he looked up, and, seeing me, began to back down again. Hiram +pounded the tree with a dead branch. Cubby evidently intended to reach +the ground, for the noise did not stop him. Then the hunter ran a little +way to a windfall, and came back with the upper half of a dead sapling. +With this he began to prod the bear. Thereupon, Cubby lost no time in +getting up to the first branch again, where he halted. + +“Throw the noose on him now--anywhere,” ordered the hunter. “An' we've +no time to lose. He's gittin' sassier every minnit.” + +I dropped the wide loop upon Cubby, expecting to catch him first time. +The rope went over his head, but with a dexterous flip of his paw he +sent it flying. Then began a duel between us, in which he continually +got the better of me. All the while the old hunter prodded Cubby from +below. + +“You ain't quick enough,” said Hiram, impatiently. + +Made reckless by this, I stepped down to another branch directly over +the bear, and tried again to rope him. It was of no use. He slipped out +of the noose with the sinuous movements of an eel. Once it caught over +his ears and in his open jaws. He gave a jerk that nearly pulled me from +my perch. I could tell he was growing angrier every instant, and also +braver. Suddenly the noose, quite by accident, caught his nose. He +wagged his head and I pulled. The noose tightened. + +“I've got him!” I yelled, and gave the rope a strong pull. + +The bear stood up with startling suddenness and reached for me. + +“Climb!” shouted Hiram. + +I dropped the rope and leaped for the branch above, and, catching it, +lifted myself just as the sharp claws of the cub scratched hard over my +boot. + +Cubby now hugged the tree trunk and started up again. + +“We've got him!” yelled Hiram. “Don't move--step on his nose if he gets +too close.” + +Then I saw the halter had come off the bear and had fallen to the +ground. Hiram picked it up, arranged the noose, and, holding it in his +teeth began to limb after the bear. Cubby was now only a few feet under +me, working steadily up, growling, and his little eyes were like points +of green fire. + +“Stop him! Stand on his head!” mumbled Hiram, with the rope in his +teeth. + +“What!--not on your life!” + +But, reaching up, I grasped a branch, and, swinging clear of the lower +one, I began to kick at the bear. This stopped him. Then he squealed, +and began to kick on his own account. Hiram was trying to get the noose +over a hind foot. After several attempts he succeeded, and then threw +the rope over the lowest branch. I gave a wild Indian yell of triumph. +The next instant, before I could find a foothold, the branch to which I +was hanging snapped like a pistol-shot, and I plunged down with a crash. +I struck the bear and the lower branch, and then the ground. The fall +half stunned me. I thought every bone in my body was broken. I rose +unsteadily, and for a moment everything whirled before my eyes. Then I +discovered that the roar in my ears was the old hunter's yell. I saw him +hauling on the rope. There was a great ripping of bark and many strange +sounds, and then the cub was dangling head downward. Hiram had pulled +him from his perch, and hung him over the lowest branch. + +“Thar, youngster, git busy now!” yelled the hunter. “Grab the other +rope--thar it is--an' rope a front paw while I hold him. Lively now, +he's mighty heavy, an' if he ever gits down with only one rope on him +we'll think we're fast to chain lightnin'.” + +The bear swung about five feet from the ground. As I ran at him with the +noose he twisted himself, seemed to double up in a knot, then he dropped +full-stretched again, and lunged viciously at me. Twice I felt the wind +of his paws. He spun around so fast that it kept me dancing. I flung the +noose and caught his right paw. Hiram bawled something that made me all +the more heedless, and in tightening the noose I ran in too close. The +bear gave me a slashing cuff on the side of the head, and I went down +like a tenpin. + +“Git a hitch thar--to the saplin'!” roared Hiram, as I staggered to my +feet. “Rustle now--hurry!” + +What with my ringing head, and fingers all thumbs, and Hiram roaring +at me, I made a mess of tying the knot. Then Hiram let go his rope, and +when the cub dropped to the ground the rope flew up over the branch. +Cubby leaped so quickly that he jerked the rope away before Hiram could +pick it up, and one hard pull loosened my hitch on the sapling. + +The cub bounded through the glade, dragging me with him. For a few long +leaps I kept my feet, then down I sprawled. + +“Hang on! Hang on!” Hiram yelled from behind. + +If I had not been angry clear through at that cub I might have let go. +He ploughed my face in the dirt, and almost jerked my arms off. Suddenly +the strain lessened. I got up, to see that the old hunter had hold of +the other rope. + +“Now, stretch him out!” he yelled. + +Between us we stretched the cub out, so that all he could do was +struggle and paw the air and utter strange cries. Hiram tied his rope +to a tree, and then ran back to relieve me. It was high time. He took my +rope and fastened it to a stout bush. + +“Thar, youngster, I reckon thet'll hold him! Now tie his paws an' muzzle +him.” + +He drew some buckskin thongs from his pocket and handed them to me. We +went up to the straining cub, and Hiram, with one pull of his powerful +hands, brought the hind legs together. + +“Tie 'em,” he said. + +This done, with the aid of a heavy piece of wood he pressed the cub's +head down and wound a thong tightly round the sharp nose. Then he tied +the front legs. + +“Thar! Now you loosen the ropes an' wind them up.” + +When I had done this he lifted the cub and swung him over his broad +back. + +“Come on, you trail behind, an' keep your eye peeled to see he doesn't +work thet knot off his jaws.... Say, youngster, now you've got him, what +in thunder will you do with him?” + +I looked at my torn trousers, at the blood on my skinned and burning +hands, and I felt of the bruise on my head, as I said, grimly: “I'll +hang to him as long as I can.” + + + + +XIII. THE CABIN IN THE FOREST + +Hiram Bent packed the cub down the canyon as he would have handled a +sack of oats. When we reached the cabin he fastened a heavy dog-collar +round Cubby's neck and snapped a chain to it. Doubling the halter, he +tied one end to the chain and the other to a sturdy branch of a tree. +This done, he slipped the thongs off the bear. + +“Thar! He'll let you pet him in a few days mebbe,” he said. + +Our captive did not yet show any signs of becoming tame. No sooner was +he free of the buckskin thongs than he leaped away, only to be pulled up +by the halter. Then he rolled over and over, clawing at the chain, and +squirming to get his head out of the collar. + +“He might choke hisself,” said Hiram, “but mebbe he'll ease up if we +stay away from him. Now we've got to rustle to skin them two bears.” + +So, after giving me a hunting-knife, and telling me to fetch my rifle, +he set off up the canyon. As I trudged along behind him I spoke of +Dick Leslie, and asked if there were not some way to get him out of the +clutches of the lumber thieves. + +“I've been thinkin' about thet,” replied the hunter, “an' I reckon we +can. Tomorrow we'll cross the ridge high up back of thet spring-hole +canyon, an' sneak down. 'Pears to me them fellers will be trailin' you +pretty hard, an' mebbe they'll leave only one to guard Leslie. More'n +thet, the trail up here to my shack is known, an' I'm thinkin' we'd be +smart to go off an' camp somewhere else.” + +“What'll I do about Cubby?” I asked, quickly. + +“Cubby? Oh, thet bear cub. Wal, take him along. Youngster, you don't +want to pack thet pesky cub back to Pennsylvania?” + +“Yes, I do.” + +“I reckon it ain't likely you can. He's pretty heavy. Weighs nearly a +hundred. An' he'd make a heap of trouble. Mebbe we'll ketch a little +cub--one you can carry in your arms.” + +“That'd be still better,” I replied. “But if we don't, I'll try to take +him back home.” + +The old hunter said I made a good shot at the big bear, and that he +would give me the skin for a rug. It delighted me to think of that huge +glossy bearskin on the floor of my den. I told Hiram how the bear had +suffered, and I was glad to see that, although he was a hunter and +trapper, he disliked to catch a bear in a trap. We skinned the animal, +and cut out a quantity of meat. He told me that bear meat would make me +forget all about venison. By the time we had climbed up the other canyon +and skinned the other bear and returned to camp it was dark. As for me, +I was so tired I could hardly crawl. + +In spite of my aches and pains, that was a night for me to remember. +But there was the thought of Dick Leslie. His rescue was the only thing +needed to make me happy. Dick was in my mind even when Hiram cooked a +supper that almost made me forget my manners. Certainly the broiled bear +meat made me forget venison. Then we talked before the burning logs +in the stone fire-place. Hiram sat on his home-made chair and smoked +a strong-smelling pipe while I lay on a bearskin in blissful ease. +Occasionally we heard the cub outside rattling his chain and growling. +All of the trappers and Indian fighters I had read of were different +from Hiram Bent and Jim Williams. Jim's soft drawl and kind, twinkling +eyes were not what any book-reader would expect to find in a dangerous +man. And Hiram Bent was so simple and friendly, so glad to have even a +boy to talk to, that it seemed he would never stop. If it had not been +for his striking appearance and for the strange, wild tales he told of +his lonely life, he would have reminded me of the old canal-lock tenders +at home. + +Once, when he was refilling his pipe and I thought it would be a good +time to profit from his knowledge of the forests, I said to him: + +“Now, Mr. Bent, let's suppose I'm the President of the United States, +and I have just appointed you to the office of Chief Forester of the +National Forests. You have full power. The object is to conserve our +national resources. What will you do?” + +“Wal, Mr. President,” he began, slowly and seriously, and with great +dignity, “the Government must own the forests an' deal wisely with them. +These mountain forests are great sponges to hold the water, an' we +must stop fire an' reckless cuttin'. The first thing is to overcome +the opposition of the stockmen, an' show them where the benefit will be +theirs in the long run. Next the timber must be used, but not all used +up. We'll need rangers who're used to rustlin' in the West an' know +Western ways. Cabins must be built, trails made, roads cut. We'll need +a head forester for every forest. This man must know all that's on his +preserve, an' have it mapped. He must teach his rangers what he knows +about trees. Penetier will be given over entirely to the growin' of +yellow pine. Thet thrives best, an' the parasites must go. All dead an' +old timber must be cut, an' much of thet where the trees are crowded. +The north slopes must be cut enough to let in the sun an' light. Brush, +windfalls rottin' logs must be burned. Thickets of young pine must be +thinned. Care oughten be taken not to cut on the north an' west edges of +the forests, as the old guard pines will break the wind.” + +“How will you treat miners and prospectors?” + +“They must be as free to take up claims as if there wasn't no National +Forest.” + +“How about the settler, the man seeking a home out West?” I went on. + +“We'll encourage him. The more men there are, the better the forester +can fight fire. But those home-seekers must want a home, an' not be +squattin' for a little, jest to sell out to lumber sharks.” + +“What's to become of timber and wood?” + +“Wal, it's there to be used, an' must be used. We'll give it free to the +settler an' prospector. We'll sell it cheap to the lumbermen--big an' +little. We'll consider the wants of the local men first.” + +“Now about the range. Will you keep out the stockmen?” + +“Nary. Grazin' for sheep, cattle, an' hosses will go on jest the same. +But we must look out for overgrazin'. For instance, too many cattle will +stamp down young growth, an' too many sheep leave no grazin' for other +stock. The head forester must know his business, an' not let his range +be overstocked. The small local herders an' sheepmen must be considered +first, the big stockmen second. Both must be charged a small fee per +head for grazin'.” + +“How will you fight fire?” + +“Wal, thet's the hard nut to crack. Fire is the forest's worst enemy. +In a dry season like this Penetier would burn like tinder blown by a +bellows. Fire would race through here faster 'n a man could run. I'll +need special fire rangers, an' all other rangers must be trained to +fight fire, an' then any men living in or near the forest will be paid +to help. The thing to do is watch for the small fires an' put them out. +Campers must be made to put out their fires before leaving camp. Brush +piles an' slashes mustn't be burned in dry or windy weather.” + +Just where we left off talking I could not remember, for I dropped off +to sleep. I seemed hardly to have closed my eyes when the hunter called +me in the morning. The breakfast was smoking on the red-hot coals, and +outside the cabin all was dense gray fog. + +When, soon after, we started down the canyon, the fog was lifting and +the forest growing lighter. Everything was as white with frost as if it +had snowed. A thin, brittle frost crackled under our feet. When we, had +gotten below the rocky confines of the canyon we climbed the slope to +the level ridge. Here it was impossible not to believe it had snowed. +The forest was as still as night, and looked very strange with the +white aisles lined by black tree trunks and the gray fog shrouding the +tree-tops. Soon we were climbing again, and I saw that Hiram meant to +head the canyon where I had left Dick. + +The fog split and blew away, and the brilliant sunlight changed the +forest. The frost began to melt, and the air was full of mist. We +climbed and climbed--out of the stately yellow-pine zone, up among the +gnarled and blasted spruces, over and around strips of weathered stone. +Once I saw a cold, white snow-peak. It was hard enough for me to carry +my rifle and keep up with the hunter without talking. Besides, Hiram had +answered me rather shortly, and I thought it best to keep silent. From +time to time he stopped to listen. Then when he turned to go down the +slope be trod carefully, and cautioned me not to loosen stones, and he +went slower and yet slower. From this I made sure we were not far from +the springhole. + +“Thar's the canyon,” he whispered, stopping to point below, where a +black, irregular line marked the gorge. “I haven't heerd a thing, an' +we're close. Mebbe they're asleep. Mebbe most of them are trallin' you, +an' I hope so. Now, don't you put your hand or foot on anythin' thet'll +make a noise.” + +Then he slipped off, and it was wonderful to see how noiselessly he +stepped, and how he moved between trees and dead branches without a +sound. I managed pretty well, yet more than once a rattling stone or a +broken branch stopped Hiram short and made him lift a warning hand. + +At last we got down to the narrow bench which separated the canyon-slope +from the deep cut. It was level and roughly strewn with boulders. Here +we took to all fours and crawled. It was easy to move here without +noise, for the ground was rocky and hard, and there was no brush. + +Suddenly I fairly bumped into the hunter. Looking up, I saw that he had +halted only a few feet from the edge of the gorge where I had climbed +out in my escape. He was listening. There was not a sound save the dull +roar of rushing water. + +Hiram slid forward a little, and rose cautiously to look over. I did +the same. When I saw the cave and the spring-hole I felt a catch in my +throat. + +But there was not a man in sight. Dick's captors had broken camp; they +were gone. The only thing left in the gorge to show they had ever been +there was a burned-out campfire. + +“They're gone,” I whispered. + +“Wal, it 'pears so,” replied Hiram. “An' it's a move I don't like. +Youngster, it's you they want. Leslie's no particular use to them. +They'll have to let him go sooner or later, if they hain't already.” + +“What'll we do now?” + +“Make tracks. We'll cut back acrost the ridge an' git some blankets an' +grub, then light out for the other side of Penetier.” + +I thought the old hunter had made rapid time on our way up, but now I +saw what he really meant by “making tracks.” Fortunately, after a short, +killing climb, the return was all down-hill. One stride of Hiram's +equalled two of mine, and he made his faster, so that I had to trot now +and then to catch up. Very soon I was as hot as fire, and every step was +an effort. But I kept thinking of Dick, of my mustang and outfit, and I +vowed I would stick to Hiram Bent's trail till I dropped. For the matter +of that I did drop more than once before we reached the cabin. + +A short rest while Hiram was packing a few things put me right again. I +strapped my rifle over my shoulder, and then went out to untie my bear +cub. It would have cost me a great deal to leave him behind. I knew I +ought to, still I could not bring myself to it. All my life I had wanted +a bear cub. Here was one that I had helped to lasso and tie up with my +own hands. I made up my mind to hold to the cub until the last gasp. + +So I walked up to Cubby with a manner more bold than sincere. He had not +eaten anything, but he had drunk the water we had left for him. To my +surprise he made no fuss when I untied the rope; on the other hand, he +seemed to look pleased, and I thought I detected a cunning gleam in his +little eyes. He paddled away down the canyon, and, as this was in the +direction we wanted to go, I gave him slack rope and followed. + +“Wal, you're goin' to have a right pert time, youngster, an' don't you +forget it,” said Hiram Bent. + +The truth of that was very soon in evidence. Cubby would not let well +enough alone, and he would not have a slack rope. I think he wanted to +choke himself or pull my arms out. When I realized that Cubby was three +times as strong as I was I began to see that my work was cut out for +me. The more, however, that he jerked me and hauled me along, the more I +determined to hang on. I thought I had a genuine love for him up to the +time he had almost knocked my head off, but it was funny how easily +he roused my anger after that. What would have happened had he taken +a notion to go through the brush? Luckily he kept to the trail, which +certainly was rough enough. So, with watching the cub and keeping my +feet free of roots and rocks, I had no chance to look ahead. Still I had +no concern about this, for the old hunter was at my heels, and I knew he +would keep a sharp lookout. + +Before I was aware of it we had gotten out of the narrow canyon into a +valley with well-timbered bottom, and open, slow rising slopes. We were +getting down into Penetier. Cubby swerved from the trail and started up +the left slope. I did not want to go, but I had to keep with him, and +that was the only way. The hunter strode behind without speaking, and so +I gathered that the direction suited him. By leaning back on the rope +I walked up the slope as easily as if it were a moving stairway. Cubby +pulled me up; I had only to move my feet. When we reached a level once +more I discovered that the cub was growing stronger and wanted to go +faster. We zigzagged across the ridge to the next canyon, which at a +glance I saw was deep and steep. + +“Thet'll be some work goin' down that!” called Hiram. “Let me pack your +gun.” + +I would have been glad to give it to him, but how was I to manage? I +could not let go of the rope, and Hiram, laden as he was, could not +catch up with me. Then suddenly it was too late, for Cubby lunged +forward and down. + +This first downward jump was not vicious--only a playful one perhaps, +by way of initiating me; but it upset me, and I was dragged in the +pine-needles. I did not leap to my feet; I was jerked up. Then began a +wild chase down that steep, bushy slope. Cubby got going, and I could no +more have checked him than I could a steam-engine. Very soon I saw that +not only was the bear cub running away, but he was running away with me. +I slid down yellow places where the earth was exposed, I tore through +thickets, I dodged a thousand trees. In some grassy descents it was as +if I had seven-league boots. I must have broken all records for jumps. +All at once I stumbled just as Cubby made a spurt and flew forward, +alighting face downward. I dug up the pine--needles with my outstretched +hands, I scraped with my face and ploughed with my nose, I ate the dust; +and when I brought up with a jolt against a log a more furious boy than +Ken Ward it would be bard to imagine. Leaping up, I strove with +every ounce of might to hold in the bear. But though fury lent me new +strength, he kept the advantage. + +Presently I saw the bottom of the canyon, an open glade, and an old +log-cabin. I looked back to see if the hunter was coming. He was not in +sight, but I fancied I heard him. Then Cubby, putting on extra steam, +took the remaining rods of the slope in another spurt. I had to race, +then fly, and at last lost my footing and plunged down into a thicket. + +There farther progress stopped for both of us. Cubby had gone down on +one side of a sapling and I on the other, with the result that we were +brought up short. I crashed through some low bushes and bumped squarely +into the cub. Whether it was his frantic effort to escape, or just +excitement, or deliberate intention to beat me into a jelly I had no +means to tell. The fact was he began to dig at me and paw me and maul +me. Never had I been so angry. I began to fight back, to punch and kick +him. + +Suddenly, with a crashing in the bushes, the cub was hauled away from +me, and then I saw Hiram at the rope. + +“Wal, wal!” he ejaculated, “your own mother wouldn't own you now!” Then +he laughed heartily and chuckled to himself, and gave the cub a couple +of jerks that took the mischief out of him. I dragged myself after Hiram +into the glade. The cabin was large and very old, and part of the roof +was sunken in. + +“We'll hang up here an' camp,” said Hiram. “This is an old hunters' +cabin, an' kinder out of the way. We'll hitch this little fighter +inside, where mebbe he won't be so noisy.” + +The hunter hauled the cub up short, and half pulled, half lifted him +into the door. I took off my rifle, emptied my pockets of brush and beat +out the dust, and combed the pine-needles from my hair. My hands were +puffed and red, and smarted severely. And altogether I was in no amiable +frame of mind as regarded my captive bear cub. + +When I stepped inside the cabin it was dark, and coming from the bright +light I could not for a moment see what the interior looked like. +Presently I made out one large room with no opening except the door. +There was a tumble-down stone fireplace at one end, and at the other a +rude ladder led up to a loft. Hiram had thrown his pack aside, and had +tied Cubby to a peg in the log wall. + +“Wal, I'll fetch in some fresh venison,” said the hunter. “You rest +awhile, an' then gather some wood an' make a fire.” + +The rest I certainly needed, for I was so tired I could scarcely +untie the pack to get out the blankets. The bear cub showed signs or +weariness, which pleased me. It was not long after Hiram's departure +that I sank into a doze. + +When my eyes opened I knew I had been awakened by something, but I could +not tell what. I listened. Cubby was as quiet as a mouse, and his very +quiet and the alert way he held his ears gave me a vague alarm. He had +heard something. I thought of the old hunter's return, yet this did not +reassure me. + +All at once the voices of men made me sit up with a violent start. Who +could they be? Had Hiram met a ranger? I began to shake a little, and +was about to creep to the door when I heard the clink of stirrups and +soft thud of hoofs. Then followed more voices, and last a loud volley of +curses. + +“Herky-Jerky!” I gasped, and looked about wildly. + +I had no time to dash out of the door. I was caught in a trap, and I +felt cold and sick. Suddenly I caught sight of the ladder leading to +the loft. Like a monkey I ran up, and crawled as noiselessly as possible +upon the rickety flooring of dry pine branches. Then I lay there +quivering. + + + + +XIV. A PRISONER + +It chanced that as I lay on my side my eye caught a gleam of light +through a little ragged hole in the matting of pine branches. Part of +the interior of the cabin, the doorway, and some space outside were +plainly visible. The thud of horses had given place to snorts, and then +came a flopping of saddles and packs on the ground. “Any water hyar?” + asked a gruff voice I recognized as Bill's. “Spring right thar,” replied +a voice I knew to be Bud's. + +“You onery old cayuse, stand still!” + +From that I gathered Herky was taking the saddle off his horse. + +“Here, Leslie, I'll untie you--if you'll promise not to bolt.” + +That voice was Buell's. I would have known it among a thousand. And Dick +was still a prisoner. + +“Bolt! If you let me loose I'll beat your fat head off!” replied Dick. +“Ha! A lot you care about my sore wrists. You're weakening, Buell, and +you know it. You've got a yellow streak.” + +“Shet up!” said Herky, in a low, sharp tone. A silence followed. “Buell, +look hyar in the trail. Tracks! Goin' in an' comin' out.” + +“How old are they?” + +“I'll bet a hoss they ain't an hour old.” + +“Somebody's usin' the cabin, eh?” + +The men then fell to whispering, and I could not understand what was +said, but I fancied they were thinking only of me. My mind worked fast. +Buell and his fellows had surely not run across Hiram Bent. Had the old +hunter deserted me? I flouted such a thought. It was next to a certainty +that he had seen the lumbermen, and for reasons best known to himself +had not returned to the cabin. But he was out there somewhere among the +pines, and I did not think any of those ruffians was safe. + +Then I heard stealthy footsteps approaching. Soon I saw the Mexican +slipping cautiously to the door. He peeped within. Probably the interior +was dark to him, as it had been to me. He was not a coward, for he +stepped inside. + +At that instant there was a clinking sound, a rush and a roar, and a +black mass appeared to hurl itself upon the Mexican. He went down with +a piercing shriek. Then began a fearful commotion. Screams and roars +mingled with the noise of combat. I saw a whirling cloud of dust on +the cabin floor. The cub had jumped on the Mexican. What an unmerciful +beating he was giving that Greaser! I could have yelled out in my glee. +I had to bite my tongue to keep from urging on my docile little pet +bear. Greaser surely thought he had fallen in with his evil spirit, for +he howled to the saints to save him. + +Herky-Jerky was the only one of his companions brave enough to start to +help him. + +“The cabin's full of b'ars!” he yelled. + +At his cry the bear leaped out of the cloud of dust, and shot across +the threshold like black lightning. In his onslaught upon Greaser he had +broken his halter. Herky-Jerky stood directly in his path. I caught only +a glimpse, but it served to show that Herky was badly scared. The cub +dove at Herky, under him, straight between his legs like a greased pig, +and, spilling him all over the trail, sped on out of sight. Herky raised +himself, and then he sat there, red as a lobster, and bawled curses +while he made his huge revolver spurt flame on flame. + +I could not see the other men, but their uproarious mirth could have +been heard half a mile away. When it dawned upon Herky, he was so +furious that he spat at them like an angry cat and clicked his empty +revolver. + +Then Greaser lurched out of the door. I got a glimpse of him, and, for a +wonder, was actually sorry for him. He looked as if he had been through +a threshing-machine. + +“Haw! haw! Ho! ho!” roared the merry lumbermen. + +Then they trooped into the cabin. Buell headed the line, and Herky, +sullenly reloading his revolver, came last. At first they groped around +in the dim light, stumbling over everything. Part of the time they were +in the light space near the door, and the rest I could not see them. I +scarcely dared to breathe. I felt a creepy chill, and my eyesight grew +dim. + +“Who does this stuff belong to, anyhow?” Buell was saying. “An' what was +thet bear doin' in here?” + +“He was roped up--hyar's the hitch,” answered Bud. + +“An' hyar's a rifle--Winchester--ain't been used much. Buell, it's thet +kid's!” + +I heard rapid footsteps and smothered exclamations. + +“Take it from me, you're right!” ejaculated Buell. “We jest missed him. +Herky, them tracks out there? Somebody's with this boy--who?” + +“It's Jim Williams,” put in Dick Leslie, cool-voiced and threatening. + +The little stillness that followed his words was broken by Buell. + +“Naw! 'Twasn't Williams. You can't bluff this bunch, Leslie. By your own +words Williams is lookin' for us, an' if he's lookin' for anybody I know +he's lookin' for 'em. See!” + +“Buell, the kid's fell in with old Bent, the b'ar hunter,” said Bill. +“Thet accounts fer the cub. Bent's allus got cubs, an' kittens, an' +sich. An' I'll tell you, he ain't no better friend of ourn than Jim +Williams.” + +“I'd about as soon tackle Williams as Bent,” put in Bud. + +Buell shook his fist. “What luck the kid has! But I'll get him, take it +from me! Now, what's best to do?” + +“Buell, the game's going against you,” said Dick Leslie. “The +penitentiary is where you'll finish. You'd better let me loose. Old +Bent will find Jim Williams, and then you fellows will be up against it. +There's going to be somebody killed. The best thing for you to do is to +let me go and then cut out yourself.” + +Buell breathed as heavily as a porpoise, and his footsteps pounded hard. + +“Leslie, I'm seein' this out--understand? When Bud rode down to the mill +an' told me the kid had got away I made up my mind to ketch him an' shet +his mouth--one way or another. An' I'll do it. Take thet from me!” + +“Bah!” sneered Dick. “You're sca'red into the middle of next week right +now.... Besides, if you do ketch Ken it won't do you any good-now!” + +“What?” + +But Dick shut up like a clam, and not another word could be gotten from +him. Buell fumed and stamped. + +“Bud, you're the only one in this bunch of loggerheads thet has any +sense. What d'you say?” + +“Quiet down an' wait here,” replied Bud. “Mebbe old Bent didn't hear +them shots of Herky's. He may come back. Let's wait awhile, an', if he +doesn't come, put Herky on the trail.” + +“Good! Greaser, go out an' hide the hosses--drive them up the canyon.” + +The Mexican shuffled out, and all the others settled down to quiet. I +heard some of them light their pipes. Bud leaned against the left of +the door, Buell sat on the other side, and beyond them I saw as much of +Herky as his boots. I knew him by his bow-legs. + +The stillness that set in began to be hard on me'. When the men were +moving about and talking I had been so interested that my predicament +did not occupy my mind. But now, with those ruffians waiting silently +below, I was beset with a thousand fears. The very consciousness that I +must be quiet made it almost impossible. Then I became aware that my one +position cramped my arm and side. A million prickling needles were at +my elbow. A band as of steel tightened about my breast. I grew hot and +cold, and trembled. I knew the slightest move would be fatal, so I bent +all my mind to lying quiet as a stone. + +Greaser came limping back into the cabin, and found a seat without any +one speaking. It was so still that I heard the silken rustle of paper as +he rolled a cigarette. Moments that seemed long as years passed, with my +muscles clamped as in a vise. If only I had lain down upon my back! +But there I was, half raised on my elbow, in a most awkward and +uncomfortable position. I tried not to mind the tingling in my arm, +but to think of Hiram, of Jim, of my mustang. But presently I could not +think of anything except the certainty that I would soon lose control of +my muscles and fall over. + +The tingling changed to a painful vibration, and perspiration stung my +face. The strain became unbearable. All of a sudden something seemed +to break within me, and my muscles began to ripple and shake. I had no +power to stop it. More than that, the feeling was so terrible that I +knew I would welcome discovery as a relief. + +“Sh-s-s-h!” whispered some one below. + +I turned my eyes down to the peep-hole. Bud had moved over squarely into +the light of the door. He was bending over something. Then he extended +his hand, back uppermost, toward Buell. On the back of that broad brown +hand were pieces of leaf and bits of pine-needles. The trembling of +my body had shaken these from the brush on the rickety loft. More than +that, in the yellow bar of sunlight which streamed in at the door there +floated particles of dust. + +Bud silently looked upward. There was a gleam in his black eyes, and his +mouth was agape. Buell's gaze followed Bud's, and his face grew curious, +intent, then fixed in a cunning, bold smile of satisfaction. He rose to +his feet. + +“Come down out o' thet!” he ordered, harshly. “Come down!” + +The sound of his voice stilled my trembling. I did not move nor breathe. +I saw Buell loom up hugely and Bud slowly rise. Herky-Jerky's boots +suddenly stood on end, and I knew then he had also risen. The silence +which followed Buell's order was so dense that it oppressed me. + +“Come down!” repeated Buell. + +There was no hint of doubt in his deep voice, but a cold certainty and a +brutal note. I had feared the man before, but that gave me new terror. + +“Bud, climb the ladder,” commanded Buell. + +“I ain't stuck on thet job,” rejoined Bud. + +As his heavy boots thumped on the ladder they jarred the whole cabin. My +very desperation filled me with the fierceness of a cornered animal. +I caught sight of a short branch of the thickness of a man's arm, +and, grasping it, I slowly raised myself. When Bud's black, round head +appeared above the loft I hit it with all my might. + +Bud bawled like a wounded animal, and fell to the ground with the noise +of a load of bricks. Through my peep-hole I saw him writhing, with both +hands pressed to his head. Then, lying flat on his back, he whipped out +his revolver. I saw the red spurt, the puff of smoke. Bang! + +A bullet zipped through the brush, and tore a hole through the roof. + +Bang! Bang! + +I felt a hot, tearing pain in my arm. + +“Stop, you black idiot!” yelled Buell. He kicked the revolver out of +Bud's hand. “What d'you mean by thet?” + +In the momentary silence that followed I listened intently, even while +I held tightly to my arm. From its feeling my arm seemed to be shot off, +but it was only a flesh-wound. After the first instant of shock I was +not scared. But blood flowed fast. Warm, oily, slippery, it ran down +inside my shirt sleeve and dripped off my fingers. + +“Bud,” hoarsely spoke up Bill, breaking the stillness, “mebbe you killed +him!” + +Buell coughed, as if choking. + +“What's thet?” For once his deep voice was pitched low. “Listen.” + +Drip! drip! drip! It was like the sound of water dripping from a leak +in a roof. It was directly under me, and, quick as thought, I knew the +sound was made by my own dripping blood. + +“Find thet, somebody,” ordered Buell. + +Drip! drip! drip! + +One of the men stepped noisily. + +“Hyar it is--thar,” said Bill. “Look on my hand.... Blood! I knowed it. +Bud got him, all right.” + +There was a sudden rustling such as might come from a quick, strained +movement. + +“Buell,” cried Dick Leslie, in piercing tones, “Heaven help you +murdering thieves if that boy's killed! I'll see you strung up right in +this forest. Ken, speak! Speak!” + +It seemed then, in my pain and bitterness, that I would rather let Buell +think me dead. Dick's voice went straight to my heart, but I made no +answer. + +“Leslie, I didn't kill him, an' I didn't order it,” said Buell, in a +voice strangely shrunk and shaken. “I meant no harm to the lad.... Go +up, Bud, an' get him.” + +Bud made no move, nor did Greaser when he was ordered. “Go up, somebody, +an' see what's up there!” shouted Buell. “Strikes me you might go +yourself,” said Bill, coolly. + +With a growl Buell mounted the ladder. When his great shock head hove +in sight I was seized by a mad desire to give him a little of his own +medicine. With both hands I lifted the piece of pine branch and brought +it down with every ounce of strength in me. + +Like a pistol it cracked on Buell's head and snapped into bits. The +lumberman gave a smothered groan, then clattered down the ladder and +rolled on the floor. There he lay quiet. + +“All-fired dead--thet kid--now, ain't he?” said Bud, sarcastically. +“How'd you like thet crack on the knob? You'll need a larger size hat, +mebbe. Herky-Jerky, you go up an' see what's up there.” + +“I've a picture of myself goin',” replied Herky, without moving. + +“Whar's the water? Get some water, Greaser,” chimed in Bill. + +From the way they worked over Buell, I concluded he had been pretty +badly stunned. But he came to presently. + +“What struck me?” he asked. + +“Oh, nothin',” replied Bud, derisively. “The loft up thar's full of air, +an' it blowed on you, thet's all.” + +Buell got up, and began walking around. + +“Bill, go out an' fetch in some long poles,” he said. + +When Bill returned with a number of sharp, bayonet-like pikes I knew +the game was all up for me. Several of the men began to prod through the +thin covering of dry brush. One of them reached me, and struck so hard +that I lurched violently. + +That was too much for the rickety loft floor. It was only a bit of brush +laid on a netting of slender poles. It creaked, rasped, and went down +with a crash. I alighted upon somebody, and knocked him to the floor. +Whoever it was, seized me with iron hands. I was buried, almost +smothered, in the dusty mass. My captor began to curse cheerfully, and I +knew then that Herky-Jerky had made me a prisoner. + + + + +XV. THE FIGHT + +Herky hauled me out of the brush, and held me in the light. The +others scrambled from under the remains of the loft, and all viewed me +curiously. + +“Kid, you ain't hurt much?” queried Buell, with concern. + +I would have snapped out a reply, but I caught sight of Dick's pale face +and anxious eyes. + +“Ken,” he called, with both gladness and doubt in his voice, “you look +pretty good--but that blood.... Tell me, quick!” + +“It's nothing, Dick, only a little cut. The bullet just ticked my arm.” + +Whatever Dick's reply was it got drowned in Herky-Jerky's long explosion +of strange language. Herky was plainly glad I had not been badly hurt. I +had already heard mirth, anger, disgust, and fear in his outbreaks, and +now relief was added. He stripped off my coat, cut off the bloody sleeve +of my shirt, and washed the wound. It was painful and bled freely, but +it was not much worse than cuts from spikes when playing ball. Herky +bound it tightly with a strip of my shirt-sleeve, and over that my +handkerchief. + +“Thar, kid, thet'll stiffen up an' be sore fer a day or two, but it +ain't nothin'. You'll soon be bouncin' clubs offen our heads.” + +It was plain that Herky--and the others, for that matter, except +Buell--thought more of me because I had wielded a club so vigorously. + +“Look at thet lump, kid,” said Bud, bending his head. “Now, ain't thet a +nice way to treat a feller? It made me plumb mad, it did.” + +“I'm likely to hurt somebody yet,” I declared. + +They looked at me curiously. Buell raised his face with a queer smile. +Bud broke into a laugh. + +“Oh, you're goin' to? Mebbe you think you need an axe,” said he. + +They made no offer to tie me up then. Bud went to the door and sat in +it, and I heard him half whisper to Buell: “What 'd I tell you? Thet's +a game kid. If he ever wakes up right we'll have a wildcat on our hands. +He'll do fer one of us yet.” These men all took pleasure in saying +things like this to Buell. This time Buell had no answer ready, and sat +nursing his head. “Wal, I hev a little headache myself, an' the crack I +got wasn't nothin' to yourn,” concluded Bud. Then Bill began packing the +supplies indoors, and Herky started a fire. Bud kept a sharp eye on me; +still, he made no objection when I walked over and lay down upon the +blankets near Dick. + +“Dick, I shot a bear and helped to tie up a cub,” I said. And then I +told him all that had happened from the time I scrambled out of the +spring-hole till I was discovered up in the loft. Dick shook his head, +as if he did not know what to make of me, and all he said was that he +would give a year's pay to have me safe back in Pennsylvania. + +Herky-Jerky announced supper in his usual manner--a challenge to find +as good a cook as he was, and a cheerful call to “grub.” I did not +know what to think of his kindness to me. Remembering how he had nearly +drowned me in the spring, I resented his sudden change. He could not do +enough for me. I asked the reason for my sudden popularity. + +Herky scratched his head and grinned. “Yep, kid, you sure hev riz in my +estimashun.” + +“Hey, you rummy cow-puncher,” broke in Bud, scornfully. “Mebbe you'd +like the kid more'n you do if you'd got one of them wollops.” + +“Bud, I ain't sayin',” replied Herky, with his mouth full of meat. +“Considerin' all points, howsoever, I'm thinkin' them wallops was +distributed very proper.” + +They bandied such talk between them, and occasionally Bill chimed +in with a joke. Greaser ate in morose silence. There must have been +something on his mind. Buell took very little dinner, and appeared to be +in pain. It was dark when the meal ended. Bud bound me up for the night, +and he made a good job of it. My arm burned and throbbed, but not badly +enough to prevent sleep. Twice I had nearly dropped off when loud laughs +or voices roused me. My eyes closed with a picture of those rough, dark +men sitting before the fire. + +A noise like muffled thunder burst into my slumber. I awakened with my +body cramped and stiff. It was daylight, and something had happened. +Buell ran in and out of the cabin yelling at his men. All of them except +Herky were wildly excited. Buell was abusing Bud for something, and Bud +was blaming Buell. + +“Thet's no way to talk to me!” said Bud, angrily. “He didn't break loose +in my watch!' + +“You an' Greaser had the job. Both of you--went to sleep--take thet from +me!” + +“Wal, he's gone, an' he took the kid's gun with him,” said Bill, coolly. +“Now we'll be dodgin' bullets.” + +Dick Leslie had escaped! I could hardly keep down a cry of triumph. I +did ask if it was true, but none of them paid any attention to me. Buell +then ordered Herky-Jerky to trail Dick and see where he had gone. Herky +refused point-blank. “Nope. Not fer me,” he said. “Leslie has a rifle. +So has Bent, an' we haven't one among us. An', Buell, if Leslie falls in +with Bent, it's goin' to git hot fer us round here.” + +This silenced Buell, but did not stop his restless pacings. His face was +like a thunder-cloud, and he was plainly worried and harassed. Once Bud +deliberately asked what he intended to do with me, and Buell snarled a +reply which no one understood. His gloom extended to the others, except +Herky, who whistled and sang as he busied himself about the campfire. +Greaser appeared to be particularly cast down. + +“Buell, what are you going to do with me?” I demanded. But he made no +answer. + +“Well, anyway,” I went on, “somebody cut these ropes. I'm mighty sore +and uncomfortable.” + +Herky-Jerky did not wait for permission; he untied me, and helped me to +my feet. I was rather unsteady on my legs at first, and my injured arm +felt like a board. It seemed dead; but after I had moved it a little the +pain came back, and it had apparently come to stay. We ate breakfast, +and then settled down to do nothing, or to wait for something to turn +up. Buell sat in the doorway, moodily watching the trail. Once he spoke, +ordering the Mexican to drive in the horses. I fancied from this that +Buell might have decided to break camp, but there was no move to pack. + +The morning quiet was suddenly split by the stinging crack of a rifle +and a yell of agony. + +Buell leaped to his feet, his ruddy face white. + +“Greaser!” he exclaimed. + +“Thet was about where Greaser cashed,” relied Bill, coolly knocking the +ashes from his pipe. + +“No, Bill, you're wrong. Here comes Greaser, runnin' like an Indian.” + +“Look at the blood! He's been plugged, all right!” exclaimed +Herky-Jerky. + +The sound of running feet drew nearer, and suddenly the group at the +door broke to admit the Mexican. One side of his terrified face +was covered with blood. His eyes were staring, his hands raised, he +staggered as if about to fall. + +“Senyor William! Senyor William!” he cried, and then called on Saint +Somebody. + +“Jim Williams! I said so,” muttered Bud. + +Bill caught hold of the excited Mexican, and pulled him nearer the +light. + +“Thet ain't a bad hurt. Jest cut his ear off!” aid Bill. “Hyar, stand +still, you wild man! you're not goin' to die. Git some water, Herky. +Fellers, Greaser has been oneasy ever since he knew Jim Williams was +lookin' fer him. He thinks Jim did this. But Jim Williams don't use a +rifle, an', what's more, when he shoots he don't miss. You all heerd the +rifle-shot.” + +“Then it was old Bent or Leslie?” questioned Buell. + +“Leslie it were. Bent uses a 45-90 caliber. Thet shot we heerd was from +the little 38--the kid's gun.” + +“Wal, it was a narrer escape fer Greaser,” said Bud. “Leslie's sore, an' +he'll shoot fer keeps. Buell, you've started somethin'.” + +When Bill had washed the blood off the Mexican it was found that the +ball had carried away the lower part of the ear, and with it, of +course, the gold earring. The wound must have been extremely painful; +it certainly took all the starch out of Greaser. He kept mumbling in his +own language, and rolling his wicked black eyes and twisting his thin, +yellow hands. + +“What's to be done?” asked Buell, sharply. + +“Thet's fer you to say,” replied Bill, with his exasperating calmness. + +“Must we hang up here to be shot at? Leslie's takin' a long chance on +thet kid's life if he comes slingin' lead round this cabin.” + +Herky-Jerky spat tobacco-juice across the room and grunted. Then, with +his beady little eyes as keen and cold as flint, he said: “Buell, Leslie +knows you daren't harm the kid; an' as fer bullets, he'll take good care +where he stings 'em. This deal of ours begins to look like a wild-goose +stunt. It never was safe, an' now it's worse.” + +Here was even Herky-Jerky harping on Buell's situation. To me it did not +appear much more serious than before. But evidently they thought Buell +seemed on the verge of losing control of himself. He glared at Herky, +and rammed his fists in his pockets and paced the long room. Presently +he stepped out of the door. + +A rifle cracked clear and sharp, another bellowed out heavy and hollow. +A bullet struck the door-post, a second hummed through the door and +budded into the log wall. Buell jumped back into the room. His face +worked, his breath hissed between his teeth, as with trembling hand +he examined the front of his coat. A big bullet had torn through both +lapels. + +Bill stuck his pudgy finger in the hole. “The second bullet made thet. +It was from old Hiram's gun--a 45-90!” + +“Bent an' Leslie! My God! They're shootin' to kill!” cried Buell. + +“I should smile,” replied Herky-Jerky. + +Bud was peeping out through a chink between the logs. “I got their +smoke,” he said; “look, Bill, up the slope. They're too fur off, but we +may as well send up respects.” With that he aimed his revolver through +the narrow crack and deliberately shot six times. The reports clapped +like thunder, the smoke from burnt powder and the smell of brimstone +filled the room. By way of reply old Hiram's rifle boomed out twice, and +two heavy slugs crashed through the roof, sending down a shower of dust +and bits of decayed wood. + +“Thet's jist to show what a 45-90 can do,” remarked Bill. + +Bud reloaded his weapon while Bill shot several times. Herky-Jerky +had his gun in hand, but contented himself with peering from different +chinks between the logs. I hid behind the wide stone fireplace, and +though I felt pretty safe from flying bullets, I began to feel the icy +grip of fear. I had seen too much of these men in excitement, and knew +if circumstances so brought it about there might come a moment when +my life would not be worth a pin. They were all sober now, and deadly +quiet. Buell showed the greatest alarm, though he had begun to settle +down to what looked like fight. Herky was more fearless than any of +them, and cooler even than Bill. All at once I missed the Mexican. If +he had not slipped out of the room he had hidden under the brush of the +fallen loft or in a pile of blankets. But the room was smoky, and it was +hard for me to be certain. + +Some time passed with no shots and with no movement inside the cabin. +Slowly the blue smoke wafted out of the door. The sunlight danced in +gleams through the holes in the ragged roof. There was a pleasant swish +of pine branches against the cabin. + +“Listen,” whispered Bud, hoarsely. “I heerd a pony snort.” + +Then the rapid beat of hard hoofs on the trail was followed by several +shots from the hillside. Soon the clatter of hoofs died away in the +distance. + +“Who was thet?” asked three of Buell's men in unison. + +“Take it from me, Greaser's sneaked,” replied Buell. + +“How'd he git out?” + +With that Bud and Bill began kicking in the piles of brush. + +“Aha! Hyar's the place,” sang out Bud. + +In one corner of the back wall a rotten log had crumbled, and here it +was plain to all eyes that Greaser had slipped out. I remembered that +on this side of the cabin there was quite a thick growth of young +pine. Greaser had been able to conceal himself as he crawled toward the +horses, and had probably been seen at the last moment. Herky-Jerky was +the only one to make comment. + +“I ain't wishin' Greaser any hard luck, but hope he carried away a +couple Of 45-90 slugs somewheres in his yaller carcass.” + +“It'd be worth a lot to the feller who can show me a way out of this +mess,” said Buell, mopping the beads of sweat from his face. + +I got up--it seemed to me my mind was made up for me--and walked into +the light of the room. + +“Buell, I can show you the way,” I said, quietly. + +“What!” His mouth opened in astonishment. “Speak up, then.” + +The other men stepped forward, and I felt their eyes upon me. + +“Let me go free. Let me out of here to find Dick Leslie! Then when you +go to jail in Holston for stealing lumber I'll say a good word for you +and your men. There won't be any charge of kidnapping or violence.” + +After a long pause, during which Buell bored me with gimlet eyes, he +said, in a queer voice: “Say thet again.” + +I repeated it, and added that he could not gain anything now by holding +me a prisoner. I think he saw what I meant, but hated to believe it. + +“It's too late,” I said, as he hesitated. + +“You mean Leslie lied an' you fooled me--you did get to Holston?” he +shouted. He was quivering with rage, and the red flamed in his neck and +face. + +“Buell, I did get to Holston and I did send word to Washington,” I +went on, hurriedly for I had begun to lose my calmness. “I wrote to +my father. He knows a friend of the Chief Forester who is close to the +Department at Washington. By this time Holston is full of officers of +the forest service. Perhaps they're already at your mill. Anyway, the +game's up, and you'd better let me go.” + +Buell's face lost all its ruddy color, slowly blanched, and changed +terribly. The boldness fled, leaving it craven, almost ghastly. +Realizing he had more to fear from the law than conviction of his latest +lumber steal, he made at me in blind anger. + +“Hold on!” Herky-Jerky yelled, as he jumped between Buell and me. + +Buell's breath was a hiss, and the words he bit between his clinched +teeth were unintelligible. In that moment he would have killed me. + +Herky-Jerky met his onslaught, and flung him back. Then, with his hand +on the butt of his revolver, he spoke: + +“Buell, hyar's where you an' me split. You've bungled your big deal. The +kid stacked the deck on you. But I ain't a-goin' to see you do him harm +fer it.” + +“Herky's right, boss,” put in Bill, “thar's no sense in addin' murder to +this mess. Strikes me you're in bad enough.” + +“So thet's your game? You're double-crossin' me now--all on a chance at +kidnappin' for ransom money. Well, I'm through with the kid an' all of +you. Take thet from me!” + +“You skunk!” exclaimed Herky-Jerky, with the utmost cheerfulness. + +“Wal, Buell,” said Bill, in cool disdain, “comsiderin' my fondness fer +fresh air an' open country, I can't say I'm sorry to dissolve future +relashuns. I was only in jail onct, an' I couldn't breathe free.” + +It was then Buell went beside himself with rage. He raised his huge +fists, and shook himself, and plunged about the room, cursing. Suddenly +he picked up an axe, and began chopping at the rotten log above the +hole where Greaser had slipped out. Bud yelled at him, so did Bill; +Herky-Jerky said unpleasant things. But Buell did not hear them. He +hacked and dug away like one possessed. The dull, sodden blows fell +fast, scattering pieces of wood about the floor. The madness that was +in Buell was the madness to get out, to escape the consequences of his +acts. His grunts and pants as he worked showed his desperate energy. +Then he slammed the axe against the wall, and, going down flat, began to +crawl through the opening. Buell was a thick man, and the hole appeared +too small. He stuck in it, but he squeezed and flattened himself, +finally worked through, and disappeared. + +A sudden quiet fell upon his departure. + +“Hands up!” + +Jim Williams's voice! It was strange to see Herky and Bud flash up their +arms without turning. But I wheeled quickly. Bill, too, had his hands +high in the air. + +In the sunlight of the doorway stood Jim Williams. Low down, carelessly, +it seemed, he held two long revolvers. He looked the same easy, slow +Texan I remembered. But the smile was not now in his eyes, and his lips +were set in a thin, hard line. + + + + +XVI. THE FOREST'S GREATEST FOE + +Jim Williams sent out a sharp call. From the canyon-slope came answering +shouts. There were sounds of heavy bodies breaking through brush, +followed by the thudding of feet. Then men could be plainly heard +running up the trail. Jim leaned against the door-post, and the three +fellows before him stood rigid as stone. + +Suddenly a form leaped past Jim. It was Dick Leslie, bareheaded, his +hair standing like a lion's mane, and he had a cocked rifle in his +hands. Close behind him came old Hiram Bent, slower, more cautious, +but no less formidable. As these men glanced around with fiery eyes the +quick look of relief that shot across their faces told of ungrounded +fears. + +“Where's Buell?” sharply queried Dick. + +Jim Williams did not reply, and a momentary silence ensued. + +“Buell lit out after the Greaser,” said Bill, finally. + +“Cut and run, did he? That's his speed,” grimly said Dick. “Here, Bent, +find some rope. We've got to tie up these jacks.” + +“Hands back, an' be graceful like. Quick!” sang out Jim Williams. + +It seemed to me human beings could not have more eagerly and swiftly +obeyed an order. Herky and Bill and Bud jerked their arms down and +extended their hands out behind. After that quick action they again +turned into statues. There was a breathless suspense in every act. And +there was something about Jim Williams then that I did not like. I was +in a cold perspiration for fear one of the men would make some kind of +a move. As the very mention of the Texan had always caused a little +silence, so his presence changed the atmosphere of that cabin room. +Before his coming there had been the element of chance--a feeling of +danger, to be sure, but a healthy spirit of give and take. That had all +changed with Jim Williams's words “Hands up!” There was now something +terrible hanging in the balance. I had but to look at Jim's eyes, narrow +slits of blue fire, at the hard jaw and tight lips, to see a glimpse of +the man who thought nothing of life. It turned me sick, and I was all in +a tremor till Dick and Hiram had the men bound fast. + +Then Jim dropped the long, blue guns into the holsters on his belt. + +“Ken, I shore am glad to see you,” said he. + +The soft, drawling voice, the sleepy smile, the careless good-will all +came back, utterly transforming the man. This was the Jim Williams I had +come to love. With a wrench I recovered myself. + +“Are you all right, Ken?” asked Dick. And old Hiram questioned me with +a worried look. This anxiety marked the difference between these men and +Williams. I hastened to assure my friends that I was none the worse for +my captivity. + +“Ken, your little gun doesn't shoot where it points,” said Jim. “I shore +had a bead on the Greaser an' missed him. First Greaser I ever missed.” + +“You shot his ear off,” I replied. “He came running back covered with +blood. I never saw a man so scared.” + +“Wal, I shore am glad,” drawled Jim. + +“He made off with your mustang,” said Dick. + +This information lessened my gladness at Greaser's escape. Still, I +would rather have had him get away on my horse than stay to be shot by +Jim. + +Dick called me to go outside with him. My pack was lying under one of +the pines near the cabin, and examination proved that nothing had been +disturbed. We found the horses grazing up the canyon. Buell had taken +the horse of one of his men, and had left his own superb bay. Most +likely he had jumped astride the first animal he saw. Dick said I could +have Buell's splendid horse. I had some trouble in catching him, as he +was restive and spirited, but I succeeded eventually, and we drove the +other horses and ponies into the glade. My comrades then fell to arguing +about what to do with the prisoners. Dick was for packing them off to +Holston. Bent talked against this, saying it was no easy matter to drive +bound men over rough trails, and Jim sided with him. + +Once, while they were talking, I happened to catch Herky-Jerky's eye. +He was lying on his back in the light from the door. Herky winked at +me, screwed up his face in the most astonishing manner, all of which I +presently made out to mean that he wanted to speak to me. So I went over +to him. + +“Kid, you ain't a-goin' to fergit I stalled off Buell?” whispered Herky. +“He'd hev done fer you, an' thet's no lie. You won't fergit when we're +rustled down to Holston?” + +“I'll remember, Herky,” I promised, and I meant to put in a good word +for him. Because, whether or not his reasons had to do with kidnapping +and ransom, he had saved me from terrible violence, perhaps death. + +It was decided that we would leave the prisoners in the cabin and ride +down to the sawmill. Hiram was to return at once with officers. If none +could be found at the mill he was to guard the prisoners and take care +of them till Dick could send officers to relieve him. Thereupon we +cooked a meal, and I was put to feeding Herky and his companions. Dick +ordered me especially to make them drink water, as it might be a day or +longer before Hiram could get back. I made Bill drink, and easily filled +up Herky; but Bud, who never drank anything save whiskey, gave me a +job. He refused with a growl, and I insisted with what I felt sure was +Christian patience. Still he would not drink, so I put the cup to his +lips and tipped it. Bud promptly spat the water all over me. And I as +promptly got another cupful and dashed it all over him. + +“Bud, you'll drink or I'll drown you,” I declared. + +So while Bill cracked hoarse jokes and Herky swore his pleasure, I made +Bud drink all he could hold. Jim got a good deal of fun out of it, +but Dick and Hiram never cracked a smile. Possibly the latter two saw +something far from funny in the outlook; at any rate, they were silent, +almost moody, and in a hurry to be off. + +Dick was so anxious to be on the trail that he helped me pack my pony, +and saddled Buell's horse. It was one thing to admire the big bay from +the ground, and it was another to be astride him. Target--that was his +name--had a spirited temper, an iron mouth, and he had been used to a +sterner hand than mine. He danced all over the glade before he decided +to behave himself. Riding him, however, was such a great pleasure that +a more timid boy than I would have taken the risk. He would not let +any horse stay near him; he pulled on the bridle, and leaped whenever +a branch brushed him. I had been on some good horses, but never on +one with a swing like his, and I grew more and more possessed with the +desire to let him run. + +“Like as not he'll bolt with you. Hold him in, Ken!” called Dick, as +he mounted. Then he shouted a final word to the prisoners, saying they +would be looked after, and drove the pack-ponies into the trail. As we +rode out we passed several of the horses that we had decided to leave +behind, and as they wanted to follow us it was necessary to drive them +back. + +I had my hands full with the big, steel-jawed steed I was trying to hold +in. It was the hardest work of the kind that I had ever undertaken. I +had never worn spurs, but now I began to wish for them. We traveled at +a good clip, as fast as the pack-ponies could go, and covered a long +distance by camping-time. I was surprised that we did not get out of the +canyon. The place where we camped was a bare, rocky opening, with a big +pool in the center. While we were making camp it suddenly came over me +that I was completely bewildered as to our whereabouts. I could not see +the mountain peaks and did not know one direction from another. Even +when Jim struck out of our trail and went off alone toward Holston I +could not form an idea of where I was. All this, however, added to my +feeling of the bigness of Penetier. + +Dick was taciturn, and old Hiram, when I tried to engage him in +conversation, cut me off with the remark that I would need my breath on +the morrow. This somewhat offended me. So I made my bed and rolled into +it. Not till I had lain quiet for a little did I realize that every bone +and muscle felt utterly worn out. I seemed to deaden and stiffen more +each moment. Presently Dick breathed heavily and Hiram snored. The red +glow of fire paled and died. I heard the clinking of the hobbles on +Target, and a step, now and then, of the other horses. The sky grew +ever bluer and colder, the stars brighter and larger, and the night wind +moaned in the pines. I heard a coyote bark, a trout splash in the pool, +and the hoot of an owl. Then the sounds and the clear, cold night seemed +to fade away. + +When Dick roused me the forest was shrouded in gray, cold fog. No time +was lost in getting breakfast, driving in the horses, and packing. +Hardly any words were exchanged. My comrades appeared even soberer than +on the day before. The fog lifted quickly that morning, and soon the sun +was shining. + +We got under way at once, and took to the trail at a jog-trot. I knew my +horse better and he was more used to me, which made it at least bearable +to both of us. Before long the canyon widened out into the level forest +land thickly studded with magnificent pines. I had again the feeling of +awe and littleness. Everything was solemn and still. The morning air was +cool, and dry as toast; the smell of pitch-pine choked my nostrils. We +rode briskly down the broad brown aisles, across the sunny glades, under +the murmuring pines. + +The old hunter was leading our train, and evidently knew perfectly +what he was about. Unexpectedly he halted, bringing us up short. The +pack-ponies lined up behind us. Hiram looked at Dick. + +“I smell smoke,” he said, sniffing at the fragrant air. + +Dick stared at the old hunter and likewise sniffed. I followed their +lead, but all I could smell was the thick, piney odor of the forest. + +“I don't catch it,” replied Dick. + +We continued on our journey perhaps for a quarter of a mile, and then +Hiram Bent stopped again. This time he looked significantly at Dick +without speaking a word. + +“Ah!” exclaimed Dick. I thought his tone sounded queer, but it did not +at the moment strike me forcibly. We rode on. The forest became lighter, +glimpses of sky showed low down through the trees, we were nearing a +slope. + +For the third time the old hunter brought us to a stop, this time on the +edge of a slope that led down to the rolling foot-hills. I could only +stand and gaze. Those open stretches, sloping down, all green and brown +and beautiful, robbed me of thought. + +“Look thar!” cried Hiram Bent. + +His tone startled me. I faced about, to see his powerful arm +outstretched and his finger pointing. His stern face added to my sudden +concern. Something was wrong with my friends. I glanced in the direction +he indicated. There were two rolling slopes or steps below us, and they +were like gigantic swells of a green ocean. Beyond the second one rose a +long, billowy, bluish cloud. It was smoke. All at once I smelled smoke, +too. It came on the fresh, strong wind. + +“Forest fire!” exclaimed Dick. + +“Wal, I reckon,” replied Hiram, tersely. “An' look thar, an' thar!” + +Far to the right and far to the left, over the green, swelling +foot-hills, rose that rounded, changing line of blue cloud. + +“The slash! the slash! Buell's fired the slash!” cried Dick, as one +suddenly awakened. “Penetier will go!” + +“Wal, I reckon. But thet's not the worst.” + +“You mean--” + +“Mebbe we can't get out. The forest's dry as powder, an' thet's the +worst wind we could have. These canyon-draws suck in the wind, an' fire +will race up them fast as a hoss can run.” + +“Good God, man! What'll we do?” + +“Wait. Mebbe it ain't so bad--yet. Now let's all listen.” + +The faces of my friends, more than words, terrified me. I listened with +all my ears while watching with all my eyes. The line of rolling cloud +expanded, seemed to burst and roll upward, to bulge and mushroom. In a +few short moments it covered the second slope as far to the right and +left as we could see. The under surface was a bluish white. It shot +up swiftly, to spread out into immense, slow-moving clouds of creamy +yellow. + +“Hear thet?” Hiram Bent shook his gray head as one who listened to dire +tidings. + +The wind, sweeping up the slope of Penetier, carried a strong, pungent +odor of burning pitch. It brought also a low roar, not like the wind in +the trees or rapid-rushing water. It might have been my imagination, but +I fancied it was like the sound of flames blowing through the wood of a +campfire. + +“Fire! Fire!” exclaimed Hiram, with another ominous shake of his head. +“We must be up an' doin'.” + +“The forest's greatest foe! Old Penetier is doomed!” cried Dick Leslie. +“That line of fire is miles long, and is spreading fast. It'll shoot up +the canyons and crisscross the forest in no time. Bent, what'll we do?” + +“Mebbe we can get around the line. We must, or we'll have to make tracks +for the mountain, an' thet's a long chance. You take to the left an' +I'll go to the right, an' we'll see how the fire's runnin'.” + +“What will Ken do?” + +“Wal, let him stay here--no, thet won't do! We might get driven back a +little an' have to circle. The safest place in this forest is where we +camped. Thet's not far. Let him drive the ponies back thar an' wait.” + +“All right. Ken, you hustle the pack-team back to our last night's camp. +Wait there for us. We won't be long.” + +Dick galloped off through the forest, and Hiram went down the slope in +almost the opposite direction. Left alone, I turned my horse and drove +the pack-ponies along our back-trail. Thus engaged, I began to recover +somewhat from the terror that had stupefied me. Still, I kept looking +back. I found the mouth of the canyon and the trail, and in what I +thought a very short time I reached the bare, rocky spot where we had +last camped. The horses all drank thirstily, and I discovered that I was +hot and dry. + +Then I waited. At every glance I expected to see Dick and Hiram riding +up the canyon. But moments dragged by, and they did not come. Here there +was no sign of smoke, nor even the faintest hint of the roar of the +fire. The wind blew strongly up the canyon, and I kept turning my ear +to it. In spite of the fact that my friends did not come quickly I had +begun to calm my fears. They would return presently with knowledge of +the course of the fire and the way to avoid it. My thoughts were mostly +occupied with sorrow for beautiful Penetier. What a fiend Buell was! I +had heard him say he would fire the slash, and he had kept his word. + +Half an hour passed. I saw a flash of gray down the canyon, and shouted +in joy. But what I thought Dick and Hiram was a herd of deer. They were +running wildly. They clicked on the stones, and scarcely swerved for the +pack-ponies. It took no second glance to see that they were fleeing +from the fire. This brought back all my alarms, and every moment that I +waited thereafter added to them. I watched the trail and under the trees +for my friends, and I scanned the sky for signs of the blue-white clouds +of smoke. But I saw neither. + +“Dick told me to wait here; but how long shall I wait?” I muttered. +“Something's happened to him. If only I could see what that fire is +doing!” + +The camping-place was low down between two slopes, one of which was high +and had a rocky cliff standing bare in the sunlight. I conceived the +idea of climbing to it. I could not sit quietly waiting any longer. So, +mounting Target, I put him up the slope. It was not a steep climb, still +it was long and took considerable time. Before I reached the gray cliff +I looked down over the forest to see the rolling, smoky clouds. We +climbed higher and still higher, till Target reached the cliff and could +go no farther. Leaping off, I tied him securely and bent my efforts to +getting around on top of the cliff. If I had known what a climb it was +I should not have attempted it, but I could not back out with the summit +looming over me. It ran up to a ragged crag. Hot, exhausted, and out of +breath, I at last got there. + +As I looked I shouted in surprise. It seemed that the whole of Penetier +was under my feet. The green slope disappeared in murky clouds of smoke. +There were great pillars and huge banks of yellow and long streaks of +black, and here and there, underneath, moving splashes of red. The thing +did not stay still one instant. It changed so that I could not tell +what it did look like. Them were life and movement in it, and something +terribly sinister. I tried to calculate how far distant the fire was and +how fast it was coming, but that, in my state of mind, I could not do. +The whole sweep of forest below me was burning. I felt the strong breeze +and smelled the burnt wood. Puffs of white smoke ran out ahead of the +main clouds, and I saw three of them widely separated. What they +meant puzzled me. But all of a sudden I saw in front of the nearest a +flickering gleam of red. Then I knew those white streams of smoke rose +where the fire was being sucked up the canyons. They leaped along with +amazing speed. It was then that I realized that Dick and Hiram had been +caught by one of these offshoots of the fire, and had been compelled to +turn away to save their lives. Perhaps they would both be lost. For a +moment I felt faint, but I fought it off. I had to think of myself. It +was every one for himself, and perhaps there was many a man caught on +Penetier with only a slender chance for life. + +“Oh! oh!” I cried, suddenly. “Herky, Bud, and Bill tied helpless in that +cabin! Dick forgot them. They'll be burned to death!” + +As I stood there, trembling at the thought of Herky and his comrades +bound hand and foot, the first roar of the forest fire reached my ears. +It threatened, but it roused my courage. I jumped as if I had been +shot, and clattered down that crag with wings guiding my long leaps. No +crevice or jumble of loose stones or steep descent daunted me. I reached +the horse, and, grasping the bridle, I started to lead him. We had +zigzagged up, we went straight down. Target was too spirited to balk, +but he did everything else. More than once he reared with his hoofs high +in the air, and, snorting, crashed down. He pulled me off my feet, he +pawed at me with his great iron shoes. When we got clear of the roughest +and most thickly overgrown part of the descent I mounted him. Then +I needed no longer to urge him. The fire had entered the canyon, +the hollow roar swept up and filled Target with the same fright that +possessed me. He plunged down, slid on his haunches, jumped the logs, +crashed through brush. I had continually to rein him toward the camp. He +wanted to turn from that hot wind and strange roar. + +We reached a level, the open, stony ground, then the pool. The +pack-ponies were standing patiently with drooping heads. The sun was +obscured in thin blue haze. Smoke and dust and ashes blew by with the +wind. I put Target's nose down to the water, so that he would drink. +Then I cut packs off the ponies, spilled the contents, and filled my +pockets with whatever I could lay my hands on in the way of eatables. +I hung a canteen on the pommel, and threw a bag of biscuits over +the saddle and tied it fast. My fingers worked swiftly. There was a +fluttering in my throat, and my sight was dim. All the time the roar of +the forest fire grew louder and more ominous. + +The ponies would be safe. I would be safe in the lee of the big rocks +near the pool. But I did not mean to stay. I could not stay with those +men lying tied up in the cabin. Herky had saved me. Still it was not +that which spurred me on. + +Target snorted shrilly and started back from the water, ready to +stampede. Slipping the bridle into place, I snapped the bit between his +teeth. I had to swing off my feet to pull his head down. + +Even as I did this I felt the force of the wind. It was hard to breathe. +A white tumbling column of smoke hid sky and sun. All about me it was +like a blue twilight. + +The appalling roar held me spellbound with my foot in the stirrup. It +drew my glance even in that moment of flight. + +Under the shifting cloud flashes of red followed by waves of fire +raced through the tree-tops. That the forest fire traveled through the +tree-tops was as new to me as it was terrible. The fire seemed to make +and drive the wind. Lower down along the ground was a dull furnace-glow, +now dark, now bright. It all brought into my mind a picture I had seen +of the end of the world. + +Target broke the spell by swinging me up into the saddle as he leaped +forward with a furious snort. I struck him with the bridle, and yelled: + +“You iron-jawed brute! You've been crazy to run--now run!” + + + + +XVII. THE BACK-FIRE + +Target pounded over the scaly ground and thundered into the hard trail. +Then he stretched out. As we cleared the last obstructing pile of rocks +I looked back. There was a vast wave of fire rolling up the canyon and +spreading up the slopes. It was so close that I nearly fainted. With +both hands knotted and stiff I clung to the pommel in a cold horror, and +I looked back no more to see the flames reaching out for me. But I could +not keep the dreadful roar from filling my ears, and it weakened me so +that I all but dropped from the saddle. Only an unconscious instinct to +fight for life made me hold on. + +Blue and white puffs of smoke swept by me. The trail was a dim, twisting +line. The slopes and pines, merged in a mass, flew backward in brown +sheets. Above the roar of the pursuing fire I heard the thunder of +Target's hoofs. I scarcely felt him or the saddle, only a motion and the +splitting of the wind. + +The fear of death by fire, which had almost robbed me of strength, +passed from me. My brain cleared. Still I had no kind of hope, only a +desperate resolve not to give up. + +The great bay horse was running to save his life and to save mine. It +was a race with fire. When I thought of the horse, and saw how fast he +was going, and realized that I must do my part, I was myself again. + +The trail was a winding, hard-packed thread of white ground. It had been +made for leisurely travel. Many turns were sudden and sharp. I loosened +the reins, and cried out to Target. Evidently I had unknowingly held him +in, for he lengthened out, and went on in quicker, longer leaps. In +that moment riding seemed easy. I listened to the roar behind me, now +a little less deafening, and began to thrill. We were running away from +the fire. + +Hope made the race seem different. Something stirred and beat warm +within me, driving out the chill in my marrow. I leaned over the neck of +the great bay horse, and called to him and cheered him on. Then I saw +he was deaf and blind to me, for he was wild. He had the bit between his +teeth, and was running away. + +The roar behind us relentlessly pursuing, only a little less appalling, +was now not my only source of peril. Target could no more be guided +nor stopped than could the forest fire. The trail grew more winding and +overhung more thickly by pine branches. The horse did not swerve an inch +for tree or thicket, but ran as if free, and the saving of my life began +to be a matter of dodging. Once a crashing blow from a branch almost +knocked me from the saddle. The wind in my ears half drowned the roar +behind me. With hands twisted in Target's mane I bent low, watching with +keen eyes for the trees and branches ahead. I drew up my knees and +bent my body, and dodged and went down flat over the pommel like a +wild-riding Indian. Target kept that straining run for a longer distance +than I could judge. With the same breakneck speed he thundered on over +logs and little washes, through the thick, bordering bushes, and around +the sudden turns. His foam moistened my face and flecked my sleeves. The +wind came stinging into my face, the heavy roar followed at my back with +its menace. + +Swift and terrible as the forest fire was, Target was winning the race. +I knew it. Steadily the roar softened, but it did not die away. Pound! +pound! pound! The big bay charged up the trail. How long could he stand +that killing pace? I began to talk soothingly to him, to pull on the +bridle; but he might have been an avalanche for all he heeded. Still +I kept at him, fighting him every moment that I was free from low +branches. Gradually the strain began to tell. + +The sight of a cabin brought back to my mind the meaning of the wild +race with fire. I had forgotten the prisoners. I had reached the forest +glade and the cabin, but Target was still going hard. What if I could +not stop him! Summoning all my strength, I quickly threw weight and +muscle back on the reins and snapped the bit out of his teeth. Then +coaxing, commanding, I pulled him back. In the glade were four horses, +standing bunched with heads and ears up, uneasy, and beginning to be +frightened. Perhaps the sight of them helped me to stop Target; at +any rate, he slackened his pace and halted. He was spotted with foam, +dripping wet, and his broad sides heaved. + +I jumped off, stiff and cramped. I could scarcely walk. The air was +clear, though the fog of smoke overspread the sun. The wind blew strong +with a scent of pitch. Now that I was not riding, the roar of the fire +sounded close. I caught the same strange growl, the note of on-sweeping +fury. Again the creepy cold went over me. I felt my face blanch, and +the skin tighten over my cheeks. I dashed into the cabin, crying: “Fire! +Fire! Fire!” + +“Whoop! It's the kid!” yelled Herky-Jerky. + +He was lying near the door, red as a brick in the face, and panting +hard. In one cut I severed the rope on his feet; in another, that round +his raw and bloody wrists. Herky had torn his flesh trying to release +his hands. + +“Kid, how'd you git back hyar?” he questioned, with his sharp little +eyes glinting on me. “Did the fire chase you? Whar's Leslie?” + +“Buell fired the slash. Penetier is burning. Dick and Hiram sent me back +to the pool below, and then didn't come. They got caught--oh!... I'm +afraid--lost!... Then I remembered you fellows. The fire's coming--it's +awful--we must fly!” + +“You thought of us?” Herky's voice sounded queer and strangled. “Bud! +Bill! Did you hear thet? Wal, wal!” + +While he muttered on I cut Bill's bonds. He rose without a word. Bud was +almost unconscious. He had struggled terribly. His heels had dug a hole +in the hard clay floor; his wrists were skinned; his mouth and chin +covered with earth, probably from his having bitten the ground in +his agony. Herky helped him up and gave him a drink from a little +pocket-flask. + +“Herky, if you think you've rid some in your day, look at thet hoss,” + said Bill, coolly, from the door. He eyed me coolly; in fact, he was as +cool as if there were no fire on Penetier. But Bud was white and sick, +and Herky flaming with excitement. + +“We hain't got a chance. Listen! Thet roar! She's hummin'.” + +“It's runnin' up the draw. We don't stand no showdown in hyar. Grab a +hoss now, an' we'll try to head acrost the ridge.” + +I remounted Target, and the three men caught horses and climbed up +bareback. Bill led the way across the glade, up the slope, into the +level forest. There we broke into a gallop. The air upon this higher +ground was dark and thick, but not so hard to breathe as that lower +down. We pressed on. For a while the roar receded, and almost deadened. +Then it grew clearer again' filled out, and swelled. Bud wanted to sheer +off to the left. Herky swore we were being surrounded. Bill turned a +deaf ear to them. From my own sense of direction I fancied we were going +wrong, but Bill was so cool he gave me courage. Soon a blue, windy haze, +shrouding the giant pines ahead, caused Bill to change his course. + +“Do you know whar you're headin'?” yelled Herky, high above the roar. + +“I hain't got the least idee, Herky,” shouted Bill, as cool as could be, +“but I guess somewhar whar it'll be hot!” + +We were lost in the forest and almost surrounded by fire, if the roar +was anything to tell by. We galloped on, always governed by the roar, +always avoiding the slope up the mountain. If we once started up that +with the fire in our rear we were doomed. Perhaps there were times when +the wind deceived us. It was hard to tell. Anyway, we kept on, growing +more bewildered. Bud looked like a dead man already and reeled in +his saddle. The horses were getting hard to manage, and the wind was +strengthening and puffed at us from all quarters. Bill still looked +cool, but the last vestige of color had faded from his face. These +things boded ill. Herky had grown strangely silent, which fact was the +worst of all for me. For that tough, scarred, reckless little wretch to +hold his tongue was the last straw. + +The air freshened somewhat, and the forest lightened. Almost abruptly we +rode out to the edge of a great, wide canyon. It must have crossed the +forest at right angles to the canyon we had left. It was twice as wide +and deep as any I had yet seen. In the bottom wound a broad brook. + +“Which way now?” asked Herky. + +Bill shook his head. Far to our right a pall of smoke moved over the +tree-tops, to our left was foggy gloom, behind rolled the unceasing +roar. We all looked straight across. Probably each of us harbored the +same thought. Before that wind the fire would leap the canyon in flaming +bounds, and on the opposite level was the thick pitch-pine forest of +Penetier proper. So far we had been among the foot-hills. We dared not +enter the real forest with that wild-fire back of us. Momentarily we +stood irresolute. It was a pause full of hopelessness, such as might +have come to tired deer, close harried by hounds. + +The winding brook and the brown slope, comparatively bare of trees, +brought me a sudden inspiration. + +“Back-fire! Back-fire!” I cried to my companions, in wild appeal. “We +must back-fire. It's our chance! Here's the place!” + +Bud scowled and Herky grumbled, but Bill grasped at the idea. + +“I've heerd of back-firin'. The rangers do it. But how? How?” + +They caught his hope, and their haggard faces lightened. + +“Kid, we ain't forest rangers,” said Herky. “Do you know what you're +talkin' about?” + +“Yes, yes! Come on! We'll back-fire!” + +I led the way down the slope, and they came close at my heels. I rode +into the shallow brook, and dismounted about the middle between the +banks. I hung my coat on the pommel of my saddle. + +“Bud, you and Bill hold the horses here!” I shouted, intensely excited. +“Herky, have you matches?” + +“Nary a match.” + +“Hyar's a box,” said Bill, tossing it. + +“Come on, Herky! You run up the brook. Light a match, and drop it every +hundred feet. Be sure it catches. Lucky there's little wind down here. +Go as far as you can. I'll run down!” + +We splashed out of the brook and leaped up the bank. The grass was +long and dry. There was brush near by, and the pine-needle mats almost +bordered the bank. I struck a match and dropped it. + +Sis-s-s! Flare! It was almost like dropping a spark into gunpowder. The +flame ran quickly, reached the pine-needles, then sputtered and fizzed +into a big blaze. The first pine-tree exploded and went off like a +rocket. We were startled by the sound and the red, up-leaping pillar +of fire. Sudden heat shot back at us as if from a furnace. Great sparks +began to fall. + +“It's goin'!” yelled Herky-Jerky, his voice ringing strong. He clapped +his hat down on my bare head. Then he started running up-stream. + +I darted in the opposite direction. I heard Bud and Bill yelling, and +the angry crack and hiss of the fire. A few rods down I stopped, struck +another match, and lit the grass. There was a sputter and flash. Then +the flame flared up, spread like running quicksilver, and, meeting the +pine-needles, changed to red. I ran on. There was a loud flutter behind +me, then a crack almost like a shot, then a seething roar. Another pine +had gone off. As I stopped to strike the third match there came three +distinct reports, and then others that seemed dulled in a windy roar. +I raced onward, daring only once to look back. A fearful sight met my +gaze. The slope was a red wave. The pines were tufts of flame. The air +was filled with steaming clouds of whirling smoke. Then I fled onward +again. + +Match after match I struck, and when the box was empty I must have +been a mile, two miles, maybe more, from the starting-point. I was +wringing-wet, and there was a piercing pain in my side. I plunged across +the brook, and in as deep water as I could find knelt down to cover all +but my face. Then, with laboring breaths that bubbled the water near my +mouth, I kept still and watched. + +The back-fire which I had started swept up over the slope and down the +brook like a charge of red lancers. Spears of flame led the advance. The +flame licked up the dry surface-grass and brush, and, meeting the pines, +circled them in a whirlwind of fire, like lightning flashing upward. +Then came prolonged reports, and after that a long, blistering roar in +the tree-tops. Even as I gazed, appalled in the certainty of a horrible +fate, I thrilled at the grand spectacle. Fire had always fascinated me. +The clang of the engines and the call of “Fire!” would tear me from any +task or play. But I had never known what fire was. I knew now. Storms of +air and sea were nothing compared to this. It was the greatest force +in nature. It was fire. On one hand, I seemed cool and calculated the +chances; on the other, I had flashes in my brain, and kept crying out +crazily, in a voice like a whisper: “Fire! Fire! Fire!” + +But presently the wall of fire rolled by and took the roar with it. +Dense billows of smoke followed, and hid everything in opaque darkness. +I heard the hiss of failing sparks and the crackle of burning wood, and +occasionally the crash of a failing branch. It was intolerably hot, but +I could stand the heat better than the air. I coughed and strangled. +I could not get my breath. My eyes smarted and burned. Crawling close +under the bank, I leaned against it and waited. + +Some hours must have passed. I suffered, not exactly pain, but a +discomfort that was almost worse. By-and-by the air cleared a little. +Rifts in the smoke drifted over me, always toward the far side of the +canyon. Twice I crawled out upon the bank, but the heat drove me back +into the water. The snow-water from the mountain-peaks had changed from +cold to warm; still, it gave a relief from the hot blast of air. More +time dragged by. Weary to the point of collapse, I grew not to care +about anything. + +Then the yellow fog lightened, and blew across the brook and lifted and +split. The parts of the canyon-slope that I could see were seared and +blackened. The pines were columns of living coals. The fire was eating +into their hearts. Presently they would snap at the trunk, crash down, +and burn to ashes. Wreathes of murky smoke circled them, and drifted +aloft to join the overhanging clouds. + +I floundered out on the bank, and began to walk up-stream. After all, it +was not so very hot, but I felt queer. I did not seem to be able to step +where I looked or see where I stepped. Still, that caused me no worry. +The main thing was that the fire had not yet crossed the brook. I wanted +to feel overjoyed at that, but I was too tired. Anyway I was sure the +fire had crossed below or above. It would be tearing down on this side +presently, and then I would have to crawl into the brook or burn up. +It did not matter much which I had to do. Then I grew dizzy, my legs +trembled, my feet lost all sense of touching the ground. I could not go +much farther. Just then I heard a shout. It was close by. I answered, +and heard heavy steps. I peered through the smoky haze. Something dark +moved up in the gloom. + +“Ho, kid! Thar you are!” I felt a strong arm go round my waist. “Wal, +wal!” That was Herky. His voice sounded glad. It roused a strange +eagerness in me; his rough greeting seemed to bring me back from a +distance. + +“All wet, but not burned none, I see. We kinder was afeared.... Say, +kid, thet back-fire, now. It was a dandy. It did the biz. Our whiskers +was singed, but we're safe. An' kid, it was your game, played like a man.” + +After that his voice grew faint, and I felt as if I were walking in a +dream. + + + + +XVIII. CONCLUSION + +That dreadful feeling of motion went away, and I became unconscious of +everything. When I awoke the sun was gleaming dimly through thin films +of smoke. I was lying in a pleasant little ravine with stunted pines +fringing its slopes. The brook bowled merrily over stones. + +Bud snored in the shade of a big boulder. Herky whistled as he broke +dead branches into fagots for a campfire. Bill was nowhere in sight. I +saw several of the horses browsing along the edge of the water. + +My drowsy eyelids fell back again. When I awoke a long time seemed to +have passed. The air was clearer, the sky darker, and the sun had gone +behind the peaks. I saw Bill and Herky skinning a deer. + +“Where are we?” I asked, sitting up. + +“Hello, kid!” replied Herky, cheerily. “We come up to the head of the +canyon, thet's all. How're you feelin'?” + +“I'm all right, only tired. Where's the forest fire?” + +“It's most burned out by now. It didn't jump the canyon into the big +forest. Thet back-fire did the biz. Say, kid, wasn't settin' off them +pines an' runnin' fer your life jest like bein' in a battle?” + +“It certainly was. Herky, how long will we be penned up here?” + +“Only a day or two. I reckon we'd better not risk takin' you back to +Holston till we're sure about the fire. Anyways, kid, you need rest. +You're all played out.” + +Indeed, I was so weary that it took an effort to lift my hand. A strange +lassitude made me indifferent. But Herky's calm mention of taking me +back to Holston changed the color of my mood. I began to feel more +cheerful. The meal we ate was scant enough--biscuits and steaks of +broiled venison with a pinch of salt; but, starved as we were, it was +more than satisfactory. Herky and Bill were absurdly eager to serve me. +Even Bud was kind to me, though he still wore conspicuously over his +forehead the big bruise I had given him. After I had eaten I began to +gain strength. But my face was puffed from the heat, my injured arm was +stiff and sore, and my legs seemed never to have been used before. + +Darkness came on quickly. The dew fell heavily, and the air grew chilly. +Our blazing campfire was a comfort. Bud and Bill carried in logs for +firewood, while Herky made me a bed of dry pine needles. + +“It'll be some cold tonight,” he said, “an' we'll hev to hug the fire. +Now if we was down in the foot-hills we'd be warmer, hey? Look thar!” + +He pointed down the ravine, and I saw a great white arc of light +extending up into the steely sky. + +“The forest fire?” + +“Yep, she's burnin' some. But you oughter seen it last night. Not thet +it ain't worth seein' jest now. Come along with me.” + +He led me where the ravine opened wide. I felt, rather than saw, a steep +slope beneath. Far down was a great patch of fire. It was like a crazy +quilt, here dark, there light, with streaks and stars and streams of +fire shining out of the blackness. Masses of slow-moving smoke overhung +the brighter areas. The night robbed the forest fire of its fierceness +and lent it a kind of glory. The fire had ceased to move; it had spent +its force, run its race, and was now dying. But I could not forget what +it had been, what it had done. Thousands of acres of magnificent pines +had perished. The shade and color and beauty of that part of the forest +had gone. The heart of the great trees was now slowly rolling away in +those dark, weird clouds of smoke. I was sad for the loss and sick with +fear for Dick and Hiram. + +Herky must have known my mind. + +“You needn't feel bad, kid. Thet's only a foothill or so of Penetier +gone up in smoke. An' Buell's sawmill went, too. It's almost a sure +thing thet Leslie an' old Bent got out safe, though they must be doin' +some tall worryin' about you. I wonder how they feel about me an' Bud +an' Bill? A little prematoore roastin' for us, eh? Wal, wal!” + +We went back to the camp. I lay down near the fire and fell asleep. Some +time in the night I awoke. The fire was still burning brightly. Bud and +Bill were lying with their backs to it almost close enough to scorch. +Herky sat in his shirtsleeves. The smoke of his pipe and the smoke of +the campfire wafted up together. Then I saw and felt that he had covered +me with his coat and vest. + +I slept far into the next day. Herky was in camp alone. The others had +gone, Herky said, and he would not tell me where. He did not appear as +cheerful as usual. I suspected he had quarreled with his companions, +very likely about what was to be done with me. The day passed, and again +I slept. Herky awakened me before it was light. + +“Come, kid, we'll rustle in to Holston today.” + +We cooked our breakfast of venison, and then Herky went in search of the +horses. They had browsed far up the ravine, and the dawn had broken by +the time he returned. Target stood well to be saddled, nor did he +bolt when I climbed up. Perhaps that ride I gave him had chastened and +subdued his spirit. Well, it had nearly killed me. Herky mounted the one +horse left, a sorry-looking pack-pony, and we started down the ravine. + +An hour of steady descent passed by before we caught sight of any burned +forest land. Then as we descended into the big canyon we turned a curve +and saw, far ahead to the left, a black, smoky, hideous slope. We kept +to the right side of the brook and sheered off just as we reached a +point opposite, where the burned line began. Fire had run up that side +till checked by bare weathered slopes and cliffs. As far down the brook +as eye could see through the smoky haze there stretched that black +line of charred, spear-pointed pines, some glowing, some blazing, all +smoking. + +From time to time, as we climbed up the slope, I looked back. The higher +I got the more hideous became the outlook over the burned district. I +was glad when Herky led the way into the deep shade of level forest, +shutting out the view. It would take a hundred years to reforest those +acres denuded of their timber by the fire of a few days. But as hour +after hour went by, with our trail leading through miles and miles of +the same old forest that had bewitched me, I began to feel a little less +grief at the thought of what the fire had destroyed. It was a loss, yet +only a small part of vast Penetier. If only my friends had gotten out +alive! + +Herky was as relentless in his travelling as I had found him in some +other ways. He kept his pony at a trot. The trail was open, we made +fast time, and when the sun had begun to cast a shadow before us we were +going down-hill. Busy with the thought of my friends, I scarcely noted +the passing of time. It was a surprise to me when we rode down the last +little foot-hill, out into the scattered pines, and saw Holston only a +few miles across the sage-flat. + +“Wal, kid, we've come to the partin' of the ways,” said Herky, with a +strange smile on his smug face. + +“Herky, won't you ride in with me?” + +“Naw, I reckon it'd not be healthy fer me.” + +“But you haven't even a saddle or blanket or any grub.” + +“I've a friend across hyar a ways, a rancher, an' he'll fix me up. But, +kid, I'd like to hev thet hoss. He was Buell's, an' Buell owed me money. +Now I calkilate you can't take Target back East with you, an' you might +as well let me have him.” + +“Sure, Herky.” I jumped off at once, led the horse over, and held +out the bridle. Herky dismounted, and began fumbling with the stirrup +straps. + +“Your legs are longer'n mine,” he explained. + +“Oh yes, Herky, I almost forgot to return your hat,” I said, removing +the wide sombrero. It had a wonderful band made of horsehair and a +buckle of silver with a strange device. + +“Wal, you keep the hat,” he replied, with his back turned. “Greaser +stole your hoss an' your outfit's lost, an' you might want somethin' +to remember your--your friends in Arizony.... Thet hat ain't much, but, +say, the buckle was an Injun's I shot, an' I made the band when I was in +jail in Yuma.” + +“Thank you, Herky. I'll keep it, though I'd never need anything to make +me remember Arizona--or you.” + +Herky swung his bow-legs over Target and I got astride the lean-backed +pony. There did not seem to be any more to say, yet we both lingered. + +“Good-bye, Herky, I'm glad I met you,” I said, offering my hand. + +He gave it a squeeze that nearly crushed my fingers. His keen little +eyes gleamed, but he turned away without another word, and, slapping +Target on the flank, rode off under the trees. + +I put the hat back on my head and watched Herky for a moment. His +silence and abrupt manner were unlike him, but what struck me most was +the fact that in our last talk every word had been clean and sincere. +Somehow it pleased me. Then I started the pony toward Holston. + +He was tired and I was ready to drop, and those last few miles were +long. We reached the outskirts of the town perhaps a couple of hours +before sundown. A bank of clouds had spread out of the west and +threatened rain. + +The first person I met was Cless, and he put the pony in his corral and +hurried me round to the hotel. On the way he talked so fast and said so +much that I was bewildered before we got there. The office was full of +men, and Cless shouted to them. There was the sound of a chair scraping +hard on the floor, then I felt myself clasped by brawny arms. After +that all was rather hazy in my mind. I saw Dick and Jim and old Hiram, +though, I could not see them distinctly, and I heard them all talking, +all questioning at once. Then I was talking in a somewhat silly way, I +thought, and after that some one gave me a hot, nasty drink, and I felt +the cool sheets of a bed. + +The next morning all was clear. Dick came to my room and tried to keep +me in bed, but I refused to stay. We went down to breakfast, and sat at +a table with Jim and Hiram. It seemed to me that I could not answer any +questions till I had asked a thousand. + +What news had they for me? Buell had escaped, after firing the slash. +His sawmill and lumber-camp and fifty thousand acres of timber had been +burned. The fire had in some way been confined to the foot-hills. It had +rained all night, so the danger of spreading was now over. My letter had +brought the officers of the forest service; even the Chief, who had been +travelling west over the Santa Fe, had stopped off and was in Holston +then. There had been no arrests, nor would there be, unless Buell or +Stockton could be found. A new sawmill was to be built by the service. +Buell's lumbermen would have employment in the mill and as rangers in +the forest. + +But I was more interested in matters which Dick seemed to wish to avoid. + +“How did you get out of the burning forest?” I asked, for the second +time. + +“We didn't get out. We went back to the pool where we sent you. The +pack-ponies were there, but you were gone. By George! I was mad, +and then I was just broken up. I was... afraid you'd been burned. We +weathered the fire all right, and then rode in to Holston. Now the +mystery is where were you?” + +“Then you saved all the ponies?” + +“Yes, and brought your outfit in. But, Ken, we--that was awful of us to +forget those poor fellows tied fast in the cabin.” Dick looked haggard, +there was a dark gloom in his eyes, and he gulped. Then I knew why he +avoided certain references to the fire. “To be burned alive... horrible! +I'll never get over it. It'll haunt me always. Of course we had to save +our own lives; we had no time to go to them. Yet--” + +“Don't let it worry you, Dick,” I interrupted. + +“What do you mean?” he asked, slowly. + +“Why, I beat the fire up to the cabin, that's all. Buell's horse can run +some. I cut the men loose, and we made up across the ridge, got lost, +surrounded by fire, and then I got Herky to help me start a back-fire in +that big canyon.” + +“Back-fire!” exclaimed Dick, slamming the table with his big fist. Then +he settled down and looked at me. Hiram looked at me. Jim looked at me, +and not one of them said a word for what seemed a long time. It brought +the blood to my face. But for all my embarrassment it was sweet praise. +At last Dick broke the silence. + +“Ken Ward, this stumps me I... Tell us about it.” + +So I related my adventures from the moment they had left me till we met +again. + +“It was a wild boy's trick, Ken--that ride in the very face of fire in +a dry forest. But, thank God, you saved the lives of those fellows.” + “Amen!” exclaimed old Hiram, fervently. “My lad, you saved Penetier, +too; thar's no doubt on it. The fire was sweepin' up the canyon, an' it +would have crossed the brook somewhars in thet stretch you back-fired.” + +“Ken, you shore was born in Texas,” drawl Jim Williams. + +His remark was unrelated to our talk, I did not know what he meant by +it; nevertheless it pleased me more than anything that had ever been +said me in my life. + +Then came the reading of letters that had a rived for me. In Hal's +letter, first and last harped on having been left behind. Father sent me +a check, and wrote that in the event of a trouble in the lumber district +he trusted me to take the first train for Harrisburg. That, I knew, +meant that I must get out of my ragged clothes. That I did, and packed +them up--all except Herky sombrero, which I wore. Then I went to the +railroad station to see the schedule, and I compromised with father +by deciding to take the limited. The fast east-bound train had gone +a little before, and the next one did not leave until six o'clock. +They would give me half a day with my friends. + +When I returned to the hotel Dick was looking for me. He carried me off +up-stairs to a hall full of men. At one end were tables littered with +papers, and here men were signing their name Dick explained that forest +rangers were being paid and new ones hired. Then he introduced me +officers of the service and the Chief. I knew by the way they looked at +me that Dick had been talking. It made me so tongue-tied that I could +not find my voice when the Chief spoke to me and shook my hand warmly. +He was a tall man, with a fine face and kind eyes and hair just touched +with gray. + +“Kenneth Ward,” he went on, pleasantly, “I hope that letter of +introduction I dictated for you some time ago has been of some service.” + +“I haven't had a chance to use it yet,” I blurted out, and I dived into +my pocket to bring forth the letter. It was wrinkled, soiled, and +had been soaked with water. I began to apologize for its disreputable +appearance when he interrupted me. + +“I've heard about the ducking you got and all the rest of it,” he said, +smiling. Then his manner changed to one of business and hurry. + +“You are studying forestry?” + +“Yes, sir. I'm going to college this fall.” + +“My friend in Harrisburg wrote me of your ambition and, I may say, +aptness for the forest service. I'm very much pleased. We need a host of +bright young fellows. Here, look at this map.” + +He drew my attention to a map lying on the table, and made crosses and +tracings with a pencil while he talked. + +“This is Penetier. Here are the Arizona Peaks. The heavy shading +represents timbered land. All these are canyons. Here's Oak Creek +Canyon, the one the fire bordered. Now I want you to tell me how you +worked that back-fire, and, if you can, mark the line you fired.” + +This appeared to me an easy task, and certainly one I was enthusiastic +over. I told him just how I had come to the canyon, and how I saw that +the fire would surely cross there, and that a back-fire was the only +chance. Then, carefully studying the map, I marked off the three miles +Herky and I had fired. + +“Very good. You had help in this?” + +“Yes. A fellow called Herky-Jerky. He was one of Buell's men who kept me +a prisoner.” + +“But he turned out a pretty good sort, didn't he?” + +“Indeed, yes, sir.” + +“Well, I'll try to locate him, and offer him a job in the service. Now, +Mr. Ward, you've had special opportunities; you have an eye in your +head, and you are interested in forestry. Perhaps you can help us. +Personally I shall be most pleased to hear what you think might be done +in Penetier.” + +I gasped and stared, and could scarcely believe my ears. But he was not +joking; he was as serious as if he had addressed himself to one of his +officers. I looked at them all, standing interested and expectant. Dick +was as grave and erect as a deacon. Jim seemed much impressed. But old +Hiram Bent, standing somewhat back of the others, deliberately winked at +me. + +But for that wink I never could have seized my opportunity. It made me +remember my talks with Hiram. So I boiled down all that I had learned +and launched it on the Chief. Whether I was brief or not, I was out of +breath when I stopped. He appeared much surprised. + +“Thank you,” he said, finally. “You certainly have been observant.” Then +he turned to his officers. “Gentlemen, here's a new point of view from +first-hand observation. I call it splendid conservation. It's in the +line of my policy. It considers the settler and lumberman instead of +combating him.” + +He shook hands with me again. “You may be sure I'll not lose sight of +you. Of course you will be coming West next summer, after your term at +college?” + +“Yes, sir, I want to--if Dick--” + +He smiled as I hesitated. That man read my mind like an open book. + +“Mr. Leslie goes to the Coconina Forest as head forest ranger. Mr. +Williams goes as his assistant. And I have appointed Mr. Bent game +warden in the same forest. You may spend next summer with them.” + +I stammered some kind of thanks, and found myself going out and +down-stairs with my friends. + +“Oh, Dick! Wasn't he fine?... Say, where's Coconina Forest?” + +“It's over across the desert and beyond the Grand Canyon of Arizona. +Penetier is tame compared to Coconina. I'm afraid to let you come out +there.” + +“I don't have to ask you, Mr. Dick,” I replied. + +“Lad, I'll need a young fellar bad next summer,” said old Hiram, with +twinkling eyes. “One as can handle a rope, an' help tie up lions an' +sich.” + +“Oh! my bear cub! I'd forgotten him. I wanted to take him home.” + +“Wal, thar weren't no sense in thet, youngster, fer you couldn't do it. +He was a husky cub.” + +“I hate to give up my mustang, too. Dick, have you heard of the +Greaser?” + +“Not yet, but he'll be trailing into Holston before long.” + +Jim Williams removed his pipe, and puffed a cloud of white smoke. + +“Ken, I shore ain't fergot Greaser,” he drawled with his slow smile. +“Hev you any pertickler thing you want did to him?” + +“Jim, don't kill him!” I burst out, impetuously, and then paused, +frightened out of speech. Why I was afraid of him I did not know, he +seemed so easy-going, so careless--almost sweet, like a woman; but then +I had seen his face once with a look that I could never forget. + +“Wal, Ken, I'll dodge Greaser if he ever crosses my trail again.” + +That promise was a relief. I knew Greaser would come to a bad end, and +certainly would get his just deserts; but I did not want him punished +any more for what he had done to me. + +Those last few hours sped like winged moments. We talked and planned a +little, I divided my outfit among my friends, and then it was time for +the train. That limited train had been late, so they said, every day for +a week, and this day it was on time to the minute. I had no luck. + +My friends bade me good-bye as if they expected to see me next day, and +I said good-bye calmly. I had my part to play. My short stay with them +had made me somehow different. But my coolness was deceitful. Dick +helped me on the train and wrung my hand again. + +“Good-bye, Ken. It's been great to have you out.... Next year you'll be +back in the forests!” + +He had to hurry to get off. The train started as I looked out of my +window. There stood the powerful hunter, his white head bare, and he was +waving his hat. Jim leaned against a railing with his sleepy, careless +smile. I caught a gleam of the blue gun swinging at his hip. Dick's eyes +shone warm and blue; he was shouting something. Then they all passed +back out of sight. So my gaze wandered to the indistinct black line +of Penetier, to the purple slopes, and up to the cold, white +mountain-peaks, and Dick's voice rang in my ears like a prophecy: +“You'll be back in the forests.” + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Forester, by Zane Grey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG FORESTER *** + +***** This file should be named 1882-0.txt or 1882-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/8/1882/ + +Produced by Bill Brewer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/1882-0.zip b/1882-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f81662 --- /dev/null +++ b/1882-0.zip diff --git a/1882-h.zip b/1882-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..210d3e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/1882-h.zip diff --git a/1882-h/1882-h.htm b/1882-h/1882-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..35be013 --- /dev/null +++ b/1882-h/1882-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7219 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Young Forester, by Zane Grey + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Forester, by Zane Grey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Young Forester + +Author: Zane Grey + +Release Date: November 25, 2008 [EBook #1882] +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG FORESTER *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Brewer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE YOUNG FORESTER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Zane Grey + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I. CHOOSING A PROFESSION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II. THE MAN ON THE TRAIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III. THE TRAIL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV. LOST IN THE FOREST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V. THE SAWMILL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI. DICK LESLIE, RANGER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI. BACK TO HOLSTON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII. THE LUMBERMEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX. TAKEN INTO THE MOUNTAINS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X. ESCAPE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI. THE OLD HUNTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII. BEARS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII. THE CABIN IN THE FOREST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIV. A PRISONER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XV. THE FIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVI. THE FOREST'S GREATEST FOE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVII. THE BACK-FIRE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVIII. CONCLUSION </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I. CHOOSING A PROFESSION + </h2> + <p> + I loved outdoor life and hunting. Some way a grizzly bear would come in + when I tried to explain forestry to my brother. + </p> + <p> + “Hunting grizzlies!” he cried. “Why, Ken, father says you've been reading + dime novels.” + </p> + <p> + “Just wait, Hal, till he comes out here. I'll show him that forestry isn't + just bear-hunting.” + </p> + <p> + My brother Hal and I were camping a few days on the Susquehanna River, and + we had divided the time between fishing and tramping. Our camp was on the + edge of a forest some eight miles from Harrisburg. The property belonged + to our father, and he had promised to drive out to see us. But he did not + come that day, and I had to content myself with winning Hal over to my + side. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, if the governor lets you go to Arizona can't you ring me in?” + </p> + <p> + “Not this summer. I'd be afraid to ask him. But in another year I'll do + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't it be great? But what a long time to wait! It makes me sick to + think of you out there riding mustangs and hunting bears and lions.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to stand it. You're pretty much of a kid, Hal—not yet + fourteen. Besides, I've graduated.” + </p> + <p> + “Kid!” exclaimed Hal, hotly. “You're not such a Methuselah yourself! I'm + nearly as big as you. I can ride as well and play ball as well, and I can + beat you all—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, Hal! I want you to help me to persuade father, and if you get + your temper up you'll like as not go against me. If he lets me go I'll + bring you in as soon as I dare. That's a promise. I guess I know how much + I'd like to have you.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” replied Hal, resignedly. “I'll have to hold in, I suppose. + But I'm crazy to go. And, Ken, the cowboys and lions are not all that + interest me. I like what you tell me about forestry. But who ever heard of + forestry as a profession?” + </p> + <p> + “It's just this way, Hal. The natural resources have got to be conserved, + and the Government is trying to enlist intelligent young men in the work—particularly + in the department of forestry. I'm not exaggerating when I say the + prosperity of this country depends upon forestry.” + </p> + <p> + I have to admit that I was repeating what I had read. + </p> + <p> + “Why does it? Tell me how,” demanded Hal. + </p> + <p> + “Because the lumbermen are wiping out all the timber and never thinking of + the future. They are in such a hurry to get rich that they'll leave their + grandchildren only a desert. They cut and slash in every direction, and + then fires come and the country is ruined. Our rivers depend upon the + forests for water. The trees draw the rain; the leaves break it up and let + it fall in mists and drippings; it seeps into the ground, and is held by + the roots. If the trees are destroyed the rain rushes off on the surface + and floods the rivers. The forests store up water, and they do good in + other ways.” + </p> + <p> + “We've got to have wood and lumber,” said Hal. + </p> + <p> + “Of course we have. But there won't be any unless we go in for forestry. + It's been practiced in Germany for three hundred years.” + </p> + <p> + We spent another hour talking about it, and if Hal's practical sense, + which he inherited from father, had not been offset by his real love for + the forests I should have been discouraged. Hal was of an industrious turn + of mind; he meant to make money, and anything that was good business + appealed strongly to him. But, finally, he began to see what I was driving + at; he admitted that there was something in the argument. + </p> + <p> + The late afternoon was the best time for fishing. For the next two hours + our thoughts were of quivering rods and leaping bass. + </p> + <p> + “You'll miss the big bass this August,” remarked Hal, laughing. “Guess you + won't have all the sport.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so, Hal,” I replied, regretfully. “But we're talking as if it were + a dead sure thing that I'm going West. Well, I only hope so.” + </p> + <p> + What Hal and I liked best about camping—of course after the fishing—was + to sit around the campfire. Tonight it was more pleasant than ever, and + when darkness fully settled down it was even thrilling. We talked about + bears. Then Hal told of mountain-lions and the habit they have of creeping + stealthily after hunters. There was a hoot-owl crying dismally up in the + woods, and down by the edge of the river bright-green eyes peered at us + from the darkness. When the wind came up and moaned through the trees it + was not hard to imagine we were out in the wilderness. This had been a + favorite game for Hal and me; only tonight there seemed some reality about + it. From the way Hal whispered, and listened, and looked, he might very + well have been expecting a visit from lions or, for that matter, even from + Indians. Finally we went to bed. But our slumbers were broken. Hal often + had nightmares even on ordinary nights, and on this one he moaned so much + and thrashed about the tent so desperately that I knew the lions were + after him. + </p> + <p> + I dreamed of forest lands with snow-capped peaks rising in the background; + I dreamed of elk standing on the open ridges, of white-tailed deer + trooping out of the hollows, of antelope browsing on the sage at the edge + of the forests. Here was the broad track of a grizzly in the snow; there + on a sunny crag lay a tawny mountain-lion asleep. The bronzed cowboy came + in for his share, and the lone bandit played his part in a way to make me + shiver. The great pines, the shady, brown trails, the sunlit glades, were + as real to me as if I had been among them. Most vivid of all was the + lonely forest at night and the campfire. I heard the sputter of the red + embers and smelled the wood smoke; I peered into the dark shadows watching + and listening for I knew not what. + </p> + <p> + On the next day early in the afternoon father appeared on the river road. + </p> + <p> + “There he is,” cried Hal. “He's driving Billy. How he's coming.” + </p> + <p> + Billy was father's fastest horse. It pleased me immensely to see the pace, + for father would not have been driving fast unless he were in a + particularly good humor. And when he stopped on the bank above camp I + could have shouted. He wore his corduroys as if he were ready for outdoor + life. There was a smile on his face as he tied Billy, and, coming down, he + poked into everything in camp and asked innumerable questions. Hal talked + about the bass until I was afraid he would want to go fishing and postpone + our forestry tramp in the woods. But presently he spoke directly to me. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Kenneth, are you going to come out with the truth about that + Wild-West scheme of yours? Now that you've graduated you want a fling. You + want to ride mustangs, to see cowboys, to hunt and shoot—all that + sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + When father spoke in such a way it usually meant the defeat of my schemes. + I grew cold all over. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father, I'd like all that—But I mean business. I want to be a + forest ranger. Let me go to Arizona this summer. And in the fall I'd—I'd + like to go to a school of forestry.” + </p> + <p> + There! the truth was out, and my feelings were divided between relief and + fear. Before father could reply I launched into a set speech upon + forestry, and talked till I was out of breath. + </p> + <p> + “There's something in what you say,” replied my father. “You've been + reading up on the subject?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything I could get, and I've been trying to apply my knowledge in the + woods. I love the trees. I'd love an outdoor life. But forestry won't be + any picnic. A ranger must be able to ride and pack, make trail and camp, + live alone in the woods, fight fire and wild beasts. Oh! It'd be great!” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say,” said father, dryly; “particularly the riding and shooting. + Well, I guess you'll make a good-enough doctor to suit me.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me a square deal,” I cried, jumping up. “Mayn't I have one word to + say about my future? Wouldn't you rather have me happy and successful as a + forester, even if there is danger, than just an ordinary, poor doctor? + Let's go over our woodland. I'll prove that you are letting your forest + run down. You've got sixty acres of hard woods that ought to be bringing a + regular income. If I can't prove it, if I can't interest you, I'll agree + to study medicine. But if I do you're to let me try forestry.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Kenneth, that's a fair proposition,” returned father, evidently + surprised at my earnestness “Come on. We'll go up in the woods. Hal, I + suppose he's won you over?” + </p> + <p> + “Ken's got a big thing in mind,” replied Hal, loyally “It's just + splendid.” + </p> + <p> + I never saw the long, black-fringed line of trees without joy in the + possession of them and a desire to be among them. The sixty acres of + timber land covered the whole of a swampy valley, spread over a rolling + hill sloping down to the glistening river. + </p> + <p> + “Now, son, go ahead,” said my father, as we clambered over a rail fence + and stepped into the edge of shade.. + </p> + <p> + “Well, father—” I began, haltingly, and could not collect my + thoughts. Then we were in the cool woods. It was very still, there being + only a faint rustling of leaves and the mellow note of a hermit-thrush. + The deep shadows were lightened by shafts of sunshine which, here and + there, managed to pierce the canopy of foliage. Somehow, the feeling + roused by these things loosened my tongue. + </p> + <p> + “This is an old hard-wood forest,” I began. “Much of the white oak, + hickory, ash, maple, is virgin timber. These trees have reached maturity; + many are dead at the tops; all of them should have been cut long ago. They + make too dense a shade for the seedlings to survive. Look at that bunch of + sapling maples. See how they reach up, trying to get to the light. They + haven't a branch low down and the tops are thin. Yet maple is one of our + hardiest trees. Growth has been suppressed. Do you notice there are no + small oaks or hickories just here? They can't live in deep shade. Here's + the stump of a white oak cut last fall. It was about two feet in diameter. + Let's count the rings to find its age—about ninety years. It + flourished in its youth and grew rapidly, but it had a hard time after + about fifty years. At that time it was either burned, or mutilated by a + falling tree, or struck by lightning.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, how do you make that out?” asked father, intensely interested. + </p> + <p> + “See the free, wide rings from the pith out to about number forty-five. + The tree was healthy up to that time. Then it met with an injury of some + kind, as is indicated by this black scar. After that the rings grew + narrower. The tree struggled to live.” + </p> + <p> + We walked on with me talking as fast as I could get the words out. I + showed father a giant, bushy chestnut which was dominating all the trees + around it, and told him how it retarded their growth. On the other hand, + the other trees were absorbing nutrition from the ground that would have + benefited the chestnut. + </p> + <p> + “There's a sinful waste of wood here,” I said, as we climbed over and + around the windfalls and rotting tree-trunks. “The old trees die and are + blown down. The amount of rotting wood equals the yearly growth. Now, I + want to show you the worst enemies of the trees. Here's a big white oak, a + hundred and fifty years old. It's almost dead. See the little holes bored + in the bark. They were made by a beetle. Look!” + </p> + <p> + I swung my hatchet and split off a section of bark. Everywhere in the bark + and round the tree ran little dust-filled grooves. I pried out a number of + tiny brown beetles, somewhat the shape of a pinching-bug, only very much + smaller. + </p> + <p> + “There! You'd hardly think that that great tree was killed by a lot of + little bugs, would you? They girdle the trees and prevent the sap from + flowing.” + </p> + <p> + I found an old chestnut which contained nests of the deadly white moths, + and explained how it laid its eggs, and how the caterpillars that came + from them killed the trees by eating the leaves. I showed how mice and + squirrels injured the forest by eating the seeds. + </p> + <p> + “First I'd cut and sell all the matured and dead timber. Then I'd thin out + the spreading trees that want all the light, and the saplings that grow + too close together. I'd get rid of the beetles, and try to check the + spread of caterpillars. For trees grow twice as fast if they are not + choked or diseased. Then I'd keep planting seeds and shoots in the open + places, taking care to favor the species best adapted to the soil, and + cutting those that don't grow well. In this way we'll be keeping our + forest while doubling its growth and value, and having a yearly income + from it.” + </p> + <p> + “Kenneth, I see you're in dead earnest about this business,” said my + father, slowly. “Before I came out here today I had been looking up the + subject, and I believe, with you, that forestry really means the salvation + of our country. I think you are really interested, and I've a mind not to + oppose you.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll never regret it. I'll learn; I'll work up. Then it's an outdoor + life—healthy, free—why! all the boys I've told take to the + idea. There's something fine about it.” “Forestry it is, then,” replied + he. “I like the promise of it, and I like your attitude. If you have + learned so much while you were camping out here the past few summers it + speaks well for you. But why do you want to go to Arizona?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the best chances are out West. I'd like to get a line on the + National Forests there before I go to college. The work will be different; + those Western forests are all pine. I've a friend, Dick Leslie, a fellow I + used to fish with, who went West and is now a fire ranger in the new + National Forest in Arizona—Penetier is the name of it. He has + written me several times to come out and spend a while with him in the + woods.” + </p> + <p> + “Penetier? Where is that—near what town?” + </p> + <p> + “Holston. It's a pretty rough country, Dick says; plenty of deer, bears, + and lions on his range. So I could hunt some while studying the forests. I + think I'd be safe with Dick, even if it is wild out there.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, I'll let you go. When you return we'll see about the college.” + Then he surprised me by drawing a letter from his pocket and handing it to + me. “My friend, Mr. White, got this letter from the department at + Washington. It may be of use to you out there.” + </p> + <p> + So it was settled, and when father drove off homeward Hal and I went back + to camp. It would have been hard to say which of us was the more excited. + Hal did a war dance round the campfire. I was glad, however, that he did + not have the little twinge of remorse which I experienced, for I had not + told him or father all that Dick had written about the wilderness of + Penetier. I am afraid my mind was as much occupied with rifles and + mustangs as with the study of forestry. But, though the adventure called + most strongly to me, I knew I was sincere about the forestry end of it, + and I resolved that I would never slight my opportunities. So, smothering + conscience, I fell to the delight of making plans. I was for breaking camp + at once, but Hal persuaded me to stay one more day. We talked for hours. + Only one thing bothered me. Hal was jolly and glum by turns. He reveled in + the plans for my outfit, but he wanted his own chance. A thousand times I + had to repeat my promise, and the last thing he said before we slept was: + “Ken, you're going to ring me in next summer!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. THE MAN ON THE TRAIN + </h2> + <p> + Travelling was a new experience to me, and on the first night after I left + home I lay awake until we reached Altoona. We rolled out of smoky + Pittsburg at dawn, and from then on the only bitter drop in my cup of + bliss was that the train went so fast I could not see everything out of my + window. + </p> + <p> + Four days to ride! The great Mississippi to cross, the plains, the Rocky + Mountains, then the Arizona plateaus-a long, long journey with a wild pine + forest at the end! I wondered what more any young fellow could have + wished. With my face glued to the car window I watched the level country + speed by. + </p> + <p> + There appeared to be one continuous procession of well-cultivated farms, + little hamlets, and prosperous towns. What interested me most, of course, + were the farms, for all of them had some kind of wood. We passed a zone of + maple forests which looked to be more carefully kept than the others. Then + I recognized that they were maple-sugar trees. The farmers had cleaned out + the other species, and this primitive method of forestry had produced the + finest maples it had ever been my good-fortune to see. Indiana was flatter + than Ohio, not so well watered, and therefore less heavily timbered. I + saw, with regret, that the woodland was being cut regularly, tree after + tree, and stacked in cords for firewood. + </p> + <p> + At Chicago I was to change for Santa Fe, and finding my train in the + station I climbed aboard. My car was a tourist coach. Father had insisted + on buying a ticket for the California Limited, but I had argued that a + luxurious Pullman was not exactly the thing for a prospective forester. + Still I pocketed the extra money which I had assured him he need not spend + for the first-class ticket. + </p> + <p> + The huge station, with its glaring lights and clanging bells, and the + outspreading city, soon gave place to prairie land. + </p> + <p> + That night I slept little, but the very time I wanted to be awake—when + we crossed the Mississippi—I was slumbering soundly, and so missed + it. + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet I don't miss it coming back,” I vowed. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the Missouri, however, somewhat repaid me for the loss. What + a muddy, wide river! And I thought of the thousands of miles of country it + drained, and of the forests there must be at its source. Then came the + never-ending Kansas corn-fields. I do not know whether it was their length + or their treeless monotony, but I grew tired looking at them. + </p> + <p> + From then on I began to take some notice of my fellow-travelers. The + conductor proved to be an agreeable old fellow; and the train-boy, though + I mistrusted his advances because he tried to sell me everything from + chewing-gum to mining stock, turned out to be pretty good company. The + Negro porter had such a jolly voice and laugh that I talked to him + whenever I got the chance. Then occasional passengers occupied the seat + opposite me from town to town. They were much alike, all sunburned and + loud-voiced, and it looked as though they had all bought their high boots + and wide hats at the same shop. + </p> + <p> + The last traveller to face me was a very heavy man with a great bullet + head and a shock of light hair. His blue eyes had a bold flash, his long + mustache drooped, and there was something about him that I did not like. + He wore a huge diamond in the bosom of his flannel shirt, and a leather + watch-chain that was thick and strong enough to have held up a town-clock. + </p> + <p> + “Hot,” he said, as he mopped his moist brow. + </p> + <p> + “Not so hot as it was,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Sure not. We're climbin' a little. He's whistlin' for Dodge City now.” + </p> + <p> + “Dodge City?” I echoed, with interest. The name brought back vivid scenes + from certain yellow-backed volumes, and certain uncomfortable memories of + my father's displeasure. “Isn't this the old cattle town where there used + to be so many fights?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. An' not so very long ago. Here, look out the window.” He clapped + his big hand on my knee; then pointed. “See that hill there. Dead Man's + Hill it was once, where they buried the fellers as died with their boots + on.” + </p> + <p> + I stared, and even stretched my neck out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, old Dodge was sure lively,” he continued, as our train passed on. “I + seen a little mix-up there myself in the early eighties. Five + cow-punchers, friends they was, had been visitin' town. One feller, + playful-like, takes another feller's quirt—that's a whip. An' the + other feller, playful-like, says, 'Give it back.' Then they tussles for + it, an' rolls on the ground. I was laughin', as was everybody, when, + suddenly, the owner of the quirt thumps his friend. Both cowboys got up, + slow, an' watchin' of each other. Then the first feller, who had started + the play, pulls his gun. He'd hardly flashed it when they all pulls guns, + an' it was some noisy an' smoky. In about five seconds there was five dead + cowpunchers. Killed themselves, as you might say, just for fun. That's + what life was worth in old Dodge.” After this story I felt more kindly + disposed ward my travelling companion, and would have asked for more + romances but the conductor came along and engaged him in conversation. + Then my neighbor across the aisle, a young fellow not much older than + myself, asked me to talk to him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, if you like,” I replied, in surprise. He was pale; there were + red spots in his cheeks, and dark lines under his weary eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You look so strong and eager that it's done me good to watch you,” he + explained, with a sad smile. “You see—I'm sick.” + </p> + <p> + I told him I was very sorry, and hoped he would get well soon. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to have come West sooner,” he replied, “but I couldn't get the + money.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at me and then out of the window at the sun setting red + across the plains. I tried to make him think of something beside himself, + but I made a mess of it. The meeting with him was a shock to me. Long + after dark, when I had stretched out for the night, I kept thinking of him + and contrasting what I had to look forward to with his dismal future. + Somehow it did not seem fair, and I could not get rid of the idea that I + was selfish. + </p> + <p> + Next day I had my first sight of real mountains. And the Pennsylvania + hills, that all my life had appeared so high, dwindled to nothing. At + Trinidad, where we stopped for breakfast, I walked out on the platform + sniffing at the keen thin air. When we crossed the Raton Mountains into + New Mexico the sick boy got off at the first station, and I waved good-bye + to him as the train pulled out. Then the mountains and the funny little + adobe huts and the Pueblo Indians along the line made me forget everything + else. + </p> + <p> + The big man with the heavy watch-chain was still on the train, and after + he had read his newspaper he began to talk to me. + </p> + <p> + “This road follows the old trail that the goldseekers took in forty-nine,” + he said. “We're comin' soon to a place, Apache Pass, where the Apaches + used to ambush the wagon-trains, It's somewheres along here.” + </p> + <p> + Presently the train wound into a narrow yellow ravine, the walls of which + grew higher and higher. + </p> + <p> + “Them Apaches was the worst redskins ever in the West. They used to hide + on top of this pass an' shoot down on the wagon-trains.” + </p> + <p> + Later in the day he drew my attention to a mountain standing all by + itself. It was shaped like a cone, green with trees almost to the summit, + and ending in a bare stone peak that had a flat top. + </p> + <p> + “Starvation Peak,” he said. “That name's three hundred years old, dates + back to the time the Spaniards owned this land. There's a story about it + that's likely true enough. Some Spaniards were attacked by Indians an' + climbed to the peak, expectin' to be better able to defend themselves up + there. The Indians camped below the peak an' starved the Spaniards. Stuck + there till they starved to death! That's where it got its name.” + </p> + <p> + “Those times you tell of must have been great,” I said, regretfully. “I'd + like to have been here then. But isn't the country all settled now? Aren't + the Indians dead? There's no more fighting?” + </p> + <p> + “It's not like it used to be, but there's still warm places in the West. + Not that the Indians break out often any more. But bad men are almost as + bad, if not so plentiful, as when Billy the Kid run these parts. I saw two + men shot an' another knifed jest before I went East to St. Louis.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “In Arizona. Holston is the station where I get off, an' it happened near + there.” + </p> + <p> + “Holston is where I'm going.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't say. Well, I'm glad to meet you, young man. My name's Buell, + an' I'm some known in Holston. What's your name?” + </p> + <p> + He eyed me in a sharp but not unfriendly manner, and seemed pleased to + learn of my destination. + </p> + <p> + “Ward. Kenneth Ward. I'm from Pennsylvania.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't got the bugs. Any one can see that,” he said, and as I looked + puzzled he went on with a smile, and a sounding rap on his chest: “Most + young fellers as come out here have consumption. They call it bugs. I + reckon you're seekin' your fortune.”' + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in a way.” + </p> + <p> + “There's opportunities for husky youngsters out here. What're you goin' to + rustle for, if I may ask?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going in for forestry.” + </p> + <p> + “Forestry? Do you mean lumberin'?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Forestry is rather the opposite of lumbering. I'm going in for + Government forestry—to save the timber, not cut it.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me he gave a little start of surprise; he certainly + straightened up and looked at me hard. + </p> + <p> + “What's Government forestry?” + </p> + <p> + I told him to the best of my ability. He listened attentively enough, but + thereafter he had not another word for me, and presently he went into the + next car. I took his manner to be the Western abruptness that I had heard + of, and presently forgot him in the scenery along the line. At Albuquerque + I got off for a trip to a lunch-counter, and happened to take a seat next + to him. + </p> + <p> + “Know anybody in Holston?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + As I could not speak because of a mouthful of sandwich I shook my head. + For the moment I had forgotten about Dick Leslie, and when it did occur to + me some Indians offering to sell me beads straightway drove it out of my + mind again. + </p> + <p> + When I awoke the next day, it was to see the sage ridges and red buttes of + Arizona. We were due at Holston at eight o'clock, but owing to a crippled + engine the train was hours late. At last I fell asleep to be awakened by a + vigorous shake. + </p> + <p> + “Holston. Your stop. Holston,” the conductor was saying. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” I said, sitting up and then making a grab for my grip. “We're + pretty late, aren't we?” + </p> + <p> + “Six hours. It's two o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Hope I can get a room,” I said, as I followed him out on the platform. He + held up his lantern so that the light would shine in my face. “There's a + hotel down the street a block or so. Better hurry and look sharp. + Holston's not a safe place for a stranger at night.” + </p> + <p> + I stepped off into a windy darkness. A lamp glimmered in the station + window. By its light I made out several men, the foremost of whom had a + dark, pointed face and glittering eyes. He wore a strange hat, and I knew + from pictures I had seen that he was a Mexican. Then the bulky form of + Buell loomed up. I called, but evidently he did not hear me. The men took + his grips, and they moved away to disappear in the darkness. While I + paused, hoping to see some one to direct me, the train puffed out, leaving + me alone on the platform. + </p> + <p> + When I turned the corner I saw two dim lights, one far to the left, the + other to the right, and the black outline of buildings under what appeared + to be the shadow of a mountain. It was the quietest and darkest town I had + ever struck. + </p> + <p> + I decided to turn toward the right-hand light, for the conductor had said + “down the street.” I set forth at a brisk pace, but the loneliness and + strangeness of the place were rather depressing. + </p> + <p> + Before I had gone many steps, however, the sound of running water halted + me, and just in the nick of time, for I was walking straight into a ditch. + By peering hard into the darkness and feeling my way I found a bridge. + Then it did not take long to reach the light. But it was a saloon, and not + the hotel. One peep into it served to make me face about in double-quick + time, and hurry in the opposite direction. + </p> + <p> + Hearing a soft footfall, I glanced over my shoulder, to see the Mexican + that I had noticed at the station. He was coming from across the street. I + wondered if he were watching me. He might be. My heart began to beat + violently. Turning once again, I discovered that the fellow could not be + seen in the pitchy blackness. Then I broke into a run. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. THE TRAIL + </h2> + <p> + A short dash brought me to the end of the block; the side street was not + so dark, and after I had crossed this open space I glanced backward. + </p> + <p> + Soon I sped into a wan circle of light, and, reaching a door upon which + was a hotel sign, I burst in. Chairs were scattered about a bare office; a + man stirred on a couch, and then sat up, blinking. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid—I believe some one's chasing me,” I said. + </p> + <p> + He sat there eying me, and then drawled, sleepily: + </p> + <p> + “Thet ain't no call to wake a feller, is it?” + </p> + <p> + The man settled himself comfortably again, and closed his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Say, isn't this a hotel? I want a room!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Up-stairs; first door.” And with that the porter went to sleep in good + earnest. + </p> + <p> + I made for the stairs, and, after a backward look into the street, I ran + up. A smelly lamp shed a yellowish glare along a hall. I pushed open the + first door, and, entering the room, bolted myself in. Then all the + strength went out of my legs. When I sat down on the bed I was in a cold + sweat and shaking like a leaf. Soon the weakness passed, and I moved about + the room, trying to find a lamp or candle. Evidently the hotel, and, for + that matter, the town of Holston, did not concern itself with such trifles + as lights. On the instant I got a bad impression of Holston. I had to + undress in the dark. When I pulled the window open a little at the top the + upper sash slid all the way down. I managed to get it back, and tried + raising the lower sash. It was very loose, but it stayed up. Then I + crawled into bed. + </p> + <p> + Though I was tired and sleepy, my mind whirled so that I could not get to + sleep. If I had been honest with myself I should have wished myself back + home. Pennsylvania seemed a long way off, and the adventures that I had + dreamed of did not seem so alluring, now that I was in a lonely room in a + lonely, dark town. Buell had seemed friendly and kind—at least, in + the beginning. Why had he not answered my call? The incident did not look + well to me. Then I fell to wondering if the Mexican had really followed + me. The first thing for me in the morning would be to buy a revolver. Then + if any Mexicans— + </p> + <p> + A step on the tin roof outside frightened me stiff. I had noticed a porch, + or shed, under my window. Some one must have climbed upon it. I stopped + breathing to listen. For what seemed moments there was no sound. I wanted + to think that the noise might have been made by a cat, but I couldn't. I + was scared—frightened half to death. + </p> + <p> + If there had been a bolt on the window the matter would not have been so + disturbing. I lay there a-quiver, eyes upon the gray window space of my + room. Dead silence once more intervened. All I heard was the pound of my + heart against my ribs. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly I froze at the sight of a black figure against the light of my + window. I recognized the strange hat, the grotesque outlines. I was about + to shout for help when the fellow reached down and softly began to raise + the sash. + </p> + <p> + That made me angry. Jerking up in bed, I caught the heavy pitcher from the + wash-stand and flung it with all my might. + </p> + <p> + Crash! + </p> + <p> + Had I smashed out the whole side of the room it could scarcely have made + more noise. Accompanied by the clinking of glass and the creaking of tin, + my visitor rolled off the roof. I waited, expecting an uproar from the + other inmates of the hotel. No footstep, no call sounded within hearing. + Once again the stillness settled down. + </p> + <p> + Then, to my relief, the gray gloom lightened, and dawn broke. Never had I + been so glad to see the morning. While dressing I cast gratified glances + at the ragged hole in the window. With the daylight my courage had + returned, and I began to have a sort of pride in my achievement. + </p> + <p> + “If that fellow had known how I can throw a baseball he'd have been + careful,” I thought, a little cockily. + </p> + <p> + I went down-stairs into the office. The sleepy porter was mopping the + floor. Behind the desk stood a man so large that he made Buell seem small. + He was all shoulders and beard. + </p> + <p> + “Can I get breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody's got a half-hitch on you, has they?” he replied, jerking a + monstrous thumb over his shoulder toward a door. + </p> + <p> + I knew the words half-hitch had something to do with a lasso, and I was + rather taken back by the hotel proprietor's remark. The dining-room was + more attractive than anything I had yet seen about the place: the linen + was clean, and the ham and eggs and coffee that were being served to + several rugged men gave forth a savory odor. But either the waiter was + blind or he could not bear, for he paid not the slightest attention to me. + I waited, while trying to figure out the situation. Something was wrong, + and, whatever it was, I guessed that it must be with me. After about an + hour I got my breakfast. Then I went into the office, intending to be + brisk, businesslike, and careful about asking questions. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to pay my bill, and also for a little damage,” I said, telling + what had happened. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody'll kill thet Greaser yet,” was all the comment the man made. + </p> + <p> + I went outside, not knowing whether to be angry or amused with these queer + people. In the broad light of day Holston looked as bad as it had made me + feel by night. All I could see were the station and freight-sheds, several + stores with high, wide signs, glaringly painted, and a long block of + saloons. When I had turned a street corner, however, a number of stores + came into view with some three-storied brick buildings, and, farther out, + many frame houses. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, this street led my eye to great snowcapped mountains, and I + stopped short in my tracks, for I realized they were the Arizona peaks. Up + the swelling slopes swept a black fringe that I knew to be timber. The + mountains appeared to be close, but I knew that even the foot-bills were + miles away. Penetier, I remembered from one of Dick's letters, was on the + extreme northern slope, and it must be anywhere from forty to sixty miles + off. The sharp, white peaks glistened in the morning sun; the air had a + cool touch of snow and a tang of pine. I drew in a full breath, with a + sense on being among the pines. + </p> + <p> + Now I must buy my outfit and take the trail for Penetier. This I resolved + to do with as few questions as possible. I never before was troubled by + sensitiveness, but the fact had dawned upon me that I did not like being + taken for a tenderfoot. So, with this in mind, I entered a general + merchandise store. + </p> + <p> + It was very large, and full of hardware, harness, saddles, blankets—everything + that cowboys and ranchmen use. Several men, two in shirt-sleeves, were + chatting near the door. They saw me come in, and then, for all that it + meant to them, I might as well not have been in existence at all. So I sat + down to wait, determined to take Western ways and things as I found them. + I sat there fifteen minutes by my watch. This was not so bad; but when a + lanky, red-faced, leather-legged individual came in too he at once + supplied with his wants, I began to get angry. I waited another five + minutes, and still the friendly chatting went on. Finally I could stand it + no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Will somebody wait on me?” I demanded. + </p> + <p> + One of the shirt-sleeved men leisurely got up and surveyed me. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to buy something?” he drawled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you say so?” + </p> + <p> + The reply trembling on my lips was cut short by the entrance of Buell. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he said in a loud voice, shaking hands with me. “You've trailed + into the right place. Smith, treat this lad right. It's guns an' knives + an' lassoes he wants, I'll bet a hoss.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I want an outfit,” I said, much embarrassed. “I'm going to meet a + friend out in Penetier, a ranger—Dick Leslie.” + </p> + <p> + Buell started violently, and his eyes flashed. “Dick—Dick Leslie!” + he said, and coughed loudly. “I know Dick.... So you're a friend of his'n? + ... Now, let me help you with the outfit.” + </p> + <p> + Anything strange in Buell's manner was forgotten, in the absorbing + interest of my outfit. Father had given me plenty of money, so that I had + but to choose. I had had sense enough to bring my old corduroys and boots, + and I had donned them that morning. One after another I made my purchases—Winchester, + revolver, holsters, ammunition, saddle, bridle, lasso, blanket. When I got + so far, Buell said: “You'll need a mustang an' a pack-pony. I know a + feller who's got jest what you want.” And with that he led me out of the + store. + </p> + <p> + “Now you take it from me,” he went on, in a fatherly voice, “Holston + people haven't got any use for Easterners. An' if you mention your + business—forestry an' that—why, you wouldn't be safe. There's + many in the lumberin' business here as don't take kindly to the + Government. See! That's why I'm givin' you advice. Keep it to yourself an' + hit the trail today, soon as you can. I'll steer you right.” + </p> + <p> + I was too much excited to answer clearly; indeed, I hardly thanked him. + However, he scarcely gave me the chance. He kept up his talk about the + townspeople and their attitude toward Easterners until we arrived at a + kind of stock-yard full of shaggy little ponies. The sight of them drove + every other thought out of my head. + </p> + <p> + “Mustangs!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Sure. Can you ride?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes. I have a horse at home.... What wiry little fellows! They're so + wild-looking.” + </p> + <p> + “You pick out the one as suits you, an' I'll step into Cless's here. He's + the man who owns this bunch.” + </p> + <p> + It did not take me long to decide. A black mustang at once took my eye. + When he had been curried and brushed he would be a little beauty. I was + trying to coax him to me when Buell returned with a man. + </p> + <p> + “Thet your pick?” he asked, as I pointed. “Well, now, you're not so much + of a tenderfoot. Thet's the best mustang in the lot. Cless, how much for + him, an' a pack-pony an' pack-saddle?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon twenty dollars'll make it square,” replied the owner. + </p> + <p> + This nearly made me drop with amazement. I had only about seventy-five + dollars left, and I had been very much afraid that I could not buy the + mustang, let alone the pack-pony and saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Cless, send round to Smith for the lad's outfit, an' saddle up for him at + once.” Then he turned to me. “Now some grub, an' a pan or two.” + </p> + <p> + Having camped before, I knew how to buy supplies. Buell, however, cut out + much that I wanted, saying the thing to think of was a light pack for the + pony. + </p> + <p> + “I'll hurry to the hotel and get my things,” I said, “and meet you here. + I'll not be a moment.” + </p> + <p> + But Buell said it would be better for him to go with me, though he did not + explain. He kept with me, still he remained in the office while I went + up-stairs. Somehow this suited me, for I did not want him to see the + broken window. I took a few things from my grip and rolled them in a + bundle. Then I took a little leather case of odds and ends I had always + carried when camping and slipped it into my pocket. Hurrying down-stairs I + left my grip with the porter, wrote and mailed a postal card to my father, + and followed the impatient Buell. + </p> + <p> + “You see, it's a smart lick of a ride to Penetier, and I want to get there + before dark,” he explained, kindly. + </p> + <p> + I could have shouted for very glee when I saw the black mustang saddled + and bridled. + </p> + <p> + “He's well broke,” said Cless. “Keep his bridle down when you ain't in the + saddle. An' find a patch of grass fer him at night. The pony'll stick to + him.” + </p> + <p> + Cless fell to packing a lean pack-pony. + </p> + <p> + “Watch me do this,” said he; “you'll hev trouble if you don't git the hang + of the diamondhitch.” + </p> + <p> + I watched him set the little wooden criss-cross on the pony's back, throw + the balance of my outfit (which he had tied up in a canvas) over the + saddle, and then pass a long rope in remarkable turns and wonderful loops + round pony and pack. + </p> + <p> + “What's the mustang's name?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Never had any,” replied the former owner. + </p> + <p> + “Then it's Hal.” I thought how that name would please my brother at home. + </p> + <p> + “Climb up. Let's see if you fit the stirrups,” said Cless. “Couldn't be + better.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, young feller, you can hit the trail,” put in Buell, with his big + voice. “An' remember what I told you. This country ain't got much use for + a feller as can't look out for himself.” + </p> + <p> + He opened the gate, and led my mustang into the road and quite some + distance. The pony jogged along after us. Then Buell stopped with a finger + outstretched. + </p> + <p> + “There, at the end of this street, you'll find a trail. Hit it an' stick + to it. All the little trail's leadin' into it needn't bother you.” + </p> + <p> + He swept his hand round to the west of the mountain. The direction did not + tally with the idea I had gotten from Dick's letter. + </p> + <p> + “I thought Penetier was on the north side of the mountains.” + </p> + <p> + “Who said so?” he asked, staring. “Don't I know this country? Take it from + me.” + </p> + <p> + I thanked him, and, turning, with a light heart I faced the black mountain + and my journey. + </p> + <p> + It was about ten o'clock when Hal jogged into a broad trail on the + outskirts of Holston. A gray flat lay before me, on the other side of + which began the slow rise of the slope. I could hardly contain myself. I + wanted to run the mustang, but did not for the sake of the burdened pony. + That sage-flat was miles wide, though it seemed so narrow. The back of the + lower slope began to change to a dark green, which told me I was surely + getting closer to the mountains, even if it did not seem so. The trail + began to rise, and at last I reached the first pine-trees. They were a + disappointment to me, being no larger than many of the white oaks at home, + and stunted, with ragged dead tops. They proved to me that trees isolated + from their fellows fare as poorly as trees overcrowded. Where pines grow + closely, but not too closely, they rise straight and true, cleaning + themselves of the low branches, and making good lumber, free of knots. + Where they grow far apart, at the mercy of wind and heat and free to + spread many branches, they make only gnarled and knotty lumber. + </p> + <p> + As I rode on the pines became slowly more numerous and loftier. Then, when + I had surmounted what I took to be the first foot-hill, I came upon a + magnificent forest. A little farther on the trail walled me in with great + seamed trunks, six feet in diameter, rising a hundred feet before + spreading a single branch. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile my mustang kept steadily up the slow-rising trail, and the time + passed. Either the grand old forest had completely bewitched me or the + sweet smell of pine had intoxicated me, for as I rode along utterly + content I entirely forgot about Dick and the trail and where I was + heading. Nor did I come to my senses until Hal snorted and stopped before + a tangled windfall. + </p> + <p> + Then I glanced down to see only the clean, brown pine-needles. There was + no trail. Perplexed and somewhat anxious, I rode back a piece, expecting + surely to cross the trail. But I did not. I went to the left and to the + right, then circled in a wide curve. No trail! The forest about me seemed + at once familiar and strange. + </p> + <p> + It was only when the long shadows began to creep under the trees that I + awoke fully to the truth. + </p> + <p> + I had missed the trail! I was lost in the forest! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. LOST IN THE FOREST + </h2> + <p> + For a moment I was dazed. And then came panic. I ran up this ridge and + that one, I rushed to and fro over ground which looked, whatever way I + turned, exactly the same. And I kept saying, “I'm lost! I'm lost!” Not + until I dropped exhausted against a pine-tree did any other thought come + to me. + </p> + <p> + The moment that I stopped running about so aimlessly the panicky feeling + left me. I remembered that for a ranger to be lost in the forest was an + every-day affair, and the sooner I began that part of my education the + better. Then it came to me how foolish I had been to get alarmed, when I + knew that the general slope of the forest led down to the open country. + </p> + <p> + This put an entirely different light upon the matter. I still had some + fears that I might not soon find Dick Leslie, but these I dismissed for + the present, at least. A suitable place to camp for the night must be + found. I led the mustang down into the hollows, keeping my eye sharp for + grass. Presently I came to a place that was wet and soggy at the bottom, + and, following this up for quite a way, I found plenty of grass and a pool + of clear water. + </p> + <p> + Often as I had made camp back in the woods of Pennsylvania, the doing of + it now was new. For this was not play; it was the real thing, and it made + the old camping seem tame. I took the saddle off Hal and tied him with my + lasso, making as long a halter as possible. Slipping the pack from the + pony was an easier task than the getting it back again was likely to + prove. Next I broke open a box of cartridges and loaded the Winchester. My + revolver was already loaded, and hung on my belt. Remembering Dick's + letters about the bears and mountain-lions in Penetier Forest, I got a + good deal of comfort out of my weapons. Then I built a fire, and while my + supper was cooking I scraped up a mass of pine-needles for a bed. Never + had I sat down to a meal with such a sense of strange enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + But when I had finished and had everything packed away and covered, my + mind began to wander in unexpected directions. Why was it that the + twilight seemed to move under the giant pines and creep down the hollow? + While I gazed the gray shadows deepened to black, and night came suddenly. + My campfire seemed to give almost no light, yet close at hand the + flickering gleams played hide-and-seek among the pines and chased up the + straight tree trunks. The crackling of my fire and the light steps of the + grazing mustangs only emphasized the silence of the forest. Then a low + moaning from a distance gave me a chill. At first I had no idea what it + was, but presently I thought it must be the wind in the pines. It bore no + resemblance to any sound I had ever before heard in the woods. It would + murmur from different parts of the forest; sometimes it would cease for a + little, and then travel and swell toward me, only to die away again. But + it rose steadily, with shorter intervals of silence, until the + intermittent gusts swept through the tree-tops with a rushing roar. I had + listened to the crash of the ocean surf, and the resemblance was a + striking one. + </p> + <p> + Listening to this mournful wind with all my ears I was the better prepared + for any lonesome cries of the forest; nevertheless, a sudden, sharp + “Ki-yi-i!” seemingly right at my back, gave me a fright that sent my + tongue to the roof of my mouth. + </p> + <p> + Fumbling at the hammer of my rifle, I peered into the black-streaked gloom + of the forest. The crackling of dry twigs brought me to my feet. At the + same moment the mustangs snorted. Something was prowling about just beyond + the light. I thought of a panther. That was the only beast I could think + of which had such an unearthly cry. + </p> + <p> + Then another howl, resembling that of a dog, and followed by yelps and + barks, told me that I was being visited by a pack of coyotes. I spent the + good part of an hour listening to their serenade. The wild, mournful notes + sent quivers up my back. By-and-by they went away, and as my fire had + burned down to a red glow and the night wind had grown cold I began to + think of sleep. + </p> + <p> + But I was not sleepy. When I had stretched out on the soft bed of + pine-needles with my rifle close by, and was all snug and warm under the + heavy blanket, it seemed that nothing was so far away from me as sleep. + The wonder of my situation kept me wide awake, my eyes on the dim huge + pines and the glimmer of stars, and my ears open to the rush and roar of + the wind, every sense alert. Hours must have passed as I lay there living + over the things that had happened and trying to think out what was to + come. At last, however, I rolled over on my side, and with my hand on the + rifle and my cheek close to the sweet-smelling pine-needles I dropped + asleep. + </p> + <p> + When I awoke the forest was bright and sunny. + </p> + <p> + “You'll make a fine forester,” I said aloud, in disgust at my tardiness. + Then began the stern business of the day. While getting breakfast I turned + over in my mind the proper thing for me to do. Evidently I must pack and + find the trail. The pony had wandered off into the woods, but was easily + caught—a fact which lightened my worry, for I knew how dependent I + was upon my mustangs. When I had tried for I do not know how long to get + my pack to stay on the pony's back I saw where Mr. Cless had played a joke + on me. All memory of the diamond-hitch had faded into utter confusion. + First the pack fell over the off-side; next, on top of me; then the saddle + slipped awry, and when I did get the pack to remain stationary upon the + patient pony, how on earth to tie it there became more and more of a + mystery. Finally, in sheer desperation, I ran round the pony, pulled, + tugged, and knotted the lasso; more by luck than through sense I had + accomplished something in the nature of the diamond-hitch. + </p> + <p> + I headed Hal up the gentle forest slope, and began the day's journey + wherever chance might lead me. As confidence came, my enjoyment increased. + I began to believe I could take care of myself. I reasoned out that, as + the peaks were snow-capped, I should find water, and very likely game, up + higher. Moreover, I might climb a foothill or bluff from which I could get + my bearings. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me that I passed more pine-trees than I could have imagined + there were in the whole world. Miles and miles of pines! And in every mile + they grew larger and ruggeder and farther apart, and so high that I could + hardly see the tips. After a time I got out of the almost level forest + into ground ridged and hollowed, and found it advisable to turn more to + the right. On the sunny southern slopes I saw trees that dwarfed the ones + on the colder and shady north sides. I also found many small pines and + seedlings growing in warm, protected places. This showed me the value of + the sun to a forest. Though I kept a lookout for deer or game of any kind, + I saw nothing except some black squirrels with white tails. They were + beautiful and very tame, and one was nibbling at what I concluded must + have been a seed from a pine-cone. + </p> + <p> + Presently I fancied that I espied a moving speck far down through the + forest glades. I stopped Hal, and, watching closely, soon made certain of + it. Then it became lost for a time, but reappeared again somewhat closer. + It was like a brown blur and scarcely moved. I reined Hal more to the + right. Not for quite a while did I see the thing again, and when I did it + looked so big and brown that I took up my Winchester. Then it disappeared + once more. + </p> + <p> + I descended into a hollow, and tying Hal, I stole forward on foot, hoping + by that means to get close to the strange object without being seen + myself. + </p> + <p> + I waited behind a pine, and suddenly three horsemen rode across a glade + not two hundred yards away. The foremost rider was no other than the + Mexican whom I had reason to remember. + </p> + <p> + The huge trunk amply concealed me, but, nevertheless, I crouched down. How + strange that I should run into that Mexican again! Where was he going? Had + he followed me? Was there a trail? + </p> + <p> + As long as the three men were in sight I watched them. When the last brown + speck had flitted and disappeared far away in the forest I retraced my + steps to my mustang, pondering upon this new turn in my affairs. + </p> + <p> + “Things are bound to happen to me,” I concluded, “and I may as well make + up my mind to that.” + </p> + <p> + While standing beside Hal, undecided as to my next move, I heard a + whistle. It was faint, perhaps miles away, yet unmistakably it was the + whistle of an engine. I wondered if the railroad turned round this side of + the peaks. Mounting Hal, I rode down the forest to the point where I had + seen the men, and there came upon a trail. I proceeded along this in the + direction the men had taken. I had come again to the slow-rising level + that I had noted earlier in my morning's journey. After several miles a + light or opening in the forest ahead caused me to use more caution. As I + rode forward I saw a vast area of tree-tops far below, and then I found + myself on the edge of a foot-hill. + </p> + <p> + Right under me was a wide, yellow, bare spot, miles across, a horrible + slash in the green forest, and in the middle of it, surrounded by stacks + on stacks of lumber, was a great sawmill. + </p> + <p> + I stared in utter amazement. A sawmill on Penetier! Even as I gazed a + train of fresh-cut lumber trailed away into the forest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. THE SAWMILL + </h2> + <p> + In my surprise I almost forgot the Mexican. Then I thought that if Dick + were there the Mexican would be likely to have troubles of his own. I + remembered Dick's reputation as a fighter. But suppose I did not find Dick + at the sawmill? This part of the forest was probably owned by private + individuals, for I couldn't imagine Government timber being cut in this + fashion. So I tied Hal and the pony amidst a thick clump of young pines, + and, leaving all my outfit except my revolver, I struck out across the + slash. + </p> + <p> + No second glance was needed to tell that the lumbering here was careless + and without thought for the future. It had been a clean cut, and what + small saplings had escaped the saw had been crushed by the dropping and + hauling of the large pines. The stumps were all about three feet high, and + that meant the waste of many thousands of feet of good lumber. Only the + straight, unbranched trunks had been used. The tops of the pines had not + been lopped, and lay where they had fallen. It was a wilderness of yellow + brush, a dry jungle. The smell of pine was so powerful that I could hardly + breathe. Fire must inevitably complete this work of ruin; already I was + forester enough to see that. + </p> + <p> + Presently the trail crossed a railroad track which appeared to have been + hastily constructed. Swinging along at a rapid step on the ties I soon + reached the outskirts of the huge stacks of lumber; I must have walked + half a mile between two yellow walls. Then I entered the lumber camp. + </p> + <p> + It was even worse-looking than the slash. Rows of dirty tents, lines of + squatty log-cabins, and many flat-board houses clustered around an immense + sawmill. Evidently I had arrived at the noon hour, for the mill was not + running, and many rough men were lounging about smoking pipes. At the door + of the first shack stood a fat, round-faced Negro wearing a long, dirty + apron. + </p> + <p> + “Is Dick Leslie here?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno if Dick's come in yet, but I 'specks him,” he replied. “Be you + the young gent Dick's lookin' fer from down East?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Come right in, sonny, come right in an' eat. Dick allus eats with me, an' + he has spoke often 'bout you.” He led me in, and seated me at a bench + where several men were eating. They were brawny fellows, clad in overalls + and undershirts, and one, who spoke pleasantly to me, had sawdust on his + bare arms and even in his hair. The cook set before me a bowl of soup, a + plate of beans, potroast, and coffee, all of which I attacked with a good + appetite. Presently the men finished their meat and went outside, leaving + me alone with the cook. + </p> + <p> + “Many men on this job?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “More'n a thousand. Buell's runnin' two shifts, day an' night.” + </p> + <p> + “Buell? Does he own this land?” + </p> + <p> + “No. He's only the agent of a 'Frisco lumber company, an' the land belongs + to the Government. Buell's sure slashin' the lumber off, though. Two + freight-trains of lumber out every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this Penetier Forest?” I queried, carelessly, but I had begun to think + hard. + </p> + <p> + “Sure.” + </p> + <p> + I wanted to ask questions, but thought it wiser to wait. I knew enough + already to make out that I had come upon the scene of a gigantic lumber + steal. Buell's strange manner on the train, at the station, and his + eagerness to hurry me out of Holston now needed no more explanation. I + began to think the worst of him. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see a Mexican come into camp?” I inquired of the Negro. + </p> + <p> + “Sure. Greaser got here this mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “He tried to rob me in Holston.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't nothin' new fer Greaser. He's a thief, but I never heerd of him + holdin' anybody up. No nerve 'cept to knife a feller in the back.” + </p> + <p> + “What'll I do if I meet him here?” + </p> + <p> + “Slam him one! You're a strappin' big lad. Slam him one, an' flash your + gun on him. Greaser's a coward. I seen a young feller he'd cheated make + him crawl. Anyway, it'll be all day with him when Dick finds out he tried + to rob you. An' say, stranger, if a feller stays sober, this camp's safe + enough in daytime, but at night, drunk or sober, it's a tough place.” + </p> + <p> + Before I had finished eating a shrill whistle from the sawmill called the + hands to work; soon it was followed by the rumble of machinery and the + sharp singing of a saw. + </p> + <p> + I set out to see the lumber-camp, and although I stepped forth boldly, the + truth was that with all my love for the Wild West I would have liked to be + at home. But here I was, and I determined not to show the white feather. + </p> + <p> + I passed a row of cook-shacks like the one I had been in, and several + stores and saloons. The lumber-camp was a little town. A rambling log + cabin attracted me by reason of the shaggy mustangs standing before it and + the sounds of mirth within. A peep showed me a room with a long bar, where + men and boys were drinking. I heard the rattle of dice and the clink of + silver. Seeing the place was crowded, I thought I might find Dick there, + so I stepped inside. My entrance was unnoticed, so far as I could tell; in + fact, there seemed no reason why it should be otherwise, for, being + roughly dressed, I did not look very different from the many young fellows + there. I scanned all the faces, but did not see Dick's, nor, for that + matter, the Mexican's. Both disappointed and relieved, I turned away, for + the picture of low dissipation was not attractive. + </p> + <p> + The hum of the great sawmill drew me like a magnet. I went out to the + lumber-yard at the back of the mill, where a trestle slanted down to a + pond full of logs. A train loaded with pines had just pulled in, and + dozens of men were rolling logs off the flat-cars into a canal. At + stations along the canal stood others pike-poling the logs toward the + trestle, where an endless chain caught them with sharp claws and hauled + them up. Half-way from, the ground they were washed clean by a circle of + water-spouts. + </p> + <p> + I walked up the trestle and into the mill. The noise almost deafened me. + High above all other sounds rose the piercing song of the saw, and the + short intervals when it was not cutting were filled with a thunderous + crash that jarred the whole building. After a few confused glances I got + the working order into my head, and found myself in the most interesting + place I had ever seen. + </p> + <p> + As the stream of logs came up into the mill the first log was shunted off + the chain upon a carriage. Two men operated this carriage by levers, one + to take the log up to the saw, and the other to run it back for another + cut. The run back was very swift. Then a huge black iron head butted up + from below and turned the log over as easily as if it had been a straw. + This was what made the jar and crash. On the first cut the long strip of + bark went to the left and up against five little circular saws. Then the + five pieces slipped out of sight down chutes. When the log was trimmed a + man stationed near the huge band-saw made signs to those on the carriage, + and I saw that they got from him directions whether to cut the log into + timbers, planks, or boards. The heavy timbers, after leaving the saw, went + straight down the middle of the mill, the planks went to the right, the + boards in another direction. Men and boys were everywhere, each with a + lever in hand. There was not the slightest cessation of the work. And a + log forty feet long and six feet thick, which had taken hundreds of years + to grow, was cut up in just four minutes. + </p> + <p> + The place fascinated me. I had not dreamed that a sawmill could be brought + to such a pitch of mechanical perfection, and I wondered how long the + timber would last at that rate of cutting. The movement and din tired me, + and I went outside upon a long platform. Here workmen caught the planks + and boards as they came out, and loaded them upon trucks which were + wheeled away. This platform was a world in itself. It sent arms everywhere + among the piles of lumber, and once or twice I was as much lost as I had + been up in the forest. + </p> + <p> + While turning into one of these byways I came suddenly upon Buell and + another man. They were standing near a little house of weather-strips, + evidently an office, and were in their shirt-sleeves. They had not seen or + heard me. I dodged behind a pile of planks, intending to slip back the way + I had come. Before I could move Buell's voice rooted me to the spot. + </p> + <p> + “His name's Ward. Tall, well-set lad. I put Greaser after him the other + night, hopin' to scare him back East. But nix!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he's here now—to study forestry! Ha! ha!” said the other. + </p> + <p> + “You're sure the boy you mean is the one I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Greaser told me so. And this boy is Leslie's friend.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the worst of it,” replied Buell, impatiently. “I've got Leslie + fixed as far as this lumber deal is concerned, but he won't stand for any + more. He was harder to fix than the other rangers, an' I'm afraid of him.” + he's grouchy now. + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn't have let the boy get here.” + </p> + <p> + “Stockton, I tried to prevent it. I put Greaser with Bud an' Bill on his + trail. They didn't find him, an' now here he turns up.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he can be fixed.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if I know my business, he can't; take that from me. This kid is + straight. He'll queer my deal in a minute if he gets wise. Mind you, I'm + gettin' leary of Washington. We've seen about the last of these lumber + deals. If I can pull this one off I'll quit; all I want is a little more + time. Then I'll fire the slash, an' that'll cover tracks.” + </p> + <p> + “Buell, I wouldn't want to be near Penetier when you light that fire. This + forest will burn like tinder.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a whole lot I care then. Let her burn. Let the Government put out + the fire. Now, what's to be done about this boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I'd try to feel him out. Maybe he can be fixed. Boys who want to + be foresters can't be rich. Failing that—you say he's a kid who + wants to hunt and shoot—get some one to take him up on the + mountain.” + </p> + <p> + “See here, Stockton. This young Ward will see the timber is bein' cut + clean. If it was only a little patch I wouldn't mind. But this slash an' + this mill! He'll know. More'n that, he'll tell Leslie about the Mexican. + Dick's no fool. We're up against it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's risky, Buell. You remember the ranger up in Oregon.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we are to fall down on this deal all because of a fresh tenderfoot + kid?” demanded Buell. + </p> + <p> + “Not so loud.... We'll not fall down. But caution—use caution. You + made a mistake in trusting so much to the Greaser.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, an' I'm afraid of Leslie. An' that other fire-ranger, Jim + Williams, he's a Texan, an' a bad man. The two of them could about trim up + this camp. They'll both fight for the boy; take that from me.” + </p> + <p> + “We are sure up against it. Think now, and think quick.” + </p> + <p> + “First, I'll try to fix the boy. If that won't work... we'll kidnap him. + Then we'll take no chances with Leslie. There's a cool two hundred an' + fifty thousand in this deal for us, an' we're goin' to get it.” + </p> + <p> + With that Buell went into his office and closed the door; the other man, + Stockton, walked briskly down the platform. I could not resist peeping + from my hiding-place as he passed. He was tall and had a red beard, which + would enable me to recognize him if we met. + </p> + <p> + I waited there for some little time. Then I saw that by squeezing between + two piles of lumber could reach the other side of the platform. When I + reached the railing I climbed over, and, with the help of braces and + posts, soon got to where I could drop down. Once on the ground I ran along + under the platform until I saw a lane that led to the street. My one + thought was to reach the cabin where the Negro cook stayed and ask him if + Dick Leslie had come to camp. If he had not arrived, then I intended to + make a bee-line for my mustang. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. DICK LESLIE, RANGER + </h2> + <p> + Which end of the street I entered I had no idea. The cabins were all + alike, and in my hurry I would have passed the cook's shack had it not + been for the sight of a man standing in the door. That stalwart figure I + would have known anywhere. + </p> + <p> + “Dick!” I cried, rushing at him. + </p> + <p> + What Dick's welcome was I did not hear, but judging from the grip he put + on my shoulders and then on my hands, he was glad to see me. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, blessed if I'd have known you,” he said, shoving me back at + arm's-length. “Let's have a look at you.... Grown I say, but you're a + husky lad!” + </p> + <p> + While he was looking at me I returned the scrutiny with interest. Dick had + always been big, but now he seemed wider and heavier. Among these bronzed + Westerners he appeared pale, but that was only on account of his fair + skin. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, didn't you get my letter—the one telling you not to come West + yet a while?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I replied, blankly. “The last one I got was in May—about the + middle. I have it with me. You certainly asked me to come then. Dick, + don't you want me—now?” + </p> + <p> + Plain it was that my friend felt uncomfortable; he shifted from one foot + to another, and a cloud darkened his brow. But his blue eyes burned with a + warm light as he put his hand on my shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, I'm glad to see you,” he said, earnestly. “It's like getting a + glimpse of home. But I wrote you not to come. Conditions have changed—there's + something doing here—I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't explain, Dick,” I replied, gravely. “I know. Buell and—” + I waved my hand from the sawmill to the encircling slash. + </p> + <p> + Dick's face turned a fiery red. I believed that was the only time Dick + Leslie ever failed to look a fellow in the eye. + </p> + <p> + “Ken!... You're on,” he said, recovering his composure. “Well, wait till + you hear—Hello! here's Jim Williams, my pardner.” + </p> + <p> + A clinking of spurs accompanied a soft step. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, here's Ken Ward, the kid pardner I used to have back in the States,” + said Dick. “Ken, you know Jim.” + </p> + <p> + If ever I knew anything by heart it was what Dick had written me about + this Texan, Jim Williams. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, I shore am glad to see you,” drawled Jim, giving my hand a squeeze + that I thought must break every bone in it. + </p> + <p> + Though Jim Williams had never been described to me, my first sight of him + fitted my own ideas. He was tall and spare; his weather-beaten face seemed + set like a dark mask; only his eyes moved, and they had a quivering + alertness and a brilliancy that made them hard to look into. He wore a + wide sombrero, a blue flannel shirt with a double row of big buttons, + overalls, top-boots with very high heels, and long spurs. A heavy revolver + swung at his hip, and if I had not already known that Jim Williams had + fought Indians and killed bad men, I should still have seen something that + awed me in the look of him. + </p> + <p> + I certainly felt proud to be standing with those two rangers, and for the + moment Buell and all his crew could not have daunted me. + </p> + <p> + “Hello! what's this?” inquired Dick, throwing back my coat; and, catching + sight of my revolver, he ejaculated: “Ken Ward!” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Ken, if you-all ain't packin' a gun!” said Jim, in his slow, + careless drawl. “Dick, he shore is!” + </p> + <p> + It was now my turn to blush. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've got a gun,” I replied, “and I ought to have had it the other + night.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” inquired Dick, quickly. + </p> + <p> + It did not take me long to relate the incident of the Mexican. + </p> + <p> + Dick looked like a thunder-cloud, but Jim swayed and shook with laughter. + </p> + <p> + “You knocked him off the roof? Wal, thet shore is dee-lightful. It shore + is!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and, Dick,” I went on, breathlessly, “the Greaser followed me, and + if I hadn't missed the trail, I don't know what would have happened. + Anyway, he got here first.” + </p> + <p> + “The Greaser trailed you?” interrupted Dick, sharply. + </p> + <p> + When I replied he glanced keenly at me. “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I suspected it when I saw him with two men in the forest. But now I know + it.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard Buell tell Stockton he had put the Greaser on my trail.” + </p> + <p> + “Buell—Stockton!” exclaimed Dick. “What'd they have to do with the + Greaser?” + </p> + <p> + “I met Buell on the train. I told him I had come West to study forestry. + Buell's afraid I'll find out about this lumber steal, and he wants to shut + my mouth.” + </p> + <p> + Dick looked from me to Jim, and Jim slowly straitened his tall form. For a + moment neither spoke. Dick's white face caused me to look away from him. + Jim put a hand on my arm. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, you shore was lucky; you shore was.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess he doesn't know how lucky,” added Dick, somewhat huskily. “Come + on, we'll look up the Mexican.” + </p> + <p> + “It shore is funny how bad I want to see thet Greaser.” + </p> + <p> + Dick's hard look and tone were threatening enough, yet they did not affect + me so much as the easy, gay manner of the Texan. Little cold quivers ran + over me, and my knees knocked together. For the moment my animosity toward + the Mexican vanished, and with it the old hunger to be in the thick of + Wild Western life. I was afraid that I was going to see a man killed + without being able to lift a hand to prevent it. + </p> + <p> + The rangers marched me between them down the street and into the corner + saloon. Dick held me half behind him with his left hand while Jim + sauntered ahead. Strangest of all the things that had happened was the + sudden silencing of the noisy crowd. + </p> + <p> + The Mexican was not there. His companions, Bud and Bill, as Buell had + called them, were sitting at a table, and as Jim Williams walked into the + center of the room they slowly and gradually rose to their feet. One was a + swarthy man with evil eyes and a scar on his cheek; the other had a + brick-red face and a sandy mustache with a vicious curl. Neither seemed to + be afraid, only cautious. + </p> + <p> + “We're all lookin' for thet Greaser friend of yourn,” drawled Jim. “I + shore want to see him bad.” + </p> + <p> + “He's gone, Williams,” replied one. “Was in somethin' of a rustle, an' + didn't leave no word.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon he's all we're lookin' for this pertickler minnit.” + </p> + <p> + Jim spoke in a soft, drawling voice, and his almost expressionless tone + seemed to indicate pleasant indifference; still, no one could have been + misled by it, for the long, steady gaze he gave the men and his cool + presence that held the room quiet meant something vastly different. No + reply was offered. Bud and Bill sat down, evidently to resume their + card-playing. The uneasy silence broke to a laugh, then to subdued voices, + and finally the clatter and hum began again. Dick led me outside, where we + were soon joined by Jim. + </p> + <p> + “He's holed up,” suggested Dick. + </p> + <p> + “Shore. I don't take no stock in his hittin' the trail. He's layin' low.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's look around a bit, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + Dick took me back to the cook's cabin and, bidding me remain inside, + strode away. I heard footsteps so soon after his departure that I made + certain he had returned, but the burly form which blocked the light in the + cabin door was not Dick's. I was astounded to recognize Buell. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he said, in his blustering voice. “Heard you had reached camp, + an' have been huntin' you up.” + </p> + <p> + I greeted him pleasantly enough—more from surprise than from a + desire to mislead him. It seemed to me then that a child could have read + Buell. He'd an air of suppressed excitement; there was a glow on his face + and a kind of daring flash in his eyes. He seemed too eager, too glad to + see me. + </p> + <p> + “I've got a good job for you,” he went on, glibly, “jest what you want, + an' you're jest what I need. Come into my office an' help me. There'll be + plenty of outside work—measurin' lumber, markin' trees, an' such.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Buell—I—you see, Dick—he might not—” + </p> + <p> + I hesitated, not knowing how to proceed. But at my halting speech Buell + became even more smiling and voluble. + </p> + <p> + “Dick? Oh, Dick an' I stand all right; take thet from me. Dick'll agree to + what I want. I need a young feller bad. Money's no object. You're a bright + youngster. You'll look out for my interests. Here!” He pulled out a large + wad of greenbacks, and then spoke in a lower voice. “You understand that + money cuts no ice 'round this camp. We've a big deal. We need a smart + young feller. There's always some little irregularities about these big + timber deals out West. But you'll wear blinkers, an' make some money while + you're studyin' forestry. See?” + </p> + <p> + “Irregularities? What kind of irregularities?” + </p> + <p> + For the life of me I could not keep a little scorn out of my question. + Buell slowly put the bills in his pocket while his eyes searched; I could + not control my rising temper. + </p> + <p> + “You mean you want to fix me?” + </p> + <p> + He made no answer, and his face stiffened. + </p> + <p> + “You mean you want to buy my silence, shut my mouth about this lumber + steal?” + </p> + <p> + He drew in his breath audibly, yet still he did not speak. Either he was + dull of comprehension or else he was astonished beyond words. I knew I was + mad to goad him like that, but I could not help it. I grew hot with anger, + and the more clearly I realized that he had believed he could “fix” me + with his dirty money the hotter I got. + </p> + <p> + “You told Stockton you were leary of Washington, and were afraid I'd queer + your big deal.... Well, Mr. Buell, that's exactly what I'm going to do—queer + it!” + </p> + <p> + He went black in the face, and, cursing horribly, grasped me by the arm. I + struggled, but I could not loose that iron hand. Suddenly I felt a violent + wrench that freed me. Then I saw Dick swing back his shoulder and shoot + out his arm. He knocked Buell clear across the room, and when the man fell + I thought the cabin was coming down in the crash. He appeared stunned, for + he groped about with his hands, found a chair, and, using it as a support, + rose to his feet, swaying unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + “Leslie, I'll get you for this—take it from me,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + Dick's lips were tight, and he watched Buell with flaming eyes. The + lumberman lurched out of the door, and we heard him cursing after he had + disappeared. Then Dick looked at me with no little disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say to make Buell wild like that?” + </p> + <p> + I told Dick, word for word. First he looked dumfounded, then angry, and he + ended up with a grim laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, you're sure bent on starting something, as Jim would say. You've + started it all right. And Jim'll love you for it. But I'm responsible to + your mother. Ken, I remember your mother—and you're going back + home.” + </p> + <p> + “Dick!” + </p> + <p> + “You're going back home as fast as I can get you to Holston and put you on + a train, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't go!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + Without any more words Dick led me down the street to a rude corral; here + he rapidly saddled and packed his horses. The only time he spoke was when + he asked me where I had tied my mustangs. Soon we were hurrying out + through the slash toward the forest. Dick's troubled face kept down my + resentment, but my heart grew like lead. What an ending to my + long-cherished trip to the West! It had lasted two days. The + disappointment seemed more than I could bear. + </p> + <p> + We found the mustangs as I had left them, and the sight of Hal and the + feeling of the saddle made me all the worse. We did not climb the + foot-hill by the trail which the Mexican had used, but took a long, slow + ascent far round to the left. Dick glanced back often, and when we reached + the top he looked again in a way to convince me that he had some + apprehensions of being followed. + </p> + <p> + Twilight of that eventful day found us pitching camp in a thickly timbered + hollow. I could not help dwelling on how different my feelings would have + been if this night were but the beginning of many nights with Dick. It was + the last, and the more I thought about it the more wretched I grew. Dick + rolled in his blanket without saying even good-night, and I lay there + watching the veils and shadows of firelight flicker on the pines, and + listening, to the wind. Gradually the bitterness seemed to go away; my + body relaxed and sank into the soft, fragrant pine-needles; the great + shadowy trees mixed with the surrounding darkness. When I awoke it was + broad daylight, and Dick was shaking my arm. + </p> + <p> + “Hunt up the horses while I get the grub ready,” he said, curtly. + </p> + <p> + As the hollow was carpeted with thick grass our horses had not strayed. I + noticed that here the larger trees had been cut, and the forest resembled + a fine park. In the sunny patches seedlings were sprouting, many little + bushy pines were growing, and the saplings had sufficient room and light + to prosper. I commented to Dick upon the difference between this part of + Penetier and the hideous slash we had left. + </p> + <p> + “There were a couple of Government markers went through here and marked + the timber to be cut,” said Dick. + </p> + <p> + “Was the timber cut in the mill I saw?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Buell's just run up that mill. The old one is out here a ways, nearer + Holston.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible, Dick, that any of those loggers back there don't know the + Government is being defrauded?” + </p> + <p> + “Ken, hardly any of them know it, and they wouldn't care if they did. You + see, this forest-preserve business is new out here. Formerly the lumbermen + bought so much land and cut over it—skinned it. Two years ago, when + the National Forests were laid out, the lumbering men—that is, the + loggers, sawmill hands, and so on—found they did not get as much + employment as formerly. So generally they're sore on the National Forest + idea.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Dick, if they understand the idea of forestry they'd never oppose + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe. I don't understand it too well myself. I can fight fire—that's + my business; but this ranger work is new. I doubt if the Westerners will + take to forestry. There've been some shady deals all over the West because + of it. Buell, now, he's a timber shark. He bought so much timber from the + Government, and had the markers come in to mark the cut; then after they + were gone, he rushed up a mill and clapped on a thousand hands.” + </p> + <p> + “And the rangers stand for it? Where'll their jobs be when the Government + finds out?” + </p> + <p> + “I was against it from the start. So was Jim, particularly. But the other + rangers persuaded us.” + </p> + <p> + It began to dawn upon me that Dick Leslie might, after all, turn out to be + good soil in which to plant some seeds of forestry. I said no more then, + as we were busy packing for the start, but when we had mounted I began to + talk. I told him all I had learned about trees, how I loved them, and how + I had determined to devote my life to their study, care, and development. + As we rode along under the wide-spreading pines I illustrated my remarks + by every example I could possibly use. The more I talked the more + interested Dick became, and this spurred me on. Perhaps I exaggerated, but + my conscience never pricked me. He began to ask questions. + </p> + <p> + We reached a spring at midday, and halted for a rest. I kept on pleading, + and presently I discovered, to my joy, that I had made a strong impression + upon Dick. It seemed a strange thing for me to be trying to explain + forestry to a forest ranger, but so it was. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, it's all news to me. I've been on Penetier about a year, and I never + heard a word of what you've been telling me. My duties have been the + practical ones that any woodsman knows. Jim and the other rangers—why, + they don't know any more than I. It's a great thing, and I've queered my + chance with the Government.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you haven't—neither has Jim—not if you'll be straight + from now on. You can't keep faith with Buell. He tried to kidnap me. That + lets you out. We'll spoil Buell's little deal and save Penetier. A letter + to father will do it. He has friends in the Forestry Department at + Washington. Dick, what do you say? It's not too late!” + </p> + <p> + The dark shade lifted from the ranger's face, and he looked at me with the + smile of the old fishing days. + </p> + <p> + “Say? I say yes!” he exclaimed, in ringing voice, “Ken, you've made a man + of me!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. BACK TO HOLSTON + </h2> + <p> + Soon we were out of the forest, and riding across the sage-flat with + Holston in sight. Both of us avoided the unpleasant subject of my enforced + home-going. Evidently Dick felt cut up about it, and it caused me such a + pang that I drove it from my mind. Toward the end of our ride Dick began + again to talk of forestry. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, it's mighty interesting—all this you've said about trees. Some + of the things are so simple that I wonder I didn't hit on them long ago; + in fact, I knew a lot of what you might call forestry, but the scientific + ideas—they stump me. Now, what you said about a pine-tree cleaning + itself—come back at me with that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that's simple enough, Dick,” I answered. “Now, say here we have a + clump of pine saplings. They stand pretty close—close enough to make + dense shade, but not too crowded. The shade has prevented the lower + branches from producing leaves. As a consequence these branches die. Then + they dry, rot, and fall off, so when the trees mature they are + clean-shafted. They have fine, clear trunks. They have cleaned themselves, + and so make the best of lumber, free from knots.” + </p> + <p> + So our talk went on. Once in town I was impatient to write to my father, + for we had decided that we would not telegraph. Leaving our horses in + Cless's corral, we went to the hotel and proceeded to compose the letter. + This turned out more of a task than we had bargained for. But we got it + finished at last, not forgetting to put in a word for Jim Williams, and + then we both signed it. + </p> + <p> + “There!” I cried. “Dick, something will be doing round Holston before many + days.” + </p> + <p> + “That's no joke, you can bet,” replied Dick, wiping his face. “Ken, it's + made me sweat just to see that letter start East. Buell is a tough sort, + and he'll make trouble. Well, he wants to steer clear of Jim and me.” + </p> + <p> + After that we fell silent, and walked slowly back toward Cless's corral. + Dick's lips were closed tight, and he did not look at me. Evidently he did + not intend to actually put me aboard a train, and the time for parting had + come. He watered his horses at the trough, and fussed over his pack and + fumbled with his saddle-girths. It looked to me as though he had not the + courage to say goodby. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, it didn't look so bad—so mean till now,” he said. “I'm all + broken up.... To get you way out here! Oh! what's the use? I'm mighty + sorry ....Good-bye—maybe— + </p> + <p> + He broke off suddenly, and, wringing my hand, he vaulted into the saddle. + He growled at his pack-pony, and drove him out of the corral. Then he set + off at a steady trot down the street toward the open country. + </p> + <p> + It came to me in a flash, as I saw him riding farther and farther away, + that the reason my heart was not broken was because I did not intend to go + home. Dick had taken it for granted that I would board the next train for + the East. But I was not going to do anything of the sort. To my amaze I + found my mind made up on that score. I had no definite plan, but I was + determined to endure almost anything rather than give up my mustang and + outfit. + </p> + <p> + “It's shift for myself now,” I thought, soberly. “I guess I can make good. + ... I'm going back to Penetier.” + </p> + <p> + Even in the moment of impulse I knew how foolish this would be. But I + could not help it. That forest had bewitched me. I meant to go back to it. + </p> + <p> + “I'll stay away from the sawmill,” I meditated, growing lighter of heart + every minute. “I'll keep out of sight of the lumbermen. I'll go higher up + on the mountain, and hunt, and study the trees.... I'll do it.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon I marched off at once to a store and bought the supply of + provisions that Buell had decided against when he helped me with my + outfit. This addition made packing the pony more of a problem than ever, + but I contrived to get it all on to my satisfaction. It was nearing sunset + when I rode out of Holston this second time. The sage flat was bare and + gray. Dick had long since reached the pines, and would probably make camp + at the spring where we had stopped for lunch. I certainly did not want to + catch up with him, but as there was small chance of that; it caused me no + concern. + </p> + <p> + Shortly after sunset twilight fell, and it was night when I reached the + first pine-trees. Still, as the trail was easily to be seen, I kept on, + for I did not want to camp without water. The forest was very dark, in + some places like a huge black tent, and I had not ridden far when the old + fear of night, the fancy of things out there in the darkness, once more + possessed me. It made me angry. Why could I not have the same confidence + that I had in the daytime? It was impossible. The forest was full of + moving shadows. When the wind came up to roar in the pine-tips it was a + relief because it broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + I began to doubt whether I could be sure of locating the spring, and I + finally decided to make camp at once. I stopped Hal, and had swung my leg + over the pommel when I saw a faint glimmer of light far ahead. It twinkled + like a star, but was not white and cold enough for a star. + </p> + <p> + “That's Dick's campfire,” I said. “I'll have to stop here. Maybe I'm too + close now.” + </p> + <p> + I pondered the question. The blaze was a long way off, and I concluded I + could risk camping on the spot, provided I did not make a fire. + Accordingly I dismounted, and was searching for a suitable place when I + happened to think that the campfire might not be Dick's, after all. + Perhaps Buell had sent the Mexican with Bud and Bill on my trail again. + This would not do. But I did not want to go back or turn off the trail. + </p> + <p> + “I'll slip up and see who it is,” I decided. + </p> + <p> + The idea pleased me; however, I did not yield to it without further + consideration. I had a clear sense of responsibility. I knew that from now + on I should be called upon to reason out many perplexing things. I did not + want to make any mistakes. So I tied Hal and the pack-pony to a bush + fringing the trail, and set off through the forest. + </p> + <p> + It dawned upon me presently that the campfire was much farther away than + it appeared. Often it went out of sight behind trees. By degrees it grew + larger and larger. Then I slowed down and approached more cautiously. Once + when the trees obscured it I traveled some distance without getting a good + view of it. Passing down into a little hollow I lost it again. When I + climbed out I hauled up short with a sharp catch of my breath. There were + several figures moving around the campfire. I had stumbled on a camp that + surely was not Dick Leslie's. + </p> + <p> + The ground was as soft as velvet, and my footsteps gave forth no sound. + When the wind lulled I paused behind a tree and waited for another gusty + roar. I kept very close to the trail, for that was the only means by which + I could return to my horses. I felt the skin tighten on my face. Suddenly, + as I paused, I heard angry voices, pitched high. But I could not make out + the words. + </p> + <p> + Curiosity got the better of me. If the men were hired by Buell I wanted to + know what they were quarrelling about. I stole stealthily from tree to + tree, and another hollow opened beneath me. It was so wide and the pines + so overshadowed it that I could not tell how close the opposite side might + be to the campfire. I slipped down along the edge of the trail. The blaze + disappeared. Only a faint arc of light showed through the gloom. + </p> + <p> + I peered keenly into the blackness. At length I reached the slope. Here I + dropped to my hands and knees. + </p> + <p> + It was a long crawl to the top. Reaching it, I cautiously peeped over. + There were trees hiding the fire. But it was close. I heard the voices of + men. I backed down the slope, crossed the trail, and came up on the other + side. Pines grew thick on this level, and I stole silently from one to + another. Finally I reached the black trunk of a tree close to the + campfire. + </p> + <p> + For a moment I lay low. I did not seem exactly afraid, but I was all tense + and hard, and my heart drummed in my ears. There was something ticklish + about this scouting. Then I peeped out. + </p> + <p> + It added little to my excitement to recognize the Mexican. He sat near the + fire smoking a cigarette. Near him were several men, one of whom was Bill. + Facing them sat a man with his back to a small sapling. He was tied with a + lasso. + </p> + <p> + One glance at his white face made me drop behind the tree, where I lay + stunned and bewildered—for that man was Dick Leslie. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. THE LUMBERMEN + </h2> + <p> + For a full moment I just lay still, hugging the ground, and I did not seem + to think at all. Voices loud in anger roused me. Raising myself, I + guardedly looked from behind the tree. + </p> + <p> + One of the lumbermen threw brush on the fire, making it blaze brightly. He + was tall and had a red beard. I recognized Stockton, Buell's right hand in + the lumber deal. + </p> + <p> + “Leslie, you're a liar!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Dick's eyes glinted from his pale face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's your speed, Stockton,” he retorted. “You bring your thugs + into my camp pretending to be friendly. You grab a fellow behind his back, + tie him up, and then call him a liar. Wait, you timber shark!” + </p> + <p> + “You're lying about that kid, Ward,” declared the other. “You sent him + back East, that's what. He'll have the whole forest service down here. + Buell will be wild. Oh, he won't do a thing when he learns Ward has given + us the slip!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Ken Ward gave me the slip,” replied Dick. “I'll admit I meant + to see him safe in Holston. But he wouldn't go. He ran off from me right + here in this forest.” + </p> + <p> + What could have been Dick's object in telling such a lie? It made me + wonder. Perhaps these lumbermen were more dangerous than I had supposed, + and Dick did not wish them to believe I had left Penetier. Maybe he was + playing for time, and did not want them to get alarmed and escape before + the officers came. + </p> + <p> + “Why did he run off?” asked Stockton. + </p> + <p> + “Because I meant to send him home, and he didn't want to go. He's crazy to + camp out, to hunt and ride.” + </p> + <p> + “If that's true, Leslie, there's been no word sent to Washington.” + </p> + <p> + “How could there be?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've got to hold you anyway till we see Buell. His orders were to + keep you and Ward prisoners till this lumber deal is pulled off. We're not + going to be stopped now.” + </p> + <p> + Leslie turned crimson, and strained on the lasso that bound him to the + sapling. “Somebody is going to pay for this business!” he declared, + savagely. “You forget I'm an officer in this forest.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll hold you, Leslie, whatever comes of it,” answered the lumberman. + “I'd advise you to cool down.” + </p> + <p> + “You and Buell have barked up the wrong tree, mind that, Stockton. Jim + Williams, my pardner, is wise. He expects me back tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “See hyar, Stockton,” put in Bill, “you're new in Arizona, an' I want to + give you a hunch. If Jim Williams hits this trail, you ain't goin' to be + well enough to care about any old lumber steal.” + </p> + <p> + “Jim hit the trail all right,” went on Dick. “He's after Greaser. It'd go + hard with you if Jim happened to walk in now.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to buck against Williams, that's certain,” replied Stockton. + “I know his record. But I'll take a chance—anyway, till Buell knows. + It's his game.” + </p> + <p> + Dick made no answer, and sat there eyeing his captors. There was little + talk after this. Bud threw a log on the fire. Stockton told the Mexican to + take a look at the horses. Greaser walked within twenty feet of where I + lay, and I held my breath while he passed. The others rolled in their + blankets. It was now so dark that I could not distinguish anything outside + of the campfire circle. But I heard Greaser's soft, shuffling footsteps as + he returned. Then his dark, slim figure made a shadow between me and the + light. He sat down before the fire and began to roll a cigarette. He did + not seem sleepy. + </p> + <p> + A daring scheme flashed into my mind. I would crawl into camp and free + Dick. Not only would I outwit the lumber thieves, but also make Dick think + well of me. What would Jim Williams say of a trick like that? The thought + of the Texan banished what little hesitation I felt. Glancing round the + bright circle, I made my plan; it was to crawl far back into the darkness, + go around to the other side of the camp, and then slip up behind Dick. + Already his head was nodding on his breast. It made me furious to see him + sitting so uncomfortably, sagging in the lasso. + </p> + <p> + I tried to beat down my excitement, but there was a tingling all over me + that would not subside. But I soon saw that I might have a long wait. The + Mexican did not go to sleep, so I had time to cool off. + </p> + <p> + The campfire gradually burned out, and the white glow changed to red. One + of the men snored in a way that sounded like a wheezy whistle. Coyotes + howled in the woods, and the longer I listened to the long, strange howls + the better I liked them. The roar in the wind had died down to a moaning. + I thought of myself lying there, with my skin prickling and my eyes sharp + on the darkening forms. I thought of the nights I had spent with Hal in + the old woods at home. How full the present seemed! My breast swelled, my + hand gripped my revolver, my eyes pierced the darkness, and I would not + have been anywhere else for the world. + </p> + <p> + Greaser smoked out his cigarette, and began to nod. That was the signal + for me. I crawled noiselessly from the tree. When I found myself going + down into the hollow, I stopped and rose to my feet. The forest was so + pitchy black that I could not tell the trees from the darkness. I groped + to the left, trying to circle. Once I snapped a twig; it cracked like a + pistol-shot, and my heart stopped beating, then began to thump. But + Greaser never stirred as he sat in the waning light. At last I had half + circled the camp. + </p> + <p> + After a short rest I started forward, slow and stealthy as a creeping cat. + When within fifty feet of the fire I went down on all-fours and began to + crawl. Twice I got out of line. But at last Dick's burly shoulders loomed + up between me and the light. + </p> + <p> + Then I halted. My breast seemed bursting, and I panted so hard that I was + in a terror lest I should awaken some one. Again I thought of what I was + doing, and fought desperately to gain my coolness. + </p> + <p> + Now the only cover I had was Dick's broad back, for the sapling to which + he was tied was small. I drew my hunting-knife. One more wriggle brought + me close to Dick, with my face near his hands, which were bound behind + him. I slipped the blade under the lasso, and cut it through. + </p> + <p> + Dick started as if he had received an electric shock. He threw back his + head and uttered a sudden exclamation. + </p> + <p> + Although I was almost paralyzed with fright I put my hand on his shoulder + and whispered: “S-s-s-h! It's Ken!” + </p> + <p> + Greaser uttered a shrill cry. Dick leaped to his feet. Then I grew dizzy, + and my sight blurred. I heard hoarse shouts and saw dark forms rising as + if out of the earth. All was confusion. I wanted to run, but could not get + up. There was a wrestling, whirling mass in front of me. + </p> + <p> + But this dimness of sight and weakness of body did not last. I saw two men + on the ground, with Dick standing over them. Stockton was closing in. + Greaser ran around them with something in his hand that glittered in the + firelight. Stockton dived for Dick's legs and upset him. They went down + together, and the Mexican leaped on them, waving the bright thing high + over his head. + </p> + <p> + I bounded forward, and, grasping his wrist with both hands, I wrenched his + arm with all my might. Some one struck me over the head. I saw a million + darting points of light—then all went black. + </p> + <p> + When I opened my eyes the sun was shining. I had a queer, numb feeling all + over, and my head hurt terribly. Everything about me was hazy. I did not + know where I was. After a little I struggled to sit up, and with great + difficulty managed it. My hands were tied. Then it all came back to me. + Stockton stood before me holding a tin cup of water toward my lips. My + throat was parched, and I drank. Stockton had a great bruise on his + forehead; his nostrils were crusted with blood, and his shirt was half + torn off. + </p> + <p> + “You're all right?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” I replied, which was not true. + </p> + <p> + I imagined that a look of relief came over his face. Next I saw Bill + nursing his eye, and bathing it with a wet handkerchief. It was swollen + shut, puffed out to the size of a goose-egg, and blue as indigo. Dick had + certainly landed hard on Bill. Then I turned round to see Dick sitting + against the little sapling, bound fast with a lasso. His clean face did + not look as if he had been in a fight; he was smiling, yet there was + anxiety in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, now you've played hob,” he said. It was a reproach, but his look + made me proud. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dick, if you hadn't called out!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Darned if you're not right! But it was a slick job, and you'll tickle Jim + to death. I was an old woman. But that cold knife-blade made me jump.” + </p> + <p> + I glanced round the camp for the Mexican and Bud and the fifth man, but + they were gone. Bill varied his occupation of the moment by kneading + biscuit dough in a basin. Then there came such a severe pain in my head + that I went blind for a little while. “What's the matter with my head? Who + hit me?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Bud slugged you with the butt of his pistol,” said Dick. “And, Ken, I + think you saved me from being knifed by the Greaser. You twisted his arm + half off. He cursed all night.... Ha! there he comes now with your + outfit.” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, the Mexican appeared on the trail, leading my horses. I was + so glad to see Hal that I forgot I was a prisoner. But Greaser's sullen + face and glittering eyes reminded me of it quickly enough. I read + treachery in his glance. + </p> + <p> + Bud rode into camp from the other direction, and he brought a bunch of + horses, two of which I recognized as Dick's. The lumbermen set about + getting breakfast, and Stockton helped me to what little I could eat and + drink. Now that I was caught he did not appear at all mean or harsh. I did + not shrink from him, and had the feeling that he meant well by me. + </p> + <p> + The horses were saddled and bridled, and Dick and I, still tied, were + bundled astride our mounts. The pack-ponies led the way, with Bill + following; I came next, Greaser rode behind me, and Dick was between Bud + and Stockton. So we traveled, and no time was wasted. I noticed that the + men kept a sharp lookout both to the fore and the rear. We branched off + the main trail and took a steeper one leading up the slope. We rode for + hours. There were moments when I reeled in my saddle, but for the greater + while I stood my pain and weariness well enough. Some time in the + afternoon a shrill whistle ahead attracted my attention. I made out two + horsemen waiting on the trail. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! about time!” growled Bill. “Hyar's Buell an' Herky-Jerky.” + </p> + <p> + As we approached I saw Buell, and the fellow with the queer name turned + out to be no other than the absent man I had been wondering about. He had + been dispatched to fetch the lumberman. + </p> + <p> + Buell was superbly mounted on a sleek bay, and he looked very much the + same jovial fellow I had met on the train. He grinned at the disfigured + men. + </p> + <p> + “Take it from me, you fellers wouldn't look any worse bunged up if you'd + been jolted by the sawlogs in my mill.” + </p> + <p> + “We can't stand here to crack jokes,” said Stockton, sharply. “Some ranger + might see us. Now what?” + </p> + <p> + “You ketched the kid in time. That's all I wanted. Take him an' Leslie up + in one of the canyons an' keep them there till further orders. You needn't + stay, Stockton, after you get them in a safe place. An' you can send up + grub.” + </p> + <p> + Then he turned to me. + </p> + <p> + “You'll not be hurt if—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you speak to me!” I burst out. It was on my lips to tell him of the + letter to Washington, but somehow I kept silent. + </p> + <p> + “Leslie,” went on Buell, “I'll overlook your hittin' me an' let you go if + you'll give me your word to keep mum about this.” + </p> + <p> + Dick did not speak, but looked at the lumberman with a dark gleam in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “There's one thing, Buell,” said Stockton. “Jim Williams is wise. You've + got to look out for him.” + </p> + <p> + Buell's ruddy face blanched. Then, without another word, he waved his hand + toward the slope, and, wheeling his horse, galloped down the trail. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. TAKEN INTO THE MOUNTAINS + </h2> + <p> + We climbed to another level bench where we branched off the trail. The + forest still kept its open, park-like character. Under the great pines the + ground was bare and brown with a thick covering of pine-needles, but in + the glades were green grass and blue flowers. + </p> + <p> + Once across this level we encountered a steeper ascent than any I had yet + climbed. Here the character of the forest began to change. There were + other trees than pines, and particularly one kind, cone-shaped, + symmetrical, and bright, which Dick called a silver spruce. I was glad it + belonged to the conifers, or pine-tree family, because it was the most + beautiful tree I had ever seen. We climbed ridges and threaded through + aspen thickets in hollows till near sunset. Then Stockton ordered a halt + for camp. + </p> + <p> + It came none too soon for me, and I was so exhausted that I had to be + helped off my mustang. Stockton arranged my blankets, fed me, and bathed + the bruise on my head, but I was too weary and sick to be grateful or to + care about anything except sleep. Even the fact that my hands were + uncomfortably bound did not keep me awake. + </p> + <p> + When some one called me next morning my eyes did not want to stay open. I + had a lazy feeling and a dull ache in my bones, but the pain had gone from + my head. That made everything else seem all right. + </p> + <p> + Soon we were climbing again, and my interest in my surroundings grew as we + went up. For a while we brushed through thickets of scrub oak. The whole + slope of the mountain was ridged and hollowed, so that we were always + going down and climbing up. The pines and spruces grew smaller, and were + more rugged and gnarled. + </p> + <p> + “Hyar's the canyon!” sang out Bill, presently. + </p> + <p> + We came out on the edge of a deep hollow. It was half a mile wide. I + looked down a long incline of sharp tree-tips. The roar of water rose from + below, and in places a white rushing torrent showed. Above loomed the + snow-clad peak, glistening in the morning sun. How wonderfully far off and + high it still was! + </p> + <p> + To my regret it was shut off from my sight as we descended into the + canyon. However, I soon forgot that. I saw a troop of coyotes, and many + black and white squirrels. From time to time huge birds, almost as big as + turkeys, crashed out of the thickets and whirred away. They flew swift as + pheasants, and I asked Dick what they were. + </p> + <p> + “Blue grouse,” he replied. “Look sharp now, Ken, there are deer ahead of + us. See the tracks?” + </p> + <p> + Looking down I saw little, sharp-pointed, oval tracks. Presently two foxes + crossed an open patch not fifty yards from us, but I did not get a glimpse + of the deer. Soon we reached the bottom of the canyon, and struck into + another trail. The air was full of the low roar of tumbling water. This + mountain-torrent was about twenty feet wide, but its swiftness and foam + made it impossible to tell its depth. The trail led up-stream, and turned + so constantly that half the time Bill, the leader, was not in sight. Once + the sharp crack of his rifle halted the train. I heard crashings in the + thicket. Dick yelled for me to look up the slope, and there I saw three + gray deer with white tails raised. I heard a strange, whistling sound. + </p> + <p> + On going forward we found that Bill had killed a deer and was roping it on + his pack-horse. As we proceeded up the canyon it grew narrower, and soon + we entered a veritable gorge. It was short, but the floor was exceedingly + rough, and made hard going for the horses. Suddenly I was amazed to see + the gorge open out into a kind of amphitheatre several hundred feet + across. The walls were steep, and one side shelved out, making a long, + shallow cave, In the center of this amphitheatre was a deep hole from + which the mountain stream boiled and bubbled. + </p> + <p> + “Hyar we are,” said Bill, and swung out of his saddle. The other men + followed suit, and helped Dick and me down. Stockton untied our hands, + saying he reckoned we would be more comfortable that way. Indeed we were. + My wrists were swollen and blistered. Stockton detailed the Mexican to + keep guard over us. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, I've heard of this place,” said Dick. “How's that for a spring? + Twenty yards wide, and no telling how deep! This is snow-water straight + from the peaks. We're not a thousand feet below the snow-line.” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell that. Look at those Jwari pines,” I replied, pointing up over + the wall. A rugged slope rose above our camp-site, and it was covered with + a tangled mass of stunted pines. Many of them were twisted and misshapen; + some were half dead and bleached white at the tops. “It's my first sight + of such trees,” I went on, “but I've studied about them. Up here it's not + lack of moisture that stunts and retards their growth. It's fighting the + elements—cold, storm-winds, snowslides. I suppose not one in a + thousand seedlings takes root and survives. But the forest fights hard to + live.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ken, we may as well sit back now and talk forestry till Buell skins + all he wants of Penetier,” said Dick. “It's really a fine camping-spot. + Plenty of deer up here and bear, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Dick, couldn't we escape?” I whispered. + </p> + <p> + “We're not likely to have a chance. But I say, Ken, how did you happen to + turn up? I thought you were going to hop on the first train for home.” + </p> + <p> + “Dick, you had another think coming. I couldn't go home. I'll have a great + time yet—I'm having it now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that lump on your head looks like it,” replied Dick, with a laugh. + “If Bud hadn't put you out we'd have come closer to licking this bunch. + Ken, keep your eye on Greaser. He's treacherous. His arm's lame yet.” + </p> + <p> + “We've had two run-ins already,” I said. “The third time is the worst, + they say. I hope it won't come.... But, Dick, I'm as big—I'm bigger + than he is.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear the kid talk! I certainly ought to have put you on that train—” + </p> + <p> + “What train?” asked Stockton, sharply, from our rear. He took us in with + suspicious eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I was telling Ken I ought to have put him on a train for home,” answered + Dick. + </p> + <p> + Stockton let the remark pass without further comment; still, he appeared + to be doing some hard thinking. He put Dick at one end of the long cave, + me at the other. Our bedding was unpacked and placed at our disposal. We + made our beds. After that I kept my eyes open and did not miss anything. + </p> + <p> + “Leslie, I'm going to treat you and Ward white,” said Stockton. “You'll + have good grub. Herky-Jerky's the best cook this side of Holston, and + you'll be left untied in the daytime. But if either of you attempts to get + away it means a leg shot off. Do you get that?” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Stockton; that's pretty square of you, considering,” replied + Dick. “You're a decent sort of chap to be mixed up with a thief like + Buell. I'm sorry.” + </p> + <p> + Stockton turned away at this rather abruptly. Then Bill appeared on the + wall above, and began to throw down firewood. Bud returned from the + canyon, where he had driven the horses. Greaser sat on a stone puffing a + cigarette. It was the first time I had taken a good look at him. He was + smaller than I had fancied; his feet and hands and features resembled + those of a woman, but his eyes were live coals of black fire. In the + daylight I was not in the least afraid of him. + </p> + <p> + Herky-Jerky was the most interesting one of our captors. He had a short, + stocky figure, and was the most bow-legged man I ever saw. Never on earth + could he have stopped a pig in a lane. A stubby beard covered the lower + half of his brick-red face. The most striking thing about Herky-Jerky, + however, was his perpetual grin. He looked very jolly, yet every time he + opened his mouth it was to utter bad language. He cursed the fire, the + pans, the coffee, the biscuits, all of which he handled most skillfully. + It was disgusting, and yet aside from this I rather liked him. + </p> + <p> + It grew dark very quickly while we were eating, and the wind that dipped + down into the gorge was cold. I kept edging closer and closer to the + blazing campfire. I had never tasted venison before, and rather disliked + it at first. But I soon cultivated a liking for it. + </p> + <p> + That night Stockton tied me securely, but in a way which made it easy for + me to turn. I slept soundly and awoke late. When I sat up Stockton stood + by his saddled horse, and was giving orders to the men. He spoke sharply. + He made it clear that they were not to be lax in their vigilance. Then, + without a word to Dick or me, he rode down the gorge and disappeared + behind a corner of yellow wall. + </p> + <p> + Bill untied the rope that held Dick's arms, but left his feet bound. I was + freed entirely, and it felt so good to have the use of all my limbs once + more that I pranced round in a rather lively way. Either my antics annoyed + Herky-Jerky or he thought it a good opportunity to show his skill with a + lasso, for he shot the loop over me so hard that it stung my back. + </p> + <p> + “I'm all there as a roper!” he said, pulling the lasso tight round my + middle. The men all laughed as I tumbled over in the gravel. + </p> + <p> + “Better keep a half-hitch on the colt,” remarked Bud. + </p> + <p> + So they left the lasso fast about my waist, and it trailed after me as I + walked. Herky-Jerky put me to carrying Dick's breakfast from the campfire + up into the cave. This I did with alacrity. Dick and I exchanged + commonplace remarks aloud, but we had several little whispers. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, we may get the drop on them or give them the slip yet,” whispered + Dick, in one of these interludes. + </p> + <p> + This put ideas into my head. There might be a chance for me to escape, if + not for Dick. I made up my mind to try if a good chance offered, but I did + not want to go alone down that canyon without a gun. Stockton had taken my + revolver and hunting-knife, but I still had the little leather case which + Hal and I had used so often back on the Susquehanna. Besides a pen-knife + this case contained salt and pepper, fishing hooks and lines, matches—a + host of little things that a boy who had never been lost might imagine he + would need in an emergency. While thinking and planning I sat on the edge + of the great hole where the spring was. Suddenly I saw a swirl in the + water, and then a splendid spotted fish. It broke water twice. It was two + feet long. + </p> + <p> + “Dick, there's fish in this hole!” I yelled, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Shouldn't wonder,” replied he. “Sure, kid, thet hole's full of trout—speckled + trout,” said Herky-Jerky. “But they can't be ketched.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” I demanded. I had not caught little trout in the Pennsylvania + hills for nothing. “They eat, don't they? That fish I saw was a whale, and + he broke water for a bug. Get me a pole and some bugs or worms!” + </p> + <p> + When I took out my little case and showed the fishing-line, Herky-Jerky + said he would find me some bait. + </p> + <p> + While he was absent I studied that spring with new and awakened eyes. It + was round and very deep, and the water bulged up in great greenish swirls. + The outlet was a narrow little cleft through which the water flowed + slowly, as though it did not want to take its freedom. The rush and roar + came from the gorge below. + </p> + <p> + Herky-Jerky returned with a long, slender pole. It was as pliant as a + buggy-whip, and once trimmed and rigged it was far from being a poor + tackle. Herky-Jerky watched me with extreme attention, all the time + grinning. Then he held out a handful of grubs. + </p> + <p> + “If you ketch a trout on thet I'll swaller the pole!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + I stooped low and approached the spring, being careful to keep out of + sight. + </p> + <p> + “You forgot to spit on yer bait, kid,” said Bill. + </p> + <p> + They all laughed in a way to rouse my ire. But despite it I flipped the + bait into the water with the same old thrilling expectancy. + </p> + <p> + The bait dropped with a little spat. An arrowy shadow, black and gold, + flashed up. Splash! The line hissed. Then I jerked hard. The pole bent + double, wobbled, and swayed this way and that. The fish was a powerful + one; his rushes were like those of a heavy bass. But never had a bass + given me such a struggle. Every instant I made sure the tackle would be + wrecked. Then, just at the breaking-point, the fish would turn. At last he + began to tire. I felt that he was rising to the surface, and I put on more + strain. Soon I saw him; then he turned, flashing like a gold bar. I led my + captive to the outlet of the spring, where I reached down and got my + fingers in his gills. With that I lifted him. Dick whooped when I held up + the fish; as for me, I was speechless. The trout was almost two feet long, + broad and heavy, with shiny sides flecked with color. + </p> + <p> + Herky-Jerky celebrated my luck with a generous outburst of enthusiasm, + whereupon his comrades reminded him of his offer to swallow my fishing + pole. + </p> + <p> + I put on a fresh bait and instantly hooked another fish, a smaller one, + which was not so bard to land. The spring hole was full of trout. They + made the water boil when I cast. Several large ones tore the hook loose; I + had never dreamed of such fishing. Really it was a strange situation. Here + I was a prisoner, with Greaser or Bud taking turns at holding the other + end of the lasso. More than once they tethered me up short for no other + reason than to torment me. Yet never in my life had I so enjoyed fishing. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by Bill and Herky-Jerky left the camp. I heard Herky tell Greaser + to keep his eye on the stew-pots, and it occurred to me that Greaser had + better keep his eye on Ken Ward. When I saw Bud lie down I remembered what + Dick had whispered. I pretended to be absorbed in my fishing, but really I + was watching Greaser. As usual, he was smoking, and appeared listless, but + he still held on to the lasso. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly I saw a big blue revolver lying on a stone and I could even catch + the glint of brass shells in the cylinder. It was not close to Bud nor so + very close to Greaser. If he should drop the lasso! A wild idea possessed + me—held me in its grip. Just then the stew-pot boiled over. There + was a sputter and a cloud of steam, Greaser lazily swore in Mexican; he + got up to move the stew-pot and dropped the lasso. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the fire I bounded up, jerking the lasso far behind me. I + ran and grabbed the revolver. Greaser heard me and wheeled with a yell. + Bud sat up quickly. I pointed the revolver at him, then at Greaser, and + kept moving it from one side to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Don't move! I'll shoot!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Good boy!” yelled Dick. “You've got the drop. Keep it, Ken, keep it! + Don't lose your nerve. Edge round here and cut me loose.... Bud, if you + move I'll make him shoot. Come on, Ken.” + </p> + <p> + “Greaser, cut him loose!” I commanded the snarling Mexican. + </p> + <p> + I trembled so that the revolver wabbled in my hand. Trying to hold it + steadied, I squeezed it hard. Bang! It went off with a bellow like a + cannon. The bullet scattered the gravel near Greaser. His yellow face + turned a dirty white. He jumped straight up in his fright. + </p> + <p> + “Cut him loose!” I ordered. + </p> + <p> + Greaser ran toward Dick. + </p> + <p> + “Look out, Ken! Behind you! Quick!” yelled Dick. + </p> + <p> + I beard a crunching of gravel. Even as I wheeled I felt a tremendous pull + on the lasso and I seemed to be sailing in the air. I got a blurred + glimpse of Herky-Jerky leaning back on the taut lasso. Then I plunged + down, slid over the rocks, and went souse into the spring. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. ESCAPE + </h2> + <p> + Down, down I plunged, and the shock of the icy water seemed to petrify me. + I should have gone straight to the bottom like a piece of lead but for the + lasso. It tightened around my chest, and began to haul me up. + </p> + <p> + I felt the air and the light, and opened my eyes to see Herky-Jerky + hauling away on the rope. When he caught sight of me he looked as if ready + to dodge behind the bank. + </p> + <p> + “Whar's my gun?” he yelled. + </p> + <p> + I had dropped it in the spring. He let the lasso sag, and I had to swim. + Then, seeing that my hands were empty, he began to swear and to drag me + round and round in the pool. When he had pulled me across he ran to the + other side and jerked me back. I was drawn through the water with a force + that I feared would tear me apart. Greaser chattered like a hideous + monkey, and ran to and fro in glee. Herky-Jerky soon had me sputtering, + gasping, choking. When he finally pulled me out of the hole I was all but + drowned. + </p> + <p> + “You bow-legged beggar!” shouted Dick, “I'll fix you for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Whar's my gun?” yelled Herky, as I fell to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “I lost—it,” I panted. + </p> + <p> + He began to rave. Then I half swooned, and when sight and hearing fully + returned I was lying in the cave on my blankets. A great lassitude + weighted me down. The terrible thrashing about in the icy water had + quenched my spirit. For a while I was too played out to move, and lay + there in my wet clothes. Finally I asked leave to take them off. Bud, who + had come back in the meantime, helped me, or I should never have got out + of them. Herky brought up my coat, which, fortunately, I had taken off + before the ducking. I did not have the heart to speak to Dick or look at + him, so I closed my eyes and fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + It was another day when I awoke. I felt all right except for a soreness + under my arms and across my chest where the lasso had chafed and bruised + me. Still I did not recover my good spirits. Herky-Jerky kept on grinning + and cracking jokes on my failure to escape. He had appropriated my + revolver for himself, and he asked me several times if I wanted to borrow + it to shoot Greaser. + </p> + <p> + That day passed quietly, and so did the two that followed. The men would + not let me fish nor move about. They had been expecting Stockton, and as + he did not come it was decided to send Bud down to the mill; in fact, Bud + decided the matter himself. He warned Greaser and Herky to keep close + watch over Dick and me. Then he rode away. Dick and I resumed our talk + about forestry, and as we were separated by the length of the cave it was + necessary to speak loud. So our captors heard every word we said. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, what's the difference between Government forestry out here and, say, + forestry practiced by a farmer back in Pennsylvania?” asked Dick. + </p> + <p> + “There's a big difference, I imagine. Forestry is established in some + parts of the East; it's only an experiment out here.” + </p> + <p> + Then I went on to tell him about the method of the farmer. He usually had + a small piece of forest, mostly hard wood. When the snow was on he cut + firewood, fence-rails, and lumber for his own use in building. Some + seasons lumber brought high prices; then he would select matured logs and + haul them to the sawmill. But he would not cut a great deal, and he would + use care in the selection. It was his aim to keep the land well covered + with forest. He would sow as well as harvest. + </p> + <p> + “Now the Government policy is to preserve the National Forests for the use + of the people. The soil must be kept productive. Agriculture would be + impossible without water, and the forests hold water. The West wants + people to come to stay. The lumberman who slashes off the timber may get + rich himself, but he ruins the land.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that new law Congress is trying to pass?” queried Dick. + </p> + <p> + I was puzzled, but presently I caught his meaning. Bill and Herky-Jerky + were hanging on our words with unconcealed attention. Even the Mexican was + listening. Dick's cue was to scare them, or at least to have some fun at + their expense. + </p> + <p> + “They've passed it,” I replied. “Fellows like Buell will go to the + penitentiary for life. His men'll get twenty years on bread and water. No + whiskey! Serves 'em right.” + </p> + <p> + “What'll the President do when he learns these men kidnapped you?” + </p> + <p> + “Do? He'll have the whole forest service out here and the National Guard. + He's a friend of my father's. Why, these kidnappers will be hanged!” + </p> + <p> + “I wish the Guard would come quick. Too bad you couldn't have sent word! + I'd enjoy seeing Greaser swing. Say, he hasn't a ghost of a chance, with + the President and Jim Williams after him.” + </p> + <p> + “Dick, I want the rings in Greaser's ears.” + </p> + <p> + “What for? They're only brass.” + </p> + <p> + “Souvenirs. Maybe I'll have watch-charms made of them. Anyway, I can show + them to my friends back East.” + </p> + <p> + “It'll be great—what you'll have to tell,” went on Dick. “It'll be + funny, too.” + </p> + <p> + Greaser had begun to snarl viciously, and Herky and Bill looked glum and + thoughtful. The arrival of Bud interrupted the conversation and put an end + to our playful mood. We heard a little of what he told his comrades, and + gathered that Jim Williams had met Stockton and had asked questions hard + to answer. Dick flashed me a significant look, which was as much as to say + that Jim was growing suspicious. Bud had brought a store of whiskey, and + his companions now kept closer company with him than ever before. But from + appearances they did not get all they wanted. + </p> + <p> + “We've got to move this here camp,” said Bud. + </p> + <p> + Bud and Bill and Herky walked off down the gorge. Perhaps they really went + to find another place for the camp, for the present spot was certainly a + kind of trap. But from the looks of Greaser I guessed that they were + leaving him to keep guard while they went off to drink by themselves. + Greaser muttered and snarled. As the moments passed his face grew sullen. + </p> + <p> + All at once he came toward me. He bound my hands and my feet. Dick was + already securely tied, but Greaser put another lasso on him. Then he + slouched down the gorge. His high-peaked Mexican sombrero bobbed above the + rocks, then disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, now's the chance,” said Dick, low and quick. “If you can only work + loose! There's your rifle and mine, too. We could hold this fort for a + month.” + </p> + <p> + “What can I do?” I asked, straining on my ropes. + </p> + <p> + “You're not fast to the rock, as I am. Rollover here and untie me with + your teeth.” + </p> + <p> + I raised my head to get the direction, and then, with a violent twist of + my body, I started toward him; but being bound fast I could not guide + myself, and I rolled off the ledge. The bank there was pretty steep, and, + unable to stop, I kept on like a barrel going down-hill. The thought of + rolling into the spring filled me with horror. Suddenly I bumped hard into + something that checked me. It was a log of firewood, and in one end stuck + the big knife which Herky-Jerky used to cut meat. + </p> + <p> + Instantly I conceived the idea of cutting my bonds with this knife. But + how was I to set about it? + </p> + <p> + “Dick, here's a knife. How'll I get to it so as to free myself?” + </p> + <p> + “Easy as pie,” replied he, eagerly. “The sharp edge points down. You hitch + yourself this way—That's it—-good!” + </p> + <p> + What Dick called easy as pie was the hardest work I ever did. I lay flat + on my back, bound hand and foot, and it was necessary to jerk my body + along the log till my hands should be under the knife. I lifted my legs + and edged along inch by inch. + </p> + <p> + “Fine work, Ken! Now you're right! Turn on your side! Be careful you don't + loosen the knife!” + </p> + <p> + Not only were my wrists bound, but the lasso had been wrapped round my + elbows, holding them close to my body. Turning on my side, I found that I + could not reach the knife—not by several inches. This was a bitter + disappointment. I strained and heaved. In my effort to lift my body + sidewise I pressed my face into the gravel. “Hurry, Ken, hurry!” cried + Dick. “Somebody's coming!” + </p> + <p> + Thus urged, I grew desperate. In my struggle I discovered that it was + possible to edge up on the log and stick there. I glued myself to that + log. By dint of great exertion I brought the tight cord against the blade. + It parted with a little snap, my elbows dropped free. Raising my wrists, I + sawed quickly through the bonds. I cut myself, the blood flowed, but that + was no matter. Jerking the knife from the log, I severed the ropes round + my ankles and leaped up. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry, boy!” cried Dick, with a sharp note of alarm. + </p> + <p> + I ran to where he lay, and attacked the heavy halter with which he had + been secured. I had cut half through the knots when a shrill cry arrested + me. It was the Mexican's voice. + </p> + <p> + “Head him off! He's after your gun!” yelled Dick. + </p> + <p> + The sight of Greaser running toward the cave put me into a frenzy. + Dropping the knife, I darted to where my rifle leaned across my saddle. + But I saw the Mexican would beat me to it. Checking my speed, I grabbed up + a round stone and let fly. That was where my ball-playing stood me in good + stead, for the stone hit Greaser on the shoulder, knocking him flat. But + he got up, and lunged for the rifle just as I reached him. + </p> + <p> + I kicked the rifle out of his band, grappled with him, and down we went + together. We wrestled and thrashed off the ledge, and when we landed in + the gravel I was on top. + </p> + <p> + “Slug him, Ken!” yelled Dick, wildly. “Oh, that's fine! Give it to him! + Punch him! Get his wind!” + </p> + <p> + Either it was a mortal dread of Greaser's knife or some kind of a new-born + fury that lent me such strength. He screeched, he snapped like a wolf, he + clawed me, he struck me, but he could not shake me off. Several times he + had me turning, but a hard rap on his head knocked him back again. Then I + began to bang him in the ribs. + </p> + <p> + “That's the place!” shouted Dick. “Ken, you're going to do him up! Soak + him! Oh-h, but this is great!” + </p> + <p> + I kept the advantage over Greaser, but still he punished me cruelly. + Suddenly he got his snaky hands on my throat and began to choke me. With + all my might I swung my fist into his stomach. + </p> + <p> + His hands dropped, his mouth opened in a gasp, his face turned green. The + blow had made him horribly sick, and he sank back utterly helpless. I + jumped up with a shout of triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Run! Run for it!” yelled Dick, in piercing tones. “They're coming! Never + mind me! Run, I tell you! Not down the gorge! Climb out!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment I could not move out of my tracks. Then I saw Bill and Herky + running up the gorge, and, farther down, Bud staggering and lurching. + </p> + <p> + This lent me wings. In two jumps I had grabbed my rifle; then, turning, I + ran round the pool, and started up the one place in the steep wall where + climbing was possible. Above the yells of the men I heard Dick's piercing + cry: + </p> + <p> + “Go-go-go, Ken!” + </p> + <p> + I sent the loose rocks down in my flight. Here I leaped up; there I ran + along a little ledge; in another place I climbed hand and foot. The last + few yards was a gravelly incline. I seemed to slide back as much as I + gained. + </p> + <p> + “Come back hyar!” bawled Bill. + </p> + <p> + Crack! Crack! Crack... The reports rang out in quick succession. A bullet + whistled over me, another struck the gravel and sent a shower of dust into + my face. I pitched my rifle up over the bank and began to dig my fingers + and toes into the loose ground. As I gained the top two more bullets sang + past my head so close that I knew Bill was aiming to more than scare me. I + dragged myself over the edge and was safe. + </p> + <p> + The canyon, with its dense thickets and scrubby clumps of trees, lay below + in plain sight. Once hidden there, I would be hard to find. Picking up my + rifle, I ran swiftly along the base of the slope and soon gained the cover + of the woods. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. THE OLD HUNTER + </h2> + <p> + I ran till I got a stitch in my side, and then slowed down to a dog-trot. + The one thing to do was to get a long way ahead of my pursuers, for surely + at the outset they would stick like hounds to my trail. + </p> + <p> + A mile or more below the gorge I took to the stream and waded. It was + slippery, dangerous work, for the current tore about my legs and + threatened to upset me. After a little I crossed to the left bank. Here + the slope of the canyon was thick with grass that hid my tracks. It was a + long climb up to the level. Upon reaching it I dropped, exhausted. + </p> + <p> + “I've—given them—the slip,” I panted, exultantly.... “But—now + what?” + </p> + <p> + It struck me that now I was free, I had only jumped out of the frying-pan + into the fire. Hurriedly I examined my Winchester. The magazine contained + ten cartridges. What luck that Stockton had neglected to unload it! This + made things look better. I had salt and pepper, a knife, and matches—thanks + to the little leather case—and so I could live in the woods. + </p> + <p> + It was too late for regrets. I might have freed Dick somehow or even held + the men at bay, but I had thought only of escape. The lack of nerve and + judgment stung me. Then I was bitter over losing my mustang and outfit. + </p> + <p> + But on thinking it all over, I concluded that I ought to be thankful for + things as they were. I was free, with a whole skin. That climb out of the + gorge had been no small risk. How those bullets had whistled and hissed! + </p> + <p> + “I'm pretty lucky,” I muttered. “Now to get good and clear of this + vicinity. They'll ride down the trail after me. Better go over this ridge + into the next canyon and strike down that. I must go down. But how far? + What must I strike for?” + </p> + <p> + I took a long look at the canyon. In places the stream showed, also the + trail; then there were open patches, but I saw no horses or men. With a + grim certainty that I should be lost in a very little while, I turned into + the cool, dark forest. + </p> + <p> + Every stone and log, every bit of hard ground in my path, served to help + hide my trail. Herky-Jerky very likely had the cowboy's skill at finding + tracks, but I left few traces of my presence on that long slope. Only an + Indian or a hound could have trailed me. The timber was small and rough + brush grew everywhere. Presently I saw light ahead, and I came to an open + space. It was a wide swath in the forest. At once I recognized the path of + an avalanche. It sloped up clean and bare to the gray cliffs far above. + Below was a great mass of trees and rocks, all tangled in black splintered + ruin. I pushed on across the path, into the forest, and up and down the + hollows. The sun had gone down behind the mountain, and the shadows were + gathering when I came to another large canyon. It looked so much like the + first that I feared I had been travelling in a circle. But this one seemed + wider, deeper, and there was no roar of rushing water. + </p> + <p> + It was time to think of making camp, and so I hurried down the slope. At + the bottom I found a small brook winding among boulders and ledges of + rock. The far side of this canyon was steep and craggy. Soon I discovered + a place where I thought it would be safe to build a fire. My clothes were + wet, and the air had grown keen and cold. Gathering a store of wood, I + made my fire in a niche. For a bed I cut some sweet-scented pine boughs (I + thought they must be from a balsam-tree), and these I laid close up in a + rocky corner. Thus I had the fire between me and the opening, and with + plenty of wood to burn I did not fear visits from bears or lions. At last + I lay down, dry and warm indeed, but very tired and hungry. + </p> + <p> + Darkness closed in upon me. I saw a few stars, heard the cheery crackle of + my fire, and then I fell asleep. Twice in the night I awakened cold, but + by putting on more firewood I was soon comfortable again. + </p> + <p> + When I awoke the sun was shining brightly into my rocky bedchamber. The + fire had died out completely, there was frost on the stones. To build up + another fire and to bathe my face in the ice-water of the brook were my + first tasks. The air was sweet; it seemed to freeze as I breathed, and was + a bracing tonic. I was tingling all over, and as hungry as a starved wolf. + </p> + <p> + I set forth on a hunt for game. Even if the sound of a shot betrayed my + whereabouts I should have to abide by it, for I had to eat. Stepping + softly along, I glanced about me with sharp eyes. Deer trails were thick. + The bottom of this canyon was very wide, and grew wider as I proceeded. + Then the pines once more became large and thrifty. I judged I had come + down the mountain, perhaps a couple of thousand feet below the camp in the + gorge. I flushed many of the big blue grouse, and I saw numerous coyotes, + a fox, and a large brown beast which moved swiftly into a thicket. It was + enough to make my heart rise in my throat. To dream of hunting bears was + something vastly different from meeting one in a lonely canyon. + </p> + <p> + Just after this I saw a herd of deer. They were a good way off. I began to + slip from tree to tree, and drew closer. Presently I came to a little + hollow with a thick, short patch of underbrush growing on the opposite + side. Something crashed in the thicket. Then two beautiful deer ran out. + One bounded leisurely up the slope; the other, with long ears erect, + stopped to look at me. It was no more than fifty yards away. Trembling + with eagerness, I leveled my rifle. I could not get the sight to stay + steady on the deer. Even then, with the rifle wobbling in my intense + excitement, I thought of how beautiful that wild creature was. Straining + every nerve, I drew the sight till it was in line with the gray shape, + then fired. The deer leaped down the slope, staggered, and crumpled down + in a heap. + </p> + <p> + I tore through the bushes, and had almost reached the bottom of the hollow + when I remembered that a wounded deer was dangerous. So I halted. The gray + form was as still as stone. I ventured closer. The deer was dead. My + bullet had entered high above the shoulder at the juncture of the neck. + Though I had only aimed at him generally, I took a good deal of pride in + my first shot at a deer. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately my pen-knife had a fair-sized blade. With it I decided to cut + out part of the deer and carry it back to my camp. Then it occurred to me + that I might as well camp where I was. There were several jumbles of rock + and a cliff within a stone's-throw of where I stood. Besides, I must get + used to making camp wherever I happened to be. Accordingly, I took hold of + the deer, and dragged him down the hollow till I came to a leaning slab of + rock. + </p> + <p> + Skinning a deer was, of course, new to me. I haggled the flesh somewhat + and cut through the skin often, my knife-blade being much too small for + such work. Finally I thought it would be enough for me to cut out the + haunches, and then I got down to one haunch. It had bothered me how I was + going to sever the joint, but to my great surprise I found there did not + seem to be any connection between the bones. The haunch came out easily, + and I hung it up on a branch while making a fire. + </p> + <p> + Herky-Jerky's method of broiling a piece of venison at the end of a stick + solved the problem of cooking. Then it was that the little flat flask, + full of mixed salt and pepper, rewarded me for the long carrying of it. I + was hungry, and I feasted. + </p> + <p> + By this time the sun shone warm, and the canyon was delightful. I roamed + around, sat on sunny stones, and lay in the shade of pines. Deer browsed + in the glades. When they winded or saw me they would stand erect, shoot up + their long cars, and then leisurely lope away. Coyotes trotted out of + thickets and watched me suspiciously. I could have shot several, but + deemed it wise to be saving of my ammunition. Once I heard a low drumming. + I could not imagine what made it. Then a big blue grouse strutted out of a + patch of bushes. He spread his wings and tail and neck feathers, after the + fashion of a turkey-gobbler. It was a flap or shake of his wings that + produced the drumming. I wondered if he intended, by his actions, to + frighten me away from his mate's nest. So I went toward him, and got very + close before he flew. I caught sight of his mate in the bushes, and, as I + had supposed, she was on a nest. Though wanting to see her eggs or young + ones, I resisted the temptation, for I was afraid if I went nearer she + might abandon her nest, as some mother birds do. + </p> + <p> + It did not seem to me that I was lost, yet lost I was. The peaks were not + in sight. The canyon widened down the slope, and I was pretty sure that it + opened out flat into the great pine forest of Penetier. The only thing + that bothered me was the loss of my mustang and outfit; I could not + reconcile myself to that. So I wandered about with a strange, full sense + of freedom such as I had never before known. What was to be the end of my + adventure I could not guess, and I wasted no time worrying over it. + </p> + <p> + The knowledge I had of forestry I tried to apply. I studied the north and + south slopes of the canyon, observing how the trees prospered on the sunny + side. Certain saplings of a species unknown to me had been gnawed fully + ten feet from the ground. This puzzled me. Squirrels could not have done + it, nor rabbits, nor birds. Presently I hit upon the solution. The bark + and boughs of this particular sapling were food for deer, and to gnaw so + high the deer must have stood upon six or seven feet of snow. + </p> + <p> + I dug into the soft duff under the pines. This covering of the roots was + very thick and deep. I made it out to be composed of pine-needles, leaves, + and earth. It was like a sponge. No wonder such covering held the water! I + pried bark off dead trees and dug into decayed logs to find the insect + enemies of the trees. The open places, where little colonies of pine + sprouts grew, seemed generally to be down-slope from the parent trees. It + was easy to tell the places where the wind had blown the seeds. + </p> + <p> + The hours sped by. The shadows of the pines lengthened, the sun set, and + the shade deepened in the hollows. Returning to my camp, I cooked my + supper and made my bed. When I had laid up a store of firewood it was + nearly dark. + </p> + <p> + With night came the coyotes. The carcass of the deer attracted them, and + they approached from all directions. At first it was fascinating to hear + one howl far off in the forest, and then to notice the difference in the + sound as he came nearer and nearer. The way they barked and snapped out + there in the darkness was as wild a thing to hear as any boy could have + wished for. It began to be a little too much for me. I kept up a bright + fire, and, though not exactly afraid, I had a perch picked out in the + nearest tree. Suddenly the coyotes became silent. Then a low, continuous + growling, a snapping of twigs, and the unmistakable drag of a heavy body + over the ground made my hair stand on end. Gripping my rifle, I listened. + I heard the crunch of teeth on bones, then more sounds of something being + dragged down the hollow. The coyotes began to bark again, but now far back + in the forest. + </p> + <p> + Some beast had frightened them. What was it? I did not know whether a bear + would eat deer flesh, but I thought not. Perhaps timber-wolves had + disturbed the coyotes. But would they run from wolves? It came to me + suddenly—a mountain-lion! + </p> + <p> + I hugged my fire, and sat there, listening with all my ears, imagining + every rustle of leaf to be the step of a lion. It was long before the + thrills and shivers stopped chasing over me, longer before I could decide + to lie down. But after a while the dead quiet of the forest persuaded me + that the night was far advanced, and I fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + The first thing in the morning I took my rifle and went out to where I had + left the carcass of the deer. It was gone. It had been dragged away. A + dark path on the pine-needles and grass, and small bushes pressed to the + ground, plainly marked the trail. But search as I might, I could not find + the track of the animal that had dragged off the deer. After following the + trail for a few rods, I decided to return to camp and cook breakfast + before going any farther. While I was at it I cut many thin slices of + venison, and, after roasting them, I stored them away in the capacious + pocket of my coat. + </p> + <p> + My breakfast finished, I again set out to see what had become of the + remains of the deer. In two or three places the sharp hoofs had cut lines + in the soft earth, and there were tufts of whitish-gray hair elsewhere. A + hundred yards or more down the hollow I came to a bare spot where recently + there had been a pool of water. Here I found cat tracks as large as my two + hands. I had never seen the track of a mountain-lion, but, all the same, I + knew that this was the real thing. What an enormous brute he must have + been! I cast fearful glances into the surrounding thickets. + </p> + <p> + It was not needful to travel much farther. Under a bush well hidden in a + clump of trees lay what now remained of my deer. A patch of gray hair, a + few long bones, a split skull, and two long ears—no more! Even the + hide was gone. Perhaps the coyotes had finished the job after the lion had + gorged himself, but I did not think so. It seemed to me that coyotes would + have scattered the remains. Those two long ears somehow seemed pathetic. I + wished for a second that the lion were in range of my rifle. + </p> + <p> + The lion was driven from my mind when I saw a troop of deer cross a glade + below me. I had to fight myself to keep from shooting. The wind blew + rather strong in my face, which probably accounted for the deer not + winding me. + </p> + <p> + Then the whip-like crack of a rifle riveted me where I stood. One of the + deer fell, and the others bounded away. I saw a tall man stride down the + slope and into the glade. He was not like any of the loggers or lumbermen. + They were mostly brawny and round-shouldered. This man was lithe, erect; + he walked like athletes I had seen. Surely I should find a friend in him, + and I lost no time in running down into the glade. He saw me as soon as I + was clear of the trees, and stood leaning on his rifle. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, dog-gone my buttons!” he ejaculated. “Who're you?” + </p> + <p> + I blurted out all about myself, at the same time taking stock of him. He + was not young, but I had never seen a young man so splendid. Hair, beard, + and skin were all of a dark gray. His eyes, too, were gray—the + keenest and clearest I had ever looked into. They shone with a kindly + light, otherwise I might have thought his face hard and stern. His + shoulders were very wide, his arms long, his hands enormous. His buckskin + shirt attracted my attention to his other clothes, which looked like + leather overalls or heavy canvas. A belt carried a huge knife and a number + of shells of large caliber; the Winchester he had was exceedingly long and + heavy, and of an old pattern. The look of him brought back my old fancy of + Wetzel or Kit Carson. + </p> + <p> + “So I'm lost,” I concluded, “and don't know what to do. I daren't try to + find the sawmill. I won't go back to Holston just yet.” + </p> + <p> + “An' why not, youngster? 'Pears to me you'd better make tracks from + Penetier.” + </p> + <p> + I told him why, at which he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon you can stay with me fer a spell. My camp's in the head of + this canyon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, that'll be fine!” I exclaimed. My great good luck filled + me with joy. “Do you stay on the mountain?” + </p> + <p> + “Be'n here goin' on eighteen years, youngster. Mebbe you've heerd my name. + Hiram Bent.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a hunter?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon so, though I'm more a trapper. Here, you pack my gun.” + </p> + <p> + With that he drew his knife and set to work on the deer. It was wonderful + to see his skill. In a few cuts and strokes, a ripping of the hide and a + powerful slash, he had cut out a haunch. It took even less work for the + second. Then he hung the rest of the deer on a snag, and wiped his knife + and hands on the grass. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, youngster,” he said, starting up the canyon. + </p> + <p> + I showed him where the carcass of my deer had been devoured. + </p> + <p> + “Cougar. Thar's a big feller has the run of this canyon.” + </p> + <p> + “Cougar? I thought it was a mountain-lion.” + </p> + <p> + “Cougar, painter, panther, lion—all the same critter. An' if you + leave him alone he'll not bother you, but he's bad in a corner.” + </p> + <p> + “He scared away the coyotes.” + </p> + <p> + “Youngster, even a silver-tip—thet's a grizzly bear—will make + tracks away from a cougar. I lent my pack of hounds to a pard over near + Springer. If I had them we'd put thet cougar up a tree in no time.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there many lions—cougars here?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a few. Thet's why there's plenty of deer. Other game is plentiful, + too. Foxes, wolves, an', up in the mountains, bears are thick.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I may get to see one—get a shot at one?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + From that time I trod on air. I found myself wishing for my brother Hal. I + became reconciled to the loss of mustang and outfit. For a moment I almost + forgot Dick and Buell. Forestry seemed less important than hunting. I had + read a thousand books about old hunters and trappers, and here I was in a + wild mountain canyon with a hunter who might have stepped out of one of my + dreams. So I trudged along beside him, asking a question now and then, and + listening always. He certainly knew what would interest me. There was + scarcely a thing he said that I would ever forget. After a while, however, + the trail became so steep and rough that I, at least, had no breath to + spare for talking. We climbed and climbed. The canyon had become a narrow, + rocky cleft. Huge stones blocked the way. A ragged growth of underbrush + fringed the stream. Dead pines, with branches like spears, lay along the + trail. + </p> + <p> + We came upon a little clearing, where there was a rude log-cabin with a + stone chimney. Skins of animals were tacked upon logs. Under the bank was + a spring. The mountain overshadowed this wild nook. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, youngster, here's my shack. Make yourself to home,” said Hiram Bent. + </p> + <p> + I was all eyes as we entered the cabin. Skins, large and small, and of + many colors, hung upon the walls. A fire burned in a wide stone grate. A + rough table and some pans and cooking utensils showed evidence of recent + scouring. A bunch of steel traps lay in a corner. Upon a shelf were tin + cans and cloth bags, and against the wall stood a bed of glossy bearskins. + To me the cabin was altogether a most satisfactory place. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon ye're tired?” asked the hunter. “Thet's some pumpkins of a climb + unless you're used to it.” + </p> + <p> + I admitted I was pretty tired. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, rest awhile. You look like you hadn't slept much.” + </p> + <p> + He asked me about my people and home, and was so interested in forestry + that he left off his task of the moment to talk about it. I was not long + in discovering that what he did not know about trees and forests was + hardly worth learning. He called it plain woodcraft. He had never heard of + forestry. All the same I hungered for his knowledge. How lucky for me to + fall in with him! The things that had puzzled me about the pines he + answered easily. Then he volunteered information. From talking of the + forest, he drifted to the lumbermen. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, the lumber-sharks are rippin' holes in Penetier. I reckon they + wouldn't stop at nothin'. I've heered some tough stories about thet + sawmill gang. I ain't acquainted with Leslie, or any of them fellers you + named except Jim Williams. I knowed Jim. He was in Springer fer a while. + If Jim's your friend, there'll be somethin' happenin, when he rounds up + them kidnappers. I reckon you'd better hang up with me fer a while. You + don't want to get ketched again. Your life wasn't much to them fellers. I + think they'd held on to you fer money. It's too bad you didn't send word + home to your people.” + </p> + <p> + “I sent word home about the big steal of timber. That was before I got + kidnapped. By this time the Government knows.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, you don't say! Thet was pert of you, youngster. An' will the + Government round up these sharks?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it will. The Government is in dead earnest about protecting the + National Forests.” + </p> + <p> + “So it ought to be. Next to a forest fire, I hate these skinned timber + tracts. Wal, old Penetier's going to see somethin' lively before long. + Youngster, them lumbermen—leastways, them fellers you call Bud an' + Bill, an' such—they're goin' to fight.” + </p> + <p> + The old hunter left me presently, and went outside. I waited awhile for + him, but as he did not return I lay down upon the bearskins and dropped to + sleep. It seemed I had hardly closed my eyes when I felt a hand on my arm + and heard a voice. + </p> + <p> + “Wake up, youngster. Thar's two old bears an' a cub been foolin' with one + of my traps.” + </p> + <p> + In a flash I was wide awake. + </p> + <p> + “Let's see your gun. Humph! pretty small—38 caliber, ain't it? Wal, + it'll do the work if you hold straight. Can you shoot?” + </p> + <p> + “Fairly well.” + </p> + <p> + He took his heavy Winchester, and threw a coil of thin rope over his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Come on. Stay close to me, an' keep your eyes peeled.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. BEARS + </h2> + <p> + The old hunter walked so swiftly that I had to run to keep up with him. + The trail led up the creek, now on one side, again on the other, and I was + constantly skipping from stone to stone. The grassy slopes grew fewer, and + finally gave way altogether to cracked cliffs and weathered rocks. A + fringe of pine-trees leaned over the top with here and there a blasted + spear standing out white. + </p> + <p> + “I had my trap set up thet draw,” said Hiram Bent, as he pointed toward an + intersecting canyon. “Just before I waked you I was comin' along here, an' + I heered an all-fired racket up thar, an' so I watched. Soon three black + bears come paddlin' down, an' the biggest was draggin' the trap with the + chain an' log. Then I hurried to tell you. They can't be far.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they grizzlies?” I asked, trying to speak naturally. + </p> + <p> + “Nope. Jest plain black bears. But the one with the trap is a whopper. + He'll go over four hundred. See the tracks? Looks like somebody'd been + plowin' up the stones.” + </p> + <p> + There were deep tracks in the sand, and broad furrows, and stones + overturned, and places where a heavy object had crushed the gravel even + and smooth. + </p> + <p> + The old hunter kept striding on, and I wondered how he could go so fast + without running. Presently we came to where the canyon forked. Hiram + started up the right-hand fork, then suddenly stopped, and, turning, began + to go back, carefully examining the ground. + </p> + <p> + “They've split on us,” he explained. “The ole feller with the trap went up + the right-hand draw, an' the mother an' cub took to the left. Now, + youngster, can you keep your nerve?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, you go after the ole feller. You can't miss him, an' he won't be + far. You'll hear him bellerin' long before you git to him, though he might + lay low, so you steer clear of big boulders an' thickets. Kill him, an' + then run back an' take up this draw. The she bear is cute an' may give me + the slip, but if she doesn't climb out soon I'll head her off. Hurry on, + now. Keep your eye peeled, an' you'll be safe as if you were to home.” + </p> + <p> + With that he disappeared round the corner of stone wall where the canyon + divided. I wheeled and went to the right. This wing of the canyon twisted + and turned and was full of stones. A shallow sheet of water gleamed over + its colored bed of gravel. The walls were straight up, and, in places, + bulged outward. I flinched at every turn in the canyon; but, with rifle + cocked and thrust forward, I went on. The cracks in the walls, the + boulders and pieces of cliff that obstructed my path, and the occasional + thickets—all made me halt with careful step and finger on the + trigger. I followed the splashes on the stones, which told me that the + bear had passed that way. As I went cautiously on I felt a tightening at + my throat. The light above grew dimmer. When I stopped to listen it was so + silent that I heard only the pounding of my heart and my own quick + breathing. I pressed on and on, going faster all the time not that I felt + braver, but I longed to end the suspense. Suddenly the silence was broken + by a threatening roar. It swept down on me, swelling as it continued, and + it seemed to fill the canyon. It shook my pulses, it urged me to flight, + but I could not move. Then as suddenly it ceased. + </p> + <p> + For a long moment I stood still, with no idea of advancing farther. The + clinking of a chain seemed to release my cramped muscles. Very cautiously + I peered around a projecting corner of wall. There sat a huge black bear + on his haunches holding up a great steel trap which clutched one of his + paws. It was such a strange sight that my fear was forgotten. There was + something almost human in the way the bear looked at that trap. He touched + it gingerly with his free paw, and nosed it. I crept up close to the + corner of stone and looked around again. The bear was now close to me. I + saw the heavy chain and the log to which it was attached. He looked at + trap and log in a grave, pathetic way, as if trying to reason about them. + Then he roused into furious action, swinging the trap, dragging the log, + and bellowing in such a frightful manner that I dodged back behind the + wall. + </p> + <p> + But this sudden change in the bear, this appalling roar with its note of + pain, awakened me to his suffering. When the noise stopped and I looked + again, the bear was a sight not to be forgotten. He showed a helpless, + terrible fear of the steel-jawed thing on his foot. He dropped down on the + sand with a groan, and there was a despairing look in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + This made me forget my fear, and I had only one thought—to put him + out of his misery. When I leveled my rifle it was as steady as the rock + beside me. Aiming just below his ear, I pressed the trigger. The dull + report re-echoed from wall to wall. The bear lurched slightly, and his + head fell upon his outstretched paws. I waited, ready to shoot again upon + the slightest movement, but there was none. + </p> + <p> + With rifle ready I cautiously approached the bear. As I came close he + seemed larger and larger, but he showed no signs of life. I looked at the + glossy black fur, the flecks of blood on the side of his head where my + bullet had entered, the murderous saw-teeth of the heavy trap biting to + the bone, and the cruelty of that trap seemed to drive from me all pride + of achievement. It was nothing except mercy to kill a trapped crippled + bear that could not run or fight. Then and there I gained a dislike for + trapping animals. + </p> + <p> + The crack of the old hunter's rifle made me remember that I was to hurry + back up the other canyon, so I began to run. I bounded from stone to + stone, dashed over the sand-bars, jumped the brook, and went down that + canyon perhaps in far greater danger of bodily harm than when I had gone + up. + </p> + <p> + But when I turned the corner it was another story. The first canyon had + been easy climbing compared to this one. It was narrow, steep, and full of + dead pines fallen from above. Running was impossible. I clambered upward + over the loose stones, under the bridges of pines, round the boulders. + Presently I heard a shout. I could not tell where it came from, but I + replied. A second call I identified as coming from high up the ragged + canyon side, and I started up. It was hard work. Certainly no bears or + hunter had climbed out just here. At length, sore, spent, and torn, I fell + out of a tangle of brush upon the edge of the canyon. Above me rose the + swelling mountain slope thickly covered with dwarf pines. + </p> + <p> + “This way, youngster!” called the old hunter from my left. + </p> + <p> + A few more dashes in and out of the brush and trees brought me to a fairly + open space with not much slope. Hiram Bent stood under a pine, and at his + feet lay a black furry mass. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I heerd you shoot. Reckon you got yourn?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I killed him.... Say, Mr. Bent, I don't like traps.” + </p> + <p> + “Nary do I—for bears,” replied he, shaking his gray head. “A trapped + bear is about the pitifulest thing I ever seen. But it's seldom one ever + gits into trap of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “This one you shot must be the old mother bear. Where's the cub? Did it + get away?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. Lookup in the tree.” + </p> + <p> + I looked up the black trunk through the network of slender branches, and + saw the bear snuggling in a fork. His sharp ears stood up against the sky. + He was most anxiously gazing down at us. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, tumble him out of thar,” said Hiram Bent. + </p> + <p> + With a natural impulse to shoot I raised my rifle, but the cub looked so + attractive and so helpless that I hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like to do it,” I said. “Oh, I wish we could catch him alive!” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon we can.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” I inquired, eagerly, and lowered my rifle. + </p> + <p> + “Are you good on the climb?” + </p> + <p> + “Climb? This tree? Why, with one hand. Back in Pennsylvania I climbed + shell-bark hickory-trees with the lowest limb fifty feet from the ground. + .. But there weren't any bears up them.” + </p> + <p> + “You must keep out of his way if he comes down on you. He's a sassy little + chap. Now take this rope an' go up an' climb round him.” + </p> + <p> + “Climb round him?” I queried, as I gazed dubiously upward. “You mean to + slip out on the branches and go up hand-over-hand till I get above him. + The branches up there seem pretty close—I might. But suppose he goes + higher?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm lookin' fer him to go clean to the top. But you can beat him to it—mebbe.” + </p> + <p> + “Any danger of his attacking me—up there?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, not much. If he hugs the trunk he'll have to hold on fer all he's + worth. But if he stands on the branches an' you come up close he might bat + you one. Mebbe I'd better go up.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm going—I only wanted to know what to expect. Now, in case I + get above him, what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Make him back down till he reaches these first branches. When he gets so + far I'll tell you what to do.” I put my arm through the coil of rope, and, + slinging it snugly over my shoulder, began to climb the pine. It was the + work of only a moment to reach the first branch. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon you're some relation to a squirrel at thet,” said Hiram + Bent. “Jest as I thought the little cuss is climbin' higher. Thet's goin' + to worry us.” + </p> + <p> + It was like stepping up a ladder from the first branch to the fork. The + cub had gone up the right-hand trunk some fifteen feet, and was now + hugging it. At that short distance he looked alarmingly big. But I saw he + would have all he could do to hold on, and if I could climb the left trunk + and get above him there would be little to fear. How I did it so quickly + was a mystery, but amid the cracking of dead branches and pattering of + falling bark and swaying of the tree-top I gained a position above him. + </p> + <p> + He was so close that I could smell him. His quick little eyes snapped fire + and fear at once; he uttered a sound that was between a whine and a growl. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, youngster!” yelled Hiram, “thet's high enough—'tain't safe—be + careful now.” + </p> + <p> + With the words I looked out below me, to see the old hunter standing in + the glade waving his arms. + </p> + <p> + “I'm all right!” I yelled down. “Now, how'll I drive him?” + </p> + <p> + “Break off a branch an' switch him.” + </p> + <p> + There was not a branch above me that I could break, but a few feet below + was a slender, dead limb. I slid down and got it, and, holding on with my + left arm and legs, I began to thrash the cub. He growled fiercely. snapped + at the stick, and began to back down. + </p> + <p> + “He's started!” I cried, in glee. “Go on, Cubby—down with you!” + </p> + <p> + Clumsy as he was, he made swift time. I was hard put to keep close to him. + I slipped down the trunk—holding on one instant and sliding down the + next. But below the fork it was harder for Cubby and easier for me. The + branches rather hindered his backward progress while they aided mine. + Growling and whining, with long claws ripping the bark, he went down. All + of a sudden I became aware of the old hunter threshing about under the + tree. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on—not so fast!” he yelled. + </p> + <p> + Still the cub kept going, and stopped with his haunches on the first + branch. There, looking down, he saw an enemy below him, and hesitated. But + he looked up, and, seeing me, began to back down again. Hiram pounded the + tree with a dead branch. Cubby evidently intended to reach the ground, for + the noise did not stop him. Then the hunter ran a little way to a + windfall, and came back with the upper half of a dead sapling. With this + he began to prod the bear. Thereupon, Cubby lost no time in getting up to + the first branch again, where he halted. + </p> + <p> + “Throw the noose on him now—anywhere,” ordered the hunter. “An' + we've no time to lose. He's gittin' sassier every minnit.” + </p> + <p> + I dropped the wide loop upon Cubby, expecting to catch him first time. The + rope went over his head, but with a dexterous flip of his paw he sent it + flying. Then began a duel between us, in which he continually got the + better of me. All the while the old hunter prodded Cubby from below. + </p> + <p> + “You ain't quick enough,” said Hiram, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + Made reckless by this, I stepped down to another branch directly over the + bear, and tried again to rope him. It was of no use. He slipped out of the + noose with the sinuous movements of an eel. Once it caught over his ears + and in his open jaws. He gave a jerk that nearly pulled me from my perch. + I could tell he was growing angrier every instant, and also braver. + Suddenly the noose, quite by accident, caught his nose. He wagged his head + and I pulled. The noose tightened. + </p> + <p> + “I've got him!” I yelled, and gave the rope a strong pull. + </p> + <p> + The bear stood up with startling suddenness and reached for me. + </p> + <p> + “Climb!” shouted Hiram. + </p> + <p> + I dropped the rope and leaped for the branch above, and, catching it, + lifted myself just as the sharp claws of the cub scratched hard over my + boot. + </p> + <p> + Cubby now hugged the tree trunk and started up again. + </p> + <p> + “We've got him!” yelled Hiram. “Don't move—step on his nose if he + gets too close.” + </p> + <p> + Then I saw the halter had come off the bear and had fallen to the ground. + Hiram picked it up, arranged the noose, and, holding it in his teeth began + to limb after the bear. Cubby was now only a few feet under me, working + steadily up, growling, and his little eyes were like points of green fire. + </p> + <p> + “Stop him! Stand on his head!” mumbled Hiram, with the rope in his teeth. + </p> + <p> + “What!—not on your life!” + </p> + <p> + But, reaching up, I grasped a branch, and, swinging clear of the lower + one, I began to kick at the bear. This stopped him. Then he squealed, and + began to kick on his own account. Hiram was trying to get the noose over a + hind foot. After several attempts he succeeded, and then threw the rope + over the lowest branch. I gave a wild Indian yell of triumph. The next + instant, before I could find a foothold, the branch to which I was hanging + snapped like a pistol-shot, and I plunged down with a crash. I struck the + bear and the lower branch, and then the ground. The fall half stunned me. + I thought every bone in my body was broken. I rose unsteadily, and for a + moment everything whirled before my eyes. Then I discovered that the roar + in my ears was the old hunter's yell. I saw him hauling on the rope. There + was a great ripping of bark and many strange sounds, and then the cub was + dangling head downward. Hiram had pulled him from his perch, and hung him + over the lowest branch. + </p> + <p> + “Thar, youngster, git busy now!” yelled the hunter. “Grab the other rope—thar + it is—an' rope a front paw while I hold him. Lively now, he's mighty + heavy, an' if he ever gits down with only one rope on him we'll think + we're fast to chain lightnin'.” + </p> + <p> + The bear swung about five feet from the ground. As I ran at him with the + noose he twisted himself, seemed to double up in a knot, then he dropped + full-stretched again, and lunged viciously at me. Twice I felt the wind of + his paws. He spun around so fast that it kept me dancing. I flung the + noose and caught his right paw. Hiram bawled something that made me all + the more heedless, and in tightening the noose I ran in too close. The + bear gave me a slashing cuff on the side of the head, and I went down like + a tenpin. + </p> + <p> + “Git a hitch thar—to the saplin'!” roared Hiram, as I staggered to + my feet. “Rustle now—hurry!” + </p> + <p> + What with my ringing head, and fingers all thumbs, and Hiram roaring at + me, I made a mess of tying the knot. Then Hiram let go his rope, and when + the cub dropped to the ground the rope flew up over the branch. Cubby + leaped so quickly that he jerked the rope away before Hiram could pick it + up, and one hard pull loosened my hitch on the sapling. + </p> + <p> + The cub bounded through the glade, dragging me with him. For a few long + leaps I kept my feet, then down I sprawled. + </p> + <p> + “Hang on! Hang on!” Hiram yelled from behind. + </p> + <p> + If I had not been angry clear through at that cub I might have let go. He + ploughed my face in the dirt, and almost jerked my arms off. Suddenly the + strain lessened. I got up, to see that the old hunter had hold of the + other rope. + </p> + <p> + “Now, stretch him out!” he yelled. + </p> + <p> + Between us we stretched the cub out, so that all he could do was struggle + and paw the air and utter strange cries. Hiram tied his rope to a tree, + and then ran back to relieve me. It was high time. He took my rope and + fastened it to a stout bush. + </p> + <p> + “Thar, youngster, I reckon thet'll hold him! Now tie his paws an' muzzle + him.” + </p> + <p> + He drew some buckskin thongs from his pocket and handed them to me. We + went up to the straining cub, and Hiram, with one pull of his powerful + hands, brought the hind legs together. + </p> + <p> + “Tie 'em,” he said. + </p> + <p> + This done, with the aid of a heavy piece of wood he pressed the cub's head + down and wound a thong tightly round the sharp nose. Then he tied the + front legs. + </p> + <p> + “Thar! Now you loosen the ropes an' wind them up.” + </p> + <p> + When I had done this he lifted the cub and swung him over his broad back. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, you trail behind, an' keep your eye peeled to see he doesn't + work thet knot off his jaws.... Say, youngster, now you've got him, what + in thunder will you do with him?” + </p> + <p> + I looked at my torn trousers, at the blood on my skinned and burning + hands, and I felt of the bruise on my head, as I said, grimly: “I'll hang + to him as long as I can.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. THE CABIN IN THE FOREST + </h2> + <p> + Hiram Bent packed the cub down the canyon as he would have handled a sack + of oats. When we reached the cabin he fastened a heavy dog-collar round + Cubby's neck and snapped a chain to it. Doubling the halter, he tied one + end to the chain and the other to a sturdy branch of a tree. This done, he + slipped the thongs off the bear. + </p> + <p> + “Thar! He'll let you pet him in a few days mebbe,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Our captive did not yet show any signs of becoming tame. No sooner was he + free of the buckskin thongs than he leaped away, only to be pulled up by + the halter. Then he rolled over and over, clawing at the chain, and + squirming to get his head out of the collar. + </p> + <p> + “He might choke hisself,” said Hiram, “but mebbe he'll ease up if we stay + away from him. Now we've got to rustle to skin them two bears.” + </p> + <p> + So, after giving me a hunting-knife, and telling me to fetch my rifle, he + set off up the canyon. As I trudged along behind him I spoke of Dick + Leslie, and asked if there were not some way to get him out of the + clutches of the lumber thieves. + </p> + <p> + “I've been thinkin' about thet,” replied the hunter, “an' I reckon we can. + Tomorrow we'll cross the ridge high up back of thet spring-hole canyon, + an' sneak down. 'Pears to me them fellers will be trailin' you pretty + hard, an' mebbe they'll leave only one to guard Leslie. More'n thet, the + trail up here to my shack is known, an' I'm thinkin' we'd be smart to go + off an' camp somewhere else.” + </p> + <p> + “What'll I do about Cubby?” I asked, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Cubby? Oh, thet bear cub. Wal, take him along. Youngster, you don't want + to pack thet pesky cub back to Pennsylvania?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon it ain't likely you can. He's pretty heavy. Weighs nearly a + hundred. An' he'd make a heap of trouble. Mebbe we'll ketch a little cub—one + you can carry in your arms.” + </p> + <p> + “That'd be still better,” I replied. “But if we don't, I'll try to take + him back home.” + </p> + <p> + The old hunter said I made a good shot at the big bear, and that he would + give me the skin for a rug. It delighted me to think of that huge glossy + bearskin on the floor of my den. I told Hiram how the bear had suffered, + and I was glad to see that, although he was a hunter and trapper, he + disliked to catch a bear in a trap. We skinned the animal, and cut out a + quantity of meat. He told me that bear meat would make me forget all about + venison. By the time we had climbed up the other canyon and skinned the + other bear and returned to camp it was dark. As for me, I was so tired I + could hardly crawl. + </p> + <p> + In spite of my aches and pains, that was a night for me to remember. But + there was the thought of Dick Leslie. His rescue was the only thing needed + to make me happy. Dick was in my mind even when Hiram cooked a supper that + almost made me forget my manners. Certainly the broiled bear meat made me + forget venison. Then we talked before the burning logs in the stone + fire-place. Hiram sat on his home-made chair and smoked a strong-smelling + pipe while I lay on a bearskin in blissful ease. Occasionally we heard the + cub outside rattling his chain and growling. All of the trappers and + Indian fighters I had read of were different from Hiram Bent and Jim + Williams. Jim's soft drawl and kind, twinkling eyes were not what any + book-reader would expect to find in a dangerous man. And Hiram Bent was so + simple and friendly, so glad to have even a boy to talk to, that it seemed + he would never stop. If it had not been for his striking appearance and + for the strange, wild tales he told of his lonely life, he would have + reminded me of the old canal-lock tenders at home. + </p> + <p> + Once, when he was refilling his pipe and I thought it would be a good time + to profit from his knowledge of the forests, I said to him: + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Bent, let's suppose I'm the President of the United States, and + I have just appointed you to the office of Chief Forester of the National + Forests. You have full power. The object is to conserve our national + resources. What will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Mr. President,” he began, slowly and seriously, and with great + dignity, “the Government must own the forests an' deal wisely with them. + These mountain forests are great sponges to hold the water, an' we must + stop fire an' reckless cuttin'. The first thing is to overcome the + opposition of the stockmen, an' show them where the benefit will be theirs + in the long run. Next the timber must be used, but not all used up. We'll + need rangers who're used to rustlin' in the West an' know Western ways. + Cabins must be built, trails made, roads cut. We'll need a head forester + for every forest. This man must know all that's on his preserve, an' have + it mapped. He must teach his rangers what he knows about trees. Penetier + will be given over entirely to the growin' of yellow pine. Thet thrives + best, an' the parasites must go. All dead an' old timber must be cut, an' + much of thet where the trees are crowded. The north slopes must be cut + enough to let in the sun an' light. Brush, windfalls rottin' logs must be + burned. Thickets of young pine must be thinned. Care oughten be taken not + to cut on the north an' west edges of the forests, as the old guard pines + will break the wind.” + </p> + <p> + “How will you treat miners and prospectors?” + </p> + <p> + “They must be as free to take up claims as if there wasn't no National + Forest.” + </p> + <p> + “How about the settler, the man seeking a home out West?” I went on. + </p> + <p> + “We'll encourage him. The more men there are, the better the forester can + fight fire. But those home-seekers must want a home, an' not be squattin' + for a little, jest to sell out to lumber sharks.” + </p> + <p> + “What's to become of timber and wood?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, it's there to be used, an' must be used. We'll give it free to the + settler an' prospector. We'll sell it cheap to the lumbermen—big an' + little. We'll consider the wants of the local men first.” + </p> + <p> + “Now about the range. Will you keep out the stockmen?” + </p> + <p> + “Nary. Grazin' for sheep, cattle, an' hosses will go on jest the same. But + we must look out for overgrazin'. For instance, too many cattle will stamp + down young growth, an' too many sheep leave no grazin' for other stock. + The head forester must know his business, an' not let his range be + overstocked. The small local herders an' sheepmen must be considered + first, the big stockmen second. Both must be charged a small fee per head + for grazin'.” + </p> + <p> + “How will you fight fire?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, thet's the hard nut to crack. Fire is the forest's worst enemy. In a + dry season like this Penetier would burn like tinder blown by a bellows. + Fire would race through here faster 'n a man could run. I'll need special + fire rangers, an' all other rangers must be trained to fight fire, an' + then any men living in or near the forest will be paid to help. The thing + to do is watch for the small fires an' put them out. Campers must be made + to put out their fires before leaving camp. Brush piles an' slashes + mustn't be burned in dry or windy weather.” + </p> + <p> + Just where we left off talking I could not remember, for I dropped off to + sleep. I seemed hardly to have closed my eyes when the hunter called me in + the morning. The breakfast was smoking on the red-hot coals, and outside + the cabin all was dense gray fog. + </p> + <p> + When, soon after, we started down the canyon, the fog was lifting and the + forest growing lighter. Everything was as white with frost as if it had + snowed. A thin, brittle frost crackled under our feet. When we, had gotten + below the rocky confines of the canyon we climbed the slope to the level + ridge. Here it was impossible not to believe it had snowed. The forest was + as still as night, and looked very strange with the white aisles lined by + black tree trunks and the gray fog shrouding the tree-tops. Soon we were + climbing again, and I saw that Hiram meant to head the canyon where I had + left Dick. + </p> + <p> + The fog split and blew away, and the brilliant sunlight changed the + forest. The frost began to melt, and the air was full of mist. We climbed + and climbed—out of the stately yellow-pine zone, up among the + gnarled and blasted spruces, over and around strips of weathered stone. + Once I saw a cold, white snow-peak. It was hard enough for me to carry my + rifle and keep up with the hunter without talking. Besides, Hiram had + answered me rather shortly, and I thought it best to keep silent. From + time to time he stopped to listen. Then when he turned to go down the + slope be trod carefully, and cautioned me not to loosen stones, and he + went slower and yet slower. From this I made sure we were not far from the + springhole. + </p> + <p> + “Thar's the canyon,” he whispered, stopping to point below, where a black, + irregular line marked the gorge. “I haven't heerd a thing, an' we're + close. Mebbe they're asleep. Mebbe most of them are trallin' you, an' I + hope so. Now, don't you put your hand or foot on anythin' thet'll make a + noise.” + </p> + <p> + Then he slipped off, and it was wonderful to see how noiselessly he + stepped, and how he moved between trees and dead branches without a sound. + I managed pretty well, yet more than once a rattling stone or a broken + branch stopped Hiram short and made him lift a warning hand. + </p> + <p> + At last we got down to the narrow bench which separated the canyon-slope + from the deep cut. It was level and roughly strewn with boulders. Here we + took to all fours and crawled. It was easy to move here without noise, for + the ground was rocky and hard, and there was no brush. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly I fairly bumped into the hunter. Looking up, I saw that he had + halted only a few feet from the edge of the gorge where I had climbed out + in my escape. He was listening. There was not a sound save the dull roar + of rushing water. + </p> + <p> + Hiram slid forward a little, and rose cautiously to look over. I did the + same. When I saw the cave and the spring-hole I felt a catch in my throat. + </p> + <p> + But there was not a man in sight. Dick's captors had broken camp; they + were gone. The only thing left in the gorge to show they had ever been + there was a burned-out campfire. + </p> + <p> + “They're gone,” I whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, it 'pears so,” replied Hiram. “An' it's a move I don't like. + Youngster, it's you they want. Leslie's no particular use to them. They'll + have to let him go sooner or later, if they hain't already.” + </p> + <p> + “What'll we do now?” + </p> + <p> + “Make tracks. We'll cut back acrost the ridge an' git some blankets an' + grub, then light out for the other side of Penetier.” + </p> + <p> + I thought the old hunter had made rapid time on our way up, but now I saw + what he really meant by “making tracks.” Fortunately, after a short, + killing climb, the return was all down-hill. One stride of Hiram's + equalled two of mine, and he made his faster, so that I had to trot now + and then to catch up. Very soon I was as hot as fire, and every step was + an effort. But I kept thinking of Dick, of my mustang and outfit, and I + vowed I would stick to Hiram Bent's trail till I dropped. For the matter + of that I did drop more than once before we reached the cabin. + </p> + <p> + A short rest while Hiram was packing a few things put me right again. I + strapped my rifle over my shoulder, and then went out to untie my bear + cub. It would have cost me a great deal to leave him behind. I knew I + ought to, still I could not bring myself to it. All my life I had wanted a + bear cub. Here was one that I had helped to lasso and tie up with my own + hands. I made up my mind to hold to the cub until the last gasp. + </p> + <p> + So I walked up to Cubby with a manner more bold than sincere. He had not + eaten anything, but he had drunk the water we had left for him. To my + surprise he made no fuss when I untied the rope; on the other hand, he + seemed to look pleased, and I thought I detected a cunning gleam in his + little eyes. He paddled away down the canyon, and, as this was in the + direction we wanted to go, I gave him slack rope and followed. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, you're goin' to have a right pert time, youngster, an' don't you + forget it,” said Hiram Bent. + </p> + <p> + The truth of that was very soon in evidence. Cubby would not let well + enough alone, and he would not have a slack rope. I think he wanted to + choke himself or pull my arms out. When I realized that Cubby was three + times as strong as I was I began to see that my work was cut out for me. + The more, however, that he jerked me and hauled me along, the more I + determined to hang on. I thought I had a genuine love for him up to the + time he had almost knocked my head off, but it was funny how easily he + roused my anger after that. What would have happened had he taken a notion + to go through the brush? Luckily he kept to the trail, which certainly was + rough enough. So, with watching the cub and keeping my feet free of roots + and rocks, I had no chance to look ahead. Still I had no concern about + this, for the old hunter was at my heels, and I knew he would keep a sharp + lookout. + </p> + <p> + Before I was aware of it we had gotten out of the narrow canyon into a + valley with well-timbered bottom, and open, slow rising slopes. We were + getting down into Penetier. Cubby swerved from the trail and started up + the left slope. I did not want to go, but I had to keep with him, and that + was the only way. The hunter strode behind without speaking, and so I + gathered that the direction suited him. By leaning back on the rope I + walked up the slope as easily as if it were a moving stairway. Cubby + pulled me up; I had only to move my feet. When we reached a level once + more I discovered that the cub was growing stronger and wanted to go + faster. We zigzagged across the ridge to the next canyon, which at a + glance I saw was deep and steep. + </p> + <p> + “Thet'll be some work goin' down that!” called Hiram. “Let me pack your + gun.” + </p> + <p> + I would have been glad to give it to him, but how was I to manage? I could + not let go of the rope, and Hiram, laden as he was, could not catch up + with me. Then suddenly it was too late, for Cubby lunged forward and down. + </p> + <p> + This first downward jump was not vicious—only a playful one perhaps, + by way of initiating me; but it upset me, and I was dragged in the + pine-needles. I did not leap to my feet; I was jerked up. Then began a + wild chase down that steep, bushy slope. Cubby got going, and I could no + more have checked him than I could a steam-engine. Very soon I saw that + not only was the bear cub running away, but he was running away with me. I + slid down yellow places where the earth was exposed, I tore through + thickets, I dodged a thousand trees. In some grassy descents it was as if + I had seven-league boots. I must have broken all records for jumps. All at + once I stumbled just as Cubby made a spurt and flew forward, alighting + face downward. I dug up the pine—needles with my outstretched hands, + I scraped with my face and ploughed with my nose, I ate the dust; and when + I brought up with a jolt against a log a more furious boy than Ken Ward it + would be bard to imagine. Leaping up, I strove with every ounce of might + to hold in the bear. But though fury lent me new strength, he kept the + advantage. + </p> + <p> + Presently I saw the bottom of the canyon, an open glade, and an old + log-cabin. I looked back to see if the hunter was coming. He was not in + sight, but I fancied I heard him. Then Cubby, putting on extra steam, took + the remaining rods of the slope in another spurt. I had to race, then fly, + and at last lost my footing and plunged down into a thicket. + </p> + <p> + There farther progress stopped for both of us. Cubby had gone down on one + side of a sapling and I on the other, with the result that we were brought + up short. I crashed through some low bushes and bumped squarely into the + cub. Whether it was his frantic effort to escape, or just excitement, or + deliberate intention to beat me into a jelly I had no means to tell. The + fact was he began to dig at me and paw me and maul me. Never had I been so + angry. I began to fight back, to punch and kick him. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, with a crashing in the bushes, the cub was hauled away from me, + and then I saw Hiram at the rope. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, wal!” he ejaculated, “your own mother wouldn't own you now!” Then he + laughed heartily and chuckled to himself, and gave the cub a couple of + jerks that took the mischief out of him. I dragged myself after Hiram into + the glade. The cabin was large and very old, and part of the roof was + sunken in. + </p> + <p> + “We'll hang up here an' camp,” said Hiram. “This is an old hunters' cabin, + an' kinder out of the way. We'll hitch this little fighter inside, where + mebbe he won't be so noisy.” + </p> + <p> + The hunter hauled the cub up short, and half pulled, half lifted him into + the door. I took off my rifle, emptied my pockets of brush and beat out + the dust, and combed the pine-needles from my hair. My hands were puffed + and red, and smarted severely. And altogether I was in no amiable frame of + mind as regarded my captive bear cub. + </p> + <p> + When I stepped inside the cabin it was dark, and coming from the bright + light I could not for a moment see what the interior looked like. + Presently I made out one large room with no opening except the door. There + was a tumble-down stone fireplace at one end, and at the other a rude + ladder led up to a loft. Hiram had thrown his pack aside, and had tied + Cubby to a peg in the log wall. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I'll fetch in some fresh venison,” said the hunter. “You rest + awhile, an' then gather some wood an' make a fire.” + </p> + <p> + The rest I certainly needed, for I was so tired I could scarcely untie the + pack to get out the blankets. The bear cub showed signs or weariness, + which pleased me. It was not long after Hiram's departure that I sank into + a doze. + </p> + <p> + When my eyes opened I knew I had been awakened by something, but I could + not tell what. I listened. Cubby was as quiet as a mouse, and his very + quiet and the alert way he held his ears gave me a vague alarm. He had + heard something. I thought of the old hunter's return, yet this did not + reassure me. + </p> + <p> + All at once the voices of men made me sit up with a violent start. Who + could they be? Had Hiram met a ranger? I began to shake a little, and was + about to creep to the door when I heard the clink of stirrups and soft + thud of hoofs. Then followed more voices, and last a loud volley of + curses. + </p> + <p> + “Herky-Jerky!” I gasped, and looked about wildly. + </p> + <p> + I had no time to dash out of the door. I was caught in a trap, and I felt + cold and sick. Suddenly I caught sight of the ladder leading to the loft. + Like a monkey I ran up, and crawled as noiselessly as possible upon the + rickety flooring of dry pine branches. Then I lay there quivering. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. A PRISONER + </h2> + <p> + It chanced that as I lay on my side my eye caught a gleam of light through + a little ragged hole in the matting of pine branches. Part of the interior + of the cabin, the doorway, and some space outside were plainly visible. + The thud of horses had given place to snorts, and then came a flopping of + saddles and packs on the ground. “Any water hyar?” asked a gruff voice I + recognized as Bill's. “Spring right thar,” replied a voice I knew to be + Bud's. + </p> + <p> + “You onery old cayuse, stand still!” + </p> + <p> + From that I gathered Herky was taking the saddle off his horse. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Leslie, I'll untie you—if you'll promise not to bolt.” + </p> + <p> + That voice was Buell's. I would have known it among a thousand. And Dick + was still a prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Bolt! If you let me loose I'll beat your fat head off!” replied Dick. + “Ha! A lot you care about my sore wrists. You're weakening, Buell, and you + know it. You've got a yellow streak.” + </p> + <p> + “Shet up!” said Herky, in a low, sharp tone. A silence followed. “Buell, + look hyar in the trail. Tracks! Goin' in an' comin' out.” + </p> + <p> + “How old are they?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet a hoss they ain't an hour old.” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody's usin' the cabin, eh?” + </p> + <p> + The men then fell to whispering, and I could not understand what was said, + but I fancied they were thinking only of me. My mind worked fast. Buell + and his fellows had surely not run across Hiram Bent. Had the old hunter + deserted me? I flouted such a thought. It was next to a certainty that he + had seen the lumbermen, and for reasons best known to himself had not + returned to the cabin. But he was out there somewhere among the pines, and + I did not think any of those ruffians was safe. + </p> + <p> + Then I heard stealthy footsteps approaching. Soon I saw the Mexican + slipping cautiously to the door. He peeped within. Probably the interior + was dark to him, as it had been to me. He was not a coward, for he stepped + inside. + </p> + <p> + At that instant there was a clinking sound, a rush and a roar, and a black + mass appeared to hurl itself upon the Mexican. He went down with a + piercing shriek. Then began a fearful commotion. Screams and roars mingled + with the noise of combat. I saw a whirling cloud of dust on the cabin + floor. The cub had jumped on the Mexican. What an unmerciful beating he + was giving that Greaser! I could have yelled out in my glee. I had to bite + my tongue to keep from urging on my docile little pet bear. Greaser surely + thought he had fallen in with his evil spirit, for he howled to the saints + to save him. + </p> + <p> + Herky-Jerky was the only one of his companions brave enough to start to + help him. + </p> + <p> + “The cabin's full of b'ars!” he yelled. + </p> + <p> + At his cry the bear leaped out of the cloud of dust, and shot across the + threshold like black lightning. In his onslaught upon Greaser he had + broken his halter. Herky-Jerky stood directly in his path. I caught only a + glimpse, but it served to show that Herky was badly scared. The cub dove + at Herky, under him, straight between his legs like a greased pig, and, + spilling him all over the trail, sped on out of sight. Herky raised + himself, and then he sat there, red as a lobster, and bawled curses while + he made his huge revolver spurt flame on flame. + </p> + <p> + I could not see the other men, but their uproarious mirth could have been + heard half a mile away. When it dawned upon Herky, he was so furious that + he spat at them like an angry cat and clicked his empty revolver. + </p> + <p> + Then Greaser lurched out of the door. I got a glimpse of him, and, for a + wonder, was actually sorry for him. He looked as if he had been through a + threshing-machine. + </p> + <p> + “Haw! haw! Ho! ho!” roared the merry lumbermen. + </p> + <p> + Then they trooped into the cabin. Buell headed the line, and Herky, + sullenly reloading his revolver, came last. At first they groped around in + the dim light, stumbling over everything. Part of the time they were in + the light space near the door, and the rest I could not see them. I + scarcely dared to breathe. I felt a creepy chill, and my eyesight grew + dim. + </p> + <p> + “Who does this stuff belong to, anyhow?” Buell was saying. “An' what was + thet bear doin' in here?” + </p> + <p> + “He was roped up—hyar's the hitch,” answered Bud. + </p> + <p> + “An' hyar's a rifle—Winchester—ain't been used much. Buell, + it's thet kid's!” + </p> + <p> + I heard rapid footsteps and smothered exclamations. + </p> + <p> + “Take it from me, you're right!” ejaculated Buell. “We jest missed him. + Herky, them tracks out there? Somebody's with this boy—who?” + </p> + <p> + “It's Jim Williams,” put in Dick Leslie, cool-voiced and threatening. + </p> + <p> + The little stillness that followed his words was broken by Buell. + </p> + <p> + “Naw! 'Twasn't Williams. You can't bluff this bunch, Leslie. By your own + words Williams is lookin' for us, an' if he's lookin' for anybody I know + he's lookin' for 'em. See!” + </p> + <p> + “Buell, the kid's fell in with old Bent, the b'ar hunter,” said Bill. + “Thet accounts fer the cub. Bent's allus got cubs, an' kittens, an' sich. + An' I'll tell you, he ain't no better friend of ourn than Jim Williams.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd about as soon tackle Williams as Bent,” put in Bud. + </p> + <p> + Buell shook his fist. “What luck the kid has! But I'll get him, take it + from me! Now, what's best to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Buell, the game's going against you,” said Dick Leslie. “The penitentiary + is where you'll finish. You'd better let me loose. Old Bent will find Jim + Williams, and then you fellows will be up against it. There's going to be + somebody killed. The best thing for you to do is to let me go and then cut + out yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Buell breathed as heavily as a porpoise, and his footsteps pounded hard. + </p> + <p> + “Leslie, I'm seein' this out—understand? When Bud rode down to the + mill an' told me the kid had got away I made up my mind to ketch him an' + shet his mouth—one way or another. An' I'll do it. Take thet from + me!” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” sneered Dick. “You're sca'red into the middle of next week right + now.... Besides, if you do ketch Ken it won't do you any good-now!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + But Dick shut up like a clam, and not another word could be gotten from + him. Buell fumed and stamped. + </p> + <p> + “Bud, you're the only one in this bunch of loggerheads thet has any sense. + What d'you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Quiet down an' wait here,” replied Bud. “Mebbe old Bent didn't hear them + shots of Herky's. He may come back. Let's wait awhile, an', if he doesn't + come, put Herky on the trail.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Greaser, go out an' hide the hosses—drive them up the + canyon.” + </p> + <p> + The Mexican shuffled out, and all the others settled down to quiet. I + heard some of them light their pipes. Bud leaned against the left of the + door, Buell sat on the other side, and beyond them I saw as much of Herky + as his boots. I knew him by his bow-legs. + </p> + <p> + The stillness that set in began to be hard on me'. When the men were + moving about and talking I had been so interested that my predicament did + not occupy my mind. But now, with those ruffians waiting silently below, I + was beset with a thousand fears. The very consciousness that I must be + quiet made it almost impossible. Then I became aware that my one position + cramped my arm and side. A million prickling needles were at my elbow. A + band as of steel tightened about my breast. I grew hot and cold, and + trembled. I knew the slightest move would be fatal, so I bent all my mind + to lying quiet as a stone. + </p> + <p> + Greaser came limping back into the cabin, and found a seat without any one + speaking. It was so still that I heard the silken rustle of paper as he + rolled a cigarette. Moments that seemed long as years passed, with my + muscles clamped as in a vise. If only I had lain down upon my back! But + there I was, half raised on my elbow, in a most awkward and uncomfortable + position. I tried not to mind the tingling in my arm, but to think of + Hiram, of Jim, of my mustang. But presently I could not think of anything + except the certainty that I would soon lose control of my muscles and fall + over. + </p> + <p> + The tingling changed to a painful vibration, and perspiration stung my + face. The strain became unbearable. All of a sudden something seemed to + break within me, and my muscles began to ripple and shake. I had no power + to stop it. More than that, the feeling was so terrible that I knew I + would welcome discovery as a relief. + </p> + <p> + “Sh-s-s-h!” whispered some one below. + </p> + <p> + I turned my eyes down to the peep-hole. Bud had moved over squarely into + the light of the door. He was bending over something. Then he extended his + hand, back uppermost, toward Buell. On the back of that broad brown hand + were pieces of leaf and bits of pine-needles. The trembling of my body had + shaken these from the brush on the rickety loft. More than that, in the + yellow bar of sunlight which streamed in at the door there floated + particles of dust. + </p> + <p> + Bud silently looked upward. There was a gleam in his black eyes, and his + mouth was agape. Buell's gaze followed Bud's, and his face grew curious, + intent, then fixed in a cunning, bold smile of satisfaction. He rose to + his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Come down out o' thet!” he ordered, harshly. “Come down!” + </p> + <p> + The sound of his voice stilled my trembling. I did not move nor breathe. I + saw Buell loom up hugely and Bud slowly rise. Herky-Jerky's boots suddenly + stood on end, and I knew then he had also risen. The silence which + followed Buell's order was so dense that it oppressed me. + </p> + <p> + “Come down!” repeated Buell. + </p> + <p> + There was no hint of doubt in his deep voice, but a cold certainty and a + brutal note. I had feared the man before, but that gave me new terror. + </p> + <p> + “Bud, climb the ladder,” commanded Buell. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't stuck on thet job,” rejoined Bud. + </p> + <p> + As his heavy boots thumped on the ladder they jarred the whole cabin. My + very desperation filled me with the fierceness of a cornered animal. I + caught sight of a short branch of the thickness of a man's arm, and, + grasping it, I slowly raised myself. When Bud's black, round head appeared + above the loft I hit it with all my might. + </p> + <p> + Bud bawled like a wounded animal, and fell to the ground with the noise of + a load of bricks. Through my peep-hole I saw him writhing, with both hands + pressed to his head. Then, lying flat on his back, he whipped out his + revolver. I saw the red spurt, the puff of smoke. Bang! + </p> + <p> + A bullet zipped through the brush, and tore a hole through the roof. + </p> + <p> + Bang! Bang! + </p> + <p> + I felt a hot, tearing pain in my arm. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, you black idiot!” yelled Buell. He kicked the revolver out of Bud's + hand. “What d'you mean by thet?” + </p> + <p> + In the momentary silence that followed I listened intently, even while I + held tightly to my arm. From its feeling my arm seemed to be shot off, but + it was only a flesh-wound. After the first instant of shock I was not + scared. But blood flowed fast. Warm, oily, slippery, it ran down inside my + shirt sleeve and dripped off my fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Bud,” hoarsely spoke up Bill, breaking the stillness, “mebbe you killed + him!” + </p> + <p> + Buell coughed, as if choking. + </p> + <p> + “What's thet?” For once his deep voice was pitched low. “Listen.” + </p> + <p> + Drip! drip! drip! It was like the sound of water dripping from a leak in a + roof. It was directly under me, and, quick as thought, I knew the sound + was made by my own dripping blood. + </p> + <p> + “Find thet, somebody,” ordered Buell. + </p> + <p> + Drip! drip! drip! + </p> + <p> + One of the men stepped noisily. + </p> + <p> + “Hyar it is—thar,” said Bill. “Look on my hand.... Blood! I knowed + it. Bud got him, all right.” + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden rustling such as might come from a quick, strained + movement. + </p> + <p> + “Buell,” cried Dick Leslie, in piercing tones, “Heaven help you murdering + thieves if that boy's killed! I'll see you strung up right in this forest. + Ken, speak! Speak!” + </p> + <p> + It seemed then, in my pain and bitterness, that I would rather let Buell + think me dead. Dick's voice went straight to my heart, but I made no + answer. + </p> + <p> + “Leslie, I didn't kill him, an' I didn't order it,” said Buell, in a voice + strangely shrunk and shaken. “I meant no harm to the lad.... Go up, Bud, + an' get him.” + </p> + <p> + Bud made no move, nor did Greaser when he was ordered. “Go up, somebody, + an' see what's up there!” shouted Buell. “Strikes me you might go + yourself,” said Bill, coolly. + </p> + <p> + With a growl Buell mounted the ladder. When his great shock head hove in + sight I was seized by a mad desire to give him a little of his own + medicine. With both hands I lifted the piece of pine branch and brought it + down with every ounce of strength in me. + </p> + <p> + Like a pistol it cracked on Buell's head and snapped into bits. The + lumberman gave a smothered groan, then clattered down the ladder and + rolled on the floor. There he lay quiet. + </p> + <p> + “All-fired dead—thet kid—now, ain't he?” said Bud, + sarcastically. “How'd you like thet crack on the knob? You'll need a + larger size hat, mebbe. Herky-Jerky, you go up an' see what's up there.” + </p> + <p> + “I've a picture of myself goin',” replied Herky, without moving. + </p> + <p> + “Whar's the water? Get some water, Greaser,” chimed in Bill. + </p> + <p> + From the way they worked over Buell, I concluded he had been pretty badly + stunned. But he came to presently. + </p> + <p> + “What struck me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothin',” replied Bud, derisively. “The loft up thar's full of air, + an' it blowed on you, thet's all.” + </p> + <p> + Buell got up, and began walking around. + </p> + <p> + “Bill, go out an' fetch in some long poles,” he said. + </p> + <p> + When Bill returned with a number of sharp, bayonet-like pikes I knew the + game was all up for me. Several of the men began to prod through the thin + covering of dry brush. One of them reached me, and struck so hard that I + lurched violently. + </p> + <p> + That was too much for the rickety loft floor. It was only a bit of brush + laid on a netting of slender poles. It creaked, rasped, and went down with + a crash. I alighted upon somebody, and knocked him to the floor. Whoever + it was, seized me with iron hands. I was buried, almost smothered, in the + dusty mass. My captor began to curse cheerfully, and I knew then that + Herky-Jerky had made me a prisoner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. THE FIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Herky hauled me out of the brush, and held me in the light. The others + scrambled from under the remains of the loft, and all viewed me curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Kid, you ain't hurt much?” queried Buell, with concern. + </p> + <p> + I would have snapped out a reply, but I caught sight of Dick's pale face + and anxious eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ken,” he called, with both gladness and doubt in his voice, “you look + pretty good—but that blood.... Tell me, quick!” + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing, Dick, only a little cut. The bullet just ticked my arm.” + </p> + <p> + Whatever Dick's reply was it got drowned in Herky-Jerky's long explosion + of strange language. Herky was plainly glad I had not been badly hurt. I + had already heard mirth, anger, disgust, and fear in his outbreaks, and + now relief was added. He stripped off my coat, cut off the bloody sleeve + of my shirt, and washed the wound. It was painful and bled freely, but it + was not much worse than cuts from spikes when playing ball. Herky bound it + tightly with a strip of my shirt-sleeve, and over that my handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Thar, kid, thet'll stiffen up an' be sore fer a day or two, but it ain't + nothin'. You'll soon be bouncin' clubs offen our heads.” + </p> + <p> + It was plain that Herky—and the others, for that matter, except + Buell—thought more of me because I had wielded a club so vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “Look at thet lump, kid,” said Bud, bending his head. “Now, ain't thet a + nice way to treat a feller? It made me plumb mad, it did.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm likely to hurt somebody yet,” I declared. + </p> + <p> + They looked at me curiously. Buell raised his face with a queer smile. Bud + broke into a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're goin' to? Mebbe you think you need an axe,” said he. + </p> + <p> + They made no offer to tie me up then. Bud went to the door and sat in it, + and I heard him half whisper to Buell: “What 'd I tell you? Thet's a game + kid. If he ever wakes up right we'll have a wildcat on our hands. He'll do + fer one of us yet.” These men all took pleasure in saying things like this + to Buell. This time Buell had no answer ready, and sat nursing his head. + “Wal, I hev a little headache myself, an' the crack I got wasn't nothin' + to yourn,” concluded Bud. Then Bill began packing the supplies indoors, + and Herky started a fire. Bud kept a sharp eye on me; still, he made no + objection when I walked over and lay down upon the blankets near Dick. + </p> + <p> + “Dick, I shot a bear and helped to tie up a cub,” I said. And then I told + him all that had happened from the time I scrambled out of the spring-hole + till I was discovered up in the loft. Dick shook his head, as if he did + not know what to make of me, and all he said was that he would give a + year's pay to have me safe back in Pennsylvania. + </p> + <p> + Herky-Jerky announced supper in his usual manner—a challenge to find + as good a cook as he was, and a cheerful call to “grub.” I did not know + what to think of his kindness to me. Remembering how he had nearly drowned + me in the spring, I resented his sudden change. He could not do enough for + me. I asked the reason for my sudden popularity. + </p> + <p> + Herky scratched his head and grinned. “Yep, kid, you sure hev riz in my + estimashun.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey, you rummy cow-puncher,” broke in Bud, scornfully. “Mebbe you'd like + the kid more'n you do if you'd got one of them wollops.” + </p> + <p> + “Bud, I ain't sayin',” replied Herky, with his mouth full of meat. + “Considerin' all points, howsoever, I'm thinkin' them wallops was + distributed very proper.” + </p> + <p> + They bandied such talk between them, and occasionally Bill chimed in with + a joke. Greaser ate in morose silence. There must have been something on + his mind. Buell took very little dinner, and appeared to be in pain. It + was dark when the meal ended. Bud bound me up for the night, and he made a + good job of it. My arm burned and throbbed, but not badly enough to + prevent sleep. Twice I had nearly dropped off when loud laughs or voices + roused me. My eyes closed with a picture of those rough, dark men sitting + before the fire. + </p> + <p> + A noise like muffled thunder burst into my slumber. I awakened with my + body cramped and stiff. It was daylight, and something had happened. Buell + ran in and out of the cabin yelling at his men. All of them except Herky + were wildly excited. Buell was abusing Bud for something, and Bud was + blaming Buell. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's no way to talk to me!” said Bud, angrily. “He didn't break loose + in my watch!' + </p> + <p> + “You an' Greaser had the job. Both of you—went to sleep—take + thet from me!” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, he's gone, an' he took the kid's gun with him,” said Bill, coolly. + “Now we'll be dodgin' bullets.” + </p> + <p> + Dick Leslie had escaped! I could hardly keep down a cry of triumph. I did + ask if it was true, but none of them paid any attention to me. Buell then + ordered Herky-Jerky to trail Dick and see where he had gone. Herky refused + point-blank. “Nope. Not fer me,” he said. “Leslie has a rifle. So has + Bent, an' we haven't one among us. An', Buell, if Leslie falls in with + Bent, it's goin' to git hot fer us round here.” + </p> + <p> + This silenced Buell, but did not stop his restless pacings. His face was + like a thunder-cloud, and he was plainly worried and harassed. Once Bud + deliberately asked what he intended to do with me, and Buell snarled a + reply which no one understood. His gloom extended to the others, except + Herky, who whistled and sang as he busied himself about the campfire. + Greaser appeared to be particularly cast down. + </p> + <p> + “Buell, what are you going to do with me?” I demanded. But he made no + answer. + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyway,” I went on, “somebody cut these ropes. I'm mighty sore and + uncomfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Herky-Jerky did not wait for permission; he untied me, and helped me to my + feet. I was rather unsteady on my legs at first, and my injured arm felt + like a board. It seemed dead; but after I had moved it a little the pain + came back, and it had apparently come to stay. We ate breakfast, and then + settled down to do nothing, or to wait for something to turn up. Buell sat + in the doorway, moodily watching the trail. Once he spoke, ordering the + Mexican to drive in the horses. I fancied from this that Buell might have + decided to break camp, but there was no move to pack. + </p> + <p> + The morning quiet was suddenly split by the stinging crack of a rifle and + a yell of agony. + </p> + <p> + Buell leaped to his feet, his ruddy face white. + </p> + <p> + “Greaser!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Thet was about where Greaser cashed,” relied Bill, coolly knocking the + ashes from his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “No, Bill, you're wrong. Here comes Greaser, runnin' like an Indian.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at the blood! He's been plugged, all right!” exclaimed Herky-Jerky. + </p> + <p> + The sound of running feet drew nearer, and suddenly the group at the door + broke to admit the Mexican. One side of his terrified face was covered + with blood. His eyes were staring, his hands raised, he staggered as if + about to fall. + </p> + <p> + “Senyor William! Senyor William!” he cried, and then called on Saint + Somebody. + </p> + <p> + “Jim Williams! I said so,” muttered Bud. + </p> + <p> + Bill caught hold of the excited Mexican, and pulled him nearer the light. + </p> + <p> + “Thet ain't a bad hurt. Jest cut his ear off!” aid Bill. “Hyar, stand + still, you wild man! you're not goin' to die. Git some water, Herky. + Fellers, Greaser has been oneasy ever since he knew Jim Williams was + lookin' fer him. He thinks Jim did this. But Jim Williams don't use a + rifle, an', what's more, when he shoots he don't miss. You all heerd the + rifle-shot.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it was old Bent or Leslie?” questioned Buell. + </p> + <p> + “Leslie it were. Bent uses a 45-90 caliber. Thet shot we heerd was from + the little 38—the kid's gun.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, it was a narrer escape fer Greaser,” said Bud. “Leslie's sore, an' + he'll shoot fer keeps. Buell, you've started somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + When Bill had washed the blood off the Mexican it was found that the ball + had carried away the lower part of the ear, and with it, of course, the + gold earring. The wound must have been extremely painful; it certainly + took all the starch out of Greaser. He kept mumbling in his own language, + and rolling his wicked black eyes and twisting his thin, yellow hands. + </p> + <p> + “What's to be done?” asked Buell, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's fer you to say,” replied Bill, with his exasperating calmness. + </p> + <p> + “Must we hang up here to be shot at? Leslie's takin' a long chance on thet + kid's life if he comes slingin' lead round this cabin.” + </p> + <p> + Herky-Jerky spat tobacco-juice across the room and grunted. Then, with his + beady little eyes as keen and cold as flint, he said: “Buell, Leslie knows + you daren't harm the kid; an' as fer bullets, he'll take good care where + he stings 'em. This deal of ours begins to look like a wild-goose stunt. + It never was safe, an' now it's worse.” + </p> + <p> + Here was even Herky-Jerky harping on Buell's situation. To me it did not + appear much more serious than before. But evidently they thought Buell + seemed on the verge of losing control of himself. He glared at Herky, and + rammed his fists in his pockets and paced the long room. Presently he + stepped out of the door. + </p> + <p> + A rifle cracked clear and sharp, another bellowed out heavy and hollow. A + bullet struck the door-post, a second hummed through the door and budded + into the log wall. Buell jumped back into the room. His face worked, his + breath hissed between his teeth, as with trembling hand he examined the + front of his coat. A big bullet had torn through both lapels. + </p> + <p> + Bill stuck his pudgy finger in the hole. “The second bullet made thet. It + was from old Hiram's gun—a 45-90!” + </p> + <p> + “Bent an' Leslie! My God! They're shootin' to kill!” cried Buell. + </p> + <p> + “I should smile,” replied Herky-Jerky. + </p> + <p> + Bud was peeping out through a chink between the logs. “I got their smoke,” + he said; “look, Bill, up the slope. They're too fur off, but we may as + well send up respects.” With that he aimed his revolver through the narrow + crack and deliberately shot six times. The reports clapped like thunder, + the smoke from burnt powder and the smell of brimstone filled the room. By + way of reply old Hiram's rifle boomed out twice, and two heavy slugs + crashed through the roof, sending down a shower of dust and bits of + decayed wood. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's jist to show what a 45-90 can do,” remarked Bill. + </p> + <p> + Bud reloaded his weapon while Bill shot several times. Herky-Jerky had his + gun in hand, but contented himself with peering from different chinks + between the logs. I hid behind the wide stone fireplace, and though I felt + pretty safe from flying bullets, I began to feel the icy grip of fear. I + had seen too much of these men in excitement, and knew if circumstances so + brought it about there might come a moment when my life would not be worth + a pin. They were all sober now, and deadly quiet. Buell showed the + greatest alarm, though he had begun to settle down to what looked like + fight. Herky was more fearless than any of them, and cooler even than + Bill. All at once I missed the Mexican. If he had not slipped out of the + room he had hidden under the brush of the fallen loft or in a pile of + blankets. But the room was smoky, and it was hard for me to be certain. + </p> + <p> + Some time passed with no shots and with no movement inside the cabin. + Slowly the blue smoke wafted out of the door. The sunlight danced in + gleams through the holes in the ragged roof. There was a pleasant swish of + pine branches against the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” whispered Bud, hoarsely. “I heerd a pony snort.” + </p> + <p> + Then the rapid beat of hard hoofs on the trail was followed by several + shots from the hillside. Soon the clatter of hoofs died away in the + distance. + </p> + <p> + “Who was thet?” asked three of Buell's men in unison. + </p> + <p> + “Take it from me, Greaser's sneaked,” replied Buell. + </p> + <p> + “How'd he git out?” + </p> + <p> + With that Bud and Bill began kicking in the piles of brush. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! Hyar's the place,” sang out Bud. + </p> + <p> + In one corner of the back wall a rotten log had crumbled, and here it was + plain to all eyes that Greaser had slipped out. I remembered that on this + side of the cabin there was quite a thick growth of young pine. Greaser + had been able to conceal himself as he crawled toward the horses, and had + probably been seen at the last moment. Herky-Jerky was the only one to + make comment. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't wishin' Greaser any hard luck, but hope he carried away a couple + Of 45-90 slugs somewheres in his yaller carcass.” + </p> + <p> + “It'd be worth a lot to the feller who can show me a way out of this + mess,” said Buell, mopping the beads of sweat from his face. + </p> + <p> + I got up—it seemed to me my mind was made up for me—and walked + into the light of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Buell, I can show you the way,” I said, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “What!” His mouth opened in astonishment. “Speak up, then.” + </p> + <p> + The other men stepped forward, and I felt their eyes upon me. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go free. Let me out of here to find Dick Leslie! Then when you go + to jail in Holston for stealing lumber I'll say a good word for you and + your men. There won't be any charge of kidnapping or violence.” + </p> + <p> + After a long pause, during which Buell bored me with gimlet eyes, he said, + in a queer voice: “Say thet again.” + </p> + <p> + I repeated it, and added that he could not gain anything now by holding me + a prisoner. I think he saw what I meant, but hated to believe it. + </p> + <p> + “It's too late,” I said, as he hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “You mean Leslie lied an' you fooled me—you did get to Holston?” he + shouted. He was quivering with rage, and the red flamed in his neck and + face. + </p> + <p> + “Buell, I did get to Holston and I did send word to Washington,” I went + on, hurriedly for I had begun to lose my calmness. “I wrote to my father. + He knows a friend of the Chief Forester who is close to the Department at + Washington. By this time Holston is full of officers of the forest + service. Perhaps they're already at your mill. Anyway, the game's up, and + you'd better let me go.” + </p> + <p> + Buell's face lost all its ruddy color, slowly blanched, and changed + terribly. The boldness fled, leaving it craven, almost ghastly. Realizing + he had more to fear from the law than conviction of his latest lumber + steal, he made at me in blind anger. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on!” Herky-Jerky yelled, as he jumped between Buell and me. + </p> + <p> + Buell's breath was a hiss, and the words he bit between his clinched teeth + were unintelligible. In that moment he would have killed me. + </p> + <p> + Herky-Jerky met his onslaught, and flung him back. Then, with his hand on + the butt of his revolver, he spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Buell, hyar's where you an' me split. You've bungled your big deal. The + kid stacked the deck on you. But I ain't a-goin' to see you do him harm + fer it.” + </p> + <p> + “Herky's right, boss,” put in Bill, “thar's no sense in addin' murder to + this mess. Strikes me you're in bad enough.” + </p> + <p> + “So thet's your game? You're double-crossin' me now—all on a chance + at kidnappin' for ransom money. Well, I'm through with the kid an' all of + you. Take thet from me!” + </p> + <p> + “You skunk!” exclaimed Herky-Jerky, with the utmost cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Buell,” said Bill, in cool disdain, “comsiderin' my fondness fer + fresh air an' open country, I can't say I'm sorry to dissolve future + relashuns. I was only in jail onct, an' I couldn't breathe free.” + </p> + <p> + It was then Buell went beside himself with rage. He raised his huge fists, + and shook himself, and plunged about the room, cursing. Suddenly he picked + up an axe, and began chopping at the rotten log above the hole where + Greaser had slipped out. Bud yelled at him, so did Bill; Herky-Jerky said + unpleasant things. But Buell did not hear them. He hacked and dug away + like one possessed. The dull, sodden blows fell fast, scattering pieces of + wood about the floor. The madness that was in Buell was the madness to get + out, to escape the consequences of his acts. His grunts and pants as he + worked showed his desperate energy. Then he slammed the axe against the + wall, and, going down flat, began to crawl through the opening. Buell was + a thick man, and the hole appeared too small. He stuck in it, but he + squeezed and flattened himself, finally worked through, and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + A sudden quiet fell upon his departure. + </p> + <p> + “Hands up!” + </p> + <p> + Jim Williams's voice! It was strange to see Herky and Bud flash up their + arms without turning. But I wheeled quickly. Bill, too, had his hands high + in the air. + </p> + <p> + In the sunlight of the doorway stood Jim Williams. Low down, carelessly, + it seemed, he held two long revolvers. He looked the same easy, slow Texan + I remembered. But the smile was not now in his eyes, and his lips were set + in a thin, hard line. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. THE FOREST'S GREATEST FOE + </h2> + <p> + Jim Williams sent out a sharp call. From the canyon-slope came answering + shouts. There were sounds of heavy bodies breaking through brush, followed + by the thudding of feet. Then men could be plainly heard running up the + trail. Jim leaned against the door-post, and the three fellows before him + stood rigid as stone. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a form leaped past Jim. It was Dick Leslie, bareheaded, his hair + standing like a lion's mane, and he had a cocked rifle in his hands. Close + behind him came old Hiram Bent, slower, more cautious, but no less + formidable. As these men glanced around with fiery eyes the quick look of + relief that shot across their faces told of ungrounded fears. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Buell?” sharply queried Dick. + </p> + <p> + Jim Williams did not reply, and a momentary silence ensued. + </p> + <p> + “Buell lit out after the Greaser,” said Bill, finally. + </p> + <p> + “Cut and run, did he? That's his speed,” grimly said Dick. “Here, Bent, + find some rope. We've got to tie up these jacks.” + </p> + <p> + “Hands back, an' be graceful like. Quick!” sang out Jim Williams. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me human beings could not have more eagerly and swiftly + obeyed an order. Herky and Bill and Bud jerked their arms down and + extended their hands out behind. After that quick action they again turned + into statues. There was a breathless suspense in every act. And there was + something about Jim Williams then that I did not like. I was in a cold + perspiration for fear one of the men would make some kind of a move. As + the very mention of the Texan had always caused a little silence, so his + presence changed the atmosphere of that cabin room. Before his coming + there had been the element of chance—a feeling of danger, to be + sure, but a healthy spirit of give and take. That had all changed with Jim + Williams's words “Hands up!” There was now something terrible hanging in + the balance. I had but to look at Jim's eyes, narrow slits of blue fire, + at the hard jaw and tight lips, to see a glimpse of the man who thought + nothing of life. It turned me sick, and I was all in a tremor till Dick + and Hiram had the men bound fast. + </p> + <p> + Then Jim dropped the long, blue guns into the holsters on his belt. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, I shore am glad to see you,” said he. + </p> + <p> + The soft, drawling voice, the sleepy smile, the careless good-will all + came back, utterly transforming the man. This was the Jim Williams I had + come to love. With a wrench I recovered myself. + </p> + <p> + “Are you all right, Ken?” asked Dick. And old Hiram questioned me with a + worried look. This anxiety marked the difference between these men and + Williams. I hastened to assure my friends that I was none the worse for my + captivity. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, your little gun doesn't shoot where it points,” said Jim. “I shore + had a head on the Greaser an' missed him. First Greaser I ever missed.” + </p> + <p> + “You shot his ear off,” I replied. “He came running back covered with + blood. I never saw a man so scared.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I shore am glad,” drawled Jim. + </p> + <p> + “He made off with your mustang,” said Dick. + </p> + <p> + This information lessened my gladness at Greaser's escape. Still, I would + rather have had him get away on my horse than stay to be shot by Jim. + </p> + <p> + Dick called me to go outside with him. My pack was lying under one of the + pines near the cabin, and examination proved that nothing had been + disturbed. We found the horses grazing up the canyon. Buell had taken the + horse of one of his men, and had left his own superb bay. Most likely he + had jumped astride the first animal he saw. Dick said I could have Buell's + splendid horse. I had some trouble in catching him, as he was restive and + spirited, but I succeeded eventually, and we drove the other horses and + ponies into the glade. My comrades then fell to arguing about what to do + with the prisoners. Dick was for packing them off to Holston. Bent talked + against this, saying it was no easy matter to drive bound men over rough + trails, and Jim sided with him. + </p> + <p> + Once, while they were talking, I happened to catch Herky-Jerky's eye. He + was lying on his back in the light from the door. Herky winked at me, + screwed up his face in the most astonishing manner, all of which I + presently made out to mean that he wanted to speak to me. So I went over + to him. + </p> + <p> + “Kid, you ain't a-goin' to fergit I stalled off Buell?” whispered Herky. + “He'd hev done fer you, an' thet's no lie. You won't fergit when we're + rustled down to Holston?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll remember, Herky,” I promised, and I meant to put in a good word for + him. Because, whether or not his reasons had to do with kidnapping and + ransom, he had saved me from terrible violence, perhaps death. + </p> + <p> + It was decided that we would leave the prisoners in the cabin and ride + down to the sawmill. Hiram was to return at once with officers. If none + could be found at the mill he was to guard the prisoners and take care of + them till Dick could send officers to relieve him. Thereupon we cooked a + meal, and I was put to feeding Herky and his companions. Dick ordered me + especially to make them drink water, as it might be a day or longer before + Hiram could get back. I made Bill drink, and easily filled up Herky; but + Bud, who never drank anything save whiskey, gave me a job. He refused with + a growl, and I insisted with what I felt sure was Christian patience. + Still he would not drink, so I put the cup to his lips and tipped it. Bud + promptly spat the water all over me. And I as promptly got another cupful + and dashed it all over him. + </p> + <p> + “Bud, you'll drink or I'll drown you,” I declared. + </p> + <p> + So while Bill cracked hoarse jokes and Herky swore his pleasure, I made + Bud drink all he could hold. Jim got a good deal of fun out of it, but + Dick and Hiram never cracked a smile. Possibly the latter two saw + something far from funny in the outlook; at any rate, they were silent, + almost moody, and in a hurry to be off. + </p> + <p> + Dick was so anxious to be on the trail that he helped me pack my pony, and + saddled Buell's horse. It was one thing to admire the big bay from the + ground, and it was another to be astride him. Target—that was his + name—had a spirited temper, an iron mouth, and he had been used to a + sterner hand than mine. He danced all over the glade before he decided to + behave himself. Riding him, however, was such a great pleasure that a more + timid boy than I would have taken the risk. He would not let any horse + stay near him; he pulled on the bridle, and leaped whenever a branch + brushed him. I had been on some good horses, but never on one with a swing + like his, and I grew more and more possessed with the desire to let him + run. + </p> + <p> + “Like as not he'll bolt with you. Hold him in, Ken!” called Dick, as he + mounted. Then he shouted a final word to the prisoners, saying they would + be looked after, and drove the pack-ponies into the trail. As we rode out + we passed several of the horses that we had decided to leave behind, and + as they wanted to follow us it was necessary to drive them back. + </p> + <p> + I had my hands full with the big, steel-jawed steed I was trying to hold + in. It was the hardest work of the kind that I had ever undertaken. I had + never worn spurs, but now I began to wish for them. We traveled at a good + clip, as fast as the pack-ponies could go, and covered a long distance by + camping-time. I was surprised that we did not get out of the canyon. The + place where we camped was a bare, rocky opening, with a big pool in the + center. While we were making camp it suddenly came over me that I was + completely bewildered as to our whereabouts. I could not see the mountain + peaks and did not know one direction from another. Even when Jim struck + out of our trail and went off alone toward Holston I could not form an + idea of where I was. All this, however, added to my feeling of the bigness + of Penetier. + </p> + <p> + Dick was taciturn, and old Hiram, when I tried to engage him in + conversation, cut me off with the remark that I would need my breath on + the morrow. This somewhat offended me. So I made my bed and rolled into + it. Not till I had lain quiet for a little did I realize that every bone + and muscle felt utterly worn out. I seemed to deaden and stiffen more each + moment. Presently Dick breathed heavily and Hiram snored. The red glow of + fire paled and died. I heard the clinking of the hobbles on Target, and a + step, now and then, of the other horses. The sky grew ever bluer and + colder, the stars brighter and larger, and the night wind moaned in the + pines. I heard a coyote bark, a trout splash in the pool, and the hoot of + an owl. Then the sounds and the clear, cold night seemed to fade away. + </p> + <p> + When Dick roused me the forest was shrouded in gray, cold fog. No time was + lost in getting breakfast, driving in the horses, and packing. Hardly any + words were exchanged. My comrades appeared even soberer than on the day + before. The fog lifted quickly that morning, and soon the sun was shining. + </p> + <p> + We got under way at once, and took to the trail at a jog-trot. I knew my + horse better and he was more used to me, which made it at least bearable + to both of us. Before long the canyon widened out into the level forest + land thickly studded with magnificent pines. I had again the feeling of + awe and littleness. Everything was solemn and still. The morning air was + cool, and dry as toast; the smell of pitch-pine choked my nostrils. We + rode briskly down the broad brown aisles, across the sunny glades, under + the murmuring pines. + </p> + <p> + The old hunter was leading our train, and evidently knew perfectly what he + was about. Unexpectedly he halted, bringing us up short. The pack-ponies + lined up behind us. Hiram looked at Dick. + </p> + <p> + “I smell smoke,” he said, sniffing at the fragrant air. + </p> + <p> + Dick stared at the old hunter and likewise sniffed. I followed their lead, + but all I could smell was the thick, piney odor of the forest. + </p> + <p> + “I don't catch it,” replied Dick. + </p> + <p> + We continued on our journey perhaps for a quarter of a mile, and then + Hiram Bent stopped again. This time he looked significantly at Dick + without speaking a word. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed Dick. I thought his tone sounded queer, but it did not at + the moment strike me forcibly. We rode on. The forest became lighter, + glimpses of sky showed low down through the trees, we were nearing a + slope. + </p> + <p> + For the third time the old hunter brought us to a stop, this time on the + edge of a slope that led down to the rolling foot-hills. I could only + stand and gaze. Those open stretches, sloping down, all green and brown + and beautiful, robbed me of thought. + </p> + <p> + “Look thar!” cried Hiram Bent. + </p> + <p> + His tone startled me. I faced about, to see his powerful arm outstretched + and his finger pointing. His stern face added to my sudden concern. + Something was wrong with my friends. I glanced in the direction he + indicated. There were two rolling slopes or steps below us, and they were + like gigantic swells of a green ocean. Beyond the second one rose a long, + billowy, bluish cloud. It was smoke. All at once I smelled smoke, too. It + came on the fresh, strong wind. + </p> + <p> + “Forest fire!” exclaimed Dick. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon,” replied Hiram, tersely. “An' look thar, an' thar!” + </p> + <p> + Far to the right and far to the left, over the green, swelling foot-hills, + rose that rounded, changing line of blue cloud. + </p> + <p> + “The slash! the slash! Buell's fired the slash!” cried Dick, as one + suddenly awakened. “Penetier will go!” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon. But thet's not the worst.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe we can't get out. The forest's dry as powder, an' thet's the worst + wind we could have. These canyon-draws suck in the wind, an' fire will + race up them fast as a hoss can run.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God, man! What'll we do?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait. Mebbe it ain't so bad—yet. Now let's all listen.” + </p> + <p> + The faces of my friends, more than words, terrified me. I listened with + all my ears while watching with all my eyes. The line of rolling cloud + expanded, seemed to burst and roll upward, to bulge and mushroom. In a few + short moments it covered the second slope as far to the right and left as + we could see. The under surface was a bluish white. It shot up swiftly, to + spread out into immense, slow-moving clouds of creamy yellow. + </p> + <p> + “Hear thet?” Hiram Bent shook his gray head as one who listened to dire + tidings. + </p> + <p> + The wind, sweeping up the slope of Penetier, carried a strong, pungent + odor of burning pitch. It brought also a low roar, not like the wind in + the trees or rapid-rushing water. It might have been my imagination, but I + fancied it was like the sound of flames blowing through the wood of a + campfire. + </p> + <p> + “Fire! Fire!” exclaimed Hiram, with another ominous shake of his head. “We + must be up an' doin'.” + </p> + <p> + “The forest's greatest foe! Old Penetier is doomed!” cried Dick Leslie. + “That line of fire is miles long, and is spreading fast. It'll shoot up + the canyons and crisscross the forest in no time. Bent, what'll we do?” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe we can get around the line. We must, or we'll have to make tracks + for the mountain, an' thet's a long chance. You take to the left an' I'll + go to the right, an' we'll see how the fire's runnin'.” + </p> + <p> + “What will Ken do?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, let him stay here—no, thet won't do! We might get driven back + a little an' have to circle. The safest place in this forest is where we + camped. Thet's not far. Let him drive the ponies back thar an' wait.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Ken, you hustle the pack-team back to our last night's camp. + Wait there for us. We won't be long.” + </p> + <p> + Dick galloped off through the forest, and Hiram went down the slope in + almost the opposite direction. Left alone, I turned my horse and drove the + pack-ponies along our back-trail. Thus engaged, I began to recover + somewhat from the terror that had stupefied me. Still, I kept looking + back. I found the mouth of the canyon and the trail, and in what I thought + a very short time I reached the bare, rocky spot where we had last camped. + The horses all drank thirstily, and I discovered that I was hot and dry. + </p> + <p> + Then I waited. At every glance I expected to see Dick and Hiram riding up + the canyon. But moments dragged by, and they did not come. Here there was + no sign of smoke, nor even the faintest hint of the roar of the fire. The + wind blew strongly up the canyon, and I kept turning my ear to it. In + spite of the fact that my friends did not come quickly I had begun to calm + my fears. They would return presently with knowledge of the course of the + fire and the way to avoid it. My thoughts were mostly occupied with sorrow + for beautiful Penetier. What a fiend Buell was! I had heard him say he + would fire the slash, and he had kept his word. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour passed. I saw a flash of gray down the canyon, and shouted in + joy. But what I thought Dick and Hiram was a herd of deer. They were + running wildly. They clicked on the stones, and scarcely swerved for the + pack-ponies. It took no second glance to see that they were fleeing from + the fire. This brought back all my alarms, and every moment that I waited + thereafter added to them. I watched the trail and under the trees for my + friends, and I scanned the sky for signs of the blue-white clouds of + smoke. But I saw neither. + </p> + <p> + “Dick told me to wait here; but how long shall I wait?” I muttered. + “Something's happened to him. If only I could see what that fire is + doing!” + </p> + <p> + The camping-place was low down between two slopes, one of which was high + and had a rocky cliff standing bare in the sunlight. I conceived the idea + of climbing to it. I could not sit quietly waiting any longer. So, + mounting Target, I put him up the slope. It was not a steep climb, still + it was long and took considerable time. Before I reached the gray cliff I + looked down over the forest to see the rolling, smoky clouds. We climbed + higher and still higher, till Target reached the cliff and could go no + farther. Leaping off, I tied him securely and bent my efforts to getting + around on top of the cliff. If I had known what a climb it was I should + not have attempted it, but I could not back out with the summit looming + over me. It ran up to a ragged crag. Hot, exhausted, and out of breath, I + at last got there. + </p> + <p> + As I looked I shouted in surprise. It seemed that the whole of Penetier + was under my feet. The green slope disappeared in murky clouds of smoke. + There were great pillars and huge banks of yellow and long streaks of + black, and here and there, underneath, moving splashes of red. The thing + did not stay still one instant. It changed so that I could not tell what + it did look like. Them were life and movement in it, and something + terribly sinister. I tried to calculate how far distant the fire was and + how fast it was coming, but that, in my state of mind, I could not do. The + whole sweep of forest below me was burning. I felt the strong breeze and + smelled the burnt wood. Puffs of white smoke ran out ahead of the main + clouds, and I saw three of them widely separated. What they meant puzzled + me. But all of a sudden I saw in front of the nearest a flickering gleam + of red. Then I knew those white streams of smoke rose where the fire was + being sucked up the canyons. They leaped along with amazing speed. It was + then that I realized that Dick and Hiram had been caught by one of these + offshoots of the fire, and had been compelled to turn away to save their + lives. Perhaps they would both be lost. For a moment I felt faint, but I + fought it off. I had to think of myself. It was every one for himself, and + perhaps there was many a man caught on Penetier with only a slender chance + for life. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh!” I cried, suddenly. “Herky, Bud, and Bill tied helpless in that + cabin! Dick forgot them. They'll be burned to death!” + </p> + <p> + As I stood there, trembling at the thought of Herky and his comrades bound + hand and foot, the first roar of the forest fire reached my ears. It + threatened, but it roused my courage. I jumped as if I had been shot, and + clattered down that crag with wings guiding my long leaps. No crevice or + jumble of loose stones or steep descent daunted me. I reached the horse, + and, grasping the bridle, I started to lead him. We had zigzagged up, we + went straight down. Target was too spirited to balk, but he did everything + else. More than once he reared with his hoofs high in the air, and, + snorting, crashed down. He pulled me off my feet, he pawed at me with his + great iron shoes. When we got clear of the roughest and most thickly + overgrown part of the descent I mounted him. Then I needed no longer to + urge him. The fire had entered the canyon, the hollow roar swept up and + filled Target with the same fright that possessed me. He plunged down, + slid on his haunches, jumped the logs, crashed through brush. I had + continually to rein him toward the camp. He wanted to turn from that hot + wind and strange roar. + </p> + <p> + We reached a level, the open, stony ground, then the pool. The pack-ponies + were standing patiently with drooping heads. The sun was obscured in thin + blue haze. Smoke and dust and ashes blew by with the wind. I put Target's + nose down to the water, so that he would drink. Then I cut packs off the + ponies, spilled the contents, and filled my pockets with whatever I could + lay my hands on in the way of eatables. I hung a canteen on the pommel, + and threw a bag of biscuits over the saddle and tied it fast. My fingers + worked swiftly. There was a fluttering in my throat, and my sight was dim. + All the time the roar of the forest fire grew louder and more ominous. + </p> + <p> + The ponies would be safe. I would be safe in the lee of the big rocks near + the pool. But I did not mean to stay. I could not stay with those men + lying tied up in the cabin. Herky had saved me. Still it was not that + which spurred me on. + </p> + <p> + Target snorted shrilly and started back from the water, ready to stampede. + Slipping the bridle into place, I snapped the bit between his teeth. I had + to swing off my feet to pull his head down. + </p> + <p> + Even as I did this I felt the force of the wind. It was hard to breathe. A + white tumbling column of smoke hid sky and sun. All about me it was like a + blue twilight. + </p> + <p> + The appalling roar held me spellbound with my foot in the stirrup. It drew + my glance even in that moment of flight. + </p> + <p> + Under the shifting cloud flashes of red followed by waves of fire raced + through the tree-tops. That the forest fire traveled through the tree-tops + was as new to me as it was terrible. The fire seemed to make and drive the + wind. Lower down along the ground was a dull furnace-glow, now dark, now + bright. It all brought into my mind a picture I had seen of the end of the + world. + </p> + <p> + Target broke the spell by swinging me up into the saddle as he leaped + forward with a furious snort. I struck him with the bridle, and yelled: + </p> + <p> + “You iron-jawed brute! You've been crazy to run—now run!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. THE BACK-FIRE + </h2> + <p> + Target pounded over the scaly ground and thundered into the hard trail. + Then he stretched out. As we cleared the last obstructing pile of rocks I + looked back. There was a vast wave of fire rolling up the canyon and + spreading up the slopes. It was so close that I nearly fainted. With both + hands knotted and stiff I clung to the pommel in a cold horror, and I + looked back no more to see the flames reaching out for me. But I could not + keep the dreadful roar from filling my ears, and it weakened me so that I + all but dropped from the saddle. Only an unconscious instinct to fight for + life made me hold on. + </p> + <p> + Blue and white puffs of smoke swept by me. The trail was a dim, twisting + line. The slopes and pines, merged in a mass, flew backward in brown + sheets. Above the roar of the pursuing fire I heard the thunder of + Target's hoofs. I scarcely felt him or the saddle, only a motion and the + splitting of the wind. + </p> + <p> + The fear of death by fire, which had almost robbed me of strength, passed + from me. My brain cleared. Still I had no kind of hope, only a desperate + resolve not to give up. + </p> + <p> + The great bay horse was running to save his life and to save mine. It was + a race with fire. When I thought of the horse, and saw how fast he was + going, and realized that I must do my part, I was myself again. + </p> + <p> + The trail was a winding, hard-packed thread of white ground. It had been + made for leisurely travel. Many turns were sudden and sharp. I loosened + the reins, and cried out to Target. Evidently I had unknowingly held him + in, for he lengthened out, and went on in quicker, longer leaps. In that + moment riding seemed easy. I listened to the roar behind me, now a little + less deafening, and began to thrill. We were running away from the fire. + </p> + <p> + Hope made the race seem different. Something stirred and beat warm within + me, driving out the chill in my marrow. I leaned over the neck of the + great bay horse, and called to him and cheered him on. Then I saw he was + deaf and blind to me, for he was wild. He had the bit between his teeth, + and was running away. + </p> + <p> + The roar behind us relentlessly pursuing, only a little less appalling, + was now not my only source of peril. Target could no more be guided nor + stopped than could the forest fire. The trail grew more winding and + overhung more thickly by pine branches. The horse did not swerve an inch + for tree or thicket, but ran as if free, and the saving of my life began + to be a matter of dodging. Once a crashing blow from a branch almost + knocked me from the saddle. The wind in my ears half drowned the roar + behind me. With hands twisted in Target's mane I bent low, watching with + keen eyes for the trees and branches ahead. I drew up my knees and bent my + body, and dodged and went down flat over the pommel like a wild-riding + Indian. Target kept that straining run for a longer distance than I could + judge. With the same breakneck speed he thundered on over logs and little + washes, through the thick, bordering bushes, and around the sudden turns. + His foam moistened my face and flecked my sleeves. The wind came stinging + into my face, the heavy roar followed at my back with its menace. + </p> + <p> + Swift and terrible as the forest fire was, Target was winning the race. I + knew it. Steadily the roar softened, but it did not die away. Pound! + pound! pound! The big bay charged up the trail. How long could he stand + that killing pace? I began to talk soothingly to him, to pull on the + bridle; but he might have been an avalanche for all he heeded. Still I + kept at him, fighting him every moment that I was free from low branches. + Gradually the strain began to tell. + </p> + <p> + The sight of a cabin brought back to my mind the meaning of the wild race + with fire. I had forgotten the prisoners. I had reached the forest glade + and the cabin, but Target was still going hard. What if I could not stop + him! Summoning all my strength, I quickly threw weight and muscle back on + the reins and snapped the bit out of his teeth. Then coaxing, commanding, + I pulled him back. In the glade were four horses, standing bunched with + heads and ears up, uneasy, and beginning to be frightened. Perhaps the + sight of them helped me to stop Target; at any rate, he slackened his pace + and halted. He was spotted with foam, dripping wet, and his broad sides + heaved. + </p> + <p> + I jumped off, stiff and cramped. I could scarcely walk. The air was clear, + though the fog of smoke overspread the sun. The wind blew strong with a + scent of pitch. Now that I was not riding, the roar of the fire sounded + close. I caught the same strange growl, the note of on-sweeping fury. + Again the creepy cold went over me. I felt my face blanch, and the skin + tighten over my cheeks. I dashed into the cabin, crying: “Fire! Fire! + Fire!” + </p> + <p> + “Whoop! It's the kid!” yelled Herky-Jerky. + </p> + <p> + He was lying near the door, red as a brick in the face, and panting hard. + In one cut I severed the rope on his feet; in another, that round his raw + and bloody wrists. Herky had torn his flesh trying to release his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Kid, how'd you git back hyar?” he questioned, with his sharp little eyes + glinting on me. “Did the fire chase you? Whar's Leslie?” + </p> + <p> + “Buell fired the slash. Penetier is burning. Dick and Hiram sent me back + to the pool below, and then didn't come. They got caught—oh!... I'm + afraid—lost!... Then I remembered you fellows. The fire's coming—it's + awful—we must fly!” + </p> + <p> + “You thought of us?” Herky's voice sounded queer and strangled. “Bud! + Bill! Did you hear thet? Wal, wal!” + </p> + <p> + While he muttered on I cut Bill's bonds. He rose without a word. Bud was + almost unconscious. He had struggled terribly. His heels had dug a hole in + the hard clay floor; his wrists were skinned; his mouth and chin covered + with earth, probably from his having bitten the ground in his agony. Herky + helped him up and gave him a drink from a little pocket-flask. + </p> + <p> + “Herky, if you think you've rid some in your day, look at thet hoss,” said + Bill, coolly, from the door. He eyed me coolly; in fact, he was as cool as + if there were no fire on Penetier. But Bud was white and sick, and Herky + flaming with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “We hain't got a chance. Listen! Thet roar! She's hummin'.” + </p> + <p> + “It's runnin' up the draw. We don't stand no showdown in hyar. Grab a hoss + now, an' we'll try to head acrost the ridge.” + </p> + <p> + I remounted Target, and the three men caught horses and climbed up + bareback. Bill led the way across the glade, up the slope, into the level + forest. There we broke into a gallop. The air upon this higher ground was + dark and thick, but not so hard to breathe as that lower down. We pressed + on. For a while the roar receded, and almost deadened. Then it grew + clearer again' filled out, and swelled. Bud wanted to sheer off to the + left. Herky swore we were being surrounded. Bill turned a deaf ear to + them. From my own sense of direction I fancied we were going wrong, but + Bill was so cool he gave me courage. Soon a blue, windy haze, shrouding + the giant pines ahead, caused Bill to change his course. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know whar you're headin'?” yelled Herky, high above the roar. + </p> + <p> + “I hain't got the least idee, Herky,” shouted Bill, as cool as could be, + “but I guess somewhar whar it'll be hot!” + </p> + <p> + We were lost in the forest and almost surrounded by fire, if the roar was + anything to tell by. We galloped on, always governed by the roar, always + avoiding the slope up the mountain. If we once started up that with the + fire in our rear we were doomed. Perhaps there were times when the wind + deceived us. It was hard to tell. Anyway, we kept on, growing more + bewildered. Bud looked like a dead man already and reeled in his saddle. + The horses were getting hard to manage, and the wind was strengthening and + puffed at us from all quarters. Bill still looked cool, but the last + vestige of color had faded from his face. These things boded ill. Herky + had grown strangely silent, which fact was the worst of all for me. For + that tough, scarred, reckless little wretch to hold his tongue was the + last straw. + </p> + <p> + The air freshened somewhat, and the forest lightened. Almost abruptly we + rode out to the edge of a great, wide canyon. It must have crossed the + forest at right angles to the canyon we had left. It was twice as wide and + deep as any I had yet seen. In the bottom wound a broad brook. + </p> + <p> + “Which way now?” asked Herky. + </p> + <p> + Bill shook his head. Far to our right a pall of smoke moved over the + tree-tops, to our left was foggy gloom, behind rolled the unceasing roar. + We all looked straight across. Probably each of us harbored the same + thought. Before that wind the fire would leap the canyon in flaming + bounds, and on the opposite level was the thick pitch-pine forest of + Penetier proper. So far we had been among the foot-hills. We dared not + enter the real forest with that wild-fire back of us. Momentarily we stood + irresolute. It was a pause full of hopelessness, such as might have come + to tired deer, close harried by hounds. + </p> + <p> + The winding brook and the brown slope, comparatively bare of trees, + brought me a sudden inspiration. + </p> + <p> + “Back-fire! Back-fire!” I cried to my companions, in wild appeal. “We must + back-fire. It's our chance! Here's the place!” + </p> + <p> + Bud scowled and Herky grumbled, but Bill grasped at the idea. + </p> + <p> + “I've heerd of back-firin'. The rangers do it. But how? How?” + </p> + <p> + They caught his hope, and their haggard faces lightened. + </p> + <p> + “Kid, we ain't forest rangers,” said Herky. “Do you know what you're + talkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! Come on! We'll back-fire!” + </p> + <p> + I led the way down the slope, and they came close at my heels. I rode into + the shallow brook, and dismounted about the middle between the banks. I + hung my coat on the pommel of my saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Bud, you and Bill hold the horses here!” I shouted, intensely excited. + “Herky, have you matches?” + </p> + <p> + “Nary a match.” + </p> + <p> + “Hyar's a box,” said Bill, tossing it. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Herky! You run up the brook. Light a match, and drop it every + hundred feet. Be sure it catches. Lucky there's little wind down here. Go + as far as you can. I'll run down!” + </p> + <p> + We splashed out of the brook and leaped up the bank. The grass was long + and dry. There was brush near by, and the pine-needle mats almost bordered + the bank. I struck a match and dropped it. + </p> + <p> + Sis-s-s! Flare! It was almost like dropping a spark into gunpowder. The + flame ran quickly, reached the pine-needles, then sputtered and fizzed + into a big blaze. The first pine-tree exploded and went off like a rocket. + We were startled by the sound and the red, up-leaping pillar of fire. + Sudden heat shot back at us as if from a furnace. Great sparks began to + fall. + </p> + <p> + “It's goin'!” yelled Herky-Jerky, his voice ringing strong. He clapped his + hat down on my bare head. Then he started running up-stream. + </p> + <p> + I darted in the opposite direction. I heard Bud and Bill yelling, and the + angry crack and hiss of the fire. A few rods down I stopped, struck + another match, and lit the grass. There was a sputter and flash. Then the + flame flared up, spread like running quicksilver, and, meeting the + pine-needles, changed to red. I ran on. There was a loud flutter behind + me, then a crack almost like a shot, then a seething roar. Another pine + had gone off. As I stopped to strike the third match there came three + distinct reports, and then others that seemed dulled in a windy roar. I + raced onward, daring only once to look back. A fearful sight met my gaze. + The slope was a red wave. The pines were tufts of flame. The air was + filled with steaming clouds of whirling smoke. Then I fled onward again. + </p> + <p> + Match after match I struck, and when the box was empty I must have been a + mile, two miles, maybe more, from the starting-point. I was wringing-wet, + and there was a piercing pain in my side. I plunged across the brook, and + in as deep water as I could find knelt down to cover all but my face. + Then, with laboring breaths that bubbled the water near my mouth, I kept + still and watched. + </p> + <p> + The back-fire which I had started swept up over the slope and down the + brook like a charge of red lancers. Spears of flame led the advance. The + flame licked up the dry surface-grass and brush, and, meeting the pines, + circled them in a whirlwind of fire, like lightning flashing upward. Then + came prolonged reports, and after that a long, blistering roar in the + tree-tops. Even as I gazed, appalled in the certainty of a horrible fate, + I thrilled at the grand spectacle. Fire had always fascinated me. The + clang of the engines and the call of “Fire!” would tear me from any task + or play. But I had never known what fire was. I knew now. Storms of air + and sea were nothing compared to this. It was the greatest force in + nature. It was fire. On one hand, I seemed cool and calculated the + chances; on the other, I had flashes in my brain, and kept crying out + crazily, in a voice like a whisper: “Fire! Fire! Fire!” + </p> + <p> + But presently the wall of fire rolled by and took the roar with it. Dense + billows of smoke followed, and hid everything in opaque darkness. I heard + the hiss of failing sparks and the crackle of burning wood, and + occasionally the crash of a failing branch. It was intolerably hot, but I + could stand the heat better than the air. I coughed and strangled. I could + not get my breath. My eyes smarted and burned. Crawling close under the + bank, I leaned against it and waited. + </p> + <p> + Some hours must have passed. I suffered, not exactly pain, but a + discomfort that was almost worse. By-and-by the air cleared a little. + Rifts in the smoke drifted over me, always toward the far side of the + canyon. Twice I crawled out upon the bank, but the heat drove me back into + the water. The snow-water from the mountain-peaks had changed from cold to + warm; still, it gave a relief from the hot blast of air. More time dragged + by. Weary to the point of collapse, I grew not to care about anything. + </p> + <p> + Then the yellow fog lightened, and blew across the brook and lifted and + split. The parts of the canyon-slope that I could see were seared and + blackened. The pines were columns of living coals. The fire was eating + into their hearts. Presently they would snap at the trunk, crash down, and + burn to ashes. Wreathes of murky smoke circled them, and drifted aloft to + join the overhanging clouds. + </p> + <p> + I floundered out on the bank, and began to walk up-stream. After all, it + was not so very hot, but I felt queer. I did not seem to be able to step + where I looked or see where I stepped. Still, that caused me no worry. The + main thing was that the fire had not yet crossed the brook. I wanted to + feel overjoyed at that, but I was too tired. Anyway I was sure the fire + had crossed below or above. It would be tearing down on this side + presently, and then I would have to crawl into the brook or burn up. It + did not matter much which I had to do. Then I grew dizzy, my legs + trembled, my feet lost all sense of touching the ground. I could not go + much farther. Just then I heard a shout. It was close by. I answered, and + heard heavy steps. I peered through the smoky haze. Something dark moved + up in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “Ho, kid! Thar you are!” I felt a strong arm go round my waist. “Wal, + wal!” That was Herky. His voice sounded glad. It roused a strange + eagerness in me; his rough greeting seemed to bring me back from a + distance. + </p> + <p> + “All wet, but not burned none, I see. We kinder was afeared.... Say, kid, + thet back-fire, now. It was a dandy. It did the biz. Our whiskers was + singed, but we're safe. An' kid, it was your game, played like a man.” + </p> + <p> + After that his voice grew faint, and I felt as if I were walking in a + dream. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. CONCLUSION + </h2> + <p> + That dreadful feeling of motion went away, and I became unconscious of + everything. When I awoke the sun was gleaming dimly through thin films of + smoke. I was lying in a pleasant little ravine with stunted pines fringing + its slopes. The brook bowled merrily over stones. + </p> + <p> + Bud snored in the shade of a big boulder. Herky whistled as he broke dead + branches into fagots for a campfire. Bill was nowhere in sight. I saw + several of the horses browsing along the edge of the water. + </p> + <p> + My drowsy eyelids fell back again. When I awoke a long time seemed to have + passed. The air was clearer, the sky darker, and the sun had gone behind + the peaks. I saw Bill and Herky skinning a deer. + </p> + <p> + “Where are we?” I asked, sitting up. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, kid!” replied Herky, cheerily. “We come up to the head of the + canyon, thet's all. How're you feelin'?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm all right, only tired. Where's the forest fire?” + </p> + <p> + “It's most burned out by now. It didn't jump the canyon into the big + forest. Thet back-fire did the biz. Say, kid, wasn't settin' off them + pines an' runnin' fer your life jest like bein' in a battle?” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly was. Herky, how long will we be penned up here?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a day or two. I reckon we'd better not risk takin' you back to + Holston till we're sure about the fire. Anyways, kid, you need rest. + You're all played out.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, I was so weary that it took an effort to lift my hand. A strange + lassitude made me indifferent. But Herky's calm mention of taking me back + to Holston changed the color of my mood. I began to feel more cheerful. + The meal we ate was scant enough—biscuits and steaks of broiled + venison with a pinch of salt; but, starved as we were, it was more than + satisfactory. Herky and Bill were absurdly eager to serve me. Even Bud was + kind to me, though he still wore conspicuously over his forehead the big + bruise I had given him. After I had eaten I began to gain strength. But my + face was puffed from the heat, my injured arm was stiff and sore, and my + legs seemed never to have been used before. + </p> + <p> + Darkness came on quickly. The dew fell heavily, and the air grew chilly. + Our blazing campfire was a comfort. Bud and Bill carried in logs for + firewood, while Herky made me a bed of dry pine needles. + </p> + <p> + “It'll be some cold tonight,” he said, “an' we'll hev to hug the fire. Now + if we was down in the foot-hills we'd be warmer, hey? Look thar!” + </p> + <p> + He pointed down the ravine, and I saw a great white arc of light extending + up into the steely sky. + </p> + <p> + “The forest fire?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep, she's burnin' some. But you oughter seen it last night. Not thet it + ain't worth seein' jest now. Come along with me.” + </p> + <p> + He led me where the ravine opened wide. I felt, rather than saw, a steep + slope beneath. Far down was a great patch of fire. It was like a crazy + quilt, here dark, there light, with streaks and stars and streams of fire + shining out of the blackness. Masses of slow-moving smoke overhung the + brighter areas. The night robbed the forest fire of its fierceness and + lent it a kind of glory. The fire had ceased to move; it had spent its + force, run its race, and was now dying. But I could not forget what it had + been, what it had done. Thousands of acres of magnificent pines had + perished. The shade and color and beauty of that part of the forest had + gone. The heart of the great trees was now slowly rolling away in those + dark, weird clouds of smoke. I was sad for the loss and sick with fear for + Dick and Hiram. + </p> + <p> + Herky must have known my mind. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't feel bad, kid. Thet's only a foothill or so of Penetier gone + up in smoke. An' Buell's sawmill went, too. It's almost a sure thing thet + Leslie an' old Bent got out safe, though they must be doin' some tall + worryin' about you. I wonder how they feel about me an' Bud an' Bill? A + little prematoore roastin' for us, eh? Wal, wal!” + </p> + <p> + We went back to the camp. I lay down near the fire and fell asleep. Some + time in the night I awoke. The fire was still burning brightly. Bud and + Bill were lying with their backs to it almost close enough to scorch. + Herky sat in his shirtsleeves. The smoke of his pipe and the smoke of the + campfire wafted up together. Then I saw and felt that he had covered me + with his coat and vest. + </p> + <p> + I slept far into the next day. Herky was in camp alone. The others had + gone, Herky said, and he would not tell me where. He did not appear as + cheerful as usual. I suspected he had quarreled with his companions, very + likely about what was to be done with me. The day passed, and again I + slept. Herky awakened me before it was light. + </p> + <p> + “Come, kid, we'll rustle in to Holston today.” + </p> + <p> + We cooked our breakfast of venison, and then Herky went in search of the + horses. They had browsed far up the ravine, and the dawn had broken by the + time he returned. Target stood well to be saddled, nor did he bolt when I + climbed up. Perhaps that ride I gave him had chastened and subdued his + spirit. Well, it had nearly killed me. Herky mounted the one horse left, a + sorry-looking pack-pony, and we started down the ravine. + </p> + <p> + An hour of steady descent passed by before we caught sight of any burned + forest land. Then as we descended into the big canyon we turned a curve + and saw, far ahead to the left, a black, smoky, hideous slope. We kept to + the right side of the brook and sheered off just as we reached a point + opposite, where the burned line began. Fire had run up that side till + checked by bare weathered slopes and cliffs. As far down the brook as eye + could see through the smoky haze there stretched that black line of + charred, spear-pointed pines, some glowing, some blazing, all smoking. + </p> + <p> + From time to time, as we climbed up the slope, I looked back. The higher I + got the more hideous became the outlook over the burned district. I was + glad when Herky led the way into the deep shade of level forest, shutting + out the view. It would take a hundred years to reforest those acres + denuded of their timber by the fire of a few days. But as hour after hour + went by, with our trail leading through miles and miles of the same old + forest that had bewitched me, I began to feel a little less grief at the + thought of what the fire had destroyed. It was a loss, yet only a small + part of vast Penetier. If only my friends had gotten out alive! + </p> + <p> + Herky was as relentless in his travelling as I had found him in some other + ways. He kept his pony at a trot. The trail was open, we made fast time, + and when the sun had begun to cast a shadow before us we were going + down-hill. Busy with the thought of my friends, I scarcely noted the + passing of time. It was a surprise to me when we rode down the last little + foot-hill, out into the scattered pines, and saw Holston only a few miles + across the sage-flat. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, kid, we've come to the partin' of the ways,” said Herky, with a + strange smile on his smug face. + </p> + <p> + “Herky, won't you ride in with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Naw, I reckon it'd not be healthy fer me.” + </p> + <p> + “But you haven't even a saddle or blanket or any grub.” + </p> + <p> + “I've a friend across hyar a ways, a rancher, an' he'll fix me up. But, + kid, I'd like to hev thet hoss. He was Buell's, an' Buell owed me money. + Now I calkilate you can't take Target back East with you, an' you might as + well let me have him.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, Herky.” I jumped off at once, led the horse over, and held out the + bridle. Herky dismounted, and began fumbling with the stirrup straps. + </p> + <p> + “Your legs are longer'n mine,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, Herky, I almost forgot to return your hat,” I said, removing the + wide sombrero. It had a wonderful band made of horsehair and a buckle of + silver with a strange device. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, you keep the hat,” he replied, with his back turned. “Greaser stole + your hoss an' your outfit's lost, an' you might want somethin' to remember + your—your friends in Arizony.... Thet hat ain't much, but, say, the + buckle was an Injun's I shot, an' I made the band when I was in jail in + Yuma.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Herky. I'll keep it, though I'd never need anything to make me + remember Arizona—or you.” + </p> + <p> + Herky swung his bow-legs over Target and I got astride the lean-backed + pony. There did not seem to be any more to say, yet we both lingered. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Herky, I'm glad I met you,” I said, offering my hand. + </p> + <p> + He gave it a squeeze that nearly crushed my fingers. His keen little eyes + gleamed, but he turned away without another word, and, slapping Target on + the flank, rode off under the trees. + </p> + <p> + I put the hat back on my head and watched Herky for a moment. His silence + and abrupt manner were unlike him, but what struck me most was the fact + that in our last talk every word had been clean and sincere. Somehow it + pleased me. Then I started the pony toward Holston. + </p> + <p> + He was tired and I was ready to drop, and those last few miles were long. + We reached the outskirts of the town perhaps a couple of hours before + sundown. A bank of clouds had spread out of the west and threatened rain. + </p> + <p> + The first person I met was Cless, and he put the pony in his corral and + hurried me round to the hotel. On the way he talked so fast and said so + much that I was bewildered before we got there. The office was full of + men, and Cless shouted to them. There was the sound of a chair scraping + hard on the floor, then I felt myself clasped by brawny arms. After that + all was rather hazy in my mind. I saw Dick and Jim and old Hiram, though, + I could not see them distinctly, and I heard them all talking, all + questioning at once. Then I was talking in a somewhat silly way, I + thought, and after that some one gave me a hot, nasty drink, and I felt + the cool sheets of a bed. + </p> + <p> + The next morning all was clear. Dick came to my room and tried to keep me + in bed, but I refused to stay. We went down to breakfast, and sat at a + table with Jim and Hiram. It seemed to me that I could not answer any + questions till I had asked a thousand. + </p> + <p> + What news had they for me? Buell had escaped, after firing the slash. His + sawmill and lumber-camp and fifty thousand acres of timber had been + burned. The fire had in some way been confined to the foot-hills. It had + rained all night, so the danger of spreading was now over. My letter had + brought the officers of the forest service; even the Chief, who had been + travelling west over the Santa Fe, had stopped off and was in Holston + then. There had been no arrests, nor would there be, unless Buell or + Stockton could be found. A new sawmill was to be built by the service. + Buell's lumbermen would have employment in the mill and as rangers in the + forest. + </p> + <p> + But I was more interested in matters which Dick seemed to wish to avoid. + </p> + <p> + “How did you get out of the burning forest?” I asked, for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “We didn't get out. We went back to the pool where we sent you. The + pack-ponies were there, but you were gone. By George! I was mad, and then + I was just broken up. I was... afraid you'd been burned. We weathered the + fire all right, and then rode in to Holston. Now the mystery is where were + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you saved all the ponies?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and brought your outfit in. But, Ken, we—that was awful of us + to forget those poor fellows tied fast in the cabin.” Dick looked haggard, + there was a dark gloom in his eyes, and he gulped. Then I knew why he + avoided certain references to the fire. “To be burned alive... horrible! + I'll never get over it. It'll haunt me always. Of course we had to save + our own lives; we had no time to go to them. Yet—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let it worry you, Dick,” I interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he asked, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I beat the fire up to the cabin, that's all. Buell's horse can run + some. I cut the men loose, and we made up across the ridge, got lost, + surrounded by fire, and then I got Herky to help me start a back-fire in + that big canyon.” + </p> + <p> + “Back-fire!” exclaimed Dick, slamming the table with his big fist. Then he + settled down and looked at me. Hiram looked at me. Jim looked at me, and + not one of them said a word for what seemed a long time. It brought the + blood to my face. But for all my embarrassment it was sweet praise. At + last Dick broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Ken Ward, this stumps me I... Tell us about it.” + </p> + <p> + So I related my adventures from the moment they had left me till we met + again. + </p> + <p> + “It was a wild boy's trick, Ken—that ride in the very face of fire + in a dry forest. But, thank God, you saved the lives of those fellows.” + “Amen!” exclaimed old Hiram, fervently. “My lad, you saved Penetier, too; + thar's no doubt on it. The fire was sweepin' up the canyon, an' it would + have crossed the brook somewhars in thet stretch you back-fired.” + </p> + <p> + “Ken, you shore was born in Texas,” drawl Jim Williams. + </p> + <p> + His remark was unrelated to our talk, I did not know what he meant by it; + nevertheless it pleased me more than anything that had ever been said me + in my life. + </p> + <p> + Then came the reading of letters that had a rived for me. In Hal's letter, + first and last harped on having been left behind. Father sent me a check, + and wrote that in the event of a trouble in the lumber district he trusted + me to take the first train for Harrisburg. That, I knew, meant that I must + get out of my ragged clothes. That I did, and packed them up—all + except Herky sombrero, which I wore. Then I went to the railroad station + to see the schedule, and I compromised with father by deciding to take the + limited. The fast east-bound train had gone a little before, and the next + one did not leave until six o'clock. They would give me half a day with my + friends. + </p> + <p> + When I returned to the hotel Dick was looking for me. He carried me off + up-stairs to a hall full of men. At one end were tables littered with + papers, and here men were signing their name Dick explained that forest + rangers were being paid and new ones hired. Then he introduced me officers + of the service and the Chief. I knew by the way they looked at me that + Dick had been talking. It made me so tongue-tied that I could not find my + voice when the Chief spoke to me and shook my hand warmly. He was a tall + man, with a fine face and kind eyes and hair just touched with gray. + </p> + <p> + “Kenneth Ward,” he went on, pleasantly, “I hope that letter of + introduction I dictated for you some time ago has been of some service.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't had a chance to use it yet,” I blurted out, and I dived into my + pocket to bring forth the letter. It was wrinkled, soiled, and had been + soaked with water. I began to apologize for its disreputable appearance + when he interrupted me. + </p> + <p> + “I've heard about the ducking you got and all the rest of it,” he said, + smiling. Then his manner changed to one of business and hurry. + </p> + <p> + “You are studying forestry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. I'm going to college this fall.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend in Harrisburg wrote me of your ambition and, I may say, aptness + for the forest service. I'm very much pleased. We need a host of bright + young fellows. Here, look at this map.” + </p> + <p> + He drew my attention to a map lying on the table, and made crosses and + tracings with a pencil while he talked. + </p> + <p> + “This is Penetier. Here are the Arizona Peaks. The heavy shading + represents timbered land. All these are canyons. Here's Oak Creek Canyon, + the one the fire bordered. Now I want you to tell me how you worked that + back-fire, and, if you can, mark the line you fired.” + </p> + <p> + This appeared to me an easy task, and certainly one I was enthusiastic + over. I told him just how I had come to the canyon, and how I saw that the + fire would surely cross there, and that a back-fire was the only chance. + Then, carefully studying the map, I marked off the three miles Herky and I + had fired. + </p> + <p> + “Very good. You had help in this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. A fellow called Herky-Jerky. He was one of Buell's men who kept me a + prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “But he turned out a pretty good sort, didn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll try to locate him, and offer him a job in the service. Now, + Mr. Ward, you've had special opportunities; you have an eye in your head, + and you are interested in forestry. Perhaps you can help us. Personally I + shall be most pleased to hear what you think might be done in Penetier.” + </p> + <p> + I gasped and stared, and could scarcely believe my ears. But he was not + joking; he was as serious as if he had addressed himself to one of his + officers. I looked at them all, standing interested and expectant. Dick + was as grave and erect as a deacon. Jim seemed much impressed. But old + Hiram Bent, standing somewhat back of the others, deliberately winked at + me. + </p> + <p> + But for that wink I never could have seized my opportunity. It made me + remember my talks with Hiram. So I boiled down all that I had learned and + launched it on the Chief. Whether I was brief or not, I was out of breath + when I stopped. He appeared much surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said, finally. “You certainly have been observant.” Then + he turned to his officers. “Gentlemen, here's a new point of view from + first-hand observation. I call it splendid conservation. It's in the line + of my policy. It considers the settler and lumberman instead of combating + him.” + </p> + <p> + He shook hands with me again. “You may be sure I'll not lose sight of you. + Of course you will be coming West next summer, after your term at + college?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I want to—if Dick—” + </p> + <p> + He smiled as I hesitated. That man read my mind like an open book. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Leslie goes to the Coconina Forest as head forest ranger. Mr. + Williams goes as his assistant. And I have appointed Mr. Bent game warden + in the same forest. You may spend next summer with them.” + </p> + <p> + I stammered some kind of thanks, and found myself going out and + down-stairs with my friends. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dick! Wasn't he fine?... Say, where's Coconina Forest?” + </p> + <p> + “It's over across the desert and beyond the Grand Canyon of Arizona. + Penetier is tame compared to Coconina. I'm afraid to let you come out + there.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't have to ask you, Mr. Dick,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Lad, I'll need a young fellar bad next summer,” said old Hiram, with + twinkling eyes. “One as can handle a rope, an' help tie up lions an' + sich.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my bear cub! I'd forgotten him. I wanted to take him home.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, thar weren't no sense in thet, youngster, fer you couldn't do it. He + was a husky cub.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate to give up my mustang, too. Dick, have you heard of the Greaser?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, but he'll be trailing into Holston before long.” + </p> + <p> + Jim Williams removed his pipe, and puffed a cloud of white smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Ken, I shore ain't fergot Greaser,” he drawled with his slow smile. “Hev + you any pertickler thing you want did to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Jim, don't kill him!” I burst out, impetuously, and then paused, + frightened out of speech. Why I was afraid of him I did not know, he + seemed so easy-going, so careless—almost sweet, like a woman; but + then I had seen his face once with a look that I could never forget. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Ken, I'll dodge Greaser if he ever crosses my trail again.” + </p> + <p> + That promise was a relief. I knew Greaser would come to a bad end, and + certainly would get his just deserts; but I did not want him punished any + more for what he had done to me. + </p> + <p> + Those last few hours sped like winged moments. We talked and planned a + little, I divided my outfit among my friends, and then it was time for the + train. That limited train had been late, so they said, every day for a + week, and this day it was on time to the minute. I had no luck. + </p> + <p> + My friends bade me good-bye as if they expected to see me next day, and I + said good-bye calmly. I had my part to play. My short stay with them had + made me somehow different. But my coolness was deceitful. Dick helped me + on the train and wrung my hand again. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Ken. It's been great to have you out.... Next year you'll be + back in the forests!” + </p> + <p> + He had to hurry to get off. The train started as I looked out of my + window. There stood the powerful hunter, his white head bare, and he was + waving his hat. Jim leaned against a railing with his sleepy, careless + smile. I caught a gleam of the blue gun swinging at his hip. Dick's eyes + shone warm and blue; he was shouting something. Then they all passed back + out of sight. So my gaze wandered to the indistinct black line of + Penetier, to the purple slopes, and up to the cold, white mountain-peaks, + and Dick's voice rang in my ears like a prophecy: “You'll be back in the + forests.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Forester, by Zane Grey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG FORESTER *** + +***** This file should be named 1882-h.htm or 1882-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/8/1882/ + +Produced by Bill Brewer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Some way a grizzly bear would come in +when I tried to explain forestry to my brother. + +"Hunting grizzlies!" he cried. "Why, Ken, father says you've been reading +dime novels." + +"Just wait, Hal, till he comes out here. I'll show him that forestry isn't +just bear-hunting." + +My brother Hal and I were camping a few days on the Susquehanna River, and +we had divided the time between fishing and tramping. Our camp was on the +edge of a forest some eight miles from Harrisburg. The property belonged to +our father, and he had promised to drive out to see us. But he did not come +that day, and I had to content myself with winning Hal over to my side. + +"Ken, if the governor lets you go to Arizona can't you ring me in?" + +"Not this summer. I'd be afraid to ask him. But in another year I'll do it." + +"Won't it be great? But what a long time to wait! It makes me sick to think +of you out there riding mustangs and hunting bears and lions." + +"You'll have to stand it. You're pretty much of a kid, Hal--not yet +fourteen. Besides, I've graduated." + +"Kid!" exclaimed Hal, hotly. "You're not such a Methuselah yourself! I'm +nearly as big as you. I can ride as well and play ball as well, and I can +beat you all--" + +"Hold on, Hal! I want you to help me to persuade father, and if you get +your temper up you'll like as not go against me. If he lets me go I'll +bring you in as soon as I dare. That's a promise. I guess I know how much +I'd like to have you." + +"All right," replied Hal, resignedly. "I'll have to hold in, I suppose. But +I'm crazy to go. And, Ken, the cowboys and lions are not all that interest +me. I like what you tell me about forestry. But who ever heard of forestry +as a profession?" + +"It's just this way, Hal. The natural resources have got to be conserved, +and the Government is trying to enlist intelligent young men in the work-- +particularly in the department of forestry. I'm not exaggerating when I say +the prosperity of this country depends upon forestry." + +I have to admit that I was repeating what I had read. + +"Why does it? Tell me how," demanded Hal. + +"Because the lumbermen are wiping out all the timber and never thinking of +the future. They are in such a hurry to get rich that they'll leave their +grandchildren only a desert. They cut and slash in every direction, and +then fires come and the country is ruined. Our rivers depend upon the +forests for water. The trees draw the rain; the leaves break it up and let +it fall in mists and drippings; it seeps into the ground, and is held by +the roots. If the trees are destroyed the rain rushes off on the surface +and floods the rivers. The forests store up water, and they do good in +other ways." + +"We've got to have wood and lumber," said Hal. + +"Of course we have. But there won't be any unless we go in for forestry. +It's been practiced in Germany for three hundred years." + +We spent another hour talking about it, and if Hal's practical sense, which +he inherited from father, had not been offset by his real love for the +forests I should have been discouraged. Hal was of an industrious turn of +mind; he meant to make money, and anything that was good business appealed +strongly to him. But, finally, he began to see what I was driving at; he +admitted that there was something in the argument. + +The late afternoon was the best time for fishing. For the next two hours +our thoughts were of quivering rods and leaping bass, + +"You'll miss the big bass this August," remarked Hal, laughing. "Guess you +won't have all the sport." + +"That's so, Hal," I replied, regretfully. "But we're talking as if it were +a dead sure thing that I'm going West. Well, I only hope so." + +What Hal and I liked best about camping--of course after the fishing--was +to sit around the campfire. Tonight it was more pleasant than ever, and +when darkness fully settled down it was even thrilling. We talked about +bears. Then Hal told of mountain-lions and the habit they have of creeping +stealthily after hunters. There was a hoot-owl crying dismally up in the +woods, and down by the edge of the river bright-green eyes peered at us +from the darkness. When the wind came up and moaned through the trees it +was not hard to imagine we were out in the wilderness. This had been a +favorite game for Hal and me; only tonight there seemed some reality about +it. From the way Hal whispered, and listened, and looked, he might very +well have been expecting a visit from lions or, for that matter, even from +Indians. Finally we went to bed. But our slumbers were broken. Hal often +had nightmares even on ordinary nights, and on this one he moaned so much +and thrashed about the tent so desperately that I knew the lions were after +him. + +I dreamed of forest lands with snow-capped peaks rising in the background; +I dreamed of elk standing on the open ridges, of white-tailed deer trooping +out of the hollows, of antelope browsing on the sage at the edge of the +forests. Here was the broad track of a grizzly in the snow; there on a +sunny crag lay a tawny mountain-lion asleep. The bronzed cowboy came in for +his share, and the lone bandit played his part in a way to make me shiver. +The great pines, the shady, brown trails, the sunlit glades, were as real +to me as if I had been among them. Most vivid of all was the lonely forest +at night and the campfire. I heard the sputter of the red embers and +smelled the wood smoke; I peered into the dark shadows watching and +listening for I knew not what. + +On the next day early in the afternoon father appeared on the river road. + +"There he is," cried Hal. "He's driving Billy. How he's coming" + +Billy was father's fastest horse. It pleased me immensely to see the pace, +for father would not have been driving fast unless he were in a +particularly good humor. And when he stopped on the bank above camp I could +have shouted. He wore his corduroys as if he were ready for outdoor life. +There was a smile on his face as he tied Billy, and, coming down, he poked +into everything in camp and asked innumerable questions. Hal talked about +the bass until I was afraid he would want to go fishing and postpone our +forestry tramp in the woods. But presently he spoke directly to me. + +"Well, Kenneth, are you going to come out with the truth about that +Wild-West scheme of yours? Now that you've graduated you want a fling. You +want to ride mustangs, to see cowboys, to hunt and shoot--all that sort of +thing." + +When father spoke in such a way it usually meant the defeat of my schemes. +I grew cold all over. + +"Yes, father, I'd like all that-- But I mean business. I want to be a +forest ranger. Let me go to Arizona this summer. And in the fall I'd--I'd +like to go to a school of forestry." + +There! the truth was out, and my feelings were divided between relief and +fear. Before father could reply I launched into a set speech upon forestry, +and talked till I was out of breath. + +"There's something in what you say," replied my father. "You've been +reading up on the subject?" + +"Everything I could get, and I've been trying to apply my knowledge in the +woods. I love the trees. I'd love an outdoor life. But forestry won't be +any picnic. A ranger must be able to ride and pack, make trail and camp, +live alone in the woods, fight fire and wild beasts. Oh! It'd be great!" + +"I dare say," said father, dryly; "particularly the riding and shooting. +Well, I guess you'll make a good-enough doctor to suit me." + +"Give me a square deal," I cried, jumping up. "Mayn't I have one word to say +about my future? Wouldn't you rather have me happy and successful as a +forester, even if there is danger, than just an ordinary, poor doctor? Let's +go over our woodland. I'll prove that you are letting your forest run down. +You've got sixty acres of hard woods that ought to be bringing a regular +income. If I can't prove it, if I can't interest you, I'll agree to study +medicine. But if I do you're to let me try forestry." + +"Well, Kenneth, that's a fair proposition," returned father, evidently +surprised at my earnestness "Come on. We'll go up in the woods. Hal, I +suppose he's won you over?" + +"Ken's got a big thing in mind," replied Hal, loyally "It's just splendid." + +I never saw the long, black-fringed line of trees without joy in the +possession of them and a desire to be among them. The sixty acres of timber +land covered the whole of a swampy valley, spread over a rolling hill +sloping down to the glistening river. + +"Now, son? go ahead," said my father, as we clambered over a rail fence and +stepped into the edge of shade.. + +"Well, father--" I began, haltingly, and could not collect my thoughts. +Then we were in the cool woods. It was very still, there being only a faint +rustling of leaves and the mellow note of a hermit-thrush. The deep shadows +were lightened by shafts of sunshine which, here and there, managed to +pierce the canopy of foliage. Somehow, the feeling roused by these things +loosened my tongue. + +"This is an old hard-wood forest," I began. "Much of the white oak, +hickory, ash, maple, is virgin timber. These trees have reached maturity; +many are dead at the tops; all of them should have been cut long ago. They +make too dense a shade for the seedlings to survive. Look at that bunch of +sapling maples. See how they reach up, trying to get to the light. They +haven't a branch low down and the tops are thin. Yet maple is one of our +hardiest trees. Growth has been suppressed. Do you notice there are no +small oaks or hickories just here? They can't live in deep shade. Here's +the stump of a white oak cut last fall. It was about two feet in diameter. +Let's count the rings to find its age--about ninety years. It flourished in +its youth and grew rapidly, but it had a hard time after about fifty years. +At that time it was either burned, or mutilated by a falling tree, or +struck by lightning." + +"Now, how do you make that out?" asked father, intensely interested. + +"See the free, wide rings from the pith out to about number forty-five. The +tree was healthy up to that time. Then it met with an injury of some kind, +as is indicated by this black scar. After that the rings grew narrower. The +tree struggled to live." + +We walked on with me talking as fast as I could get the words out. I showed +father a giant, bushy chestnut which was dominating all the trees around +it, and told him how it retarded their growth. On the other hand, the other +trees were absorbing nutrition from the ground that would have benefited +the chestnut. + +"There's a sinful waste of wood here," I said, as we climbed over and +around the windfalls and rotting tree-trunks. "The old trees die and are +blown down. The amount of rotting wood equals the yearly growth. Now, I +want to show you the worst enemies of the trees. Here's a big white oak, a +hundred and fifty years old. It's almost dead. See the little holes bored +in the bark. They were made by a beetle. Look!" + +I swung my hatchet and split off a section of bark. Everywhere in the bark +and round the tree ran little dust-filled grooves. I pried out a number of +tiny brown beetles, somewhat the shape of a pinching-bug, only very much +smaller. + +"There! You'd hardly think that that great tree was killed by a lot of +little bugs, would you? They girdle the trees and prevent the sap from +flowing." + +I found an old chestnut which contained nests of the deadly white moths, +and explained how it laid its eggs, and how the caterpillars that came from +them killed the trees by eating the leaves. I showed how mice and squirrels +injured the forest by eating the seeds. + +"First I'd cut and sell all the matured and dead timber. Then I'd thin out +the spreading trees that want all the light, and the saplings that grow too +close together. I'd get rid of the beetles, and try to check the spread of +caterpillars. For trees grow twice as fast if they are not choked or diseased. +Then I'd keep planting seeds and shoots in the open places, taking +care to favor the species best adapted to the soil, and cutting those that +don't grow well. In this way we'll be keeping our forest while doubling its +growth and value, and having a yearly income from it." + +"Kenneth, I see you're in dead earnest about this business," said my +father, slowly. "Before I came out here today I had been looking up the +subject, and I believe, with you, that forestry really means the salvation +of our country. I think you are really interested, and I've a mind not to +oppose you." + +"You'll never regret it. I'll learn; I'll work up. Then it's an outdoor +life--healthy, free--why! all the boys I've told take to the idea. There's +something fine about it." "Forestry it is, then," replied he. "I like the +promise of it, and I like your attitude. If you have learned so much while +you were camping out here the past few summers it speaks well for you. But +why do you want to go to Arizona?" + +"Because the best chances are out West. I'd like to get a line on the +National Forests there before I go to college. The work will be different; +those Western forests are all pine. I've a friend, Dick Leslie, a fellow I +used to fish with, who went West and is now a fire ranger in the new +National Forest in Arizona--Penetier is the name of it. He has written me +several times to come out and spend a while with him in the woods." + +"Penetier? Where is that--near what town?" + +"Holston. It's a pretty rough country, Dick says; plenty of deer, bears, +and lions on his range. So I could hunt some while studying the forests. I +think I'd be safe with Dick, even if it is wild out there." + +"All right, I'll let you go. When you return we'll see about the college." +Then he surprised me by drawing a letter from his pocket and handing it to +me. "My friend, Mr. White, got this letter from the department at +Washington. It may be of use to you out there." + +So it was settled, and when father drove off homeward Hal and I went back +to camp. It would have been hard to say which of us was the more excited. +Hal did a war dance round the campfire. I was glad, however, that he did +not have the little twinge of remorse which I experienced, for I had not +told him or father all that Dick had written about the wilderness of +Penetier. I am afraid my mind was as much occupied with rifles and mustangs +as with the study of forestry. But, though the adventure called most +strongly to me, I knew I was sincere about the forestry end of it, and I +resolved that I would never slight my opportunities. So, smothering +conscience, I fell to the delight of making plans. I was for breaking camp +at once, but Hal persuaded me to stay one more day. We talked for hours. +Only one thing bothered me. Hal was jolly and glum by turns. He reveled in +the plans for my outfit, but he wanted his own chance. A thousand times I +had to repeat my promise, and the last thing he said before we slept was: +"Ken, you're going to ring me in next summer!" + + + +II. THE MAN ON THE TRAIN + +Travelling was a new experience to me, and on the first night after I left +home I lay awake until we reached Altoona. We rolled out of smoky Pittsburg +at dawn, and from then on the only bitter drop in my cup of bliss was that +the train went so fast I could not see everything out of my window. + +Four days to ride! The great Mississippi to cross, the plains, the Rocky +Mountains, then the Arizona plateaus-a long, long journey with a wild pine +forest at the end! I wondered what more any young fellow could have wished. +With my face glued to the car window I watched the level country speed by. + +There appeared to be one continuous procession of well-cultivated farms, +little hamlets, and prosperous towns. What interested me most, of course, +were the farms, for all of them had some kind of wood. We passed a zone of +maple forests which looked to be more carefully kept than the others. Then +I recognized that they were maple-sugar trees. The farmers had cleaned out +the other species, and this primitive method of forestry had produced the +finest maples it had ever been my good-fortune to see. Indiana was flatter +than Ohio, not so well watered, and therefore less heavily timbered. I saw, +with regret, that the woodland was being cut regularly, tree after tree, +and stacked in cords for firewood. + +At Chicago I was to change for Santa Fe, and finding my train in the +station I climbed aboard. My car was a tourist coach. Father had insisted +on buying a ticket for the California Limited, but I had argued that a +luxurious Pullman was not exactly the thing for a prospective forester. +Still I pocketed the extra money which I had assured him he need not spend +for the first-class ticket. + +The huge station, with its glaring lights and clanging bells, and the +outspreading city, soon gave place to prairie land. + +That night I slept little, but the very time I wanted to be awake--when we +crossed the Mississippi--I was slumbering soundly, and so missed it. + +"I'll bet I don't miss it coming back," I vowed. + +The sight of the Missouri, however, somewhat repaid me for the loss. What a +muddy, wide river! And I thought of the thousands of miles of country it +drained, and of the forests there must be at its source. Then came the +never-ending Kansas corn-fields. I do not know whether it was their length +or their treeless monotony, but I grew tired looking at them. + +From then on I began to take some notice of my fellow-travelers. The +conductor proved to be an agreeable old fellow; and the train-boy, though I +mistrusted his advances because he tried to sell me everything from +chewing-gum to mining stock, turned out to be pretty good company. The +Negro porter had such a jolly voice and laugh that I talked to him whenever +I got the chance. Then occasional passengers occupied the seat opposite me +from town to town. They were much alike, all sunburned and loud-voiced, and +it looked as though they had all bought their high boots and wide hats at +the same shop. + +The last traveller to face me was a very heavy man with a great bullet head +and a shock of light hair. His blue eyes had a bold flash, his long +mustache drooped, and there was something about him that I did not like. He +wore a huge diamond in the bosom of his flannel shirt, and a leather +watch-chain that was thick and strong enough to have held up a town-clock. + +"Hot," he said, as he mopped his moist brow. + +"Not so hot as it was," I replied. + +"Sure not. We're climbin' a little. He's whistlin' for Dodge City now." + +"Dodge City?" I echoed, with interest. The name brought back vivid scenes +from certain yellow-backed volumes, and certain uncomfortable memories of +my father's displeasure. "Isn't this the old cattle town where there used +to be so many fights?" + +"Sure. An' not so very long ago. Here, look out the window." He clapped his +big hand on my knee; then pointed. "See that hill there. Dead Man's Hill it +was once, where they buried the fellers as died with their boots on." + +I stared, and even stretched my neck out of the window. + +"Yes, old Dodge was sure lively," he continued, as our train passed on. "I +seen a little mix-up there myself in the early eighties. Five cow-punchers, +friends they was, had been visitin' town. One feller, playful-like, takes +another feller's quirt--that's a whip. An' the other feller, playful-like, +says, 'Give it back.' Then they tussles for it, an' rolls on the ground. I +was laughin', as was everybody, when, suddenly, the owner of the quirt +thumps his friend. Both cowboys got up, slow, an' watchin' of each other. +Then the first feller, who had started the play, pulls his gun. He'd hardly +flashed it when they all pulls guns, an' it was some noisy an' smoky. In +about five seconds there was five dead cowpunchers. Killed themselves, as +you might say, just for fun. That's what life was worth in old Dodge." +After this story I felt more kindly disposed ward my travelling companion, +and would have asked for more romances but the conductor came along and +engaged him in conversation. Then my neighbor across the aisle, a young +fellow not much older than myself, asked me to talk to him. + +"Why, yes, if you like," I replied, in surprise. He was pale; there were +red spots in his cheeks, and dark lines under his weary eyes. + +"You look so strong and eager that it's done me good to watch you," he +explained, with a sad smile. "You see--I'm sick." + +I told him I was very sorry, and hoped he would get well soon. + +"I ought to have come West sooner," he replied, "but I couldn't get the +money." + +He looked up at me and then out of the window at the sun setting red across +the plains. I tried to make him think of something beside himself, but I +made a mess of it. The meeting with him was a shock to me. Long after dark, +when I had stretched out for the night, I kept thinking of him and +contrasting what I had to look forward to with his dismal future. Somehow +it did not seem fair, and I could not get rid of the idea that I was +selfish. + +Next day I had my first sight of real mountains. And the Pennsylvania +hills, that all my life had appeared so high, dwindled to nothing. At +Trinidad, where we stopped for breakfast, I walked out on the platform +sniffing at the keen thin air. When we crossed the Raton Mountains into New +Mexico the sick boy got off at the first station, and I waved good-bye to +him as the train pulled out. Then the mountains and the funny little adobe +huts and the Pueblo Indians along the line made me forget everything else. + +The big man with the heavy watch-chain was still on the train, and after he +had read his newspaper he began to talk to me. + +"This road follows the old trail that the goldseekers took in forty-nine," +he said. "We're comin' soon to a place, Apache Pass, where the Apaches used +to ambush the wagon-trains, It's somewheres along here." + +Presently the train wound into a narrow yellow ravine, the walls of which +grew higher and higher. + +"Them Apaches was the worst redskins ever in the West. They used to hide on +top of this pass an' shoot down on the wagon-trains." + +Later in the day he drew my attention to a mountain standing all by itself. +It was shaped like a cone, green with trees almost to the summit, and +ending in a bare stone peak that had a flat top. + +"Starvation Peak," he said. "That name's three hundred years old, dates +back to the time the Spaniards owned this land. There's a story about it +that's likely true enough. Some Spaniards were attacked by Indians an' +climbed to the peak, expectin' to be better able to defend themselves up +there. The Indians camped below the peak an' starved the Spaniards. Stuck +there till they starved to death! That's where it got its name." + +"Those times you tell of must have been great," I said, regretfully. "I'd +like to have been here then. But isn't the country all settled now? Aren't +the Indians dead? There's no more fighting?" + +"It's not like it used to be, but there's still warm places in the West. +Not that the Indians break out often any more. But bad men are almost as +bad, if not so plentiful, as when Billy the Kid run these parts. I saw two +men shot an' another knifed jest before I went East to St. Louis." + +"Where?" + +"In Arizona. Holston is the station where I get off, an' it happened near +there." + +"Holston is where I'm going." + +"You don't say. Well, I'm glad to meet you, young man. My name's Buell, an' +I'm some known in Holston. What's your name?" + +He eyed me in a sharp but not unfriendly manner, and seemed pleased to +learn of my destination. + +"Ward. Kenneth Ward. I'm from Pennsylvania." + +"You haven't got the bugs. Any one can see that," he said, and as I looked +puzzled he went on with a smile, and a sounding rap on his chest: "Most +young fellers as come out here have consumption. They call it bugs. I +reckon you're seekin' your fortune."' + +"Yes, in a way." + +"There's opportunities for husky youngsters out here. What're you goin' to +rustle for, if I may ask?" + +"I'm going in for forestry." + +"Forestry? Do you mean lumberin'?" + +"No. Forestry is rather the opposite of lumbering. I'm going in for +Government forestry--to save the timber, not cut it." + +It seemed to me he gave a little start of surprise; he certainly +straightened up and looked at me hard. + +"What's Government forestry?" + +I told him to the best of my ability. He listened attentively enough, but +thereafter he had not another word for me, and presently he went into the +next car. I took his manner to be the Western abruptness that I had heard +of, and presently forgot him in the scenery along the line. At Albuquerque +I got off for a trip to a lunch-counter, and happened to take a seat next +to him. + +"Know anybody in Holston?" he asked. + +As I could not speak because of a mouthful of sandwich I shook my head. For +the moment I had forgotten about Dick Leslie, and when it did occur to me +some Indians offering to sell me beads straightway drove it out of my mind +again. + +When I awoke the next day, it was to see the sage ridges and red buttes of +Arizona. We were due at Holston at eight o'clock, but owing to a crippled +engine the train was hours late. At last I fell asleep to be awakened by a +vigorous shake. + +"Holston. Your stop. Holston," the conductor was saying. + +"All right," I said, sitting up and then making a grab for my grip. "We're +pretty late, aren't we?" + +"Six hours. It's two o'clock." + +"Hope I can get a room," I said, as I followed him out on the platform. He +held up his lantern so that the light would shine in my face. "There's a +hotel down the street a block or so. Better hurry and look sharp. Holston's +not a safe place for a stranger at night." + +I stepped off into a windy darkness. A lamp glimmered in the station +window. By its light I made out several men, the foremost of whom had a +dark, pointed face and glittering eyes. He wore a strange hat, and I knew +from pictures I had seen that he was a Mexican. Then the bulky form of +Buell loomed up. I called, but evidently he did not hear me. The men took +his grips, and they moved away to disappear in the darkness. While I +paused, hoping to see some one to direct me, the train puffed out, leaving +me alone on the platform. + +When I turned the corner I saw two dim lights, one far to the left, the +other to the right, and the black outline of buildings under what appeared +to be the shadow of a mountain. It was the quietest and darkest town I had +ever struck. + +I decided to turn toward the right-hand light, for the conductor had said +"down the street." I set forth at a brisk pace, but the loneliness and +strangeness of the place were rather depressing. + +Before I had gone many steps, however, the sound of running water halted +me, and just in the nick of time, for I was walking straight into a ditch. +By peering hard into the darkness and feeling my way I found a bridge. Then +it did not take long to reach the light. But it was a saloon, and not the +hotel. One peep into it served to make me face about in double-quick time, +and hurry in the opposite direction. + +Hearing a soft footfall, I glanced over my shoulder, to see the Mexican +that I had noticed at the station. He was coming from across the street. I +wondered if he were watching me. He might be. My heart began to beat +violently. Turning once again, I discovered that the fellow could not be +seen in the pitchy blackness. Then I broke into a run. + + + +III. THE TRAIL + +A short dash brought me to the end of the block; the side street was not so +dark, and after I had crossed this open space I glanced backward. + +Soon I sped into a wan circle of light, and, reaching a door upon which was +a hotel sign, I burst in. Chairs were scattered about a bare office; a man +stirred on a couch, and then sat up, blinking. + +"I'm afraid--I believe some one's chasing me," I said. + +He sat there eying me, and then drawled, sleepily: + +"Thet ain't no call to wake a feller, is it?" + +The man settled himself comfortably again, and closed his eyes. + +"Say, isn't this a hotel? I want a room!" I cried. + +"Up-stairs; first door." And with that the porter went to sleep in good +earnest. + +I made for the stairs, and, after a backward look into the street, I ran +up. A smelly lamp shed a yellowish glare along a hall. I pushed open the +first door, and, entering the room, bolted myself in. Then all the strength +went out of my legs. When I sat down on the bed I was in a cold sweat and +shaking like a leaf. Soon the weakness passed, and I moved about the room, +trying to find a lamp or candle. Evidently the hotel, and, for that matter, +the town of Holston, did not concern itself with such trifles as lights. On +the instant I got a bad impression of Holston. I had to undress in the +dark. When I pulled the window open a little at the top the upper sash slid +all the way down. I managed to get it back, and tried raising the lower +sash. It was very loose, but it stayed up. Then I crawled into bed. + +Though I was tired and sleepy, my mind whirled so that I could not get to +sleep. If I had been honest with myself I should have wished myself back +home. Pennsylvania seemed a long way off, and the adventures that I had +dreamed of did not seem so alluring, now that I was in a lonely room in a +lonely, dark town. Buell had seemed friendly and kind--at least, in the +beginning. Why had he not answered my call? The incident did not look well +to me. Then I fell to wondering if the Mexican had really followed me. The +first thing for me in the morning would be to buy a revolver. Then if any +Mexicans-- + +A step on the tin roof outside frightened me stiff. I had noticed a porch, +or shed, under my window. Some one must have climbed upon it. I stopped +breathing to listen. For what seemed moments there was no sound. I wanted +to think that the noise might have been made by a cat, but I couldn't. I +was scared--frightened half to death. + +If there had been a bolt on the window the matter would not have been so +disturbing. I lay there a-quiver, eyes upon the gray window space of my +room. Dead silence once more intervened. All I heard was the pound of my +heart against my ribs. + +Suddenly I froze at the sight of a black figure against the light of my +window. I recognized the strange bat, the grotesque outlines. I was about +to shout for help when the fellow reached down and softly began to raise +the sash. + +That made me angry. Jerking up in bed, I caught the heavy pitcher from the +wash-stand and flung it with all my might. + +Crash! + +Had I smashed out the whole side of the room it could scarcely have made +more noise. Accompanied by the clinking of glass and the creaking of tin, +my visitor rolled off the roof. I waited, expecting an uproar from the +other inmates of the hotel. No footstep, no call sounded within hearing. +Once again the stillness settled down. + +Then, to my relief, the gray gloom lightened, and dawn broke. Never had I +been so glad to see the morning. While dressing I cast gratified glances at +the ragged hole in the window. With the daylight my courage had returned, +and I began to have a sort of pride in my achievement. + +"If that fellow had known how I can throw a baseball he'd have been +careful," I thought, a little cockily. + +I went down-stairs into the office. The sleepy porter was mopping the +floor. Behind the desk stood a man so large that he made Buell seem small. +He was all shoulders and beard. + +"Can I get breakfast?" + +"Nobody's got a half-hitch on you, has they?" he replied, jerking a +monstrous thumb over his shoulder toward a door. + +I knew the words half-hitch had something to do with a lasso, and I was +rather taken back by the hotel proprietor's remark. The dining-room was +more attractive than anything I had yet seen about the place: the linen was +clean, and the ham and eggs and coffee that were being served to several +rugged men gave forth a savory odor. But either the waiter was blind or he +could not bear, for he paid not the slightest attention to me. I waited, +while trying to figure out the situation. Something was wrong, and, +whatever it was, I guessed that it must be with me. After about an +hour I got my breakfast. Then I went into the office, intending to be +brisk, businesslike, and careful about asking questions. + +"I'd like to pay my bill, and also for a little damage," I said, telling +what had happened. + +"Somebody'll kill thet Greaser yet," was all the comment the man made. + +I went outside, not knowing whether to be angry or amused with these queer +people. In the broad light of day Holston looked as bad as it had made me +feel by night. All I could see were the station and freight-sheds, several +stores with high, wide signs, glaringly painted, and a long block of +saloons. When I had turned a street corner, however, a number of stores +came into view with some three-storied brick buildings, and, farther out, +many frame houses. + +Moreover, this street led my eye to great snowcapped mountains, and I +stopped short in my tracks, for I realized they were the Arizona peaks. Up +the swelling slopes swept a black fringe that I knew to be timber. The +mountains appeared to be close, but I knew that even the foot-bills were +miles away. Penetier, I remembered from one of Dick's letters, was on the +extreme northern slope, and it must be anywhere from forty to sixty miles +off. The sharp, white peaks glistened in the morning sun; the air had a +cool touch of snow and a tang of pine. I drew in a full breath, with a +sense on being among the pines. + +Now I must buy my outfit and take the trail for Penetier. This I resolved +to do with as few questions as possible. I never before was troubled by +sensitiveness, but the fact had dawned upon me that I did not like being +taken for a tenderfoot. So, with this in mind, I entered a general merchandise +store. + +It was very large, and full of hardware, harness, saddles, blankets-- +everything that cowboys and ranchmen use. Several men, two in +shirt-sleeves, were chatting near the door. They saw me come in, and then, +for all that it meant to them, I might as well not have been in existence +at all. So I sat down to wait, determined to take Western ways and things +as I found them. I sat there fifteen minutes by my watch. This was not so +bad; but when a lanky, red-faced, leather-legged individual came in to he +at once supplied with his wants, I began to get angry. I waited another +five minutes, and still the friendly chatting went on. Finally I could +stand it no longer. + +"Will somebody wait on me?" I demanded. + +One of the shirt-sleeved men leisurely got up and surveyed me. + +"Do you want to buy something?" he drawled. + +"Yes, I do." + +"Why didn't you say so?" + +The reply trembling on my lips was cut short by the entrance of Buell. + +"Hello!" he said in a loud voice, shaking hands with me. "You've trailed +into the right place. Smith, treat this lad right. It's guns an' knives an' +lassoes he wants, I'll bet a hoss." + +"Yes, I want an outfit," I said, much embarrassed. " I'm going to meet a +friend out in Penetier, a ranger--Dick Leslie." + +Buell started violently, and his eyes flashed. "Dick--Dick Leslie!" he +said, and coughed loudly. "I know Dick. . . . So you're a friend of his'n? +. . . Now, let me help you with the outfit." + +Anything strange in Buell's manner was forgotten, in the absorbing interest +of my outfit. Father had given me plenty of money, so that I had but to +choose. I had had sense enough to bring my old corduroys and boots, and I +had donned them that morning. One after another I made my +purchases--Winchester, revolver, bolsters, ammunition, saddle, bridle, +lasso, blanket. When I got so far, Buell said: "You'll need a mustang an' a +pack-pony. I know a feller who's got jest what you want." And with that he +led me out of the store. + +"Now you take it from me," he went on, in a fatherly voice, "Holston people +haven't got any use for Easterners. An' if you mention your business-- +forestry an' that--why, you wouldn't be safe. There's many in the +lumberin' business here as don't take kindly to the Government. See! That's +why I'm givin' you advice. Keep it to yourself an' hit the trail today, +soon as you can. I'll steer you right." + +I was too much excited to answer clearly; indeed, I hardly thanked him. +However, be scarcely gave me the chance. He kept up his talk about the +townspeople and their attitude toward Easterners until we arrived at a kind +of stock-yard full of shaggy little ponies. The sight of them drove every +other thought out of my head. + +"Mustangs!" I exclaimed. + +"Sure. Can you ride?" + +"Oh yes. I have a horse at home. . . . What wiry little fellows! They're so +wild-looking." + +"You pick out the one as suits you, an' I'll step into Cless's here. He's +the man who owns this bunch." + +It did not take me long to decide. A black mustang at once took my eye. +When he had been curried and brushed he would be a little beauty. I was +trying to coax him to me when Buell returned with a man. + +"Thet your pick?" he asked, as I pointed. "Well, now, you're not so much of +a tenderfoot. Thet's the best mustang in the lot. Cless, how much for him, +an' a pack-pony an' pack-saddle?" + +"I reckon twenty dollars'll make it square," replied the owner. + +This nearly made me drop with amazement. I had only about seventy-five +dollars left, and I had been very much afraid that I could not buy the +mustang, let alone the pack-pony and saddle. + +"Cless, send round to Smith for the lad's outfit, an' saddle up for him at +once." Then he turned to me. "Now some grub, an' a pan or two." + +Having camped before, I knew how to buy supplies. Buell, however, cut out +much that I wanted, saying the thing to think of was a light pack for the +pony. + +"I'll hurry to the hotel and get my things," I said, "and meet you here. +I'll not be a moment." + +But Buell said it would be better for him to go with me, though he did not +explain. He kept with me, still he remained in the office while I went +up-stairs. Somehow this suited me, for I did not want him to see the broken +window. I took a few things from my grip and rolled them in a bundle. Then +I took a little leather case of odds and ends I had always carried when +camping and slipped it into my pocket. Hurrying down-stairs I left my grip +with the porter, wrote and mailed a postal card to my father, and followed +the impatient Buell. + +"You see, it's a smart lick of a ride to Penetier, and I want to get there +before dark," he explained, kindly. + +I could have shouted for very glee when I saw the black mustang saddled and +bridled. + +"He's well broke," said Cless. "Keep his bridle down when you ain't in the +saddle. An' find a patch of grass fer him at night. The pony'll stick to +him." + +Cless fell to packing a lean pack-pony. + +"Watch me do this," said he; "you'll hev trouble if you don't git the hang +of the diamondhitch." + +I watched him set the little wooden criss-cross on the pony's back, throw +the balance of my outfit (which he had tied up in a canvas) over the +saddle, and then pass a long rope in remarkable turns and wonderful loops +round pony and pack. + +"What's the mustang's name?" I inquired. + +"Never had any," replied the former owner. + +"Then it's Hal." I thought how that name would please my brother at home. + +"Climb up. Let's see if you fit the stirrups," said Cless. "Couldn't be +better." + +"Now, young feller, you can hit the trail," put in Buell, with his big +voice. "An' remember what I told you. This country ain't got much use for a +feller as can't look out for himself." + +He opened the gate, and led my mustang into the road and quite some +distance. The pony jogged along after us. Then Buell stopped with a finger +outstretched. + +"There, at the end of this street, you'll find a trail. Hit it an' stick to +it. All the little trail's leadin' into it needn't bother you." + +He swept his hand round to the west of the mountain. The direction did not +tally with the idea I had gotten from Dick's letter. + +"I thought Penetier was on the north side of the mountains." + +"Who said so?" he asked, staring. "Don't I know this country? Take it from +me." + +I thanked him, and, turning, with a light heart I faced the black mountain +and my journey. + +It was about ten o'clock when Hal jogged into a broad trail on the +outskirts of Holston. A gray flat lay before me, on the other side of which +began the slow rise of the slope. I could hardly contain myself. I wanted +to run the mustang, but did not for the sake of the burdened pony. That +sage-flat was miles wide, though it seemed so narrow. The back of the lower +slope began to change to a dark green, which told me I was surely getting +closer to the mountains, even if it did not seem so. The trail began to +rise, and at last I reached the first pine-trees. They were a +disappointment to me, being no larger than many of the white oaks at home, +and stunted, with ragged dead tops. They proved to me that trees isolated +from their fellows fare as poorly as trees overcrowded. Where pines grow +closely, but not too closely, they rise straight and true, cleaning +themselves of the low branches, and making good lumber, free of knots. +Where they grow far apart, at the mercy of wind and heat and free to spread +many branches, they make only gnarled and knotty lumber. + +As I rode on the pines became slowly more numerous and loftier. Then, when +I had surmounted what I took to be the first foot-hill, I came upon a +magnificent forest. A little farther on the trail walled me in with great +seamed trunks, six feet in diameter, rising a hundred feet before spreading +a single branch. + +Meanwhile my mustang kept steadily up the slow-rising trail, and the time +passed. Either the grand old forest had completely bewitched me or the +sweet smell of pine had intoxicated me, for as I rode along utterly content +I entirely forgot about Dick and the trail and where I was heading. Nor did +I come to my senses until Hal snorted and stopped before a tangled +windfall. + +Then I glanced down to see only the clean, brown pine-needles. There was no +trail. Perplexed and somewhat anxious, I rode back a piece, expecting +surely to cross the trail. But I did not. I went to the left and to the +right, then circled in a wide curve. No trail! The forest about me seemed +at once familiar and strange. + +It was only when the long shadows began to creep under the trees that I +awoke fully to the truth. + +I had missed the trail! I was lost in the forest! + + + +IV. LOST IN THE FOREST + +For a moment I was dazed. And then came panic. I ran up this ridge and that +one, I rushed to and fro over ground which looked, whatever way I turned, +exactly the same. And I kept saying, "I'm lost! I'm lost!" Not until I +dropped exhausted against a pine-tree did any other thought come to me. + +The moment that I stopped running about so aimlessly the panicky feeling +left me. I remembered that for a ranger to be lost in the forest was an +every-day affair, and the sooner I began that part of my education the +better. Then it came to me how foolish I had been to get alarmed, when I +knew that the general slope of the forest led down to the open country. + +This put an entirely different light upon the matter. I still had some +fears that I might not soon find Dick Leslie, but these I dismissed for the +present, at least. A suitable place to camp for the night must be found. I +led the mustang down into the hollows, keeping my eye sharp for grass. +Presently I came to a place that was wet and soggy at the bottom, and, +following this up for quite a way, I found plenty of grass and a pool of +clear water. + +Often as I had made camp back in the woods of Pennsylvania, the doing of it +now was new. For this was not play; it was the real thing, and it made the +old camping seem tame. I took the saddle off Hal and tied him with my +lasso, making as long a halter as possible. Slipping the pack from the pony +was an easier task than the getting it back again was likely to prove. Next +I broke open a box of cartridges and loaded the Winchester. My revolver was +already loaded, and hung on my belt. Remembering Dick's letters about the +bears and mountain-lions in Penetier Forest, I got a good deal of comfort +out of my weapons. Then I built a fire, and while my supper was cooking I +scraped up a mass of pine-needles for a bed. Never had I sat down to a meal +with such a sense of strange enjoyment. + +But when I had finished and had everything packed away and covered, my mind +began to wander in unexpected directions. Why was it that the twilight +seemed to move under the giant pines and creep down the hollow? While I +gazed the gray shadows deepened to black, and night came suddenly. My +campfire seemed to give almost no light, yet close at hand the flickering +gleams played hide-and-seek among the pines and chased up the straight tree +trunks. The crackling of my fire and the light steps of the grazing +mustangs only emphasized the silence of the forest. Then a low moaning from +a distance gave me a chill. At first I had no idea what it was, but +presently I thought it must be the wind in the pines. It bore no +resemblance to any sound I had ever before heard in the woods. It would +murmur from different parts of the forest; sometimes it would cease for a +little, and then travel and swell toward me, only to die away again. But it +rose steadily, with shorter intervals of silence, until the intermittent +gusts swept through the tree-tops with a rushing roar. I had listened to +the crash of the ocean surf, and the resemblance was a striking one. + +Listening to this mournful wind with all my ears I was the better prepared +for any lonesome cries of the forest; nevertheless, a sudden, sharp +"Ki-yi-i!" seemingly right at my back, gave me a fright that sent my tongue +to the roof of my mouth. + +Fumbling at the hammer of my rifle, I peered into the black-streaked gloom +of the forest. The crackling of dry twigs brought me to my feet. At the +same moment the mustangs snorted. Something was prowling about just beyond +the light. I thought of a panther. That was the only beast I could think of +which had such an unearthly cry. + +Then another bowl, resembling that of a dog, and followed by yelps and +barks, told me that I was being visited by a pack of coyotes. I spent the +good part of an hour listening to their serenade. The wild, mournful notes +sent quivers up my back. By-and-by they went away, and as my fire had +burned down to a red glow and the night wind had grown cold I began to +think of sleep. + +But I was not sleepy. When I had stretched out on the soft bed of +pine-needles with my rifle close by, and was all snug and warm under the +heavy blanket, it seemed that nothing was so far away from me as sleep. The +wonder of my situation kept me wide awake, my eyes on the dim huge pines +and the glimmer of stars, and my ears open to the rush and roar of the +wind, every sense alert. Hours must have passed as I lay there living over +the things that had happened and trying to think out what was to come. At +last, however, I rolled over on my side, and with my hand on the rifle and +my cheek close to the sweet-smelling pine-needles I dropped asleep. + +When I awoke the forest was bright and sunny. + +"You'll make a fine forester," I said aloud, in disgust at my tardiness. +Then began the stern business of the day. While getting breakfast I turned +over in my mind the proper thing for me to do. Evidently I must pack and +find the trail. The pony had wandered off into the woods, but was easily +caught--a fact which lightened my worry, for I knew how dependent I was +upon my mustangs. When I had tried for I do not know how long to get my +pack to stay on the pony's back I saw where Mr. Cless had played a joke on +me. All memory of the diamond-hitch had faded into utter confusion. First +the pack fell over the off-side; next, on top of me; then the saddle +slipped awry, and when I did get the pack to remain stationary upon the +patient pony, how on earth to tie it there became more and more of a +mystery. Finally, in sheer desperation, I ran round the pony, pulled, +tugged, and knotted the lasso; more by luck than through sense I had +accomplished something in the nature of the diamond-hitch. + +I headed Hal up the gentle forest slope, and began the day's journey +wherever chance might lead me. As confidence came, my enjoyment increased. +I began to believe I could take care of myself. I reasoned out that, as the +peaks were snow-capped, I should find water, and very likely game, up +higher. Moreover, I might climb a foothill or bluff from which I could get +my bearings. + +It seemed to me that I passed more pine-trees than I could have imagined +there were in the whole world. Miles and miles of pines! And in every mile +they grew larger and ruggeder and farther apart, and so high that I could +hardly see the tips. After a time I got out of the almost level forest into +ground ridged and hollowed, and found it advisable to turn more to the +right. On the sunny southern slopes I saw trees that dwarfed the ones on +the colder and shady north sides. I also found many small pines and +seedlings growing in warm, protected places. This showed me the value of +the sun to a forest. Though I kept a lookout for deer or game of any kind, +I saw nothing except some black squirrels with white tails. They were +beautiful and very tame, and one was nibbling at what I concluded must have +been a seed from a pine-cone. + +Presently I fancied that I espied a moving speck far down through the +forest glades. I stopped Hal, and, watching closely, soon made certain of +it. Then it became lost for a time, but reappeared again somewhat closer. +It was like a brown blur and scarcely moved. I reined Hal more to the +right. Not for quite a while did I see the thing again, and when I did it +looked so big and brown that I took up my Winchester. Then it disappeared +once more. + +I descended into a hollow, and tying Hal, I stole forward on foot, hoping +by that means to get close to the strange object without being seen myself. + +I waited behind a pine, and suddenly three horsemen rode across a glade not +two hundred yards away. The foremost rider was no other than the Mexican +whom I had reason to remember. + +The huge trunk amply concealed me, but, nevertheless, I crouched down. How +strange that I should run into that Mexican again! Where was he going? Had +he followed me? Was there a trail? + +As long as the three men were in sight I watched them. When the last brown +speck had flitted and disappeared far away in the forest I retraced my +steps to my mustang, pondering upon this new turn in my affairs. + +"Things are bound to happen to me," I concluded, "and I may as well make up +my mind to that." + +While standing beside Hal, undecided as to my next move, I heard a whistle. +It was faint, perhaps miles away, yet unmistakably it was the whistle of an +engine. I wondered if the railroad turned round this side of the peaks. +Mounting Hal, I rode down the forest to the point where I had seen the men, +and there came upon a trail. I proceeded along this in the direction the +men had taken. I had come again to the slow-rising level that I had noted +earlier in my morning's journey. After several miles a light or opening in +the forest ahead caused me to use more caution. As I rode forward I saw a +vast area of tree-tops far below, and then I found myself on the edge of a +foot-hill. + +Right under me was a wide, yellow, bare spot, miles across, a horrible +slash in the green forest, and in the middle of it, surrounded by stacks on +stacks of lumber, was a great sawmill. + +I stared in utter amazement. A sawmill on Penetier! Even as I gazed a train +of fresh-cut lumber trailed away into the forest. + + + +V. THE SAWMILL + +In my surprise I almost forgot the Mexican. Then I thought that if Dick +were there the Mexican would be likely to have troubles of his own. I +remembered Dick's reputation as a fighter. But suppose I did not find Dick +at the sawmill? This part of the forest was probably owned by private +individuals, for I couldn't imagine Government timber being cut in this +fashion. So I tied Hal and the pony amidst a thick clump of young pines, +and, leaving all my outfit except my revolver, I struck out across the +slash. + +No second glance was needed to tell that the lumbering here was careless +and without thought for the future. It had been a clean cut, and what small +saplings had escaped the saw had been crushed by the dropping and hauling +of the large pines. The stumps were all about three feet high, and that +meant the waste of many thousands of feet of good lumber. Only the +straight, unbranched trunks had been used. The tops of the pines had not +been lopped, and lay where they had fallen. It was a wilderness of yellow +brush, a dry jungle. The smell of pine was so powerful that I could hardly +breathe. Fire must inevitably complete this work of ruin; already I was +forester enough to see that. + +Presently the trail crossed a railroad track which appeared to have been +hastily constructed. Swinging along at a rapid step on the ties I soon +reached the outskirts of the huge stacks of lumber; I must have walked half +a mile between two yellow walls. Then I entered the lumber camp. + +It was even worse-looking than the slash. Rows of dirty tents, lines of +squatty log-cabins, and many flat-board houses clustered around an immense +sawmill. Evidently I had arrived at the noon hour, for the mill was not +running, and many rough men were lounging about smoking pipes. At the door +of the first shack stood a fat, round-faced Negro wearing a long, dirty +apron. + +"Is Dick Leslie here?" I asked. + +"I dunno if Dick's come in yet, but I 'specks him," he replied. "Be you the +young gent Dick's lookin' fer from down East?" + +"Yes." + +"Come right in, sonny, come right in an' eat. Dick allus eats with me, an' +he has spoke often 'bout you." He led me in, and seated me at a bench where +several men were eating. They were brawny fellows, clad in overalls and +undershirts, and one, who spoke pleasantly to me, had sawdust on his bare +arms and even in his hair. The cook set before me a bowl of soup, a plate +of beans, potroast, and coffee, all of which I attacked with a good +appetite. Presently the men finished their meat and went outside, leaving +me alone with the cook. + +"Many men on this job?" I asked. + +"More'n a thousand. Buell's runnin' two shifts, day an' night." + +"Buell? Does he own this land?" + +"No. He's only the agent of a 'Frisco lumber company, an' the land belongs +to the Government. Buell's sure slashin' the lumber off, though. Two +freight-trains of lumber out every day." + +"Is this Penetier Forest?" I queried, carelessly, but I had begun to think +hard. + +"Sure." + +I wanted to ask questions, but thought it wiser to wait. I knew enough +already to make out that I had come upon the scene of a gigantic lumber +steal. Buell's strange manner on the train, at the station, and his +eagerness to hurry me out of Holston now needed no more explanation. I +began to think the worst of him. + +"Did you see a Mexican come into camp?" I inquired of the Negro. + +"Sure. Greaser got here this mornin'." + +"He tried to rob me in Holston." + +"'Tain't nothin' new fer Greaser. He's a thief, but I never heerd of him +holdin' anybody up. No nerve 'cept to knife a feller in the back." + +"What'll I do if I meet him here?" + +"Slam him one! You're a strappin' big lad. Slam him one, an' flash your gun +on him. Greaser's a coward. I seen a young feller he'd cheated make him +crawl. Anyway, it'll be all day with him when Dick finds out he tried to +rob you. An' say, stranger, if a feller stays sober, this camp's safe +enough in daytime, but at night, drunk or sober, it's a tough place." + +Before I had finished eating a shrill whistle from the sawmill called the +hands to work; soon it was followed by the rumble of machinery and the +sharp singing of a saw. + +I set out to see the lumber-camp, and although I stepped forth boldly, the +truth was that with all my love for the Wild West I would have liked to be +at home. But here I was, and I determined not to show the white feather. + +I passed a row of cook-shacks like the one I had been in, and several +stores and saloons. The lumber-camp was a little town. A rambling log cabin +attracted me by reason of the shaggy mustangs standing before it and the +sounds of mirth within. A peep showed me a room with a long bar, where men +and boys were drinking. I heard the rattle of dice and the clink of silver. +Seeing the place was crowded, I thought I might find Dick there, so I +stepped inside. My entrance was unnoticed, so far as I could tell; in fact, +there seemed no reason why it should be otherwise, for, being roughly +dressed, I did not look very different from the many young fellows there. I +scanned all the faces, but did not see Dick's, nor, for that matter, the +Mexican's. Both disappointed and relieved, I turned away, for the picture +of low dissipation was not attractive. + +The hum of the great sawmill drew me like a magnet. I went out to the +lumber-yard at the back of the mill, where a trestle slanted down to a pond +full of logs. A train loaded with pines had just pulled in, and dozens of +men were rolling logs off the flat-cars into a canal. At stations along the +canal stood others pike-poling the logs toward the trestle, where an +endless chain caught them with sharp claws and hauled them up. Half-way +from, the ground they were washed clean by a circle of water-spouts. + +I walked up the trestle and into the mill. Tho noise almost deafened me. +High above all other sounds rose the piercing song of the saw, and the +short intervals when it was not cutting were filled with a thunderous crash +that jarred the whole building. After a few confused glances I got the +working order into my head, and found myself in the most interesting place +I had ever seen. + +As the stream of logs came up into the mill the first log was shunted off +the chain upon a carriage. Two men operated this carriage by levers, one to +take the log up to the saw, and the other to run it back for another cut. +The run back was very swift. Then a huge black iron head butted up from +below and turned the log over as easily as if it had been a straw. This was +what made the jar and crash. On the first cut the long strip of bark went +to the left and up against five little circular saws. Then the five pieces +slipped out of sight down chutes. When the log was trimmed a man stationed +near the huge band-saw made signs to those on the carriage, and I saw that +they got from him directions whether to cut the log into timbers, planks, +or boards. The heavy timbers, after leaving the saw, went straight down the +middle of the mill, the planks went to the right, the boards in another +direction. Men and boys were everywhere, each with a lever in hand. There +was not the slightest cessation of the work. And a log forty feet long and +six feet thick, which had taken hundreds of years to grow, was cut up in +just four minutes. + +The place fascinated me. I had not dreamed that a sawmill could be brought +to such a pitch of mechanical perfection, and I wondered how long the +timber would last at that rate of cutting. The movement and din tired me, +and I went outside upon a long platform. Here workmen caught the planks and +boards as they came out, and loaded them upon trucks which were wheeled +away. This platform was a world in itself. It sent arms everywhere among +the piles of lumber, and once or twice I was as much lost as I had been up +in the forest. + +While turning into one of these byways I came suddenly upon Buell and +another man. They were standing near a little house of weather-strips, +evidently an office, and were in their shirt-sleeves. They had not seen or +heard me. I dodged behind a pile of planks, intending to slip back the way +I had come. Before I could move Buell's voice rooted me to the spot. + +"His name's Ward. Tall, well-set lad. I put Greaser after him the other +night, hopin' to scare him back East. But nix!" + +"Well, he's here now--to study forestry! Ha! ha!" said the other. + +"You're sure the boy you mean is the one I mean?" + +"Greaser told me so. And this boy is Leslie's friend." + +"That's the worst of it," replied Buell, impatiently. "I've got Leslie +fixed as far as this lumber deal is concerned, but he won't stand for any +more. He was harder to fix than the other rangers, an' I'm afraid of him." +he's grouchy now. + +"You shouldn't have let the boy get here." + +"Stockton, I tried to prevent it. I put Greaser with Bud an' Bill on his +trail. They didn't find him, an' now here he turns up." + +"Maybe he can be fixed." + +"Not if I know my business, he can't; take that from me. This kid is +straight. He'll queer my deal in a minute if he gets wise. Mind you, I'm +gettin' leary of Washington. We've seen about the last of these lumber +deals. If I can pull this one off I'll quit; all I want is a little more +time. Then I'll fire the slash, an' that'll cover tracks." + +"Buell, I wouldn't want to be near Penetier when you light that fire. This +forest will burn like tinder." + +"It's a whole lot I care then. Let her burn. Let the Government put out the +fire. Now, what's to be done about this boy?" + +"I think I'd try to feel him out. Maybe he can be fixed. Boys who want to +be foresters can't be rich. Failing that--you say he's a kid who wants to +hunt and shoot--get some one to take him up on the mountain." + +"See here, Stockton. This young Ward will see the timber is bein' cut +clean. If it was only a little patch I wouldn't mind. But this slash an' +this mill! He'll know. More'n that, he'll tell Leslie about the Mexican. +Dick's no fool. We're up against it." + +"It's risky, Buell. You remember the ranger up in Oregon." + +"Then we are to fall down on this deal all because of a fresh tenderfoot +kid?" demanded Buell. + +"Not so loud. . . . We'll not fall down. But caution--use caution. You made +a mistake in trusting so much to the Greaser." + +"I know, an' I'm afraid of Leslie. An' that other fire-ranger, Jim +Williams, he's a Texan, an' a bad man. The two of them could about trim up +this camp. They'll both fight for the boy; take that from me." + +"We are sure up against it. Think now, and think quick." + +"First, I'll try to fix the boy. If that won't work . . . we'll kidnap him. +Then we'll take no chances with Leslie. There's a cool two hundred an' +fifty thousand in this deal for us, an' we're goin' to get it." + +With that Buell went into his office and closed the door; the other man, +Stockton, walked briskly down the platform. I could not resist peeping from +my hiding-place as he passed. He was tall and had a red beard, which would +enable me to recognize him if we met. + +I waited there for some little time. Then I saw that by squeezing between +two plies of lumber could reach the other side of the platform. When I +reached the railing I climbed over, and, with the help of braces and posts, +soon got to where I could drop down. Once on the ground I ran along under +the platform until I saw a lane that led to the street. My one thought was +to reach the cabin where the Negro cook stayed and ask him if Dick Leslie +had come to camp. If he had not arrived, then I intended to make a bee-line +for my mustang. + + + +VI. DICK LESLIE, RANGER + +Which end of the street I entered I had no idea. The cabins were all alike, +and in my hurry I would have passed the cook's shack had it not been for +the sight of a man standing in the door. That stalwart figure I would have +known anywhere. + +"Dick!" I cried, rushing at him. + +What Dick's welcome was I did not hear, but judging from the grip he put on +my shoulders and then on my hands, he was glad to see me. + +"Ken, blessed if I'd have known you," he said, shoving me back at +arm's-length. "Let's have a look at you. . . . Grown I say, but you're a +husky lad!" + +While he was looking at me I returned the scrutiny with interest. Dick had +always been big, but now he seemed wider and heavier. Among these bronzed +Westerners he appeared pale, but that was only on account of his fair skin. + +"Ken, didn't you get my letter--the one telling you not to come West yet a +while?" + +"No," I replied, blankly. "The last one I got was in May--about the middle. +I have it with me. You certainly asked me to come then. Dick, don't you +want me--now?" + +Plain it was that my friend felt uncomfortable; he shifted from one foot to +another, and a cloud darkened his brow. But his blue eyes burned with a +warm light as he put his hand on my shoulder. + +"Ken, I'm glad to see you," he said, earnestly. "It's like getting a +glimpse of home. But I wrote you not to come. Conditions have changed-- +there's something doing here--I'll--" + +"You needn't explain, Dick," I replied, gravely. "I know. Buell and--" I waved +my hand from the sawmill to the encircling slash. + +Dick's face turned a fiery red. I believed that was the only time Dick +Leslie ever failed to look a fellow in the eye. + +"Ken! . . . You're on," he said, recovering his composure. "Well, wait till +you hear-- Hello! here's Jim Williams, my pardner." + +A clinking of spurs accompanied a soft step. + +"Jim, here's Ken Ward, the kid pardner I used to have back in the States," +said Dick. "Ken, you know Jim." + +If ever I knew anything by heart it was what Dick had written me about this +Texan, Jim Williams. + +"Ken, I shore am glad to see you," drawled Jim, giving my hand a squeeze +that I thought must break every bone in it. + +Though Jim Williams had never been described to me, my first sight of him +fitted my own ideas. He was tall and spare; his weather-beaten face seemed +set like a dark mask; only his eyes moved, and they had a quivering +alertness and a brilliancy that made them hard to look into. He wore a wide +sombrero, a blue flannel shirt with a double row of big buttons, overalls, +top-boots with very high heels, and long spurs. A heavy revolver swung at +his hip, and if I had not already known that Jim Williams had fought +Indians and killed bad men, I should still have seen something that awed me +in the look of him. + +I certainly felt proud to be standing with those two rangers, and for the +moment Buell and all his crew could not have daunted me. + +"Hello! what's this?" inquired Dick, throwing back my coat; and, catching +sight of my revolver, he ejaculated: "Ken Ward!" + +"Wal, Ken, if you-all ain't packin' a gun!" said Jim, in his slow, careless +drawl. "Dick, he shore is!" + +It was now my turn to blush. + +"Yes, I've got a gun," I replied, "and I ought to have had it the other +night." + +"How so?" inquired Dick, quickly. + +It did not take me long to relate the incident of the Mexican. + +Dick looked like a thunder-cloud, but Jim swayed and shook with laughter. + +"You knocked him off the roof? Wal, thet shore is dee-lightful. It shore +is!" + +"Yes; and, Dick," I went on, breathlessly, "the Greaser followed me, and if +I hadn't missed the trail, I don't know what would have happened. Anyway, +he got here first." + +"The Greaser trailed you?" interrupted Dick, sharply. + +When I replied he glanced keenly at me. "How do you know?" + +"I suspected it when I saw him with two men in the forest. But now I know +it." + +"How?" + +"I beard Buell tell Stockton he had put the Greaser on my trail." + +"Buell--Stockton!" exclaimed Dick. "What'd they have to do with the +Greaser?" + +"I met Buell on the train. I told him I had come West to study forestry. +Buell's afraid I'll find out about this lumber steal, and he wants to shut +my mouth." + +Dick looked from me to Jim, and Jim slowly straitened his tall form. For a +moment neither spoke. Dick's white face caused me to look away from him. +Jim put a hand on my arm. + +"Ken, you shore was lucky; you shore was." + +"I guess he doesn't know how lucky," added Dick, somewhat huskily. "Come +on, we'll look up the Mexican." + +"It shore is funny how bad I want to see thet Greaser." + +Dick's hard look and tone were threatening enough, yet they did not affect +me so much as the easy, gay manner of the Texan. Little cold quivers ran +over me, and my knees knocked together. For the moment my animosity toward +the Mexican vanished, and with it the old hunger to be in the thick of Wild +Western life. I was afraid that I was going to see a man killed without +being able to lift a hand to prevent it. + +The rangers marched me between them down the street and into the corner +saloon. Dick held me half behind him with his left hand while Jim sauntered +ahead. Strangest of all the things that had happened was the sudden +silencing of the noisy crowd. + +The Mexican was not there. His companions, Bud and Bill, as Buell had +called them, were sitting at a table, and as Jim Williams walked into the +center of the room they slowly and gradually rose to their feet. One was a +swarthy man with evil eyes and a scar on his cheek; the other had a brick- +red face and a sandy mustache with a vicious curl. Neither seemed to be +afraid, only cautious. + +"We're all lookin' for thet Greaser friend of yourn," drawled Jim. "I shore +want to see him bad." + +"He's gone, Williams," replied one. "Was in somethin' of a rustle, an' +didn't leave no word." + +"Wal, I reckon he's all we're lookin' for this pertickler minnit." + +Jim spoke in a soft, drawling voice, and his almost expressionless tone +seemed to indicate pleasant indifference; still, no one could have been +misled by it, for the long, steady gaze he gave the men and his cool +presence that held the room quiet meant something vastly different. No +reply was offered. Bud and Bill sat down, evidently to resume their +card-playing. The uneasy silence broke to a laugh, then to subdued voices, +and finally the clatter and hum began again. Dick led me outside, where we +were soon joined by Jim. + +"He's holed up," suggested Dick. + +"Shore. I don't take no stock in his hittin' the trail. He's layin' low." + +"Let's look around a bit, anyhow." + +Dick took me back to the cook's cabin and, bidding me remain inside, strode +away. I beard footsteps so soon after his departure that I made certain he +had returned, but the burly form which blocked the light in the cabin door +was not Dick's. I was astounded to recognize Buell. + +"Hello!" he said, in his blustering voice. "Heard you had reached camp, an' +have been huntin' you up." + +I greeted him pleasantly enough--more from surprise than from a desire to +mislead him. It seemed to me then that a child could have read Buell. He'd +an air of suppressed excitement; there was a glow on his face and a kind of +daring flash in his eyes. He seemed too eager, too glad to see me. + +"I've got a good job for you," he went on, glibly. "jest what you want, an' +you're jest what I need. Come into my office an' help me. There'll be +plenty of outside work--measurin' lumber, markin' trees, an' such." + +"Why, Mr. Buell--I--you see, Dick--he might not--" + +I hesitated, not knowing how to proceed. But at my halting speech Buell +became even more smiling and voluble. + +"Dick? Oh, Dick an' I stand all right; take thet from me. Dick'll agree to +what I want. I need a young feller bad. Money's no object. You're a bright +youngster. You'll look out for my interests. Here!" He pulled out a large +wad of greenbacks, and then spoke in a lower voice. "You understand that +money cuts no ice 'round this camp. We've a big deal. We need a smart young +feller. There's always some little irregularities about these big timber +deals out West. But you'll wear blinkers, an' make some money while you're +studyin' forestry. See?" + +"Irregularities? What kind of irregularities?" + +For the life of me I could not keep a little scorn out of my question. +Buell slowly put the bills in his pocket while his eyes searched; I could +not control my rising temper. + +"You mean you want to fix me?" + +He made no answer, and his face stiffened. + +"You mean you want to buy my silence, shut my mouth about this lumber +steal?" + +He drew in his breath audibly, yet still he did not speak. Either he was +dull of comprehension or else he was astonished beyond words. I knew I was +mad to goad him like that, but I could not help it. I grew hot with anger, +and the more clearly I realized that he had believed he could "fix" me with +his dirty money the hotter I got. + +"You told Stockton you were leary of Washington, and were afraid I'd queer +your big deal. . . . Well, Mr. Buell, that's exactly what I'm going to do-- +queer it!" + +He went black in the face, and, cursing horribly, grasped me by the arm. I +struggled, but I could not loose that iron hand. Suddenly I felt a violent +wrench that freed me. Then I saw Dick swing back his shoulder and shoot out +his arm. He knocked Buell clear across the room, and when the man fell I +thought the cabin was coming down in the crash. He appeared stunned, for he +groped about with his hands, found a chair, and, using it as a support, +rose to his feet, swaying unsteadily. + +"Leslie, I'll get you for this--take it from me," he muttered. + +Dick's lips were tight, and he watched Buell with flaming eyes. The +lumberman lurched out of the door, and we heard him cursing after he had +disappeared. Then Dick looked at me with no little disapproval. + +"What did you say to make Buell wild like that?" + +I told Dick, word for word. First he looked dumfounded, then angry, and he +ended up with a grim laugh. + +"Ken, you're sure bent on starting something, as Jim would say. You've +started it all right. And Jim'll love you for it. But I'm responsible to +your mother. Ken, I remember your mother--and you're going back home." + +"Dick!" + +"You're going back home as fast as I can get you to Holston and put you on +a train, that's all." + +"I won't go!" I cried. + +Without any more words Dick led me down the street to a rude corral; here +he rapidly saddled and packed his horses. The only time he spoke was when +he asked me where I had tied my mustangs. Soon we were hurrying out through +the slash toward the forest. Dick's troubled face kept down my resentment, +but my heart grew like lead. What an ending to my long-cherished trip to +the West! It had lasted two days. The disappointment seemed more than I +could bear. + +We found the mustangs as I had left them, and the sight of Hal and the +feeling of the saddle made me all the worse. We did not climb the foot-hill +by the trail which the Mexican had used, but took a long, slow ascent far +round to the left. Dick glanced back often, and when we reached the top he +looked again in a way to convince me that he had some apprehensions of +being followed. + +Twilight of that eventful day found us pitching camp in a thickly timbered +hollow. I could not help dwelling on how different my feelings would have +been if this night were but the beginning of many nights with Dick. It was +the last, and the more I thought about it the more wretched I grew. Dick +rolled in his blanket without saying even good-night, and I lay there +watching the veils and shadows of firelight flicker on the pines, and +listening, to the wind. Gradually the bitterness seemed to go away; my body +relaxed and sank into the soft, fragrant pine-needles; the great shadowy +trees mixed with the surrounding darkness. When I awoke it was broad +daylight, and Dick was shaking my arm. + +"Hunt up the horses while I get the grub ready," he said, curtly. + +As the hollow was carpeted with thick grass our horses had not strayed. I +noticed that here the larger trees had been cut, and the forest resembled a +fine park. In the sunny patches seedlings were sprouting, many little bushy +pines were growing, and the saplings had sufficient room and light to +prosper. I commented to Dick upon the difference between this part of +Penetier and the hideous slash we had left. + +"There were a couple of Government markers went through here and marked the +timber to be cut," said Dick. + +"Was the timber cut in the mill I saw?" + +"No. Buell's just run up that mill. The old one is out here a ways, nearer +Holston." + +"Is it possible, Dick, that any of those loggers back there don't know the +Government is being defrauded?" + +"Ken, hardly any of them know it, and they wouldn't care if they did. You +see, this forest-preserve business is new out here. Formerly the lumbermen +bought so much land and cut over it--skinned it. Two years ago, when the +National Forests were laid out, the lumbering men--that is, the loggers, +sawmill hands, and so on--found they did not get as much employment as +formerly. So generally they're sore on the National Forest idea." + +"But, Dick, if they understand the idea of forestry they'd never oppose +it." + +"Maybe. I don't understand it too well myself. I can fight fire--that's my +business; but this ranger work is new. I doubt if the Westerners will take +to forestry. There've been some shady deals all over the West because of +it. Buell, now, he's a timber shark. He bought so much timber from the +Government, and had the markers come in to mark the cut; then after they +were gone, he rushed up a mill and clapped on a thousand hands." + +"And the rangers stand for it? Where'll their jobs be when the Government +finds out?" + +"I was against it from the start. So was Jim, particularly. But the other +rangers persuaded us." + +It began to dawn upon me that Dick Leslie might, after all, turn out to be +good soil in which to plant some seeds of forestry. I said no more then, as +we were busy packing for the start, but when we had mounted I began to +talk. I told him all I had learned about trees, how I loved them, and how I +had determined to devote my life to their study, care, and development. As +we rode along under the wide-spreading pines I illustrated my remarks by +every example I could possibly use. The more I talked the more interested +Dick became, and this spurred me on. Perhaps I exaggerated, but my +conscience never pricked me. He began to ask questions. + +We reached a spring at midday, and halted for a rest. I kept on pleading, +and presently I discovered, to my joy, that I had made a strong impression +upon Dick. It seemed a strange thing for me to be trying to explain +forestry to a forest ranger, but so it was. + +"Ken, it's all news to me. I've been on Penetier about a year, and I never +heard a word of what you've been telling me. My duties have been the +practical ones that any woodsman knows. Jim and the other rangers--why, +they don't know any more than I. It's a great thing, and I've queered my +chance with the Government." + +"No, you haven't--neither has Jim--not if you'll be straight from now on. +You can't keep faith with Buell. He tried to kidnap me. That lets you out. +We'll spoil Buell's little deal and save Penetier. A letter to father will +do it. He has friends in the Forestry Department at Washington. Dick, what +do you say? It's not too late!" + +The dark shade lifted from the ranger's face, and he looked at me with the +smile of the old fishing days. + +"Say? I say yes!" he exclaimed, in ringing voice, "Ken, you've made a man +of me!" + + + +VI. BACK TO HOLSTON + +Soon we were out of the forest, and riding across the sage-flat with +Holston in sight. Both of us avoided the unpleasant subject of my enforced +home-going. Evidently Dick felt cut up about it, and it caused me such a +pang that I drove it from my mind. Toward the end of our ride Dick began +again to talk of forestry. + +"Ken, it's mighty interesting--all this you've said about trees. Some of +the things are so simple that I wonder I didn't hit on them long ago; in +fact, I knew a lot of what you might call forestry, but the scientific +ideas--they stump me. Now, what you said about a pine-tree cleaning +itself--come back at me with that." + +"Why, that's simple enough, Dick," I answered. "Now, say here we have a +clump of pine saplings. They stand pretty close--close enough to make dense +shade, but not too crowded. The shade has prevented the lower branches from +producing leaves. As a consequence these branches die. Then they dry, rot, +and fall off, so when the trees mature they are clean-shafted. They have +fine, clear trunks. They have cleaned themselves, and so make the best of +lumber, free from knots." + +So our talk went on. Once in town I was impatient to write to my father, +for we had decided that we would not telegraph. Leaving our horses in +Cless's corral, we went to the hotel and proceeded to compose the letter. +This turned out more of a task than we had bargained for. But we got it +finished at last, not forgetting to put in a word for Jim Williams, and +then we both signed it. + +"There!" I cried. "Dick, something will be doing round Holston before many +days." + +"That's no joke, you can bet," replied Dick, wiping his face. "Ken, it's +made me sweat just to see that letter start East. Buell is a tough sort, +and he'll make trouble. Well, he wants to steer clear of Jim and me." + +After that we fell silent, and walked slowly back toward Cless's corral. +Dick's lips were closed tight, and he did not look at me. Evidently he did +not intend to actually put me aboard a train, and the time for parting had +come. He watered his horses at the trough, and fussed over his pack and +fumbled with his saddle-girths. It looked to me as though he had not the +courage to say goodby. + +"Ken, it didn't look so bad--so mean till now," he said. "I'm all broken +up. . . . To get you way out here! Oh! what's the use? I'm mighty sorry. . +. . Good-bye--maybe-" + +He broke off suddenly, and, wringing my hand, he vaulted into the saddle. +He growled at his pack-pony, and drove him out of the corral. Then he set +off at a steady trot down the street toward the open country. + +It came to me in a flash, as I saw him riding farther and farther away, +that the reason my heart was not broken was because I did not intend to go +home. Dick had taken it for granted that I would board the next train for +the East. But I was not going to do anything of the sort. To my amaze I +found my mind made up on that score. I had no definite plan, but I was +determined to endure almost anything rather than give up my mustang and +outfit. + +"It's shift for myself now," I thought, soberly. "I guess I can make good. +. . . I'm going back to Penetier." + +Even in the moment of impulse I knew how foolish this would be. But I could +not help it. That forest had bewitched me. I meant to go back to it. + +"I'll stay away from the sawmill," I meditated, growing lighter of heart +every minute. "I'll keep out of sight of the lumbermen. I'll go higher up +on the mountain, and hunt, and study the trees. . . . I'll do it." + +Whereupon I marched off at once to a store and bought the supply of +provisions that Buell had decided against when he helped me with my outfit. +This addition made packing the pony more of a problem than ever, but I +contrived to get it all on to my satisfaction. It was nearing sunset when I +rode out of Holston this second time. The sage flat was bare and gray. Dick +had long since reached the pines, and would probably make camp at the spring +where we had stopped for lunch. I certainly did not want to catch up with +him, but as there was small chance of that; it caused me no concern. + +Shortly after sunset twilight fell, and it was night when I reached the +first pine-trees. Still, as the trail was easily to be seen, I kept on, for +I did not want to camp without water. The forest was very dark, in some +places like a huge black tent, and I had not ridden far when the old fear +of night, the fancy of things out there in the darkness, once more +possessed me. It made me angry. Why could I not have the same confidence +that I had in the daytime? It was impossible. The forest was full of moving +shadows. When the wind came up to roar in the pine-tips it was a relief +because it broke the silence. + +I began to doubt whether I could be sure of locating the spring, and I +finally decided to make camp at once. I stopped Hal, and had swung my leg +over the pommel when I saw a faint glimmer of light far ahead. It twinkled +like a star, but was not white and cold enough for a star. + +"That's Dick's campfire," I said. "I'll have to stop here. Maybe I'm too +close now." + +I pondered the question. The blaze was a long way off, and I concluded I +could risk camping on the spot, provided I did not make a fire. Accordingly +I dismounted, and was searching for a suitable place when I happened to +think that the campfire might not be Dick's, after all. Perhaps Buell had +sent the Mexican with Bud and Bill on my trail again. This would not do. +But I did not want to go back or turn off the trail. + +"I'll slip up and see who it is," I decided. + +The idea pleased me; however, I did not yield to it without further +consideration. I had a clear sense of responsibility. I knew that from now +on I should be called upon to reason out many perplexing things. I did not +want to make any mistakes. So I tied Hal and the pack-pony to a bush +fringing the trail, and set off through the forest. + +It dawned upon me presently that the campfire was much farther away than it +appeared. Often it went out of sight behind trees. By degrees it grew +larger and larger. Then I slowed down and approached more cautiously. Once +when the trees obscured it I traveled some distance without getting a good +view of it. Passing down into a little hollow I lost it again. When I +climbed out I hauled up short with a sharp catch of my breath. There were +several figures moving around the campfire. I had stumbled on a camp that +surely was not Dick Leslie's. + +The ground was as soft as velvet, and my footsteps gave forth no sound. +When the wind lulled I paused behind a tree and waited for another gusty +roar. I kept very close to the trail, for that was the only means by which +I could return to my horses. I felt the skin tighten on my face. Suddenly, +as I paused, I beard angry voices, pitched high. But I could not make out +the words. + +Curiosity got the better of me. If the men were hired by Buell I wanted to +know what they were quarrelling about. I stole stealthily from tree to +tree, and another hollow opened beneath me. It was so wide and the pines so +overshadowed it that I could not tell how close the opposite side might be +to the campfire. I slipped down along the edge of the trail. The blaze +disappeared. Only a faint arc of light showed through the gloom. + +I peered keenly into the blackness. At length I reached the slope. Here I +dropped to my hands and knees. + +It was a long crawl to the top. Reaching it, I cautiously peeped over. +There were trees hiding the fire. But it was close. I heard the voices of +men. I backed down the slope, crossed the trail, and came up on the other +side. Pines grew thick on this level, and I stole silently from one to +another. Finally I reached the black trunk of a tree close to the campfire. + +For a moment I lay low. I did not seem exactly afraid, but I was all tense +and hard, and my heart drummed in my ears. There was something ticklish +about this scouting. Then I peeped out. + +It added little to my excitement to recognize the Mexican. He sat near the +fire smoking a cigarette. Near him were several men, one of whom was Bill. +Facing them sat a man with his back to a small sapling. He was tied with a +lasso. + +One glance at his white face made me drop behind the tree, where I lay +stunned and bewildered--for that man was Dick Leslie. + + + +VIII. THE LUMBERMEN + +For a full moment I just lay still, hugging the ground, and I did not seem +to think at all. Voices loud in anger roused me. Raising myself, I +guardedly looked from behind the tree. + +One of the lumbermen threw brush on the fire, making it blaze brightly. He +was tall and had a red beard. I recognized Stockton, Buell's right hand in +the lumber deal. + +"Leslie, you're a liar!" he said. + +Dick's eyes glinted from his pale face. + +"Yes, that's your speed, Stockton," he retorted. "You bring your thugs into +my camp pretending to be friendly. You grab a fellow behind his back, tie +him up, and then call him a liar. Wait, you timber shark!" + +"You're lying about that kid, Ward," declared the other. "You sent him back +East, that's what. He'll have the whole forest service down here. Buell +will be wild. Oh, he won't do a thing when he learns Ward has given us the +slip!" + +"I tell you, Ken Ward gave me the slip," replied Dick. "I'll admit I meant +to see him safe in Holston. But he wouldn't go. He ran off from me right +here in this forest." + +What could have been Dick's object in telling such a lie? It made me +wonder. Perhaps these lumbermen were more dangerous than I had supposed, +and Dick did not wish them to believe I had left Penetier. Maybe he was +playing for time, and did not want them to get alarmed and escape before +the officers came. + +"Why did he run off?" asked Stockton. + +"Because I meant to send him home, and he didn't want to go. He's crazy to +camp out, to hunt and ride." + +"If that's true, Leslie, there's been no word sent to Washington." + +"How could there be?" + +"Well, I've got to hold you anyway till we see Buell. His orders were to +keep you and Ward prisoners till this lumber deal is pulled off. We're not +going to be stopped now." + +Leslie turned crimson, and strained on the lasso that bound him to the +sapling. "Somebody is going to pay for this business!" he declared, +savagely. "You forget I'm an officer in this forest." + +"I'll hold you, Leslie, whatever comes of it," answered the lumberman. "I'd +advise you to cool down." + +"You and Buell have barked up the wrong tree, mind that, Stockton. Jim +Williams, my pardner, is wise. He expects me back tomorrow." + +"See hyar, Stockton," put in Bill, "you're new in Arizona, an' I want to +give you a hunch. If Jim Williams hits this trail, you ain't goin' to be +well enough to care about any old lumber steal." + +"Jim hit the trail all right," went on Dick. "He's after Greaser. It'd go +hard with you if Jim happened to walk in now." + +"I don't want to buck against Williams, that's certain," replied Stockton. +"I know his record. But I'll take a chance--anyway, till Buell knows. It's +his game." + +Dick made no answer, and sat there eyeing his captors. There was little +talk after this. Bud threw a log on the fire. Stockton told the Mexican to +take a look at the horses. Greaser walked within twenty feet of where I +lay, and I held my breath while be passed. The others rolled in their +blankets. It was now so dark that I could not distinguish anything outside of +the campfire circle. But I heard Greaser's soft, shuffling footsteps as he +returned. Then his dark, slim figure made a shadow between me and the +light. He sat down before the fire and began to roll a cigarette. He did +not seem sleepy. + +A daring scheme flashed into my mind. I would crawl into camp and free +Dick. Not only would I outwit the lumber thieves, but also make Dick think +well of me. What would Jim Williams say of a trick like that? The thought +of the Texan banished what little hesitation I felt. Glancing round the +bright circle, I made my plan; it was to crawl far back into the darkness, +go around to the other side of the camp, and then slip up behind Dick. +Already his head was nodding on his breast. It made me furious to see him +sitting so uncomfortably, sagging in the lasso. + +I tried to beat down my excitement, but there was a tingling all over me +that would not subside. But I soon saw that I might have a long wait. The +Mexican did not go to sleep, so I had time to cool off. + +The campfire gradually burned out, and the white glow changed to red. One +of the men snored in a way that sounded like a wheezy whistle. Coyotes +howled in the woods, and the longer I listened to the long, strange howls +the better I liked them. The roar in the wind had died down to a moaning. I +thought of myself lying there, with my skin prickling and my eyes sharp on +the darkening forms. I thought of the nights I had spent with Hal in the +old woods at home. How full the present seemed! My breast swelled, my hand +gripped my revolver, my eyes pierced the darkness, and I would not have +been anywhere else for the world. + +Greaser smoked out his cigarette, and began to nod. That was the signal for +me. I crawled noiselessly from the tree. When I found myself going down +into the hollow, I stopped and rose to my feet. The forest was so pitchy +black that I could not tell the trees from the darkness. I groped to the +left, trying to circle. Once I snapped a twig; it cracked like a +pistol-shot, and my heart stopped beating, then began to thump. But Greaser +never stirred as he sat in the waning light. At last I had half circled the +camp. + +After a short rest I started forward, slow and stealthy as a creeping cat. +When within fifty feet of the fire I went down on all-fours and began to +crawl. Twice I got out of line. But at last Dick's burly shoulders loomed +up between me and the light. + +Then I halted. My breast seemed bursting, and I panted so hard that I was +in a terror lest I should awaken some one. Again I thought of what I was +doing, and fought desperately to gain my coolness, + +Now the only cover I had was Dick's broad back, for the sapling to which he +was tied was small. I drew my hunting-knife. One more wriggle brought me +close to Dick, with my face near his hands, which were bound behind him. I +slipped the blade under the lasso, and cut it through. + +Dick started as if he had received an electric shock. He threw back his +head and uttered a sudden exclamation. + +Although I was almost paralyzed with fright I put my hand on his shoulder +and whispered: "S-s-s-h! It's Ken!" + +Greaser uttered a shrill cry. Dick leaped to his feet. Then I grew dizzy, +and my sight blurred. I heard hoarse shouts and saw dark forms rising as if +out of the earth. All was confusion. I wanted to run, but could not get up. +There was a wrestling, whirling mass in front of me. + +But this dimness of sight and weakness of body did not last. I saw two men +on the ground, with Dick standing over them. Stockton was closing in. +Greaser ran around them with something in his hand that glittered in the +firelight. Stockton dived for Dick's legs and upset him. They went down +together, and the Mexican leaped on them, waving the bright thing high over +his head. + +I bounded forward, and, grasping his wrist with both hands, I wrenched his +arm with all my might. Some one struck me over the head. I saw a million +darting points of light--then all went black. + +When I opened my eyes the sun was shining. I had a queer, numb feeling all +over, and my head hurt terribly. Everything about me was hazy. I did not +know where I was. After a little I struggled to sit up, and with great +difficulty managed it. My hands were tied. Then it all came back to me. +Stockton stood before me holding a tin cup of water toward my lips. My +throat was parched, and I drank. Stockton had a great bruise on his +forehead; his nostrils were crusted with blood, and his shirt was half torn +off. + +"You're all right?" he said. + +"Sure," I replied, which was not true. + +I imagined that a look of relief came over his face. Next I saw Bill +nursing his eye, and bathing it with a wet handkerchief. It was swollen +shut, puffed out to the size of a goose-egg, and blue as indigo. Dick had +certainly landed hard on Bill. Then I turned round to see Dick sitting +against the little sapling, bound fast with a lasso. His clean face did not +look as if he had been in a fight; he was smiling, yet there was anxiety in +his eyes. + +"Ken, now you've played hob," he said. It was a reproach, but his look made +me proud. + +"Oh, Dick, if you hadn't called out!" I exclaimed. + +"Darned if you're not right! But it was a slick job, and you'll tickle Jim +to death. I was an old woman. But that cold knife-blade made me jump." + +I glanced round the camp for the Mexican and Bud and the fifth man, but +they were gone. Bill varied his occupation of the moment by kneading +biscuit dough in a basin. Then there came such a severe pain in my head +that I went blind for a little while. "What's the matter with my head? +Who hit me?" I cried. + +"Bud slugged you with the butt of his pistol," said Dick. "And, Ken, I +think you saved me from being knifed by the Greaser. You twisted his arm +half off. He cursed all night. . . . Ha! there he comes now with your +outfit." + +Sure enough, the Mexican appeared on the trail, leading my horses. I was so +glad to see Hal that I forgot I was a prisoner. But Greaser's sullen face +and glittering eyes reminded me of it quickly enough. I read treachery in +his glance. + +Bud rode into camp from the other direction, and he brought a bunch of +horses, two of which I recognized as Dick's. The lumbermen set about +getting breakfast, and Stockton helped me to what little I could eat and +drink. Now that I was caught he did not appear at all mean or harsh. I did +not shrink from him, and had the feeling that he meant well by me. + +The horses were saddled and bridled, and Dick and I, still tied, were +bundled astride our mounts. The pack-ponies led the way, with Bill +following; I came next, Greaser rode behind me, and Dick was between Bud +and Stockton. So we traveled, and no time was wasted. I noticed that the +men kept a sharp lookout both to the fore and the rear. We branched off the +main trail and took a steeper one leading up the slope. We rode for hours. +There were moments when I reeled in my saddle, but for the greater while I +stood my pain and weariness well enough. Some time in the afternoon a +shrill whistle ahead attracted my attention. I made out two horsemen +waiting on the trail. + +"Huh! about time!" growled Bill. "Hyar's Buell an' Herky-Jerky." + +As we approached I saw Buell, and the fellow with the queer name turned out +to be no other than the absent man I had been wondering about. He had been +dispatched to fetch the lumberman. + +Buell was superbly mounted on a sleek bay, and he looked very much the same +jovial fellow I had met on the train. He grinned at the disfigured men. + +"Take it from me, you fellers wouldn't look any worse bunged up if you'd +been jolted by the sawlogs in my mill." + +"We can't stand here to crack jokes," said Stockton, sharply. "Some ranger +might see us. Now what?" + +"You ketched the kid in time. That's all I wanted. Take him an' Leslie up in +one of the canyons an' keep them there till further orders. You needn't +stay, Stockton, after you get them in a safe place. An' you can send up +grub." + +Then he turned to me. + +"You'll not be hurt if--" + +"Don't you speak to me!" I burst out. It was on my lips to tell him of the +letter to Washington, but somehow I kept silent. + +"Leslie," went on Buell, "I'll overlook your hittin' me an' let you go if +you'll give me your word to keep mum about this." + +Dick did not speak, but looked at the lumberman with a dark gleam in his +eyes. + +"There's one thing, Buell," said Stockton. "Jim Williams is wise. You've got +to look out for him." + +Buell's ruddy face blanched. Then, without another word, he waved his hand +toward the slope, and, wheeling his horse, galloped down the trail. + + + +IX. TAKEN INTO THE MOUNTAINS + +We climbed to another level bench where we branched off the trail. The +forest still kept its open, park-like character. Under the great pines the +ground was bare and brown with a thick covering of pine-needles, but in the +glades were green grass and blue flowers. + +Once across this level we encountered a steeper ascent than any I had yet +climbed. Here the character of the forest began to change. There were other +trees than pines, and particularly one kind, cone-shaped, symmetrical, and +bright, which Dick called a silver spruce. I was glad it belonged to the +conifers, or pine-tree family, because it was the most beautiful tree I had +ever seen. We climbed ridges and threaded through aspen thickets in hollows +till near sunset. Then Stockton ordered a halt for camp. + +It came none too soon for me, and I was so exhausted that I had to be +helped off my mustang. Stockton arranged my blankets, fed me, and bathed +the bruise on my head, but I was too weary and sick to be grateful or to +care about anything except sleep. Even the fact that my hands were +uncomfortably bound did not keep me awake. + +When some one called me next morning my eyes did not want to stay open. I +had a lazy feeling and a dull ache in my bones, but the pain had gone from +my head. That made everything else seem all right. + +Soon we were climbing again, and my interest in my surroundings grew as we +went up. For a while we brushed through thickets of scrub oak. The whole +slope of the mountain was ridged and hollowed, so that we were always going +down and climbing up. The pines and spruces grew smaller, and were more +rugged and gnarled. + +"Hyar's the canyon!" sang out Bill, presently. + +We came out on the edge of a deep hollow. It was half a mile wide. I looked +down a long incline of sharp tree-tips. The roar of water rose from below, +and in places a white rushing torrent showed. Above loomed the snow-clad +peak, glistening in the morning sun. How wonderfully far off and high it +still was! + +To my regret it was shut off from my sight as we descended into the canyon. +However, I soon forgot that. I saw a troop of coyotes, and many black and +white squirrels. From time to time huge birds, almost as big as turkeys, +crashed out of the thickets and whirred away. They flew swift as pheasants, +and I asked Dick what they were. + +"Blue grouse," he replied. "Look sharp now, Ken, there are deer ahead of +us. See the tracks?" + +Looking down I saw little, sharp-pointed, oval tracks. Presently two foxes +crossed an open patch not fifty yards from us, but I did not get a glimpse +of the deer. Soon we reached the bottom of the canyon, and struck into +another trail. The air was full of the low roar of tumbling water. This +mountain-torrent was about twenty feet wide, but its swiftness and foam +made it impossible to tell its depth. The trail led up-stream, and turned +so constantly that half the time Bill, the leader, was not in sight. Once +the sharp crack of his rifle halted the train. I heard crashings in the +thicket. Dick yelled for me to look up the slope, and there I saw three +gray deer with white tails raised. I heard a strange, whistling sound. + +On going forward we found that Bill had killed a deer and was roping it on +his pack-horse. As we proceeded up the canyon it grew narrower, and soon we +entered a veritable gorge. It was short, but the floor was exceedingly +rough, and made hard going for the horses. Suddenly I was amazed to see the +gorge open out into a kind of amphitheatre several hundred feet across. The +walls were steep, and one side shelved out, making a long, shallow cave, In +the center of this amphitheatre was a deep hole from which the mountain +stream boiled and bubbled. + +"Hyar we are," said Bill, and swung out of his saddle. The other men +followed suit, and helped Dick and me down. Stockton untied our hands, +saying he reckoned we would be more comfortable that way. Indeed we were. +My wrists were swollen and blistered. Stockton detailed the Mexican to keep +guard over us. + +"Ken, I've heard of this place," said Dick. "How's that for a spring? +Twenty yards wide, and no telling how deep! This is snow-water straight +from the peaks. We're not a thousand feet below the snow-line." + +"I can tell that. Look at those Jwari pines," I replied, pointing up over +the wall. A rugged slope rose above our camp-site, and it was covered with +a tangled mass of stunted pines. Many of them were twisted and misshapen; +some were half dead and bleached white at the tops. "It's my first sight of +such trees," I went on, "but I've studied about them. Up here it's not lack +of moisture that stunts and retards their growth. It's fighting the +elements--cold, storm-winds, snowslides. I suppose not one in a thousand +seedlings takes root and survives. But the forest fights hard to live." + +"Well, Ken, we may as well sit back now and talk forestry till Buell skins +all he wants of Penetier," said Dick. "It's really a fine camping-spot. +Plenty of deer up here and bear, too." + +"Dick, couldn't we escape?" I whispered. + +"We're not likely to have a chance. But I say, Ken, how did you happen to +turn up? I thought you were going to hop on the first train for home." + +"Dick, you had another think coming. I couldn't go home. I'll have a great +time yet--I'm having it now." + +"Yes, that lump on your head looks like it," replied Dick, with a laugh. +"If Bud hadn't put you out we'd have come closer to licking this bunch. +Ken, keep your eye on Greaser. He's treacherous. His arm's lame yet." + +"We've had two run-ins already," I said. "The third time is the worst, they +say. I hope it won't come. . . . But, Dick, I'm as big--I'm bigger than he +is." + +"Hear the kid talk! I certainly ought to have put you on that train--" + +"What train?" asked Stockton, sharply, from our rear. He took us in with +suspicious eyes. + +"I was telling Ken I ought to have put him on a train for home," answered +Dick. + +Stockton let the remark pass without further comment; still, he appeared to +be doing some hard thinking. He put Dick at one end of the long cave, me at +the other. Our bedding was unpacked and placed at our disposal. We made our +beds. After that I kept my eyes open and did not miss anything. + +"Leslie, I'm going to treat you and Ward white," said Stockton. "You'll +have good grub. Herky-Jerky's the best cook this side of Holston, and +you'll be left untied in the daytime. But if either of you attempts to get +away it means a leg shot off. Do you get that?" + +"All right, Stockton; that's pretty square of you, considering," replied +Dick. "You're a decent sort of chap to be mixed up with a thief like Buell. +I'm sorry." + +Stockton turned away at this rather abruptly. Then Bill appeared on the +wall above, and began to throw down firewood. Bud returned from the canyon, +where he had driven the horses. Greaser sat on a stone puffing a cigarette. +It was the first time I had taken a good look at him. He was smaller than I +had fancied; his feet and hands and features resembled those of a woman, +but his eyes were live coals of black fire. In the daylight I was not in +the least afraid of him. + +Herky-Jerky was the most interesting one of our captors. He had a short, +stocky figure, and was the most bow-legged man I ever saw. Never on earth +could he have stopped a pig in a lane. A stubby beard covered the lower +half of his brick-red face. The most striking thing about Herky-Jerky, +however, was his perpetual grin. He looked very jolly, yet every time he +opened his mouth it was to utter bad language. He cursed the fire, the +pans, the coffee, the biscuits, all of which he handled most skillfully. It +was disgusting, and yet aside from this I rather liked him. + +It grew dark very quickly while we were eating, and the wind that dipped +down into the gorge was cold. I kept edging closer and closer to the +blazing campfire. I had never tasted venison before, and rather disliked it +at first. But I soon cultivated a liking for it. + +That night Stockton tied me securely, but in a way which made it easy for +me to turn. I slept soundly and awoke late. When I sat up Stockton stood by +his saddled horse, and was giving orders to the men. He spoke sharply. He +made it clear that they were not to be lax in their vigilance. Then, +without a word to Dick or me, he rode down the gorge and disappeared behind +a corner of yellow wall. + +Bill untied the rope that held Dick's arms, but left his feet bound. I was +freed entirely, and it felt so good to have the use of all my limbs once +more that I pranced round in a rather lively way. Either my antics annoyed +Herky-Jerky or he thought it a good opportunity to show his skill with a +lasso, for he shot the loop over me so hard that it stung my back. + +"I'm all there as a roper!" he said, pulling the lasso tight round my +middle. The men all laughed as I tumbled over in the gravel. + +"Better keep a half-hitch on the colt," remarked Bud. + +So they left the lasso fast about my waist, and it trailed after me as I +walked. Herky-Jerky put me to carrying Dick's breakfast from the campfire +up into the cave. This I did with alacrity. Dick and I exchanged +commonplace remarks aloud, but we had several little whispers. + +"Ken, we may get the drop on them or give them the slip yet," whispered +Dick, in one of these interludes. + +This put ideas into my head. There might be a chance for me to escape, if +not for Dick. I made up my mind to try if a good chance offered, but I did +not want to go alone down that canyon without a gun. Stockton had taken my +revolver and hunting-knife, but I still had the little leather case which +Hal and I had used so often back on the Susquehanna. Besides a pen-knife +this case contained salt and pepper, fishing hooks and lines, matches--a +host of little things that a boy who had never been lost might imagine he +would need in an emergency. While thinking and planning I sat on the edge +of the great hole where the spring was. Suddenly I saw a swirl in the +water, and then a splendid spotted fish. It broke water twice. It was two +feet long. + +"Dick, there's fish in this hole!" I yelled, eagerly. + +"Shouldn't wonder," replied he. "Sure, kid, thet hole's full of trout-- +speckled trout," said Herky-Jerky. "But they can't be ketched." + +"Why not?" I demanded. I had not caught little trout in the Pennsylvania +hills for nothing. "They eat, don't they? That fish I saw was a whale, and +he broke water for a bug. Get me a pole and some bugs or worms!" + +When I took out my little case and showed the fishing-line, Herky-Jerky +said he would find me some bait. + +While he was absent I studied that spring with new and awakened eyes. It +was round and very deep, and the water bulged up in great greenish swirls. +The outlet was a narrow little cleft through which the water flowed slowly, +as though it did not want to take its freedom. The rush and roar came from +the gorge below. + +Herky-Jerky returned with a long, slender pole. It was as pliant as a +buggy-whip, and once trimmed and rigged it was far from being a poor +tackle. Herky-Jerky watched me with extreme attention, all the time +grinning. Then he held out a handful of grubs. + +"If you ketch a trout on thet I'll swaller the pole!" he exclaimed. + +I stooped low and approached the spring, being careful to keep out of +sight. + +"You forgot to spit on yer bait, kid," said Bill. + +They all laughed in a way to rouse my ire. But despite it I flipped the +bait into the water with the same old thrilling expectancy. + +The bait dropped with a little spat. An arrowy shadow, black and gold, +flashed up. Splash! The line hissed. Then I jerked hard. The pole bent +double, wobbled, and swayed this way and that. The fish was a powerful one; +his rushes were like those of a heavy bass. But never had a bass given me +such a struggle. Every instant I made sure the tackle would be wrecked. +Then, just at the breaking-point, the fish would turn. At last he began to +tire. I felt that he was rising to the surface, and I put on more strain. +Soon I saw him; then he turned, flashing like a gold bar. I led my captive +to the outlet of the spring, where I reached down and got my fingers in his +gills. With that I lifted him. Dick whooped when I held up the fish; as for +me, I was speechless. The trout was almost two feet long, broad and heavy, +with shiny sides flecked with color. + +Herky-Jerky celebrated my luck with a generous outburst of enthusiasm, +whereupon his comrades reminded him of his offer to swallow my fishing +pole. + +I put on a fresh bait and instantly hooked another fish, a smaller one, +which was not so bard to land. The spring hole was full of trout. They made +the water boil when I cast. Several large ones tore the hook loose; I had +never dreamed of such fishing. Really it was a strange situation. Here I +was a prisoner, with Greaser or Bud taking turns at holding the other end +of the lasso. More than once they tethered me up short for no other reason +than to torment me. Yet never in my life had I so enjoyed fishing. + +By-and-by Bill and Herky-Jerky left the camp. I heard Herky tell Greaser to +keep his eye on the stew-pots, and it occurred to me that Greaser had +better keep his eye on Ken Ward. When I saw Bud lie down I remembered what +Dick had whispered. I pretended to be absorbed in my fishing, but really I +was watching Greaser. As usual, he was smoking, and appeared listless, but +he still held on to the lasso. + +Suddenly I saw a big blue revolver lying on a stone and I could even catch +the glint of brass shells in the cylinder. It was not close to Bud nor so +very close to Greaser. If he should drop the lasso! A wild idea possessed +me--held me in its grip. just then the stew-pot boiled over. There was a +sputter and a cloud of steam, Greaser lazily swore in Mexican; he got up to +move the stew-pot and dropped the lasso. + +When he reached the fire I bounded up, jerking the lasso far behind me. I +ran and grabbed the revolver. Greaser heard me and wheeled with a yell. Bud +sat up quickly. I pointed the revolver at him, then at Greaser, and kept +moving it from one side to the other. + +"Don't move! I'll shoot!" I cried. + +"Good boy!" yelled Dick. "You've got the drop. Keep it, Ken, keep it! Don't +lose your nerve. Edge round here and cut me loose. . . . Bud, if you move +I'll make him shoot. Come on, Ken." + +"Greaser, cut him loose!" I commanded the snarling Mexican. + +I trembled so that the revolver wabbled in my hand. Trying to hold it +steadied, I squeezed it hard. Bang! It went off with a bellow like a +cannon. The bullet scattered the gravel near Greaser. His yellow face +turned a dirty white. He jumped straight up in his fright. + +"Cut him loose!" I ordered. + +Greaser ran toward Dick. + +"Look out, Ken! Behind you! Quick!" yelled Dick. + +I beard a crunching of gravel. Even as I wheeled I felt a tremendous pull +on the lasso and I seemed to be sailing in the air. I got a blurred glimpse +of Herky-Jerky leaning back on the taut lasso. Then I plunged down, slid +over the rocks, and went souse into the spring. + + + +X. ESCAPE + +Down, down I plunged, and the shock of the icy water seemed to petrify me. +I should have gone straight to the bottom like a piece of lead but for the +lasso. It tightened around my chest, and began to haul me up. + +I felt the air and the light, and opened my eyes to see Herky-Jerky hauling +away on the rope. When he caught sight of me he looked as if ready to dodge +behind the bank. + +"Whar's my gun?" he yelled. + +I had dropped it in the spring. He let the lasso sag, and I had to swim. +Then, seeing that my hands were empty, he began to swear and to drag me +round and round in the pool. When he had pulled me across he ran to the +other side and jerked me back. I was drawn through the water with a force +that I feared would tear me apart. Greaser chattered like a hideous monkey, +and ran to and fro in glee. Herky-Jerky soon had me sputtering, gasping, +choking. When he finally pulled me out of the hole I was all but drowned. + +"You bow-legged beggar!" shouted Dick, "I'll fix you for that." + +"Whar's my gun?" yelled Herky, as I fell to the ground. + +"I lost--it," I panted. + +He began to rave. Then I half swooned, and when sight and hearing fully +returned I was lying in the cave on my blankets. A great lassitude weighted +me down. The terrible thrashing about in the icy water had quenched my +spirit. For a while I was too played out to move, and lay there in my wet +clothes. Finally I asked leave to take them off. Bud, who had come back in +the meantime, helped me, or I should never have got out of them. Herky +brought up my coat, which, fortunately, I had taken off before the ducking. +I did not have the heart to speak to Dick or look at him, so I closed my +eyes and fell asleep. + +It was another day when I awoke. I felt all right except for a soreness +under my arms and across my chest where the lasso had chafed and bruised +me. Still I did not recover my good spirits. Herky-Jerky kept on grinning +and cracking jokes on my failure to escape. He had appropriated my revolver +for himself, and he asked me several times if I wanted to borrow it to +shoot Greaser. + +That day passed quietly, and so did the two that followed. The men would +not let me fish nor move about. They had been expecting Stockton, and as he +did not come it was decided to send Bud down to the mill; in fact, Bud +decided the matter himself. He warned Greaser and Herky to keep close watch +over Dick and me. Then he rode away. Dick and I resumed our talk about +forestry, and as we were separated by the length of the cave it was +necessary to speak loud. So our captors heard every word we said. + +"Ken, what's the difference between Government forestry out here and, say, +forestry practiced by a farmer back in Pennsylvania?" asked Dick. + +"There's a big difference, I imagine. Forestry is established in some parts +of the East; it's only an experiment out here." + +Then I went on to tell him about the method of the farmer. He usually had a +small piece of forest, mostly hard wood. When the snow was on he cut +firewood, fence-rails, and lumber for his own use in building. Some seasons +lumber brought high prices; then he would select matured logs and haul them +to the sawmill. But he would not cut a great deal, and he would use care in +the selection. It was his aim to keep the land well covered with forest. He +would sow as well as harvest. + +"Now the Government policy is to preserve the National Forests for the use +of the people. The soil must be kept productive. Agriculture would be +impossible without water, and the forests hold water. The West wants people +to come to stay. The lumberman who slashes off the timber may get rich +himself, but he ruins the land." + +"What's that new law Congress is trying to pass?" queried Dick. + +I was puzzled, but presently I caught his meaning. Bill and Herky-Jerky +were hanging on our words with unconcealed attention. Even the Mexican was +listening. Dick's cue was to scare them, or at least to have some fun at +their expense. + +"They've passed it," I replied. "Fellows like Buell will go to the +penitentiary for life. His men'll get twenty years on bread and water. No +whiskey! Serves 'em right." + +"What'll the President do when he learns these men kidnapped you?" + +"Do? He'll have the whole forest service out here and the National Guard. +He's a friend of my father's. Why, these kidnappers will be hanged!" + +"I wish the Guard would come quick. Too bad you couldn't have sent word! +I'd enjoy seeing Greaser swing. Say, he hasn't a ghost of a chance, with +the President and Jim Williams after him." + +"Dick, I want the rings in Greaser's ears." + +"What for? They're only brass." + +"Souvenirs. Maybe I'll have watch-charms made of them. Anyway, I can show +them to my friends back East." + +"It'll be great--what you'll have to tell," went on Dick. "It'll be funny, +too." + +Greaser had begun to snarl viciously, and Herky and Bill looked glum and +thoughtful. The arrival of Bud interrupted the conversation and put an end +to our playful mood. We heard a little of what he told his comrades, and +gathered that Jim Williams had met Stockton and had asked questions hard to +answer. Dick flashed me a significant look, which was as much as to say +that Jim was growing suspicious. Bud had brought a store of whiskey, and +his companions now kept closer company with him than ever before. But from +appearances they did not get all they wanted. + +"We've got to move this here camp," said Bud. + +Bud and Bill and Herky walked off down the gorge. Perhaps they really went +to find another place for the camp, for the present spot was certainly a +kind of trap. But from the looks of Greaser I guessed that they were +leaving him to keep guard while they went off to drink by themselves. +Greaser muttered and snarled. As the moments passed his face grew sullen. + +All at once he came toward me. He bound my hands and my feet. Dick was +already securely tied, but Greaser put another lasso on him. Then he +slouched down the gorge. His high-peaked Mexican sombrero bobbed above the +rocks, then disappeared. + +"Ken, now's the chance," said Dick, low and quick. "If you can only work +loose! There's your rifle and mine, too. We could hold this fort for a +month." + +"What can I do?" I asked, straining on my ropes. + +"You're not fast to the rock, as I am. Rollover here and untie me with your +teeth." + +I raised my head to get the direction, and then, with a violent twist of my +body, I started toward him; but being bound fast I could not guide myself, +and I rolled off the ledge. The bank there was pretty steep, and, unable to +stop, I kept on like a barrel going down-bill. The thought of rolling into +the spring filled me with horror. Suddenly I bumped hard into something +that checked me. It was a log of firewood, and in one end stuck the big +knife which Herky-Jerky used to cut meat. + +Instantly I conceived the idea of cutting my bonds with this knife. But how +was I to set about it? + +"Dick, here's a knife. How'll I get to it so as to free myself?" + +"Easy as pie," replied he, eagerly. "The sharp edge points down. You hitch +yourself this way--That's it---good!" + +What Dick called easy as pie was the hardest work I ever did. I lay flat on +my back, bound hand and foot, and it was necessary to jerk my body along +the log till my hands should be under the knife. I lifted my legs and edged +along inch by inch. + +"Fine work, Ken! Now you're right! Turn on your side! Be careful you don't +loosen the knife!" + +Not only were my wrists bound, but the lasso had been wrapped round my +elbows, holding them close to my body. Turning on my side, I found that I +could not reach the knife--not by several inches. This was a bitter +disappointment. I strained and heaved. In my effort to lift my body +sidewise I pressed my face into the gravel. "Hurry, Ken, hurry!" cried +Dick. "Somebody's coming!" + +Thus urged, I grew desperate. In my struggle I discovered that it was +possible to edge up on the log and stick there. I glued myself to that log. +By dint of great exertion I brought the tight cord against the blade. It +parted with a little snap, my elbows dropped free. Raising my wrists, I +sawed quickly through the bonds. I cut myself, the blood flowed, but that +was no matter. jerking the knife from the log, I severed the ropes round my +ankles and leaped up. + +"Hurry, boy!" cried Dick, with a sharp note of alarm. + +I ran to where he lay, and attacked the heavy halter with which he had been +secured. I had cut half through the knots when a shrill cry arrested me. It +was the Mexican's voice. + +"Head him off! He's after your gun!" yelled Dick. + +The sight of Greaser running toward the cave put me into a frenzy. Dropping +the knife, I darted to where my rifle leaned across my saddle. But I saw +the Mexican would beat me to it. Checking my speed, I grabbed up a round +stone and let fly. That was where my ball-playing stood me in good stead, +for the stone hit Greaser on the shoulder, knocking him flat. But he got +up, and lunged for the rifle just as I reached him. + +I kicked the rifle out of his band, grappled with him, and down we went +together. We wrestled and thrashed off the ledge, and when we landed in the +gravel I was on top. + +"Slug him, Ken!" yelled Dick, wildly. "Oh, that's fine! Give it to him! +Punch him! Get his wind!" + +Either it was a mortal dread of Greaser's knife or some kind of a new-born +fury that lent me such strength. He screeched, he snapped like a wolf, he +clawed me, he struck me, but he could not shake me off. Several times he +had me turning, but a hard rap on his head knocked him back again. Then I +began to bang him in the ribs. + +"That's the place!" shouted Dick. "Ken, you're going to do him up! Soak +him! Oh-h, but this is great!" + +I kept the advantage over Greaser, but still he punished me cruelly. +Suddenly he got his snaky hands on my throat and began to choke me. With +all my might I swung my fist into his stomach. + +His hands dropped, his mouth opened in a gasp, his face turned green. The +blow had made him horribly sick, and he sank back utterly helpless. I +jumped up with a shout of triumph. + +"Run! Run for it!" yelled Dick, in piercing tones. "They're coming! +Never mind me! Run, I tell you! Not down the gorge! Climb out!" + +For a moment I could not move out of my tracks. Then I saw Bill and Herky +running up the gorge, and, farther down, Bud staggering and lurching. + +This lent me wings. In two jumps I had grabbed my rifle; then, turning, I +ran round the pool, and started up the one place in the steep wall where +climbing was possible. Above the yells of the men I heard Dick's piercing +cry: + +"Go-go-go, Ken!" + +I sent the loose rocks down in my flight. Here I leaped up; there I ran +along a little ledge; in another place I climbed hand and foot. The last +few yards was a gravelly incline. I seemed to slide back as much as I +gained. + +"Come back hyar!" bawled Bill. + +Crack! Crack! Crack . . . The reports rang out in quick succession. A +bullet whistled over me, another struck the gravel and sent a shower of +dust into my face. I pitched my rifle up over the bank and began to dig my +fingers and toes into the loose ground. As I gained the top two more +bullets sang past my head so close that I knew Bill was aiming to more than +scare me. I dragged myself over the edge and was safe. + +The canyon, with its dense thickets and scrubby clumps of trees, lay below +in plain sight. Once hidden there, I would be hard to find. Picking up my +rifle, I ran swiftly along the base of the slope and soon gained the cover +of the woods. + + + +XI. THE OLD HUNTER + +I ran till I got a stitch in my side, and then slowed down to a dog-trot. +The one thing to do was to get a long way ahead of my pursuers, for surely +at the outset they would stick like hounds to my trail. + +A mile or more below the gorge I took to the stream and waded. It was +slippery, dangerous work, for the current tore about my legs and threatened +to upset me. After a little I crossed to the left bank. Here the slope of +the canyon was thick with grass that hid my tracks. It was a long climb up +to the level. Upon reaching it I dropped, exhausted. + +"I've--given them--the slip," I panted, exultantly. . . . "But--now what?" + +It struck me that now I was free, I had only jumped out of the frying-pan +into the fire. Hurriedly I examined my Winchester. The magazine contained +ten cartridges. What luck that Stockton had neglected to unload it! This +made things look better. I had salt and pepper, a knife, and matches-- +thanks to the little leather case--and so I could live in the woods. + +It was too late for regrets. I might have freed Dick somehow or even held +the men at bay, but I had thought only of escape. The lack of nerve and +judgment stung me. Then I was bitter over losing my mustang and outfit. + +But on thinking it all over, I concluded that I ought to be thankful for +things as they were. I was free, with a whole skin. That climb out of the +gorge had been no small risk. How those bullets had whistled and hissed! + +"I'm pretty lucky," I muttered. "Now to get good and clear of this +vicinity. They'll ride down the trail after me. Better go over this ridge +into the next canyon and strike down that. I must go down. But how far? +What must I strike for?" + +I took a long look at the canyon. In places the stream showed, also the +trail; then there were open patches, but I saw no horses or men. With a +grim certainty that I should be lost in a very little while, I turned into +the cool, dark forest. + +Every stone and log, every bit of hard ground in my path, served to help +hide my trail. Herky-Jerky very likely had the cowboy's skill at finding +tracks, but I left few traces of my presence on that long slope. Only an +Indian or a hound could have trailed me. The timber was small and rough +brush grew everywhere. Presently I saw light ahead, and I came to an open +space. It was a wide swath in the forest. At once I recognized the path of +an avalanche. It sloped up clean and bare to the gray cliffs far above. +Below was a great mass of trees and rocks, all tangled in black splintered +ruin. I pushed on across the path, into the forest, and up and down the +hollows. The sun had gone down behind the mountain, and the shadows were +gathering when I came to another large canyon. It looked so much like the +first that I feared I had been travelling in a circle. But this one seemed +wider, deeper, and there was no roar of rushing water. + +It was time to think of making camp, and so I hurried down the slope. At +the bottom I found a small brook winding among boulders and ledges of rock. +The far side of this canyon was steep and craggy. Soon I discovered a place +where I thought it would be safe to build a fire. My clothes were wet, and +the air had grown keen and cold. Gathering a store of wood, I made my fire +in a niche. For a bed I cut some sweet-scented pine boughs (I thought they +must be from a balsam-tree), and these I laid close up in a rocky corner. +Thus I had the fire between me and the opening, and with plenty of wood to +burn I did not fear visits from bears or lions. At last I lay down, dry and +warm indeed, but very tired and hungry. + +Darkness closed in upon me. I saw a few stars, heard the cheery crackle of +my fire, and then I fell asleep. Twice in the night I awakened cold, but by +putting on more firewood I was soon comfortable again. + +When I awoke the sun was shining brightly into my rocky bedchamber. The +fire had died out completely, there was frost on the stones. To build up +another fire and to bathe my face in the ice-water of the brook were my +first tasks. The air was sweet; it seemed to freeze as I breathed, and was +a bracing tonic. I was tingling all over, and as hungry as a starved wolf. + +I set forth on a hunt for game. Even if the sound of a shot betrayed my +whereabouts I should have to abide by it, for I had to eat. Stepping softly +along, I glanced about me with sharp eyes. Deer trails were thick. The +bottom of this canyon was very wide, and grew wider as I proceeded. Then +the pines once more became large and thrifty. I judged I had come down the +mountain, perhaps a couple of thousand feet below the camp in the gorge. I +flushed many of the big blue grouse, and I saw numerous coyotes, a fox, and +a large brown beast which moved swiftly into a thicket. It was enough to +make my heart rise in my throat. To dream of hunting bears was something +vastly different from meeting one in a lonely canyon. + +Just after this I saw a herd of deer. They were a good way off. I began to +slip from tree to tree, and drew closer. Presently I came to a little +hollow with a thick, short patch of underbrush growing on the opposite +side. Something crashed in the thicket. Then two beautiful deer ran out. +One bounded leisurely up the slope; the other, with long ears erect, +stopped to look at me. It was no more than fifty yards away. Trembling with +eagerness, I leveled my rifle. I could not get the sight to stay steady on +the deer. Even then, with the rifle wobbling in my intense excitement, I +thought of how beautiful that wild creature was. Straining every nerve, I +drew the sight till it was in line with the gray shape, then fired. The +deer leaped down the slope, staggered, and crumpled down in a heap. + +I tore through the bushes, and had almost reached the bottom of the hollow +when I remembered that a wounded deer was dangerous. So I halted. The gray +form was as still as stone. I ventured closer. The deer was dead. My bullet +had entered high above the shoulder at the juncture of the neck. Though I +had only aimed at him generally, I took a good deal of pride in my first +shot at a deer. + +Fortunately my pen-knife had a fair-sized blade. With it I decided to cut +out part of the deer and carry it back to my camp. Then it occurred to me +that I might as well camp where I was. There were several jumbles of rock +and a cliff within a stone's-throw of where I stood. Besides, I must get +used to making camp wherever I happened to be. Accordingly, I took hold of +the deer, and dragged him down the hollow till I came to a leaning slab of +rock. + +Skinning a deer was, of course, new to me. I haggled the flesh somewhat and +cut through the skin often, my knife-blade being much too small for such +work. Finally I thought it would be enough for me to cut out the haunches, +and then I got down to one haunch. It had bothered me how I was going to +sever the joint, but to my great surprise I found there did not seem to be +any connection between the bones. The haunch came out easily, and I hung it +up on a branch while making a fire. + +Herky-Jerky's method of broiling a piece of venison at the end of a stick +solved the problem of cooking. Then it was that the little flat flask, full +of mixed salt and pepper, rewarded me for the long carrying of it. I was +hungry, and I feasted. + +By this time the sun shone warm, and the canyon was delightful. I roamed +around, sat on sunny stones, and lay in the shade of pines. Deer browsed in +the glades. When they winded or saw me they would stand erect, shoot up +their long cars, and then leisurely lope away. Coyotes trotted out of +thickets and watched me suspiciously. I could have shot several, but deemed +it wise to be saving of my ammunition. Once I heard a low drumming. I could +not imagine what made it. Then a big blue grouse strutted out of a patch of +bushes. He spread his wings and tail and neck feathers, after the fashion +of a turkey-gobbler. It was a flap or shake of his wings that produced the +drumming. I wondered if he intended, by his actions, to frighten me away +from his mate's nest. So I went toward him, and got very close before he +flew. I caught sight of his mate in the bushes, and, as I had supposed, she +was on a nest. Though wanting to see her eggs or young ones, I resisted the +temptation, for I was afraid if I went nearer she might abandon her nest, +as some mother birds do. + +It did not seem to me that I was lost, yet lost I was. The peaks were not +in sight. The canyon widened down the slope, and I was pretty sure that it +opened out flat into the great pine forest of Penetier. The only thing that +bothered me was the loss of my mustang and outfit; I could not reconcile +myself to that. So I wandered about with a strange, full sense of freedom +such as I had never before known. What was to be the end of my adventure I +could not guess, and I wasted no time worrying over it. + +The knowledge I had of forestry I tried to apply. I studied the north and +south slopes of the canyon, observing how the trees prospered on the sunny +side. Certain saplings of a species unknown to me had been gnawed fully ten +feet from the ground. This puzzled me. Squirrels could not have done it, +nor rabbits, nor birds. Presently I hit upon the solution. The bark and +boughs of this particular sapling were food for deer, and to gnaw so high +the deer must have stood upon six or seven feet of snow. + +I dug into the soft duff under the pines. This covering of the roots was +very thick and deep. I made it out to be composed of pine-needles, leaves, +and earth. It was like a sponge. No wonder such covering held the water! I +pried bark off dead trees and dug into decayed logs to find the insect +enemies of the trees. The open places, where little colonies of pine +sprouts grew, seemed generally to be down-slope from the parent trees. It +was easy to tell the places where the wind had blown the seeds. + +The hours sped by. The shadows of the pines lengthened, the sun set, and +the shade deepened in the hollows. Returning to my camp, I cooked my supper +and made my bed. When I had laid up a store of firewood it was nearly dark. + +With night came the coyotes. The carcass of the deer attracted them, and +they approached from all directions. At first it was fascinating to hear +one howl far off in the forest, and then to notice the difference in the +sound as he came nearer and nearer. The way they barked and snapped out +there in the darkness was as wild a thing to hear as any boy could have +wished for. It began to be a little too much for me. I kept up a bright +fire, and, though not exactly afraid, I had a perch picked out in the +nearest tree. Suddenly the coyotes became silent. Then a low, continuous +growling, a snapping of twigs, and the unmistakable drag of a heavy body +over the ground made my hair stand on end. Gripping my rifle, I listened. +I heard the crunch of teeth on bones, then more sounds of something being +dragged down the hollow. The coyotes began to bark again, but now far back +in the forest. + +Some beast had frightened them. What was it? I did not know whether a bear +would eat deer flesh,, but I thought not. Perhaps timber-wolves had +disturbed the coyotes. But would they run from wolves? It came to me +suddenly--a mountain-lion! + +I hugged my fire, and sat there, listening with all my ears, imagining +every rustle of leaf to be the step of a lion. It was long before the +thrills and shivers stopped chasing over me, longer before I could decide +to lie down. But after a while the dead quiet of the forest persuaded me +that the night was far advanced, and I fell asleep. + +The first thing in the morning I took my rifle and went out to where I had +left the carcass of the deer. It was gone. It had been dragged away. A dark +path on the pine-needles and grass, and small bushes pressed to the ground, +plainly marked the trail. But search as I might, I could not find the track +of the animal that had dragged off the deer. After following the trail for +a few rods, I decided to return to camp and cook breakfast before going any +farther. While I was at it I cut many thin slices of venison, and, after +roasting them, I stored them away in the capacious pocket of my coat. + +My breakfast finished, I again set out to see what had become of the +remains of the deer. In two or three places the sharp hoofs had cut lines +in the soft earth, and there were tufts of whitish-gray hair elsewhere. A +hundred yards or more down the hollow I came to a bare spot where recently +there had been a pool of water. Here I found cat tracks as large as my two +hands. I had never seen the track of a mountain-lion, but, all the same, I +knew that this was the real thing. What an enormous brute he must have +been! I cast fearful glances into the surrounding thickets. + +It was not needful to travel much farther. Under a bush well hidden in a +clump of trees lay what now remained of my deer. A patch of gray hair, a +few long bones, a split skull, and two long ears--no more! Even the hide was +gone. Perhaps the coyotes had finished the job after the lion had gorged +himself, but I did not think so. It seemed to me that coyotes would have +scattered the remains. Those two long ears somehow seemed pathetic. I +wished for a second that the lion were in range of my rifle. + +The lion was driven from my mind when I saw a troop of deer cross a glade +below me. I had to fight myself to keep from shooting. The wind blew rather +strong in my face, which probably accounted for the deer not winding me. + +Then the whip-like crack of a rifle riveted me where I stood. One of the +deer fell, and the others bounded away. I saw a tall man stride down the +slope and into the glade. He was not like any of the loggers or lumbermen. +They were mostly brawny and round-shouldered. This man was lithe, erect; he +walked like athletes I had seen. Surely I should find a friend in him, and +I lost no time in running down into the glade. He saw me as soon as I was +clear of the trees, and stood leaning on his rifle. + +"Wal, dog-gone my buttons!" he ejaculated. "Who're you?" + +I blurted out all about myself, at the same time taking stock of him. He +was not young, but I had never seen a young man so splendid. Hair, beard, +and skin were all of a dark gray. His eyes, too, were gray--the keenest and +clearest I had ever looked into. They shone with a kindly light, otherwise +I might have thought his face hard and stern. His shoulders were very wide, +his arms long, his hands enormous. His buckskin shirt attracted my +attention to his other clothes, which looked like leather overalls or heavy +canvas. A belt carried a huge knife and a number of shells of large +caliber; the Winchester he had was exceedingly long and heavy, and of an +old pattern. The look of him brought back my old fancy of Wetzel or Kit +Carson. + +"So I'm lost," I concluded, "and don't know what to do. I daren't try to +find the sawmill. I won't go back to Holston just yet." + +"An' why not, youngster? 'Pears to me you'd better make tracks from +Penetier." + +I told him why, at which he laughed. + +"Wal, I reckon you can stay with me fer a spell. My camp's in the head of +this canyon." + +"Oh, thank you, that'll be fine!" I exclaimed. My great good luck filled me +with joy. "Do you stay on the mountain?" + +"Be'n here goin' on eighteen years, youngster. Mebbe you've heerd my name. +Hiram Bent." + +"Are you a hunter?" + +"Wal, I reckon so, though I'm more a trapper. Here, you pack my gun." + +With that he drew his knife and set to work on the deer. It was wonderful +to see his skill. In a few cuts and strokes, a ripping of the hide and a +powerful slash, he had cut out a haunch. It took even less work for the +second. Then he hung the rest of the deer on a snag, and wiped his knife +and hands on the grass. + +"Come on, youngster," he said, starting up the canyon. + +I showed him where the carcass of my deer had been devoured. + +"Cougar. Thar's a big feller has the run of this canyon." + +"Cougar? I thought it was a mountain-lion." + +"Cougar, painter, panther, lion--all the same critter. An' if you leave him +alone he'll not bother you, but he's bad in a corner." + +"He scared away the coyotes." + +"Youngster, even a silver-tip--thet's a grizzly bear--will make tracks away +from a cougar. I lent my pack of hounds to a pard over near Springer. If I +had them we'd put thet cougar up a tree in no time." + +"Are there many lions--cougars here?" + +"Only a few. Thet's why there's plenty of deer. Other game is plentiful, +too. Foxes, wolves, an', up in the mountains, bears are thick." + +"Then I may get to see one--get a shot at one?" + +"Wal, I reckon." + +From that time I trod on air. I found myself wishing for my brother Hal. I +became reconciled to the loss of mustang and outfit. For a moment I almost +forgot Dick and Buell. Forestry seemed less important than hunting. I had +read a thousand books about old hunters and trappers, and here I was in a +wild mountain canyon with a hunter who might have stepped out of one of my +dreams. So I trudged along beside him, asking a question now and then, and +listening always. He certainly knew what would interest me. There was +scarcely a thing he said that I would ever forget. After a while, however, +the trail became so steep and rough that I, at least, had no breath to +spare for talking. We climbed and climbed. The canyon had become a narrow, +rocky cleft. Huge stones blocked the way. A ragged growth of underbrush +fringed the stream. Dead pines, with branches like spears, lay along the +trail. + +We came upon a little clearing, where there was a rude log-cabin with a +stone chimney. Skins of animals were tacked upon logs. Under the bank was a +spring. The mountain overshadowed this wild nook. + +"Wal, youngster, here's my shack. Make yourself to home," said Hiram Bent. + +I was all eyes as we entered the cabin. Skins, large and small, and of many +colors, hung upon the walls. A fire burned in a wide stone grate. A rough +table and some pans and cooking utensils showed evidence of recent +scouring. A bunch of steel traps lay in a corner. Upon a shelf were tin +cans and cloth bags, and against the wall stood a bed of glossy bearskins. +To me the cabin was altogether a most satisfactory place. + +"I reckon ye're tired?" asked the hunter. "Thet's some pumpkins of a climb +unless you're used to it." + +I admitted I was pretty tired. + +"Wal, rest awhile. You look like you hadn't slept much." + +He asked me about my people and home, and was so interested in forestry +that he left off his task of the moment to talk about it. I was not long in +discovering that what he did not know about trees and forests was hardly +worth learning. He called it plain woodcraft. He had never heard of +forestry. All the same I hungered for his knowledge. How lucky for me to +fall in with him! The things that had puzzled me about the pines he +answered easily. Then he volunteered information. From talking of the +forest, he drifted to the lumbermen. + +"Wal, the lumber-sharks are rippin' holes in Penetier. I reckon they +wouldn't stop at nothin'. I've heered some tough stories about thet sawmill +gang. I ain't acquainted with Leslie, or any of them fellers you named +except Jim Williams. I knowed Jim. He was in Springer fer a while. If Jim's +your friend, there'll be somethin' happenin, when he rounds up them +kidnappers. I reckon you'd better hang up with me fer a while. You don't +want to get ketched again. Your life wasn't much to them fellers. I think +they'd held on to you fer money. It's too bad you didn't send word home to +your people." + +"I sent word home about the big steal of timber. That was before I got +kidnapped. By this time the Government knows." + +"Wal, you don't say! Thet was pert of you, youngster. An' will the +Government round up these sharks?" + +"Indeed it will. The Government is in dead earnest about protecting the +National Forests." + +"So it ought to be. Next to a forest fire, I hate these skinned timber +tracts. Wal, old Penetier's going to see somethin' lively before long. +Youngster, them lumbermen--leastways, them fellers you call Bud an' Bill, +an' such--they're goin' to fight." + +The old hunter left me presently, and went outside. I waited awhile for +him, but as he did not return I lay down upon the bearskins and dropped to +sleep. It seemed I had hardly closed my eyes when I felt a hand on my arm +and heard a voice. + +"Wake up, youngster. Thar's two old bears an' a cub been foolin' with one +of my traps." + +In a flash I was wide awake. + +"Let's see your gun. Humph! pretty small--38 caliber, ain't it? Wal, it'll +do the work if you hold straight. Can you shoot?" + +"Fairly well." + +He took his heavy Winchester, and threw a coil of thin rope over his +shoulder. + +"Come on. Stay close to me, an' keep your eyes peeled." + + + +XII. BEARS + +The old hunter walked so swiftly that I had to run to keep up with him. The +trail led up the creek, now on one side, again on the other, and I was +constantly skipping from stone to stone. The grassy slopes grew fewer, and +finally gave way altogether to cracked cliffs and weathered rocks. A fringe +of pine-trees leaned over the top with here and there a blasted spear +standing out white. + +"I had my trap set up thet draw," said Hiram Bent, as he pointed toward an +intersecting canyon. "Just before I waked you I was comin' along here, an' +I heered an all-fired racket up thar, an' so I watched. Soon three black +bears come paddlin' down, an' the biggest was draggin' the trap with the +chain an' log. Then I hurried to tell you. They can't be far." + +"Are they grizzlies?" I asked, trying to speak naturally. + +"Nope. Jest plain black bears. But the one with the trap is a whopper. +He'll go over four hundred. See the tracks? Looks like somebody'd been +plowin' up the stones." + +There were deep tracks in the sand, and broad furrows, and stones +overturned, and places where a heavy object had crushed the gravel even and +smooth. + +The old hunter kept striding on, and I wondered bow he could go so fast +without running. Presently we came to where the canyon forked. Hiram +started up the right-hand fork, then suddenly stopped, and, turning, began +to go back, carefully examining the ground. + +"They've split on us," he explained. "The ole feller with the trap went up +the right-hand draw, an' the mother an' cub took to the left. Now, +youngster, can you keep your nerve?" + +"I think so." + +"Wal, you go after the ole feller. You can't miss him, an' he won't be far. +You'll hear him bellerin' long before you git to him, though he might lay +low, so you steer clear of big boulders an' thickets. Kill him, an' then +run back an' take up this draw. The she bear is cute an' may give me the +slip, but if she doesn't climb out soon I'll head her off. Hurry on, now. +Keep your eye peeled, an' you'll be safe as if you were to home." + +With that he disappeared round the corner of stone wall where the canyon +divided. I wheeled and went to the right. This wing of the canyon twisted +and turned and was full of stones. A shallow sheet of water gleamed over +its colored bed of gravel. The walls were straight up, and, in places, +bulged outward. I flinched at every turn in the canyon; but, with rifle +cocked and thrust forward, I went on. The cracks in the walls, the boulders +and pieces of cliff that obstructed my path, and the occasional thickets-- +all made me halt with careful step and finger on the trigger. I followed +the splashes on the stones, which told me that the bear had passed that +way. As I went cautiously on I felt a tightening at my throat. The light +above grew dimmer. When I stopped to listen it was so silent that I heard +only the pounding of my heart and my own quick breathing. I pressed on and +on, going faster all the time not that I felt braver, but I longed to end +the suspense. Suddenly the silence was broken by a threatening roar. It +swept down on me, swelling as it continued, and it seemed to fill the +canyon. It shook my pulses, it urged me to flight, but I could not move. +Then as suddenly it ceased. + +For a long moment I stood still, with no idea of advancing farther. The +clinking of a chain seemed to release my cramped muscles. Very cautiously I +peered around a projecting corner of wall. There sat a huge black bear on +his haunches holding up a great steel trap which clutched one of his paws. +It was such a strange sight that my fear was forgotten. There was something +almost human in the way the bear looked at that trap. He touched it +gingerly with his free paw, and nosed it. I crept up close to the corner of +stone and looked around again. The bear was now close to me. I saw the +heavy chain and the log to which it was attached. He looked at trap and log +in a grave, pathetic way, as if trying to reason about them. Then he roused +into furious action, swinging the trap, dragging the log, and bellowing in +such a frightful manner that I dodged back behind the wall. + +But this sudden change in the bear, this appalling roar with its note of +pain, awakened me to his suffering. When the noise stopped and I looked +again, the bear was a sight not to be forgotten. He showed a helpless, +terrible fear of the steel-jawed thing on his foot. He dropped down on the +sand with a groan, and there was a despairing look in his eyes. + +This made me forget my fear, and I had only one thought--to put him out of +his misery. When I leveled my rifle it was as steady as the rock beside me. +Aiming just below his ear, I pressed the trigger. The dull report re-echoed +from wall to wall. The bear lurched slightly, and his head fell upon his +outstretched paws. I waited, ready to shoot again upon the slightest +movement, but there was none. + +With rifle ready I cautiously approached the bear. As I came close he +seemed larger and larger, but he showed no signs of life. I looked at the +glossy black fur, the flecks of blood on the side of his head where my +bullet had entered, the murderous saw-teeth of the heavy trap biting to the +bone, and the cruelty of that trap seemed to drive from me all pride of +achievement. It was nothing except mercy to kill a trapped crippled bear +that could not run or fight. Then and there I gained a dislike for trapping +animals. + +The crack of the old hunter's rifle made me remember that I was to hurry +back up the other canyon, so I began to run. I bounded from stone to stone, +dashed over the sand-bars, jumped the brook, and went down that canyon +perhaps in far greater danger of bodily harm than when I had gone up. + +But when I turned the corner it was another story. The first canyon had +been easy climbing compared to this one. It was narrow, steep, and full of +dead pines fallen from above. Running was impossible. I clambered upward +over the loose stones, under the bridges of pines, round the boulders. +Presently I heard a shout. I could not tell where it came from, but I +replied. A second call I identified as coming from high up the ragged +canyon side, and I started up. It was hard work. Certainly no bears or +hunter had climbed out just here. At length, sore, spent, and torn, I fell +out of a tangle of brush upon the edge of the canyon. Above me rose the +swelling mountain slope thickly covered with dwarf pines. + +"This way, youngster!" called the old hunter from my left. + +A few more dashes in and out of the brush and trees brought me to a fairly +open space with not much slope. Hiram Bent stood under a pine, and at his +feet lay a black furry mass. + +"Wal, I heerd you shoot. Reckon you got yourn?" + +"Yes, I killed him. . . . Say, Mr. Bent, I don't like traps." + +"Nary do I--for bears," replied he, shaking his gray head. "A trapped bear +is about the pitifulest thing I ever seen. But it's seldom one ever gits +into trap of mine." + +"This one you shot must be the old mother bear. Where's the cub? Did it get +away?" + +"Not yet. Lookup in the tree." + +I looked up the black trunk through the network of slender branches, and +saw the bear snuggling in a fork. His sharp ears stood up against the sky. +He was most anxiously gazing down at us. + +"Wal, tumble him out of thar," said Hiram Bent. + +With a natural impulse to shoot I raised my rifle, but the cub looked so +attractive and so helpless that I hesitated. + +"I don't like to do it," I said. "Oh, I wish we could catch him alive!" + +"Wal, I reckon we can." + +"How?" I inquired, eagerly, and lowered my rifle. + +"Are you good on the climb?" + +"Climb? This tree? Why, with one hand. Back in Pennsylvania I climbed +shell-bark hickory-trees with the lowest limb fifty feet from the ground. + . . But there weren't any bears up them." + +"You must keep out of his way if he comes down on you. He's a sassy little +chap. Now take this rope an' go up an' climb round him." + +"Climb round him?" I queried, as I gazed dubiously upward. "You mean to +slip out on the branches and go up hand-over-hand till I get above him. The +branches up there seem pretty close--I might. But suppose he goes higher?" + +"I'm lookin' fer him to go clean to the top. But you can beat him to it-- +mebbe." + +"Any danger of his attacking me--up there?" + +"Wal, not much. If he hugs the trunk he'll have to hold on fer all he's +worth. But if he stands on the branches an' you come up close he might bat +you one. Mebbe I'd better go up." + +"Oh, I'm going--I only wanted to know what to expect. Now, in case I get +above him, what then?" + +"Make him back down till he reaches these first branches. When he gets so +far I'll tell you what to do." I put my arm through the coil of rope, and, +slinging it snugly over my shoulder, began to climb the pine. It was the +work of only a moment to reach the first branch. + +"Wal, I reckon you're some relation to a squirrel at thet," said Hiram +Bent. "Jest as I thought the little cuss is climbin' higher. Thet's goin' +to worry us." + +It was like stepping up a ladder from the first branch to the fork. The cub +had gone up the right-hand trunk some fifteen feet, and was now hugging it. +At that short distance he looked alarmingly big. But I saw he would have +all he could do to hold on, and if I could climb the left trunk and get +above him there would be little to fear. How I did it so quickly was a +mystery, but amid the cracking of dead branches and pattering of falling +bark and swaying of the tree-top I gained a position above him. + +He was so close that I could smell him. His quick little eyes snapped fire +and fear at once; he uttered a sound that was between a whine and a growl. + +"Hey, youngster!" yelled Hiram, "thet's high enough--'tain't safe--be +careful now." + +With the words I looked out below me, to see the old hunter standing in +the glade waving his arms. + +"I'm all right!" I yelled down. "Now, how'll I drive him?" + +"Break off a branch an' switch him." + +There was not a branch above me that I could break, but a few feet below +was a slender, dead limb. I slid down and got it, and, holding on with my +left arm and legs, I began to thrash the cub. He growled fiercely. snapped +at the stick, and began to back down. + +"He's started!" I cried, in glee. "Go on, Cubby--down with you!" + +Clumsy as he was, he made swift time. I was hard put to keep close to him. +I slipped down the trunk--holding on one instant and sliding down the next. +But below the fork it was harder for Cubby and easier for me. The branches +rather hindered his backward progress while they aided mine. Growling and +whining, with long claws ripping the bark, he went down. All of a sudden I +became aware of the old hunter threshing about under the tree. + +"Hold on--not so fast!" he yelled. + +Still the cub kept going, and stopped with his haunches on the first +branch. There, looking down, he saw an enemy below him, and hesitated. But +he looked up, and, seeing me, began to back down again. Hiram pounded the +tree with a dead branch. Cubby evidently intended to reach the ground, for +the noise did not stop him. Then the hunter ran a little way to a windfall, +and came back with the upper half of a dead sapling. With this he began to +prod the bear. Thereupon, Cubby lost no time in getting up to the first +branch again, where he halted. + +"Throw the noose on him now--anywhere," ordered the hunter. "An' we've no +time to lose. He's gittin' sassier every minnit." + +I dropped the wide loop upon Cubby, expecting to catch him first time. The +rope went over his bead, but with a dexterous flip of his paw he sent it +flying. Then began a duel between us, in which he continually got the +better of me. All the while the old hunter prodded Cubby from below. + +"You ain't quick enough," said Hiram, impatiently. + +Made reckless by this, I stepped down to another branch directly over the +bear, and tried again to rope him. It was of no use. He slipped out of the +noose with the sinuous movements of an eel. Once it caught over his ears +and in his open jaws. He gave a jerk that nearly pulled me from my perch. I +could tell he was growing angrier every instant, and also braver. Suddenly +the noose, quite by accident, caught his nose. He wagged his head and I +pulled. The noose tightened. + +"I've got him!" I yelled, and gave the rope a strong pull. + +The bear stood up with startling suddenness and reached for me. + +"Climb!" shouted Hiram, + +I dropped the rope and leaped for the branch above, and, catching it, +lifted myself just as the sharp claws of the cub scratched hard over my +boot. + +Cubby now hugged the tree trunk and started up again. + +"We've got him!" yelled Hiram. "Don't move--step on his nose if he gets too +close." + +Then I saw the halter had come off the bear and had fallen to the ground. +Hiram picked it up, arranged the noose, and, holding it in his teeth began +to limb after the bear. Cubby was now only a few feet under me, working +steadily up, growling, and his little eyes were like points of green fire. + +"Stop him! Stand on his head!" mumbled Hiram, with the rope in his teeth. + +"What!--not on your life!" + +But, reaching up, I grasped a branch, and, swinging clear of the lower one, +I began to kick at the bear. This stopped him. Then he squealed, and began +to kick on his own account. Hiram was trying to get the noose over a bind +foot. After several attempts he succeeded, and then threw the rope over the +lowest branch. I gave a wild Indian yell of triumph. The next instant, +before I could find a foothold, the branch to which I was hanging snapped +like a pistol-shot, and I plunged down with a crash. I struck the bear and +the lower branch, and then the ground. The fall half stunned me. I thought +every bone in my body was broken. I rose unsteadily, and for a moment +everything whirled before my eyes. Then I discovered that the roar in my +ears was the old hunter's yell. I saw him hauling on the rope. There was a +great ripping of bark and many strange sounds, and then the cub was +dangling head downward. Hiram had pulled him from his perch, and hung him +over the lowest branch. + +"Thar, youngster, git busy now!" yelled the hunter. "Grab the other rope-- +thar it is--an' rope a front paw while I hold him. Lively now, he's mighty +heavy, an' if he ever gits down with only one rope on him we'll think we're +fast to chain lightnin'." + +The bear swung about five feet from the ground. As I ran at him with the +noose he twisted himself, seemed to double up in a knot, then he dropped +full-stretched again, and lunged viciously at me. Twice I felt the wind of +his paws. He spun around so fast that it kept me dancing. I flung the noose +and caught his right paw. Hiram bawled something that made me all the more +heedless, and in tightening the noose I ran in too close. The bear gave me +a slashing cuff on the side of the head, and I went down like a tenpin. + +"Git a hitch thar--to the saplin'!" roared Hiram, as I staggered to my +feet. "Rustle now--hurry!" + +What with my ringing head, and fingers all thumbs, and Hiram roaring at me, +I made a mess of tying the knot. Then Hiram let go his rope, and when the +cub dropped to the ground the rope flew up over the branch. Cubby leaped so +quickly that he jerked the rope away before Hiram could pick it up, and one +hard pull loosened my hitch on the sapling. + +The cub bounded through the glade, dragging me with him. For a few long +leaps I kept my feet, then down I sprawled. + +"Hang on! Hang on!" Hiram yelled from behind. + +If I had not been angry clear through at that cub I might have let go. He +ploughed my face in the dirt, and almost jerked my arms off. Suddenly the +strain lessened. I got up, to see that the old hunter had hold of the other +rope. + +"Now, stretch him out!" he yelled. + +Between us we stretched the cub out, so that all he could do was struggle +and paw the air and utter strange cries. Hiram tied his rope to a tree, and +then ran back to relieve me. It was high time. He took my rope and fastened +it to a stout bush. + +"Thar, youngster, I reckon thet'll hold him! Now tie his paws an' muzzle +him." + +He drew some buckskin thongs from his pocket and handed them to me. We went +up to the straining cub, and Hiram, with one pull of his powerful hands, +brought the hind legs together. + +"Tie 'em," he said. + +This done, with the aid of a heavy piece of wood he pressed the cub's head +down and wound a thong tightly round the sharp nose. Then he tied the front +legs. + +"Thar! Now you loosen the ropes an' wind them up." + +When I had done this he lifted the cub and swung him over his broad back. + +"Come on, you trail behind, an' keep your eye peeled to see he doesn't work +thet knot off his jaws. . . . Say, youngster, now you've got him, what in +thunder will you do with him?" + +I looked at my torn trousers, at the blood on my skinned and burning hands, +and I felt of the bruise on my head, as I said, grimly: "I'll hang to him +as long as I can." + + + +XIII. THE CABIN IN THE FOREST + +Hiram Bent packed the cub down the canyon as he would have handled a sack +of oats. When we reached the cabin he fastened a heavy dog-collar round +Cubby's neck and snapped a chain to it. Doubling the halter, he tied one +end to the chain and the other to a sturdy branch of a tree. This done, he +slipped the thongs off the bear. + +"Thar! He'll let you pet him in a few days mebbe," he said. + +Our captive did not yet show any signs of becoming tame. No sooner was he +free of the buckskin thongs than he leaped away, only to be pulled up by the +halter. Then he rolled over and over, clawing at the chain, and squirming +to get his head out of the collar. + +"He might choke hisself," said Hiram, "but mebbe he'll ease up if we stay +away from him. Now we've got to rustle to skin them two bears." + +So, after giving me a hunting-knife, and telling me to fetch my rifle, he +set off up the canyon. As I trudged along behind him I spoke of Dick +Leslie, and asked if there were not some way to get him out of the clutches +of the lumber thieves. + +"I've been thinkin' about thet," replied the hunter, "an' I reckon we can. +Tomorrow we'll cross the ridge high up back of thet spring-hole canyon, an' +sneak down. 'Pears to me them fellers will be trailin' you pretty hard, an' +mebbe they'll leave only one to guard Leslie. More'n thet, the trail up +here to my shack is known, an' I'm thinkin' we'd be smart to go off an' +camp somewhere else." + +"What'll I do about Cubby?" I asked, quickly. + +"Cubby? Oh, thet bear cub. Wal, take him along. Youngster, you don't want +to pack thet pesky cub back to Pennsylvania?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"I reckon it ain't likely you can. He's pretty heavy. Weighs nearly a +hundred. An' he'd make a heap of trouble. Mebbe we'll ketch a little +cub--one you can carry in your arms." + +"That'd be still better," I replied. "But if we don't, I'll try to take him +back home." + +The old hunter said I made a good shot at the big bear, and that he would +give me the skin for a rug. It delighted me to think of that huge glossy +bearskin on the floor of my den. I told Hiram how the bear had suffered, +and I was glad to see that, although he was a hunter and trapper, he +disliked to catch a bear in a trap. We skinned the animal, and cut out a +quantity of meat. He told me that bear meat would make me forget all about +venison. By the time we had climbed up the other canyon and skinned the +other bear and returned to camp it was dark. As for me, I was so tired I +could hardly crawl. + +In spite of my aches and pains, that was a night for me to remember. But +there was the thought of Dick Leslie. His rescue was the only thing needed +to make me happy. Dick was in my mind even when Hiram cooked a supper that +almost made me forget my manners. Certainly the broiled bear meat made me +forget venison. Then we talked before the burning logs in the stone fire- +place. Hiram sat on his home-made chair and smoked a strong-smelling pipe +while I lay on a bearskin in blissful ease. Occasionally we heard the cub +outside rattling his chain and growling. All of the trappers and Indian +fighters I had read of were different from Hiram Bent and Jim Williams. +Jim's soft drawl and kind, twinkling eyes were not what any book-reader +would expect to find in a dangerous man. And Hiram Bent was so simple and +friendly, so glad to have even a boy to talk to, that it seemed he would +never stop. If it had not been for his striking appearance and for the +strange, wild tales he told of his lonely life, he would have reminded me +of the old canal-lock tenders at home. + +Once, when he was refilling his pipe and I thought it would be a good time +to profit from his knowledge of the forests, I said to him: + +"Now, Mr. Bent, let's suppose I'm the President of the United States, and I +have just appointed you to the office of Chief Forester of the National +Forests. You have full power. The object is to conserve our national +resources. What will you do?" + +"Wal, Mr. President," he began, slowly and seriously, and with great +dignity, "the Government must own the forests an' deal wisely with them. +These mountain forests are great sponges to hold the water, an' we must +stop fire an' reckless cuttin'. The first thing is to overcome the +opposition of the stockmen, an' show them where the benefit will be theirs +in the long run. Next the timber must be used, but not all used up. We'll +need rangers who're used to rustlin' in the West an' know Western ways. +Cabins must be built, trails made, roads cut. We'll need a head forester +for every forest. This man must know all that's on his preserve, an' have +it mapped. He must teach his rangers what he knows about trees. Penetier +will be given over entirely to the growin' of yellow pine. Thet thrives +best, an' the parasites must go. All dead an' old timber must be cut, an' +much of thet where the trees are crowded. The north slopes must be cut +enough to let in the sun an' light. Brush, windfalls rottin' logs must be +burned. Thickets of young pine must be thinned. Care oughten be taken not +to cut on the north an' west edges of the forests, as the old guard pines +will break the wind." + +"How will you treat miners and prospectors?" + +"They must be as free to take up claims as if there wasn't no National +Forest." + +"How about the settler, the man seeking a home out West?" I went on. + +"We'll encourage him. The more men there are, the better the forester can +fight fire. But those home-seekers must want a home, an' not be squattin' +for a little, jest to sell out to lumber sharks." + +"What's to become of timber and wood?" + +"Wal, it's there to be used, an' must be used. We'll give it free to the +settler an' prospector. We'll sell it cheap to the lumbermen--big an' +little. We'll consider the wants of the local men first." + +"Now about the range. Will you keep out the stockmen?" + +"Nary. Grazin' for sheep, cattle, an' hosses will go on jest the same. But +we must look out for overgrazin'. For instance, too many cattle will stamp +down young growth, an' too many sheep leave no grazin' for other stock. The +bead forester must know his business, an' not let his range be overstocked. +The small local herders an' sheepmen must be considered first, the big +stockmen second. Both must be charged a small fee per head for grazin'." + +"How will you fight fire?" + +"Wal, thet's the hard nut to crack. Fire is the forest's worst enemy. In a +dry season like this Penetier would burn like tinder blown by a bellows. +Fire would race through here faster 'n a man could run. I'll need special +fire rangers, an' all other rangers must be trained to fight fire, an' then +any men living in or near the forest will be paid to help. The thing to do +is watch for the small fires an' put them out. Campers must be made to put +out their fires before leaving camp. Brush piles an' slashes mustn't be +burned in dry or windy weather." + +Just where we left off talking I could not remember, for I dropped off to +sleep. I seemed hardly to have closed my eyes when the hunter called me in +the morning. The breakfast was smoking on the red-hot coals, and outside +the cabin all was dense gray fog. + +When, soon after, we started down the canyon, the fog was lifting and the +forest growing lighter. Everything was as white with frost as if it had +snowed. A thin, brittle frost crackled under our feet. When we, had gotten +below the rocky confines of the canyon we climbed the slope to the level +ridge. Here it was impossible not to believe it had snowed. The forest was +as still as night, and looked very strange with the white aisles lined by +black tree trunks and the gray fog shrouding the tree-tops. Soon we were +climbing again, and I saw that Hiram meant to head the canyon where I had +left Dick. + +The fog split and blew away, and the brilliant sunlight changed the forest. +The frost began to melt, and the air was full of mist. We climbed and +climbed--out of the stately yellow-pine zone, up among the gnarled and +blasted spruces, over and around strips of weathered stone. Once I saw a +cold, white snow-peak. It was hard enough for me to carry my rifle and keep +up with the hunter without talking. Besides, Hiram had answered me rather +shortly, and I thought it best to keep silent. From time to time he stopped +to listen. Then when he turned to go down the slope be trod carefully, and +cautioned me not to loosen stones, and he went slower and yet slower. From +this I made sure we were not far from the springhole. + +"Thar's the canyon," he whispered, stopping to point below, where a black, +irregular line marked the gorge. "I haven't heerd a thing, an' we're close. +Mebbe they're asleep. Mebbe most of them are trallin' you, an' I hope so. +Now, don't you put your hand or foot on anythin' thet'll make a noise." + +Then he slipped off, and it was wonderful to see how noiselessly he +stepped, and how he moved between trees and dead branches without a sound. +I managed pretty well, yet more than once a rattling stone or a broken +branch stopped Hiram short and made him lift a warning hand. + +At last we got down to the narrow bench which separated the canyon-slope +from the deep cut. It was level and roughly strewn with boulders. Here we +took to all fours and crawled. It was easy to move here without noise, for +the ground was rocky and hard, and there was no brush. + +Suddenly I fairly bumped into the hunter. Looking up, I saw that he had +halted only a few feet from the edge of the gorge where I had climbed out +in my escape. He was listening. There was not a sound save the dull roar of +rushing water. + +Hiram slid forward a little, and rose cautiously to look over. I did the +same. When I saw the cave and the spring-hole I felt a catch in my throat. + +But there was not a man in sight. Dick's captors had broken camp; they were +gone. The only thing left in the gorge to show they had ever been there was +a burned-out campfire. + +"They're gone," I whispered. + +"Wal, it 'pears so," replied Hiram. "An' it's a move I don't like. +Youngster, it's you they want. Leslie's no particular use to them. They'll +have to let him go sooner or later, if they hain't already." + +"What'll we do now?" + +"Make tracks. We'll cut back acrost the ridge an' git some blankets an' +grub, then light out for the other side of Penetier." + +I thought the old hunter had made rapid time on our way up, but now I saw +what he really meant by "making tracks." Fortunately, after a short, +killing climb, the return was all down-hill. One stride of Hiram's equalled +two of mine, and he made his faster, so that I had to trot now and then to +catch up. Very soon I was as hot as fire, and every step was an effort. But +I kept thinking of Dick, of my mustang and outfit, and I vowed I would +stick to Hiram Bent's trail till I dropped. For the matter of that I did +drop more than once before we reached the cabin. + +A short rest while Hiram was packing a few things put me right again. I +strapped my rifle over my shoulder, and then went out to untie my bear cub. +It would have cost me a great deal to leave him behind. I knew I ought to, +still I could not bring myself to it. All my life I had wanted a bear cub. +Here was one that I had helped to lasso and tie up with my own hands. I +made up my mind to hold to the cub until the last gasp. + +So I walked up to Cubby with a manner more bold than sincere. He had not +eaten anything, but he had drunk the water we had left for him. To my +surprise he made no fuss when I untied the rope; on the other hand, he +seemed to look pleased, and I thought I detected a cunning gleam in his +little eyes. He paddled away down the canyon, and, as this was in the +direction we wanted to go, I gave him slack rope and followed. + +"Wal, you're goin' to have a right pert time, youngster, an' don't you +forget it," said Hiram Bent. + +The truth of that was very soon in evidence. Cubby would not let well +enough alone, and he would not have a slack rope. I think he wanted to +choke himself or pull my arms out. When I realized that Cubby was three +times as strong as I was I began to see that my work was cut out for me. +The more, however, that he jerked me and hauled me along, the more I +determined to hang on. I thought I had a genuine love for him up to the +time he had almost knocked my head off, but it was funny how easily he +roused my anger after that. What would have happened had he taken a notion +to go through the brush? Luckily he kept to the trail, which certainly was +rough enough. So, with watching the cub and keeping my feet free of roots +and rocks, I had no chance to look ahead. Still I had no concern about +this, for the old hunter was at my heels, and I knew he would keep a sharp +lookout. + +Before I was aware of it we had gotten out of the narrow canyon into a +valley with well-timbered bottom, and open, slow rising slopes. We were +getting down into Penetier. Cubby swerved from the trail and started up the +left slope. I did not want to go, but I had to keep with him, and that was +the only way. The hunter strode behind without speaking, and so I gathered +that the direction suited him. By leaning back on the rope I walked up the +slope as easily as if it were a moving stairway. Cubby pulled me up; I had +only to move my feet. When we reached a level once more I discovered that +the cub was growing stronger and wanted to go faster. We zigzagged across +the ridge to the next canyon, which at a glance I saw was deep and steep. + +"Thet'll be some work goin' down that!" called Hiram. "Let me pack your +gun." + +I would have been glad to give it to him, but how was I to manage? I could +not let go of the rope, and Hiram, laden as he was, could not catch up with +me. Then suddenly it was too late, for Cubby lunged forward and down. + +This first downward jump was not vicious--only a playful one perhaps, by +way of initiating me; but it upset me, and I was dragged in the +pine-needles. I did not leap to my feet; I was jerked up. Then began a wild +chase down that steep, bushy slope. Cubby got going, and I could no more +have checked him than I could a steam-engine. Very soon I saw that not only +was the bear cub running away, but he was running away with me. I slid down +yellow places where the earth was exposed, I tore through thickets, I +dodged a thousand trees. In some grassy descents it was as if I had +seven-league boots. I must have broken all records for jumps. All at once I +stumbled just as Cubby made a spurt and flew forward, alighting face +downward. I dug up the pine--needles with my outstretched hands, I scraped +with my face and ploughed with my nose, I ate the dust; and when I brought +up with a jolt against a log a more furious boy than Ken Ward it would be +bard to imagine. Leaping up, I strove with every ounce of might to hold in +the bear. But though fury lent me new strength, he kept the advantage. + +Presently I saw the bottom of the canyon, an open glade, and an old +log-cabin. I looked back to see if the hunter was coming. He was not in +sight, but I fancied I heard him. Then Cubby, putting on extra steam, took +the remaining rods of the slope in another spurt. I had to race, then fly, +and at last lost my footing and plunged down into a thicket. + +There farther progress stopped for both of us. Cubby had gone down on one +side of a sapling and I on the other, with the result that we were brought +up short. I crashed through some low bushes and bumped squarely into the +cub. Whether it was his frantic effort to escape, or just excitement, or +deliberate intention to beat me into a jelly I had no means to tell. The +fact was he began to dig at me and paw me and maul me. Never had I been so +angry. I began to fight back, to punch and kick him. + +Suddenly, with a crashing in the bushes, the cub was hauled away from me, +and then I saw Hiram at the rope. + +"Wal, wal!" he ejaculated, "your own mother wouldn't own you now!" Then he +laughed heartily and chuckled to himself, and gave the cub a couple of +jerks that took the mischief out of him. I dragged myself after Hiram into +the glade. The cabin was large and very old, and part of the roof was +sunken in. + +"We'll hang up here an' camp," said Hiram. "This is an old hunters' cabin, +an' kinder out of the way. We'll hitch this little fighter inside, where +mebbe he won't be so noisy." + +The hunter hauled the cub up short, and half pulled, half lifted him into +the door. I took off my rifle, emptied my pockets of brush and beat out the +dust, and combed the pine-needles from my hair. My hands were puffed and +red, and smarted severely. And altogether I was in no amiable frame of mind +as regarded my captive bear cub. + +When I stepped inside the cabin it was dark, and coming from the bright +light I could not for a moment see what the interior looked like. Presently +I made out one large room with no opening except the door. There was a +tumble-down stone fireplace at one end, and at the other a rude ladder led +up to a loft. Hiram had thrown his pack aside, and had tied Cubby to a peg +in the log wall. + +"Wal, I'll fetch in some fresh venison," said the hunter. "You rest awhile, +an' then gather some wood an' make a fire." + +The rest I certainly needed, for I was so tired I could scarcely untie the +pack to get out the blankets. The bear cub showed signs or weariness, which +pleased me. It was not long after Hiram's departure that I sank into a +doze. + +When my eyes opened I knew I had been awakened by something, but I could +not tell what. I listened. Cubby was as quiet as a mouse, and his very +quiet and the alert way he held his ears gave me a vague alarm. He had +heard something. I thought of the old hunter's return, yet this did not +reassure me. + +All at once the voices of men made me sit up with a violent start. Who +could they be? Had Hiram met a ranger? I began to shake a little, and was +about to creep to the door when I heard the clink of stirrups and soft thud +of hoofs. Then followed more voices, and last a loud volley of curses. + +"Herky-Jerky!" I gasped, and looked about wildly. + +I had no time to dash out of the door. I was caught in a trap, and I felt +cold and sick. Suddenly I caught sight of the ladder leading to the loft. +Like a monkey I ran up, and crawled as noiselessly as possible upon the +rickety flooring of dry pine branches. Then I lay there quivering. + + + +XIV. A PRISONER + +It chanced that as I lay on my side my eye caught a gleam of light through +a little ragged hole in the matting of pine branches. Part of the interior +of the cabin, the doorway, and some space outside were plainly visible. The +thud of horses had given place to snorts, and then came a flopping of +saddles and packs on the ground. "Any water hyar?" asked a gruff voice I +recognized as Bill's. "Spring right thar," replied a voice I knew to be +Bud's. + +"You onery old cayuse, stand still!" + +From that I gathered Herky was taking the saddle off his horse. + +"Here, Leslie, I'll untie you--if you'll promise not to bolt." + +That voice was Buell's. I would have known it among a thousand. And Dick +was still a prisoner. + +"Bolt! If you let me loose I'll beat your fat head off!" replied Dick. "Ha! +A lot you care about my sore wrists. You're weakening, Buell, and you know +it. You've got a yellow streak." + +"Shet up!" said Herky, in a low, sharp tone. A silence followed. "Buell, +look hyar in the trail. Tracks! Goin' in an' comin' out." + +"How old are they?" + +"I'll bet a hoss they ain't an hour old." + +"Somebody's usin' the cabin, eh?" + +The men then fell to whispering, and I could not understand what was said, +but I fancied they were thinking only of me. My mind worked fast. Buell and +his fellows had surely not run across Hiram Bent. Had the old hunter +deserted me? I flouted such a thought. It was next to a certainty that he +had seen the lumbermen, and for reasons best known to himself had not +returned to the cabin. But he was out there somewhere among the pines, and +I did not think any of those ruffians was safe. + +Then I heard stealthy footsteps approaching. Soon I saw the Mexican +slipping cautiously to the door. He peeped within. Probably the interior +was dark to him, as it had been to me. He was not a coward, for he stepped +inside. + +At that instant there was a clinking sound, a rush and a roar, and a black +mass appeared to hurl itself upon the Mexican. He went down with a piercing +shriek. Then began a fearful commotion. Screams and roars mingled with the +noise of combat. I saw a whirling cloud of dust on the cabin floor. The cub +had jumped on the Mexican. What an unmerciful beating he was giving that +Greaser! I could have yelled out in my glee. I had to bite my tongue to +keep from urging on my docile little pet bear. Greaser surely thought he +had fallen in with his evil spirit, for he howled to the saints to save +him. + +Herky-Jerky was the only one of his companions brave enough to start to +help him. + +"The cabin's full of b'ars!" he yelled. + +At his cry the bear leaped out of the cloud of dust, and shot across the +threshold like black lightning. In his onslaught upon Greaser he had broken +his halter. Herky-Jerky stood directly in his path. I caught only a +glimpse, but it served to show that Herky was badly scared. The cub dove at +Herky, under him, straight between his legs like a greased pig, and, +spilling him all over the trail, sped on out of sight. Herky raised +himself, and then he sat there, red as a lobster, and bawled curses while +he made his huge revolver spurt flame on flame. + +I could not see the other men, but their uproarious mirth could have been +heard half a mile away. When it dawned upon Herky, he was so furious that +he spat at them like an angry cat and clicked his empty revolver. + +Then Greaser lurched out of the door. I got a glimpse of him, and, for a +wonder, was actually sorry for him. He looked as if he had been through a +threshing-machine. + +"Haw! haw! Ho! ho!" roared the merry lumbermen. + +Then they trooped into the cabin. Buell headed the line, and Herky, +sullenly reloading his revolver, came last. At first they groped around in +the dim light, stumbling over everything. Part of the time they were in the +light space near the door, and the rest I could not see them. I scarcely +dared to breathe. I felt a creepy chill, and my eyesight grew dim. + +"Who does this stuff belong to, anyhow?" Buell was saying. "An' what was +thet bear doin' in here?" + +"He was roped up--hyar's the hitch," answered Bud. + +"An' hyar's a rifle--Winchester--ain't been used much. Buell, it's thet +kid's!" + +I heard rapid footsteps and smothered exclamations. + +"Take it from me, you're right!" ejaculated Buell. "We jest missed him. +Herky, them tracks out there? Somebody's with this boy--who?" + +"It's Jim Williams," put in Dick Leslie, cool-voiced and threatening. + +The little stillness that followed his words was broken by Buell. + +"Naw! 'Twasn't Williams. You can't bluff this bunch, Leslie. By your own +words Williams is lookin' for us, an' if he's lookin' for anybody I know +he's lookin' for 'em. See!" + +"Buell, the kid's fell in with old Bent, the b'ar hunter," said Bill. "Thet +accounts fer the cub. Bent's allus got cubs, an' kittens, an' sich. An' +I'll tell you, he ain't no better friend of ourn than Jim Williams." + +"I'd about as soon tackle Williams as Bent," put in Bud. + +Buell shook his fist. "What luck the kid has! But I'll get him, take it +from me! Now, what's best to do?" + +"Buell, the game's going against you," said Dick Leslie. "The penitentiary +is where you'll finish. You'd better let me loose. Old Bent will find Jim +Williams, and then you fellows will be up against it. There's going to be +somebody killed. The best thing for you to do is to let me go and then cut +out yourself." + +Buell breathed as heavily as a porpoise, and his footsteps pounded hard. + +"Leslie, I'm seein' this out--understand? When Bud rode down to the mill an' +told me the kid had got away I made up my mind to ketch him an' shet his +mouth--one way or another. An' I'll do it. Take thet from me!" + +"Bah!" sneered Dick. "You're sca'red into the middle of next week right +now. . . . Besides, if you do ketch Ken it won't do you any good-now!" + +"What?" + +But Dick shut up like a clam, and not another word could be gotten from +him. Buell fumed and stamped. + +"Bud, you're the only one in this bunch of loggerheads thet has any sense. +What d'you say?" + +"Quiet down an' wait here," replied Bud. "Mebbe old Bent didn't hear them +shots of Herky's. He may come back. Let's wait awhile, an', if he doesn't +come, put Herky on the trail." + +"Good! Greaser, go out an' hide the hosses--drive them up the canyon." + +The Mexican shuffled out, and all the others settled down to quiet. I heard +some of them light their pipes. Bud leaned against the left of the door, +Buell sat on the other side, and beyond them I saw as much of Herky as his +boots. I knew him by his bow-legs. + +The stillness that set in began to be hard on me'. When the men were moving +about and talking I had been so interested that my predicament did not +occupy my mind. But now, with those ruffians waiting silently below, I was +beset with a thousand fears. The very consciousness that I must be quiet +made it almost impossible. Then I became aware that my one position cramped +my arm and side. A million prickling needles were at my elbow. A band as of +steel tightened about my breast. I grew hot and cold, and trembled. I knew +the slightest move would be fatal, so I bent all my mind to lying quiet as +a stone. + +Greaser came limping back into the cabin, and found a seat without any one +speaking. It was so still that I heard the silken rustle of paper as he +rolled a cigarette. Moments that seemed long as years passed, with my +muscles clamped as in a vise. If only I had lain down upon my back! But +there I was, half raised on my elbow, in a most awkward and uncomfortable +position. I tried not to mind the tingling in my arm, but to think of +Hiram, of Jim, of my mustang. But presently I could not think of anything +except the certainty that I would soon lose control of my muscles and fall +over. + +The tingling changed to a painful vibration, and perspiration stung my +face. The strain became unbearable. All of a sudden something seemed to +break within me, and my muscles began to ripple and shake. I had no power +to stop it. More than that, the feeling was so terrible that I knew I would +welcome discovery as a relief. + +"Sh-s-s-h!" whispered some one below. + +I turned my eyes down to the peep-hole. Bud had moved over squarely into +the light of the door. He was bending over something. Then he extended his +hand, back uppermost, toward Buell. On the back of that broad brown hand +were pieces of leaf and bits of pine-needles. The trembling of my body had +shaken these from the brush on the rickety loft. More than that, in the +yellow bar of sunlight which streamed in at the door there floated +particles of dust. + +Bud silently looked upward. There was a gleam in his black eyes, and his +mouth was agape. Buell's gaze followed Bud's, and his face grew curious, +intent, then fixed in a cunning, bold smile of satisfaction. He rose to his +feet. + +"Come down out o' thet!" he ordered, harshly. "Come down!" + +The sound of his voice stilled my trembling. I did not move nor breathe. I +saw Buell loom up hugely and Bud slowly rise. Herky-Jerky's boots suddenly +stood on end, and I knew then he had also risen. The silence which followed +Buell's order was so dense that it oppressed me. + +"Come down!" repeated Buell. + +There was no hint of doubt in his deep voice, but a cold certainty and a +brutal note. I had feared the man before, but that gave me new terror. + +"Bud, climb the ladder," commanded Buell. + +"I ain't stuck on thet job," rejoined Bud. + +As his heavy boots thumped on the ladder they jarred the whole cabin. My +very desperation filled me with the fierceness of a cornered animal. I +caught sight of a short branch of the thickness of a man's arm, and, +grasping it, I slowly raised myself. When Bud's black, round head appeared +above the loft I hit it with all my might. + +Bud bawled like a wounded animal, and fell to the ground with the noise of +a load of bricks. Through my peep-hole I saw him writhing, with both hands +pressed to his head. Then, lying flat on his back, he whipped out his +revolver. I saw the red spurt, the puff of smoke. Bang! + +A bullet zipped through the brush, and tore a hole through the roof. + +Bang! Bang! + +I felt a hot, tearing pain in my arm. + +"Stop, you black idiot!" yelled Buell. He kicked the revolver out of Bud's +hand. "What d'you mean by thet?" + +In the momentary silence that followed I listened intently, even while I +held tightly to my arm. From its feeling my arm seemed to be shot off, but +it was only a flesh-wound. After the first instant of shock I was not +scared. But blood flowed fast. Warm, oily, slippery, it ran down inside my +shirt sleeve and dripped off my fingers. + +"Bud," hoarsely spoke up Bill, breaking the stillness, "mebbe you killed +him!" + +Buell coughed, as if choking. + +"What's thet?" For once his deep voice was pitched low. "Listen." + +Drip! drip! drip! It was like the sound of water dripping from a leak in a +roof. It was directly under me, and, quick as thought, I knew the sound was +made by my own dripping blood. + +"Find thet, somebody," ordered Buell. + +Drip! drip! drip! + +One of the men stepped noisily. + +"Hyar it is--thar," said Bill. "Look on my hand. . . . Blood! I knowed it. +Bud got him, all right." + +There was a sudden rustling such as might come from a quick, strained +movement. + +"Buell," cried Dick Leslie. in piercing tones, "Heaven help you murdering +thieves if that boy's killed! I'll see you strung up right in this forest. +Ken, speak! Speak!" + +It seemed then, in my pain and bitterness, that I would rather let Buell +think me dead. Dick's voice went straight to my heart, but I made no +answer. + +"Leslie, I didn't kill him, an' I didn't order it," said Buell, in a voice +strangely shrunk and shaken. "I meant no harm to the lad. . . . Go up, Bud, +an' get him." + +Bud made no move, nor did Greaser when he was ordered. "Go up, somebody, +an' see what's up there!" shouted Buell. "Strikes me you might go +yourself," said Bill, coolly. + +With a growl Buell mounted the ladder. When his great shock head hove in +sight I was seized by a mad desire to give him a little of his own +medicine. With both hands I lifted the piece of pine branch and brought it +down with every ounce of strength in me. + +Like a pistol it cracked on Buell's head and snapped into bits. The +lumberman gave a smothered groan, then clattered down the ladder and rolled +on the floor. There he lay quiet. + +"All-fired dead--thet kid--now, ain't he?" said Bud, sarcastically. "How'd +you like thet crack on the knob? You'll need a larger size hat, mebbe. +Herky-Jerky, you go up an' see what's up there." + +"I've a picture of myself goin'," replied Herky, without moving. + +"Whar's the water? Get some water, Greaser," chimed in Bill. + +From the way they worked over Buell, I concluded he had been pretty badly +stunned. But he came to presently. + +"What struck me?" he asked. + +"Oh, nothin'," replied Bud, derisively. "The loft up thar's full of air, +an' it blowed on you, thet's all." + +Buell got up, and began walking around. + +"Bill, go out an' fetch in some long poles," he said. + +When Bill returned with a number of sharp, bayonet-like pikes I knew the +game was all up for me. Several of the men began to prod through the thin +covering of dry brush. One of them reached me, and struck so hard that I +lurched violently. + +That was too much for the rickety loft floor. It was only a bit of brush +laid on a netting of slender poles. It creaked, rasped, and went down with +a crash. I alighted upon somebody, and knocked him to the floor. Whoever it +was, seized me with iron hands. I was buried, almost smothered, in the +dusty mass. My captor began to curse cheerfully, and I knew then that +Herky-Jerky had made me a prisoner. + + + +XV. THE FIGHT + +Herky hauled me out of the brush, and held me in the light. The others +scrambled from under the remains of the loft, and all viewed me curiously. + +"Kid, you ain't hurt much?" queried Buell, with concern. + +I would have snapped out a reply, but I caught sight of Dick's pale face +and anxious eyes. + +"Ken," he called, with both gladness and doubt in his voice, "you look +pretty good--but that blood. . . . Tell me, quick!" + +"It's nothing, Dick, only a little cut. The bullet just ticked my arm." + +Whatever Dick's reply was it got drowned in Herky-Jerky's long explosion of +strange language. Herky was plainly glad I had not been badly hurt. I had +already heard mirth, anger, disgust, and fear in his outbreaks, and now +relief was added. He stripped off my coat, cut off the bloody sleeve of my +shirt, and washed the wound. It was painful and bled freely, but it was not +much worse than cuts from spikes when playing ball. Herky bound it tightly +with a strip of my shirt-sleeve, and over that my handkerchief. + +"Thar, kid, thet'll stiffen up an' be sore fer a day or two, but it ain't +nothin'. You'll soon be bouncin' clubs offen our heads." + +It was plain that Herky--and the others, for that matter, except Buell-- +thought more of me because I had wielded a club so vigorously. + +"Look at thet lump, kid," said Bud, bending his head. "Now, ain't thet a +nice way to treat a feller? It made me plumb mad, it did." + +"I'm likely to hurt somebody yet," I declared. + +They looked at me curiously. Buell raised his face with a queer smile. Bud +broke into a laugh. + +"Oh, you're goin' to? Mebbe you think you need an axe," said he. + +They made no offer to tie me up then. Bud went to the door and sat in it, +and I heard him half whisper to Buell: "What 'd I tell you? Thet's a game +kid. If he ever wakes up right we'll have a wildcat on our hands. He'll do +fer one of us yet." These men all took pleasure in saying things like this +to Buell. This time Buell had no answer ready, and sat nursing his head. +"Wal, I hev a little headache myself, an' the crack I got wasn't nothin' to +yourn," concluded Bud. Then Bill began packing the supplies indoors, and +Herky started a fire. Bud kept a sharp eye on me; still, he made no +objection when I walked over and lay down upon the blankets near Dick. + +"Dick, I shot a bear and helped to tie up a cub," I said. And then I told +him all that had happened from the time I scrambled out of the spring-hole +till I was discovered up in the loft. Dick shook his head, as if he did +not know what to make of me, and all he said was that he would give a +year's pay to have me safe back in Pennsylvania. + +Herky-Jerky announced supper in his usual manner--a challenge to find as +good a cook as he was, and a cheerful call to "grub." I did not know what +to think of his kindness to me. Remembering how he had nearly drowned me in +the spring, I resented his sudden change. He could not do enough for me. I +asked the reason for my sudden popularity. + +Herky scratched his head and grinned. "Yep, kid, you sure hev riz in my +estimashun." + +"Hey, you rummy cow-puncher," broke in Bud, scornfully. "Mebbe you'd like +the kid more'n you do if you'd got one of them wollops." + +"Bud, I ain't sayin'," replied Herky, with his mouth full of meat. +"Considerin' all points, howsoever, I'm thinkin' them wallops was +distributed very proper." + +They bandied such talk between them, and occasionally Bill chimed in with a +joke. Greaser ate in morose silence. There must have been something on his +mind. Buell took very little dinner, and appeared to be in pain. It was +dark when the meal ended. Bud bound me up for the night, and he made a good +job of it. My arm burned and throbbed, but not badly enough to prevent +sleep. Twice I had nearly dropped off when loud laughs or voices roused me. +My eyes closed with a picture of those rough, dark men sitting before the +fire. + +A noise like muffled thunder burst into my slumber. I awakened with my body +cramped and stiff. It was daylight, and something had happened. Buell ran +in and out of the cabin yelling at his men. All of them except Herky were +wildly excited. Buell was abusing Bud for something, and Bud was blaming +Buell. + +"Thet's no way to talk to me!" said Bud, angrily. "He didn't break loose in +my watch!' + +"You an' Greaser had the job. Both of you--went to sleep--take thet from +me!" + +"Wal, he's gone, an' he took the kid's gun with him," said Bill, coolly. +"Now we'll be dodgin' bullets." + +Dick Leslie had escaped! I could hardly keep down a cry of triumph. I did +ask if it was true, but none of them paid any attention to me. Buell then +ordered Herky-Jerky to trail Dick and see where he had gone. Herky refused +point-blank. "Nope. Not fer me," he said. "Leslie has a rifle. So has Bent, +an' we haven't one among us. An', Buell, if Leslie falls in with Bent, it's +goin' to git hot fer us round here." + +This silenced Buell, but did not stop his restless pacings. His face was +like a thunder-cloud, and he was plainly worried and harassed. Once Bud +deliberately asked what be intended to do with me, and Buell snarled a +reply which no one understood. His gloom extended to the others, except +Herky, who whistled and sang as he busied himself about the campfire. +Greaser appeared to be particularly cast down. + +"Buell, what are you going to do with me?" I demanded. But he made no +answer. + +"Well, anyway," I went on, "somebody cut these ropes. I'm mighty sore and +uncomfortable." + +Herky-Jerky did not wait for permission; he untied me, and helped me to my +feet. I was rather unsteady on my legs at first, and my injured arm felt +like a board. It seemed dead; but after I had moved it a little the pain +came back, and it had apparently come to stay. We ate breakfast, and then +settled down to do nothing, or to wait for something to turn up. Buell sat +in the doorway, moodily watching the trail. Once he spoke, ordering the +Mexican to drive in the horses. I fancied from this that Buell might have +decided to break camp, but there was no move to pack. + +The morning quiet was suddenly split by the stinging crack of a rifle and a +yell of agony. + +Buell leaped to his feet, his ruddy face white. + +"Greaser!" he exclaimed. + +"Thet was about where Greaser cashed," relied Bill, coolly knocking the +ashes from his pipe. + +"No, Bill, you're wrong. Here comes Greaser, runnin' like an Indian." + +"Look at the blood! He's been plugged, all right!" exclaimed Herky-Jerky. + +The sound of running feet drew nearer, and suddenly the group at the door +broke to admit the Mexican. One side of his terrified face was covered with +blood. His eyes were staring, his hands raised, he staggered as if about to +fall. + +"Senyor William! Senyor William!" he cried, and then called on Saint +Somebody. + +"Jim Williams! I said so," muttered Bud. + +Bill caught hold of the excited Mexican, and pulled him nearer the light. + +"Thet ain't a bad hurt. jest cut his ear off!" aid Bill. "Hyar, stand +still, you wild man! you're not goin' to die. Git some water, Herky. +Fellers, Greaser has been oneasy ever since he knew Jim Williams was lookin' +fer him. He thinks Jim did this. But Jim Williams don't use a rifle, an', +what's more, when he shoots he don't miss. You all heerd the rifle-shot." + +"Then it was old Bent or Leslie?" questioned Buell. + +"Leslie it were. Bent uses a 45-90 caliber. Thet shot we heerd was from the +little 38--the kid's gun." + +"Wal, it was a narrer escape fer Greaser," said Bud. "Leslie's sore, an' +he'll shoot fer keeps. Buell, you've started somethin'." + +When Bill had washed the blood off the Mexican it was found that the ball +had carried away the lower part of the ear, and with it, of course, the +gold earring. The wound must have been extremely painful; it certainly took +all the starch out of Greaser. He kept mumbling in his own language, and +rolling his wicked black eyes and twisting his thin, yellow hands. + +"What's to be done?" asked Buell, sharply. + +"Thet's fer you to say," replied Bill, with his exasperating calmness. + +"Must we hang up here to be shot at? Leslie's takin' a long chance on thet +kid's life if he comes slingin' lead round this cabin." + +Herky-Jerky spat tobacco-juice across the room and grunted. Then, with his +beady little eyes as keen and cold as flint, he said: "Buell, Leslie knows +you daren't harm the kid; an' as fer bullets, he'll take good care where he +stings 'em. This deal of ours begins to look like a wild-goose stunt. It +never was safe, an' now it's worse." + +Here was even Herky-Jerky harping on Buell's situation. To me it did not +appear much more serious than before. But evidently they thought Buell +seemed on the verge of losing control of himself. He glared at Herky, and +rammed his fists in his pockets and paced the long room. Presently he +stepped out of the door. + +A rifle cracked clear and sharp, another bellowed out heavy and hollow. A +bullet struck the door-post, a second hummed through the door and budded +into the log wall. Buell jumped back into the room. His face worked, his +breath hissed between his teeth, as with trembling hand he examined the +front of his coat. A big bullet had torn through both lapels. + +Bill stuck his pudgy finger in the hole. "The second bullet made thet. It +was from old Hiram's gun--a 45-90!" + +"Bent an' Leslie! My God! They're shootin' to kill!" cried Buell. + +"I should smile," replied Herky-Jerky. + +Bud was peeping out through a chink between the logs. "I got their smoke," +he said; "look, Bill, up the slope. They're too fur off, but we may as well +send up respects." With that he aimed his revolver through the narrow crack +and deliberately shot six times. The reports clapped like thunder, the +smoke from burnt powder and the smell of brimstone filled the room. By way +of reply old Hiram's rifle boomed out twice, and two heavy slugs crashed +through the roof, sending down a shower of dust and bits of decayed wood. + +"Thet's jist to show what a 45-90 can do," remarked Bill. + +Bud reloaded his weapon while Bill shot several times. Herky-Jerky had his +gun in hand, but contented himself with peering from different chinks +between the logs. I hid behind the wide stone fireplace, and though I felt +pretty safe from flying bullets, I began to feel the icy grip of fear. I +had seen too much of these men in excitement, and knew if circumstances so +brought it about there might come a moment when my life would not be worth +a pin. They were all sober now, and deadly quiet. Buell showed the greatest +alarm, though he had begun to settle down to what looked like fight. Herky +was more fearless than any of them, and cooler even than Bill. All at once +I missed the Mexican. If he had not slipped out of the room he had hidden +under the brush of the fallen loft or in a pile of blankets. But the room +was smoky, and it was hard for me to be certain. + +Some time passed with no shots and with no movement inside the cabin. +Slowly the blue smoke wafted out of the door. The sunlight danced in gleams +through the holes in the ragged roof. There was a pleasant swish of pine +branches against the cabin. + +"Listen, , whispered Bud, hoarsely. "I heerd a pony snort." + +Then the rapid beat of hard hoofs on the trail was followed by several +shots from the hillside. Soon the clatter of hoofs died away in the +distance. + +"Who was thet?" asked three of Buell's men in unison. + +"Take it from me, Greaser's sneaked," replied Buell. + +"How'd he git out?" + +With that Bud and Bill began kicking in the piles of brush. + +"Aha! Hyar's the place," sang out Bud. + +In one corner of the back wall a rotten log had crumbled, and here it was +plain to all eyes that Greaser had slipped out. I remembered that on this +side of the cabin there was quite a thick growth of young pine. Greaser had +been able to conceal himself as he crawled toward the horses, and had +probably been seen at the last moment. Herky-Jerky was the only one to make +comment. + +"I ain't wishin' Greaser any hard luck, but hope he carried away a couple +Of 45-90 slugs somewheres in his yaller carcass." + +"It'd be worth a lot to the feller who can show me a way out of this mess," +said Buell, mopping the beads of sweat from his face. + +I got up--it seemed to me my mind was made up for me--and walked into the +light of the room. + +"Buell, I can show you the way," I said, quietly. + +"What!" His mouth opened in astonishment. "Speak up, then." + +The other men stepped forward, and I felt their eyes upon me. + +"Let me go free. Let me out of here to find Dick Leslie! Then when you go +to jail in Holston for stealing lumber I'll say a good word for you and +your men. There won't be any charge of kidnapping or violence." + +After a long pause, during which Buell bored me with gimlet eyes, he said, +in a queer voice: "Say thet again." + +I repeated it, and added that he could not gain anything now by holding me +a prisoner. I think he saw what I meant, but hated to believe it. + +"It's too late," I said, as he hesitated. + +"You mean Leslie lied an' you fooled me--you did get to Holston?" he +shouted. He was quivering with rage, and the red flamed in his neck and +face. + +"Buell, I did get to Holston and I did send word to Washington," I went on, +hurriedly for I had begun to lose my calmness. "I wrote to my father. He +knows a friend of the Chief Forester who is close to the Department at +Washington. By this time Holston is full of officers of the forest service. +Perhaps they're already at your mill. Anyway, the game's up, and you'd +better let me go." + +Buell's face lost all its ruddy color, slowly blanched, and changed +terribly. The boldness fled, leaving it craven, almost ghastly. Realizing +he had more to fear from the law than conviction of his latest lumber +steal, he made at me in blind anger. + +"Hold on!" Herky-Jerky yelled, as he jumped between Buell and me. + +Buell's breath was a hiss, and the words he bit between his clinched teeth +were unintelligible. In that moment he would have killed me. + +Herky-Jerky met his onslaught, and flung him back. Then, with his hand on +the butt of his revolver, he spoke: + +"Buell, hyar's where you an' me split. You've bungled your big deal. The +kid stacked the deck on you. But I ain't a-goin' to see you do him harm fer +it." + +"Herky's right, boss," put in Bill, "thar's no sense in addin' murder to +this mess. Strikes me you're in bad enough." + +"So thet's your game? You're double-crossin' me now--all on a chance at +kidnappin' for ransom money. Well, I'm through with the kid an' all of you. +Take thet from me!" + +"You skunk!" exclaimed Herky-Jerky, with the utmost cheerfulness. + +"Wal, Buell," said Bill, in cool disdain, "comsiderin' my fondness fer +fresh air an' open country, I can't say I'm sorry to dissolve future +relashuns. I was only in jail onct, an' I couldn't breathe free." + +It was then Buell went beside himself with rage. He raised his huge fists, +and shook himself, and plunged about the room, cursing. Suddenly he picked +up an axe, and began chopping at the rotten log above the hole where +Greaser had slipped out. Bud yelled at him, so did Bill; Herky-Jerky said +unpleasant things. But Buell did not hear them. He hacked and dug away like +one possessed. The dull, sodden blows fell fast, scattering pieces of wood +about the floor. The madness that was in Buell was the madness to get out, +to escape the consequences of his acts. His grunts and pants as he worked +showed his desperate energy. Then he slammed the axe against the wall, and, +going down flat, began to crawl through the opening. Buell was a thick man, +and the hole appeared too small. He stuck in it, but he squeezed and +flattened himself, finally worked through, and disappeared. + +A sudden quiet fell upon his departure. + +"Hands up!" + +Jim Williams's voice! It was strange to see Herky and Bud flash up their +arms without turning. But I wheeled quickly. Bill, too, had his hands high +in the air. + +In the sunlight of the doorway stood Jim Williams. Low down, carelessly, it +seemed, he held two long revolvers. He looked the same easy, slow Texan I +remembered. But the smile was not now in his eyes, and his lips were set in +a thin, hard line. + + + +XVI. THE FOREST'S GREATEST FOE + +Jim Williams sent out a sharp call. From the canyon-slope came answering +shouts. There were sounds of heavy bodies breaking through brush, followed +by the thudding of feet. Then men could be plainly heard running up the +trail. Jim leaned against the door-post, and the three fellows before him +stood rigid as stone. + +Suddenly a form leaped past Jim. It was Dick Leslie, bareheaded, his hair +standing like a lion's mane, and he had a cocked rifle in his hands. Close +behind him came old Hiram Bent, slower, more cautious, but no less +formidable. As these men glanced around with fiery eyes the quick look of +relief that shot across their faces told of ungrounded fears. + +"Where's Buell?" sharply queried Dick. + +Jim Williams did not reply, and a momentary silence ensued. + +"Buell lit out after the Greaser," said Bill, finally. + +"Cut and run, did he? That's his speed," grimly said Dick. "Here, Bent, +find some rope. We've got to tie up these jacks." + +"Hands back, an' be graceful like. Quick!" sang out Jim Williams. + +It seemed to me human beings could not have more eagerly and swiftly obeyed +an order. Herky and Bill and Bud jerked their arms down and extended their +hands out behind. After that quick action they again turned into statues. +There was a breathless suspense in every act. And there was something about +Jim Williams then that I did not like. I was in a cold perspiration for +fear one of the men would make some kind of a move. As the very mention of +the Texan had always caused a little silence, so his presence changed the +atmosphere of that cabin room. Before his coming there had been the element +of chance--a feeling of danger, to be sure, but a healthy spirit of give +and take. That had all changed with Jim Williams's words "Hands up!" There +was now something terrible hanging in the balance. I had but to look at +Jim's eyes, narrow slits of blue fire, at the hard jaw and tight lips, to +see a glimpse of the man who thought nothing of life. It turned me sick, +and I was all in a tremor till Dick and Hiram had the men bound fast. + +Then Jim dropped the long, blue guns into the holsters on his belt. + +"Ken, I shore am glad to see you," said he. + +The soft, drawling voice, the sleepy smile, the careless good-will all came +back, utterly transforming the man. This was the Jim Williams I had come to +love. With a wrench I recovered myself. + +"Are you all right, Ken?" asked Dick. And old Hiram questioned me with a +worried look. This anxiety marked the difference between these men and +Williams. I hastened to assure my friends that I was none the worse for my +captivity. + +"Ken, your little gun doesn't shoot where it points," said Jim. "I shore +had a bead on the Greaser an' missed him. First Greaser I ever missed." + +"You shot his ear off," I replied. "He came running back covered with +blood. I never saw a man so scared." + +"Wal, I shore am glad," drawled Jim. + +"He made off with your mustang," said Dick. + +This information lessened my gladness at Greaser's escape. Still, I would +rather have had him get away on my horse than stay to be shot by Jim. + +Dick called me to go outside with him. My pack was lying under one of the +pines near the cabin, and examination proved that nothing had been +disturbed. We found the horses grazing up the canyon. Buell had taken the +horse of one of his men, and had left his own superb bay. Most likely he +had jumped astride the first animal he saw. Dick said I could have Buell's +splendid horse. I had some trouble in catching him, as he was restive and +spirited, but I succeeded eventually, and we drove the other horses and +ponies into the glade. My comrades then fell to arguing about what to do +with the prisoners. Dick was for packing them off to Holston. Bent talked +against this, saying it was no easy matter to drive bound men over rough +trails, and Jim sided with him. + +Once, while they were talking, I happened to catch Herky-Jerky's eye. He +was lying on his back in the light from the door. Herky winked at me, +screwed up his face in the most astonishing manner, all of which I +presently made out to mean that he wanted to speak to me. So I went over to +him. + +"Kid, you ain't a-goin' to fergit I stalled off Buell?" whispered Herky. +"He'd hev done fer you, an' thet's no lie. You won't fergit when we're +rustled down to Holston?" + +"I'll remember, Herky," I promised, and I meant to put in a good word for +him. Because, whether or not his reasons had to do with kidnapping and +ransom, he had saved me from terrible violence, perhaps death. + +It was decided that we would leave the prisoners in the cabin and ride down +to the sawmill. Hiram was to return at once with officers. If none could be +found at the mill he was to guard the prisoners and take care of them till +Dick could send officers to relieve him. Thereupon we cooked a meal, and I +was put to feeding Herky and his companions. Dick ordered me especially to +make them drink water, as it might be a day or longer before Hiram could +get back. I made Bill drink, and easily filled up Herky; but Bud, who never +drank anything save whiskey, gave me a job. He refused with a growl, and I +insisted with what I felt sure was Christian patience. Still he would not +drink, so I put the cup to his lips and tipped it. Bud promptly spat the +water all over me. And I as promptly got another cupful and dashed it all +over him. + +"Bud, you'll drink or I'll drown you," I declared. + +So while Bill cracked hoarse jokes and Herky swore his pleasure, I made Bud +drink all he could hold. Jim got a good deal of fun out of it, but Dick and +Hiram never cracked a smile. Possibly the latter two saw something far from +funny in the outlook; at any rate, they were silent, almost moody, and in a +hurry to be off. + +Dick was so anxious to be on the trail that he helped me pack my pony, and +saddled Buell's horse. It was one thing to admire the big bay from the +ground, and it was another to be astride him. Target--that was his name- +-had a spirited temper, an iron mouth, and he had been used to a sterner +hand than mine. He danced all over the glade before he decided to behave +himself. Riding him, however, was such a great pleasure that a more timid +boy than I would have taken the risk. He would not let any horse stay near +him; he pulled on the bridle, and leaped whenever a branch brushed him. I +had been on some good horses, but never on one with a swing like his, and I +grew more and more possessed with the desire to let him run. + +"Like as not he'll bolt with you. Hold him in, Ken!" called Dick, as he +mounted. Then he shouted a final word to the prisoners, saying they would +be looked after, and drove the pack-ponies into the trail. As we rode out +we passed several of the horses that we had decided to leave behind, and as +they wanted to follow us it was necessary to drive them back. + +I had my hands full with the big, steel-jawed steed I was trying to hold +in. It was the hardest work of the kind that I had ever undertaken. I had +never worn spurs, but now I began to wish for them. We traveled at a good +clip, as fast as the pack-ponies could go, and covered a long distance by +camping-time. I was surprised that we did not get out of the canyon. The +place where we camped was a bare, rocky opening, with a big pool in the +center. While we were making camp it suddenly came over me that I was +completely bewildered as to our whereabouts. I could not see the mountain +peaks and did not know one direction from another. Even when Jim struck out +of our trail and went off alone toward Holston I could not form an idea of +where I was. All this, however, added to my feeling of the bigness of +Penetier. + +Dick was taciturn, and old Hiram, when I tried to engage him in +conversation, cut me off with the remark that I would need my breath on the +morrow. This somewhat offended me. So I made my bed and rolled into it. Not +till I had lain quiet for a little did I realize that every bone and muscle +felt utterly worn out. I seemed to deaden and stiffen more each moment. +Presently Dick breathed heavily and Hiram snored. The red glow of fire +paled and died. I heard the clinking of the hobbles on Target, and a step, +now and then, of the other horses. The sky grew ever bluer and colder, the +stars brighter and larger, and the night wind moaned in the pines. I heard +a coyote bark, a trout splash in the pool, and the hoot of an owl. Then the +sounds and the clear, cold night seemed to fade away. + +When Dick roused me the forest was shrouded in gray, cold fog. No time was +lost in getting breakfast, driving in the horses, and packing. Hardly any +words were exchanged. My comrades appeared even soberer than on the day +before. The fog lifted quickly that morning, and soon the sun was shining. + +We got under way at once, and took to the trail at a jog-trot. I knew my +horse better and he was more used to me, which made it at least bearable to +both of us. Before long the canyon widened out into the level forest land +thickly studded with magnificent pines. I had again the feeling of awe and +littleness. Everything was solemn and still. The morning air was cool, and +dry as toast; the smell of pitch-pine choked my nostrils. We rode briskly +down the broad brown aisles, across the sunny glades, under the murmuring +pines. + +The old hunter was leading our train, and evidently knew perfectly what he +was about. Unexpectedly he halted, bringing us up short. The pack-ponies +lined up behind us. Hiram looked at Dick. + +"I smell smoke," he said, sniffing at the fragrant air. + +Dick stared at the old hunter and likewise sniffed. I followed their lead, +but all I could smell was the thick, piney odor of the forest. + +"I don't catch it," replied Dick. + +We continued on our journey perhaps for a quarter of a mile, and then Hiram +Bent stopped again. This time he looked significantly at Dick without +speaking a word. + +"Ah!" exclaimed Dick. I thought his tone sounded queer, but it did not at +the moment strike me forcibly. We rode on. The forest became lighter, +glimpses of sky showed low down through the trees, we were nearing a slope. + +For the third time the old hunter brought us to a stop, this time on the +edge of a slope that led down to the rolling foot-hills. I could only stand +and gaze. Those open stretches, sloping down, all green and brown and +beautiful, robbed me of thought. + +"Look thar!" cried Hiram Bent. + +His tone startled me. I faced about, to see his powerful arm outstretched +and his finger pointing. His stern face added to my sudden concern. +Something was wrong with my friends. I glanced in the direction he +indicated. There were two rolling slopes or steps below us, and they were +like gigantic swells of a green ocean. Beyond the second one rose a long, +billowy, bluish cloud. It was smoke. All at once I smelled smoke, too. It +came on the fresh, strong wind. + +"Forest fire!" exclaimed Dick. + +"Wal, I reckon," replied Hiram, tersely. "An' look thar, an' thar!" + +Far to the right and far to the left, over the green, swelling foot-hills, +rose that rounded, changing line of blue cloud. + +"The slash! the slash! Buell's fired the slash!" cried Dick, as one suddenly +awakened. "Penetier will go!" + +"Wal, I reckon. But thet's not the worst." + +"You mean--" + +"Mebbe we can't get out. The forest's dry as powder, an' thet's the worst +wind we could have. These canyon-draws suck in the wind, an' fire will race +up them fast as a hoss can run." + +"Good God, man! What'll we do?" + +"Wait. Mebbe it ain't so bad--yet. Now let's all listen." + +The faces of my friends, more than words, terrified me. I listened with all +my ears while watching with all my eyes. The line of rolling cloud +expanded, seemed to burst and roll upward, to bulge and mushroom. In a few +short moments it covered the second slope as far to the right and left as +we could see. The under surface was a bluish white. It shot up swiftly, to +spread out into immense, slow-moving clouds of creamy yellow. + +"Hear thet?" Hiram Bent shook his gray head as one who listened to dire +tidings. + +The wind, sweeping up the slope of Penetier, carried a strong, pungent odor +of burning pitch. It brought also a low roar, not like the wind in the +trees or rapid-rushing water. It might have been my imagination, but I +fancied it was like the sound of flames blowing through the wood of a +campfire. + +"Fire! Fire!" exclaimed Hiram, with another ominous shake of his head. "We +must be up an' doin'." + +"The forest's greatest foe! Old Penetier is doomed!" cried Dick Leslie. +"That line of fire is miles long, and is spreading fast. It'll shoot up +the canyons and crisscross the forest in no time. Bent, what'll we do?" + +"Mebbe we can get around the line. We must, or we'll have to make tracks +for the mountain, an' thet's a long chance. You take to the left an' I'll +go to the right, an' we'll see how the fire's runnin'." + +"What will Ken do?" + +"Wal, let him stay here--no, thet won't do! We might get driven back a +little an' have to circle. The safest place in this forest is where we +camped. Thet's not far. Let him drive the ponies back thar an' wait." + +"All right. Ken, you hustle the pack-team back to our last night's camp. +Wait there for us. We won't be long." + +Dick galloped off through the forest, and Hiram went down the slope in +almost the opposite direction. Left alone, I turned my horse and drove the +pack-ponies along our back-trail. Thus engaged, I began to recover somewhat +from the terror that had stupefied me. Still, I kept looking back. I found +the mouth of the canyon and the trail, and in what I thought a very short +time I reached the bare, rocky spot where we had last camped. The horses +all drank thirstily, and I discovered that I was hot and dry. + +Then I waited. At every glance I expected to see Dick and Hiram riding up +the canyon. But moments dragged by, and they did not come. Here there was +no sign of smoke, nor even the faintest hint of the roar of the fire. The +wind blew strongly up the canyon, and I kept turning my ear to it. In spite +of the fact that my friends did not come quickly I had begun to calm my +fears. They would return presently with knowledge of the course of the fire +and the way to avoid it. My thoughts were mostly occupied with sorrow for +beautiful Penetier. What a fiend Buell was! I had heard him say he would +fire the slash, and he had kept his word. + +Half an hour passed. I saw a flash of gray down the canyon, and shouted in +joy. But what I thought Dick and Hiram was a herd of deer. They were +running wildly. They clicked on the stones, and scarcely swerved for the +pack-ponies. It took no second glance to see that they were fleeing from +the fire. This brought back all my alarms, and every moment that I waited +thereafter added to them. I watched the trail and under the trees for my +friends, and I scanned the sky for signs of the blue-white clouds of smoke. +But I saw neither. + +"Dick told me to wait here; but how long shall I wait?" I muttered. +"Something's happened to him. If only I could see what that fire is doing!" + +The camping-place was low down between two slopes, one of which was high +and had a rocky cliff standing bare in the sunlight. I conceived the idea +of climbing to it. I could not sit quietly waiting any longer. So, mounting +Target, I put him up the slope. It was not a steep climb, still it was long +and took considerable time. Before I reached the gray cliff I looked down +over the forest to see the rolling, smoky clouds. We climbed higher and +still higher, till Target reached the cliff and could go no farther. +Leaping off, I tied him securely and bent my efforts to getting around on +top of the cliff. If I had known what a climb it was I should not have +attempted it, but I could not back out with the summit looming over me. It +ran up to a ragged crag. Hot, exhausted, and out of breath, I at last got +there. + +As I looked I shouted in surprise. It seemed that the whole of Penetier was +under my feet. The green slope disappeared in murky clouds of smoke. There +were great pillars and huge banks of yellow and long streaks of black, and +here and there, underneath, moving splashes of red. The thing did not stay +still one instant. It changed so that I could not tell what it did look +like. Them were life and movement in it, and something terribly sinister. I +tried to calculate how far distant the fire was and how fast it was coming, +but that, in my state of mind, I could not do. The whole sweep of forest +below me was burning. I felt the strong breeze and smelled the burnt wood. +Puffs of white smoke ran out ahead of the main clouds, and I saw three of +them widely separated. What they meant puzzled me. But all of a sudden I +saw in front of the nearest a flickering gleam of red. Then I knew those +white streams of smoke rose where the fire was being sucked up the canyons. +They leaped along with amazing speed. It was then that I realized that Dick +and Hiram had been caught by one of these offshoots of the fire, and had +been compelled to turn away to save their lives. Perhaps they would both be +lost. For a moment I felt faint, but I fought it off. I had to think of +myself. It was every one for himself, and perhaps there was many a man +caught on Penetier with only a slender chance for life. + +"Oh! oh!" I cried, suddenly. "Herky, Bud, and Bill tied helpless in that +cabin! Dick forgot them. They'll be burned to death!" + +As I stood there, trembling at the thought of Herky and his comrades bound +hand and foot, the first roar of the forest fire reached my ears. It +threatened, but it roused my courage. I jumped as if I had been shot, and +clattered down that crag with wings guiding my long leaps. No crevice or +jumble of loose stones or steep descent daunted me. I reached the horse, +and, grasping the bridle, I started to lead him. We had zigzagged up, we +went straight down. Target was too spirited to balk, but he did everything +else. More than once he reared with his hoofs high in the air, and, snorting, +crashed down. He pulled me off my feet, he pawed at me with his great +iron shoes. When we got clear of the roughest and most thickly overgrown +part of the descent I mounted him. Then I needed no longer to urge him. The +fire had entered the canyon, the hollow roar swept up and filled Target +with the same fright that possessed me. He plunged down, slid on his +haunches, jumped the logs, crashed through brush. I had continually to rein +him toward the camp. He wanted to turn from that hot wind and strange roar. + +We reached a level, the open, stony ground, then the pool. The pack-ponies +were standing patiently with drooping heads. The sun was obscured in thin +blue haze. Smoke and dust and ashes blew by with the wind. I put Target's +nose down to the water, so that he would drink. Then I cut packs off the +ponies, spilled the contents, and filled my pockets with whatever I could +lay my hands on in the way of eatables. I hung a canteen on the pommel, and +threw a bag of biscuits over the saddle and tied it fast. My fingers worked +swiftly. There was a fluttering in my throat, and my sight was dim. All the +time the roar of the forest fire grew louder and more ominous. + +The ponies would be safe. I would be safe in the lee of the big rocks near +the pool. But I did not mean to stay. I could not stay with those men lying +tied up in the cabin. Herky had saved me. Still it was not that which +spurred me on. + +Target snorted shrilly and started back from the water, ready to stampede. +Slipping the bridle into place, I snapped the bit between his teeth. I had +to swing off my feet to pull his head down. + +Even as I did this I felt the force of the wind. It was hard to breathe. A +white tumbling column of smoke hid sky and sun. All about me it was like a +blue twilight. + +The appalling roar held me spellbound with my foot in the stirrup. It drew +my glance even in that moment of flight. + +Under the shifting cloud flashes of red followed by waves of fire raced +through the tree-tops. That the forest fire traveled through the tree-tops +was as new to me as it was terrible. The fire seemed to make and drive the +wind. Lower down along the ground was a dull furnace-glow, now dark, now +bright. It all brought into my mind a picture I had seen of the end of the +world. + +Target broke the spell by swinging me up into the saddle as he leaped +forward with a furious snort. I struck him with the bridle, and yelled: + +"You iron-jawed brute! You've been crazy to run--now run!" + + + +XVII. THE BACK-FIRE + +Target pounded over the scaly ground and thundered into the hard trail. +Then he stretched out. As we cleared the last obstructing pile of rocks I +looked back. There was a vast wave of fire rolling up the canyon and +spreading up the slopes. It was so close that I nearly fainted. With both +hands knotted and stiff I clung to the pommel in a cold horror, and I +looked back no more to see the flames reaching out for me. But I could +not keep the dreadful roar from filling my ears, and it weakened me so +that I all but dropped from the saddle. Only an unconscious instinct to +fight for life made me hold on. + +Blue and white puffs of smoke swept by me. The trail was a dim, twisting +line. The slopes and pines, merged in a mass, flew backward in brown +sheets. Above the roar of the pursuing fire I heard the thunder of Target's +hoofs. I scarcely felt him or the saddle, only a motion and the splitting +of the wind. + +The fear of death by fire, which had almost robbed me of strength, passed +from me. My brain cleared. Still I had no kind of hope, only a desperate +resolve not to give up. + +The great bay horse was running to save his life and to save mine. It was a +race with fire. When I thought of the horse, and saw how fast he was going, +and realized that I must do my part, I was myself again. + +The trail was a winding, hard-packed thread of white ground. It had been +made for leisurely travel. Many turns were sudden and sharp. I loosened the +reins, and cried out to Target. Evidently I had unknowingly held him in, +for he lengthened out, and went on in quicker, longer leaps. In that moment +riding seemed easy. I listened to the roar behind me, now a little less +deafening, and began to thrill. We were running away from the fire. + +Hope made the race seem different. Something stirred and beat warm within +me, driving out the chill in my marrow. I leaned over the neck of the great +bay horse, and called to him and cheered him on. Then I saw he was deaf and +blind to me, for he was wild. He had the bit between his teeth, and was +running away. + +The roar behind us relentlessly pursuing, only a little less appalling, was +now not my only source of peril. Target could no more be guided nor stopped +than could the forest fire. The trail grew more winding and overhung more +thickly by pine branches. The horse did not swerve an inch for tree or +thicket, but ran as if free, and the saving of my life began to be a matter +of dodging. Once a crashing blow from a branch almost knocked me from the +saddle. The wind in my ears half drowned the roar behind me. With hands +twisted in Target's mane I bent low, watching with keen eyes for the trees +and branches ahead. I drew up my knees and bent my body, and dodged and +went down flat over the pommel like a wild-riding Indian. Target kept that +straining run for a longer distance than I could judge. With the same +breakneck speed he thundered on over logs and little washes, through the +thick, bordering bushes, and around the sudden turns. His foam moistened my +face and flecked my sleeves. The wind came stinging into my face, the heavy +roar followed at my back with its menace. + +Swift and terrible as the forest fire was, Target was winning the race. I +knew it. Steadily the roar softened, but it did not die away. Pound! pound! +pound! The big bay charged up the trail. How long could he stand that +killing pace? I began to talk soothingly to him, to pull on the bridle; but +he might have been an avalanche for all he heeded. Still I kept at him, +fighting him every moment that I was free from low branches. Gradually the +strain began to tell. + +The sight of a cabin brought back to my mind the meaning of the wild race +with fire. I had forgotten the prisoners. I had reached the forest glade +and the cabin, but Target was still going hard. What if I could not stop +him! Summoning all my strength, I quickly threw weight and muscle back on +the reins and snapped the bit out of his teeth. Then coaxing, commanding, I +pulled him back. In the glade were four horses, standing bunched with heads +and ears up, uneasy, and beginning to be frightened. Perhaps the sight of +them helped me to stop Target; at any rate, he slackened his pace and +halted. He was spotted with foam, dripping wet, and his broad sides heaved. + +I jumped off, stiff and cramped. I could scarcely walk. The air was clear, +though the fog of smoke overspread the sun. The wind blew strong with a +scent of pitch. Now that I was not riding, the roar of the fire sounded +close. I caught the same strange growl, the note of on-sweeping fury. Again +the creepy cold went over me. I felt my face blanch, and the skin tighten +over my cheeks. I dashed into the cabin, crying: "Fire! Fire! Fire!" + +"Whoop! It's the kid!" yelled Herky-Jerky. + +He was lying near the door, red as a brick in the face, and panting hard. +In one cut I severed the rope on his feet; in another, that round his raw +and bloody wrists. Herky had torn his flesh trying to release his hands. + +"Kid, how'd you git back hyar?" he questioned, with his sharp little eyes +glinting on me. "Did the fire chase you? Whar's Leslie?" + +"Buell fired the slash. Penetier is burning. Dick and Hiram sent me back to +the pool below, and then didn't come. They got caught--oh! . . . I'm +afraid--lost! . . . Then I remembered you fellows. The fire's coming--it's +awful--we must fly!" + +"You thought of us?" Herky's voice sounded queer and strangled. "Bud! +Bill! Did you hear thet? Wal, wal!" + +While he muttered on I cut Bill's bonds. He rose without a word. Bud was +almost unconscious. He had struggled terribly. His heels had dug a hole +in the hard clay floor; his wrists were skinned; his mouth and chin covered +with earth, probably from his having bitten the ground in his agony. Herky +helped him up and gave him a drink from a little pocket-flask. + +"Herky, if you think you've rid some in your day, look at thet hoss," said +Bill, coolly, from the door. He eyed me coolly; in fact, he was as cool as +if there were no fire on Penetier. But Bud was white and sick, and Herky +flaming with excitement. + +"We hain't got a chance. Listen! Thet roar! She's hummin'." + +"It's runnin' up the draw. We don't stand no showdown in hyar. Grab a hoss +now, an' we'll try to head acrost the ridge." + +I remounted Target, and the three men caught horses and climbed up +bareback. Bill led the way across the glade, up the slope, into the level +forest. There we broke into a gallop. The air upon this higher ground was +dark and thick, but not so hard to breathe as that lower down. We pressed +on. For a while the roar receded, and almost deadened. Then it grew clearer +again' filled out, and swelled. Bud wanted to sheer off to the left. Herky +swore we were being surrounded. Bill turned a deaf ear to them. From my own +sense of direction I fancied we were going wrong, but Bill was so cool he +gave me courage. Soon a blue, windy haze, shrouding the giant pines ahead, +caused Bill to change his course. + +"Do you know whar you're headin'?" yelled Herky, high above the roar. + +"I hain't got the least idee, Herky," shouted Bill, as cool as could be, +"but I guess somewhar whar it'll be hot!" + +We were lost in the forest and almost surrounded by fire, if the roar was +anything to tell by. We galloped on, always governed by the roar, always +avoiding the slope up the mountain. If we once started up that with the +fire in our rear we were doomed. Perhaps there were times when the wind +deceived us. It was hard to tell. Anyway, we kept on, growing more +bewildered. Bud looked like a dead man already and reeled in his saddle. +The horses were getting hard to manage, and the wind was strengthening and +puffed at us from all quarters. Bill still looked cool, but the last +vestige of color had faded from his face. These things boded ill. Herky +had grown strangely silent, which fact was the worst of all for me. For that +tough, scarred, reckless little wretch to hold his tongue was the last +straw. + +The air freshened somewhat, and the forest lightened. Almost abruptly we +rode out to the edge of a great, wide canyon. It must have crossed the +forest at right angles to the canyon we had left. It was twice as wide and +deep as any I had yet seen. In the bottom wound a broad brook. + +"Which way now?" asked Herky. + +Bill shook his head. Far to our right a pall of smoke moved over the +tree-tops, to our left was foggy gloom, behind rolled the unceasing roar. +We all looked straight across. Probably each of us harbored the same +thought. Before that wind the fire would leap the canyon in flaming bounds, +and on the opposite level was the thick pitch-pine forest of Penetier +proper. So far we had been among the foot-hills. We dared not enter the +real forest with that wild-fire back of us. Momentarily we stood +irresolute. It was a pause full of hopelessness, such as might have come to +tired deer, close harried by hounds. + +The winding brook and the brown slope, comparatively bare of trees, brought +me a sudden inspiration. + +"Back-fire! Back-fire!" I cried to my companions, in wild appeal. "We must +back-fire. It's our chance! Here's the place!" + +Bud scowled and Herky grumbled, but Bill grasped at the idea. + +"I've heerd of back-firin'. The rangers do it. But how? How?" + +They caught his hope, and their haggard faces lightened. + +"Kid, we ain't forest rangers," said Herky. "Do you know what you're talkin' +about?" + +"Yes, yes! Come on! We'll back-fire!" + +I led the way down the slope, and they came close at my heels. I rode into +the shallow brook, and dismounted about the middle between the banks. I +hung my coat on the pommel of my saddle. + +"Bud, you and Bill hold the horses here!" I shouted, intensely excited. +"Herky, have you matches?" + +"Nary a match." + +"Hyar's a box," said Bill, tossing it. + +"Come on, Herky! You run up the brook. Light a match, and drop it every +hundred feet. Be sure it catches. Lucky there's little wind down here. Go +as far as you can. I'll run down!" + +We splashed out of the brook and leaped up the bank. The grass was long and +dry. There was brush near by, and the pine-needle mats almost bordered the +bank. I struck a match and dropped it. + +Sis-s-s! Flare! It was almost like dropping a spark into gunpowder. The +flame ran quickly, reached the pine-needles, then sputtered and fizzed into +a big blaze. The first pine-tree exploded and went off like a rocket. We +were startled by the sound and the red, up-leaping pillar of fire. Sudden +heat shot back at us as if from a furnace. Great sparks began to fall. + +"It's goin'!" yelled Herky-Jerky, his voice ringing strong. He clapped his +hat down on my bare head. Then he started running up-stream. + +I darted in the opposite direction. I heard Bud and Bill yelling, and the +angry crack and hiss of the fire. A few rods down I stopped, struck another +match, and lit the grass. There was a sputter and flash. Then the flame +flared up, spread like running quicksilver, and, meeting the pine-needles, +changed to red. I ran on. There was a loud flutter behind me, then a crack +almost like a shot, then a seething roar. Another pine had gone off. As I +stopped to strike the third match there came three distinct reports, and +then others that seemed dulled in a windy roar. I raced onward, daring only +once to look back. A fearful sight met my gaze. The slope was a red wave. +The pines were tufts of flame. The air was filled with steaming clouds of +whirling smoke. Then I fled onward again. + +Match after match I struck, and when the box was empty I must have been a +mile, two miles, maybe more, from the starting-point. I was wringing-wet, +and there was a piercing pain in my side. I plunged across the brook, and +in as deep water as I could find knelt down to cover all but my face. Then, +with laboring breaths that bubbled the water near my mouth, I kept still +and watched. + +The back-fire which I had started swept up over the slope and down the +brook like a charge of red lancers. Spears of flame led the advance. The +flame licked up the dry surface-grass and brush, and, meeting the pines, +circled them in a whirlwind of fire, like lightning flashing upward. Then +came prolonged reports, and after that a long, blistering roar in the +tree-tops. Even as I gazed, appalled in the certainty of a horrible fate, I +thrilled at the grand spectacle. Fire had always fascinated me. The clang +of the engines and the call of "Fire!" would tear me from any task or play. +But I had never known what fire was. I knew now. Storms of air and sea were +nothing compared to this. It was the greatest force in nature. It was fire. +On one hand, I seemed cool and calculated the chances; on the other, I had +flashes in my brain, and kept crying out crazily, in a voice like a +whisper: "Fire! Fire! Fire!" + +But presently the wall of fire rolled by and took the roar with it. Dense +billows of smoke followed, and hid everything in opaque darkness. I heard +the hiss of failing sparks and the crackle of burning wood, and +occasionally the crash of a failing branch. It was intolerably hot, but I +could stand the heat better than the air. I coughed and strangled. I could +not get my breath. My eyes smarted and burned. Crawling close under the +bank, I leaned against it and waited. + +Some hours must have passed. I suffered, not exactly pain, but a discomfort +that was almost worse. By-and-by the air cleared a little. Rifts in the +smoke drifted over me, always toward the far side of the canyon. Twice I +crawled out upon the bank, but the heat drove me back into the water. The +snow-water from the mountain-peaks had changed from cold to warm; still, it +gave a relief from the hot blast of air. More time dragged by. Weary to the +point of collapse, I grew not to care about anything. + +Then the yellow fog lightened, and blew across the brook and lifted and +split. The parts of the canyon-slope that I could see were seared and +blackened. The pines were columns of living coals. The fire was eating into +their hearts. Presently they would snap at the trunk, crash down, and burn +to ashes. Wreathes of murky smoke circled them, and drifted aloft to join +the overhanging clouds. + +I floundered out on the bank, and began to walk up-stream. After all, it +was not so very hot, but I felt queer. I did not seem to be able to step +where I looked or see where I stepped. Still, that caused me no worry. The +main thing was that the fire had not yet crossed the brook. I wanted to +feel overjoyed at that, but I was too tired. Anyway I was sure the fire had +crossed below or above. It would be tearing down on this side presently, +and then I would have to crawl into the brook or burn up. It did not matter +much which I had to do. Then I grew dizzy, my legs trembled, my feet lost +all sense of touching the ground. I could not go much farther. Just then I +heard a shout. It was close by. I answered, and heard heavy steps. I peered +through the smoky haze. Something dark moved up in the gloom. + +"Ho, kid! Thar you are!" I felt a strong arm go round my waist. "Wal, wal!" +That was Herky. His voice sounded glad. It roused a strange eagerness in +me; his rough greeting seemed to bring me back from a distance. + +"All wet, but not burned none, I, see. We kinder was afeared. . . . Say, +kid, thet back-fire, now. It was a dandy. It did the biz. Our whiskers was +singed, but we're safe. An, kid, it was your game, played like a man + +After that his voice grew faint, and I felt as if I were walking in a +dream. + + + +XVIII. CONCLUSION + +That dreadful feeling of motion went away, and I became unconscious of +everything. When I awoke the sun was gleaming dimly through thin films of +smoke. I was lying in a pleasant little ravine with stunted pines fringing +its slopes. The brook bowled merrily over stones. + +Bud snored in the shade of a big boulder. Herky whistled as he broke dead +branches into fagots for a campfire. Bill was nowhere in sight. I saw +several of the horses browsing along the edge of the water. + +My drowsy eyelids fell back again. When I awoke a long time seemed to have +passed. The air was clearer, the sky darker, and the sun had gone behind +the peaks. I saw Bill and Herky skinning a deer. + +"Where are we?" I asked, sitting up. + +"Hello, kid!" replied Herky, cheerily. "We come up to the head of the +canyon, thet's all. How're you feelin'?" + +"I'm all right, only tired. Where's the forest fire?" + +"It's most burned out by now. It didn't jump the canyon into the big +forest. Thet back-fire did the biz. Say, kid, wasn't settin' off them pines +an' runnin' fer your life jest like bein' in a battle?" + +"It certainly was. Herky, how long will we be penned up here?" + +"Only a day or two. I reckon we'd better not risk takin' you back to +Holston till we're sure about the fire. Anyways, kid, you need rest. You're +all played out." + +Indeed, I was so weary that it took an effort to lift my hand. A strange +lassitude made me indifferent. But Herky's calm mention of taking me back +to Holston changed the color of my mood. I began to feel more cheerful. The +meal we ate was scant enough--biscuits and steaks of broiled venison with a +pinch of salt; but, starved as we were, it was more than satisfactory. +Herky and Bill were absurdly eager to serve me. Even Bud was kind to me, +though he still wore conspicuously over his forehead the big bruise I had +given him. After I had eaten I began to gain strength. But my face was +puffed from the heat, my injured arm was stiff and sore, and my legs seemed +never to have been used before. + +Darkness came on quickly. The dew fell heavily, and the air grew chilly. +Our blazing campfire was a comfort. Bud and Bill carried in logs for +firewood, while Herky made me a bed of dry pine needles. + +"It'll be some cold tonight," he said," an' we'll hev to hug the fire. Now +if we was down in the foot-hills we'd be warmer, hey? Look thar!" + +He pointed down the ravine, and I saw a great white arc of light extending +up into the steely sky. + +"The forest fire?" + +"Yep, she's burnin' some. But you oughter seen it last night. Not thet it +ain't worth seein' jest now. Come along with me." + +He led me where the ravine opened wide. I felt, rather than saw, a steep +slope beneath. Far down was a great patch of fire. It was like a crazy +quilt, here dark, there light, with streaks and stars and streams of fire +shining out of the blackness. Masses of slow-moving smoke overhung the +brighter areas. The night robbed the forest fire of its fierceness and lent +it a kind of glory. The fire had ceased to move; it had spent its force, +run its race, and was now dying. But I could not forget what it had been, +what it had done. Thousands of acres of magnificent pines had perished. The +shade and color and beauty of that part of the forest had gone. The heart +of the great trees was now slowly rolling away in those dark, weird clouds +of smoke. I was sad for the loss and sick with fear for Dick and Hiram. + +Herky must have known my mind. + +"You needn't feel bad, kid. Thet's only a foothill or so of Penetier gone +up in smoke. An' Buell's sawmill went, too. It's almost a sure thing thet +Leslie an' old Bent got out safe, though they must be doin' some tall +worryin' about you. I wonder how they feel about me an' Bud an' Bill? A +little prematoore roastin' for us, eh? Wal, wal!" + +We went back to the camp. I lay down near the fire and fell asleep. Some +time in the night I awoke. The fire was still burning brightly. Bud and +Bill were lying with their backs to it almost close enough to scorch. Herky +sat in his shirtsleeves. The smoke of his pipe and the smoke of the +campfire wafted up together. Then I saw and felt that he had covered me +with his coat and vest. + +I slept far into the next day. Herky was in camp alone. The others had +gone, Herky said, and he would not tell me where. He did not appear as +cheerful as usual. I suspected he had quarreled with his companions, very +likely about what was to be done with me. The day passed, and again I +slept. Herky awakened me before it was light. + +"Come, kid, we'll rustle in to Holston today." + +We cooked our breakfast of venison, and then Herky went in search of the +horses. They had browsed far up the ravine, and the dawn had broken by the +time he returned. Target stood well to be saddled, nor did he bolt when I +climbed up. Perhaps that ride I gave him had chastened and subdued his +spirit. Well, it had nearly killed me. Herky mounted the one horse left, a +sorry-looking pack-pony, and we started down the ravine. + +An hour of steady descent passed by before we caught sight of any burned +forest land. Then as we descended into the big canyon we turned a curve and +saw, far ahead to the left, a black, smoky, hideous slope. We kept to the +right side of the brook and sheered off just as we reached a point +opposite, where the burned line began. Fire had run up that side till +checked by bare weathered slopes and cliffs. As far down the brook as eye +could see through the smoky haze there stretched that black line of +charred, spear-pointed pines, some glowing, some blazing, all smoking. + +From time to time, as we climbed up the slope, I looked back. The higher I +got the more hideous became the outlook over the burned district. I was +glad when Herky led the way into the deep shade of level forest, shutting +out the view. It would take a hundred years to reforest those acres denuded +of their timber by the fire of a few days. But as hour after hour went by, +with our trail leading through miles and miles of the same old forest that +had bewitched me, I began to feel a little less grief at the thought of +what the fire had destroyed. It was a loss, yet only a small part of vast +Penetier. If only my friends had gotten out alive! + +Herky was as relentless in his travelling as I had found him in some other +ways. He kept his pony at a trot. The trail was open, we made fast time, +and when the sun had begun to cast a shadow before us we were going +down-hill. Busy with the thought of my friends, I scarcely noted the +passing of time. It was a surprise to me when we rode down the last little +foot-hill, out into the scattered pines, and saw Holston only a few miles +across the sage-flat. + +"Wal, kid, we've come to the partin' of the ways," said Herky, with a +strange smile on his smug face. + +"Herky, won't you ride in with me?" + +"Naw, I reckon it'd not be healthy fer me." + +"But you haven't even a saddle or blanket or any grub." + +"I've a friend across hyar a ways, a rancher, an' he'll fix me up. But, +kid, I'd like to hev thet hoss. He was Buell's, an' Buell owed me money. +Now I calkilate you can't take Target back East with you, an' you might as +well let me have him." + +"Sure, Herky." I jumped off at once, led the horse over, and held out the +bridle. Herky dismounted, and began fumbling with the stirrup straps. + +"Your legs are longer'n mine," he explained. + +"Oh yes, Herky, I almost forgot to return your hat," I said, removing the +wide sombrero. It had a wonderful band made of horsehair and a buckle of +silver with a strange device. + +"Wal, you keep the hat," he replied, with his back turned. "Greaser stole +your hoss an' your outfit's lost, an' you might want somethin' to remember +your--your friends in Arizony. . . . Thet hat ain't much, but, say, the +buckle was an Injun's I shot, an' I made the band when I was in jail in +Yuma." + +"Thank you, Herky. I'll keep it, though I'd never need anything to make me +remember Arizona--or you." + +Herky swung his bow-legs over Target and I got astride the lean-backed +pony. There did not seem to be any more to say, yet we both lingered. + +"Good-bye, Herky, I'm glad I met you," I said, offering my hand. + +He gave it a squeeze that nearly crushed my fingers. His keen little eyes +gleamed, but he turned away without another word, and, slapping Target on +the flank, rode off under the trees. + +I put the hat back on my head and watched Herky for a moment. His silence +and abrupt manner were unlike him, but what struck me most was the fact +that in our last talk every word had been clean and sincere. Somehow it +pleased me. Then I started the pony toward Holston. + +He was tired and I was ready to drop, and those last few miles were long. +We reached the outskirts of the town perhaps a couple of hours before +sundown. A bank of clouds had spread out of the west and threatened rain. + +The first person I met was Cless, and he put the pony in his corral and +hurried me round to the hotel. On the way he talked so fast and said so +much that I was bewildered before we got there. The office was full of men, +and Cless shouted to them. There was the sound of a chair scraping hard on +the floor, then I felt myself clasped by brawny arms. After that all was +rather hazy in my mind. I saw Dick and Jim and old Hiram, though, I could +not see them distinctly, and I heard them all talking, all questioning at +once. Then I was talking in a somewhat silly way, I thought, and after that +some one gave me a hot, nasty drink, and I felt the cool sheets of a bed. + +The next morning all was clear. Dick came to my room and tried to keep me +in bed, but I refused to stay. We went down to breakfast, and sat at a +table with Jim and Hiram. It seemed to me that I could not answer any +questions till I had asked a thousand. + +What news had they for me? Buell had escaped, after firing the slash. His +sawmill and lumber-camp and fifty thousand acres of timber had been burned. +The fire had in some way been confined to the foot-hills. It had rained all +night, so the danger of spreading was now over. My letter had brought the +officers of the forest service; even the Chief, who had been travelling +west over the Santa Fe, had stopped off and was in Holston then. There had +been no arrests, nor would there be, unless Buell or Stockton could be +found. A new sawmill was to be built by the service. Buell's lumbermen +would have employment in the mill and as rangers in the forest. + +But I was more interested in matters which Dick seemed to wish to avoid. + +"How did you get out of the burning forest?" I asked, for the second time. + +"We didn't get out. We went back to the pool where we sent you. The +pack-ponies were there, but you were gone. By George! I was mad, and then I +was just broken up. I was . . . afraid you'd been burned. We weathered the +fire all right, and then rode in to Holston. Now the mystery is where were +you?" + +"Then you saved all the ponies?" + +"Yes, and brought your outfit in. But, Ken, we--that was awful of us to +forget those poor fellows tied fast in the cabin." Dick looked haggard, +there was a dark gloom in his eyes, and he gulped. Then I knew why he +avoided certain references to the fire. "To be burned alive . . . horrible! +I'll never get over it. It'll haunt me always. Of course we had to save +our own lives; we had no time to go to them. Yet--" + +"Don't let it worry you, Dick," I interrupted. + +"What do you mean?" he asked, slowly. + +"Why, I beat the fire up to the cabin, that's all. Buell's horse can run +some. I cut the men loose, and we made up across the ridge, got lost, +surrounded by fire, and then I got Herky to help me start a back-fire in +that big canyon." + +"Back-fire!" exclaimed Dick, slamming the table with his big fist. Then he +settled down and looked at me. Hiram looked at me. Jim looked at me, and +not one of them said a word for what seemed a long time. It brought the +blood to my face. But for all my embarrassment it was sweet praise. At last +Dick broke the silence. + +"Ken Ward, this stumps me I . . . Tell us about it." + +So I related my adventures from the moment they had left me till we met +again. + +"It was a wild boy's trick, Ken--that ride in the very face of fire in a +dry forest. But, thank God, you saved the lives of those fellows." "Amen!" +exclaimed old Hiram, fervently. "My lad, you saved Penetier, too; thar's no +doubt on it. The fire was sweepin' up the canyon, an' it would have crossed +the brook somewhars in thet stretch you back-fired." + +"Ken, you shore was born in Texas," drawl Jim Williams. + +His remark was unrelated to our talk, I did not know what he meant by it; +nevertheless it pleased me more than anything that had ever been said me in +my life. + +Then came the reading of letters that had a rived for me. In Hal's letter, +first and last harped on having been left behind. Father sent me a check, and +wrote that in the event of a trouble in the lumber district he trusted me +to take the first train for Harrisburg. That, I knew, meant that I must get +out of my ragged clothes. That I did, and packed them up--all except Herky +sombrero, which I wore. Then I went to the railroad station to see the +schedule, and I compromised with father by deciding to take the limited. +The fast east-bound train had gone a little before, and the next one did +not leave until six o'clock. Th would give me half a day with my friends. + +When I returned to the hotel Dick was looking for me. He carried me off +up-stairs to a hall full of men. At one end were tables littered with papers, +and here men were signing their name Dick explained that forest rangers +were being paid and new ones hired. Then he introduced me officers of the +service and the Chief. I knew by the way they looked at me that Dick had +been talking. It made me so tongue-tied that I could not find my voice when +the Chief spoke to me and shook my hand warmly. He was a tall man, with a +fine face and kind eyes and hair just touched with gray. + +"Kenneth Ward," he went on, pleasantly, "I hope that letter of introduction +I dictated for you some time ago has been of some service." + +"I haven't had a chance to use it yet," I blurted out, and I dived into my +pocket to bring forth the letter. It was wrinkled, soiled, and had been +soaked with water. I began to apologize for its disreputable appearance +when he interrupted me. + +"I've heard about the ducking you got and all the rest of it," he said, +smiling. Then his manner changed to one of business and hurry. + +"You are studying forestry?" + +"Yes, sir. I'm going to college this fall." + +"My friend in Harrisburg wrote me of your ambition and, I may say, aptness +for the forest service. I'm very much pleased. We need a host of bright +young fellows. Here, look at this map." + +He drew my attention to a map lying on the table, and made crosses and +tracings with a pencil while he talked. + +"This is Penetier. Here are the Arizona Peaks. The heavy shading represents +timbered land. All these are canyons. Here's Oak Creek Canyon, the one the +fire bordered. Now I want you to tell me how you worked that back-fire, +and, if you can, mark the line you fired." + +This appeared to me an easy task, and certainly one I was enthusiastic +over. I told him just how I had come to the canyon, and how I saw that the +fire would surely cross there, and that a back-fire was the only chance. +Then, carefully studying the map, I marked off the three miles Herky and I +had fired. + +"Very good. You had help in this?" + +"Yes. A fellow called Herky-Jerky. He was one of Buell's men who kept me a +prisoner." + +"But he turned out a pretty good sort, didn't he?" + +"Indeed, yes, sir." + +"Well, I'll try to locate him, and offer him a job in the service. Now, Mr. +Ward, you've had special opportunities; you have an eye in your head, and +you are interested in forestry. Perhaps you can help us. Personally I shall +be most pleased to hear what you think might be done in Penetier." + +I gasped and stared, and could scarcely believe my ears. But he was not +joking; he was as serious as if he had addressed himself to one of his +officers. I looked at them all, standing interested and expectant. Dick was +as grave and erect as a deacon. Jim seemed much impressed. But old Hiram +Bent, standing somewhat back of the others, deliberately winked at me. + +But for that wink I never could have seized my opportunity. It made me +remember my talks with Hiram. So I boiled down all that I had learned and +launched it on the Chief. Whether I was brief or not, I was out of breath +when I stopped. He appeared much surprised. + +"Thank you," he said, finally. "You certainly have been observant." Then he +turned to his officers. "Gentlemen, here's a new point of view from +first-hand observation. I call it splendid conservation. It's in the line +of my policy. It considers the settler and lumberman instead of combating +him." + +He shook hands with me again. "You may be sure I'll not lose sight of you. +Of course you will be coming West next summer, after your term at college?" + +"Yes, sir, I want to--if Dick--" + +He smiled as I hesitated. That man read my mind like an open book. + +"Mr. Leslie goes to the Coconina Forest as head forest ranger. Mr. Williams +goes as his assistant. And I have appointed Mr. Bent game warden in the +same forest. You may spend next summer with them." + +I stammered some kind of thanks, and found myself going out and down-stairs +with my friends. + +"Oh, Dick! Wasn't he fine? ... Say, where's Coconina Forest?" + +"It's over across the desert and beyond the Grand Canyon of Arizona. +Penetier is tame compared to Coconina. I'm afraid to let you come out +there." + +"I don't have to ask you, Mr. Dick," I replied. + +"Lad, I'll need a young fellar bad next summer," said old Hiram, with +twinkling eyes. "One as can handle a rope, an' help tie up lions an' sich." + +"Oh! my bear cub! I'd forgotten him. I wanted to take him home." + +"Wal, thar weren't no sense in thet, youngster, fer you couldn't do it. He +was a husky cub." + +"I hate to give up my mustang, too. Dick, have you heard of the Greaser?" + +"Not yet, but he'll be trailing into Holston before long." + +Jim Williams removed his pipe, and puffed a cloud of white smoke. + +"Ken, I shore ain't fergot Greaser," he drawled with his slow smile. "Hev +you any pertickler thing you want did to him?" + +"Jim, don't kill him!" I burst out, impetuously, and then paused, +frightened out of speech. Why I was afraid of him I did not know, he +seemed so easy-going, so careless--almost sweet, like a woman; but then +I had seen his face once with a look that I could never forget. + +"Wal, Ken, I'll dodge Greaser if he ever crosses my trail again." + +That promise was a relief. I knew Greaser would come to a bad end, and +certainly would get his just deserts; but I did not want him punished any +more for what he had done to me. + +Those last few hours sped like winged moments. We talked and planned a +little, I divided my outfit among my friends, and then it was time for the +train. That limited train had been late, so they said, every day for a +week, and this day it was on time to the minute. I had no luck. + +My friends bade me good-bye as if they expected to see me next day, and I +said good-bye calmly. I had my part to play. My short stay with them had +made me somehow different. But my coolness was deceitful. Dick helped me on +the train and wrung my hand again. + +"Good-bye, Ken. It's been great to have you out. . . . Next year you'll be +back in the forests!" + +He had to hurry to get off. The train started as I looked out of my window. +There stood the powerful hunter, his white head bare, and he was waving his +hat. Jim leaned against a railing with his sleepy, careless smile. I caught +a gleam of the blue gun swinging at his hip. Dick's eyes shone warm and +blue; he was shouting something. Then they all passed back out of sight. So +my gaze wandered to the indistinct black line of Penetier, to the purple +slopes, and up to the cold, white mountain-peaks, and Dick's voice rang in +my ears like a prophecy: "You'll be back in the forests." + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Young Forester, by Zane Grey + diff --git a/old/yn4st10.zip b/old/yn4st10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5919a25 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/yn4st10.zip |