Without any more words **** 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. ****'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. **** 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 ****. It was the last, and the more I thought about it the more wretched I grew. **** 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 **** 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 **** 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 ****.
"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, ****, 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, ****, 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 **** 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 **** 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 ****. 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. ****, 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!"
