THE YOUNG FORESTER

By Zane Grey

I. CHOOSING A PROFESSION

I loved outdoor life and hunting. Some way a grizzly bear would come inwhen I tried to explain forestry to my brother. 

"Hunting grizzlies!" he cried. "Why, Ken, father says you've beenreading dime novels. "

"Just wait, Hal, till he comes out here. I'll show him that forestryisn'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 wason the edge of a forest some eight miles from Harrisburg. The propertybelonged to our father, and he had promised to drive out to see us. Buthe did not come that day, and I had to content myself with winning Halover 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 doit. "

"Won't it be great? But what a long time to wait! It makes me sick tothink 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 yetfourteen. Besides, I've graduated. "

"Kid!" exclaimed Hal, hotly. "You're not such a Methuselah yourself! I'mnearly as big as you. I can ride as well and play ball as well, and Ican beat you all--"

"Hold on, Hal! I want you to help me to persuade father, and if you getyour temper up you'll like as not go against me. If he lets me go I'llbring you in as soon as I dare. That's a promise. I guess I know howmuch 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 thatinterest me. I like what you tell me about forestry. But who ever heardof forestry as a profession?"

"It's just this way, Hal. The natural resources have got to beconserved, and the Government is trying to enlist intelligent youngmen in the work--particularly in the department of forestry. I'm notexaggerating when I say the prosperity of this country depends uponforestry. "

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 thinkingof the future. They are in such a hurry to get rich that they'llleave their grandchildren only a desert. They cut and slash in everydirection, and then fires come and the country is ruined. Our riversdepend upon the forests for water. The trees draw the rain; the leavesbreak it up and let it fall in mists and drippings; it seeps into theground, and is held by the roots. If the trees are destroyed the rainrushes off on the surface and floods the rivers. The forests store upwater, 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 forthe forests I should have been discouraged. Hal was of an industriousturn of mind; he meant to make money, and anything that was goodbusiness appealed strongly to him. But, finally, he began to see what Iwas driving at; he admitted that there was something in the argument. 

The late afternoon was the best time for fishing. For the next two hoursour thoughts were of quivering rods and leaping bass. 

"You'll miss the big bass this August, " remarked Hal, laughing. "Guessyou won't have all the sport. "

"That's so, Hal, " I replied, regretfully. "But we're talking as if itwere 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 thefishing--was to sit around the campfire. Tonight it was more pleasantthan ever, and when darkness fully settled down it was even thrilling. We talked about bears. Then Hal told of mountain-lions and the habitthey have of creeping stealthily after hunters. There was a hoot-owlcrying dismally up in the woods, and down by the edge of the riverbright-green eyes peered at us from the darkness. When the wind came upand moaned through the trees it was not hard to imagine we were outin the wilderness. This had been a favorite game for Hal and me; onlytonight there seemed some reality about it. From the way Hal whispered, and listened, and looked, he might very well have been expecting a visitfrom lions or, for that matter, even from Indians. Finally we went tobed. But our slumbers were broken. Hal often had nightmares even onordinary nights, and on this one he moaned so much and thrashed aboutthe tent so desperately that I knew the lions were after him. 

I dreamed of forest lands with snow-capped peaks rising in thebackground; I dreamed of elk standing on the open ridges, ofwhite-tailed deer trooping out of the hollows, of antelope browsingon the sage at the edge of the forests. Here was the broad track of agrizzly in the snow; there on a sunny crag lay a tawny mountain-lionasleep. The bronzed cowboy came in for his share, and the lone banditplayed 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 beenamong them. Most vivid of all was the lonely forest at night and thecampfire. I heard the sputter of the red embers and smelled the woodsmoke; I peered into the dark shadows watching and listening for I knewnot what. 

On the next day early in the afternoon father appeared on the riverroad. 

"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 thepace, for father would not have been driving fast unless he were in aparticularly good humor. And when he stopped on the bank above campI could have shouted. He wore his corduroys as if he were ready foroutdoor life. There was a smile on his face as he tied Billy, and, coming down, he poked into everything in camp and asked innumerablequestions. Hal talked about the bass until I was afraid he would want togo fishing and postpone our forestry tramp in the woods. But presentlyhe spoke directly to me. 

"Well, Kenneth, are you going to come out with the truth about thatWild-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 thatsort of thing. "

When father spoke in such a way it usually meant the defeat of myschemes. I grew cold all over. 

"Yes, father, I'd like all that--But I mean business. I want to bea forest ranger. Let me go to Arizona this summer. And in the fallI'd--I'd like to go to a school of forestry. "

There! the truth was out, and my feelings were divided between reliefand fear. Before father could reply I launched into a set speech uponforestry, and talked till I was out of breath. 

"There's something in what you say, " replied my father. "You've beenreading up on the subject?"

"Everything I could get, and I've been trying to apply my knowledgein the woods. I love the trees. I'd love an outdoor life. But forestrywon't be any picnic. A ranger must be able to ride and pack, make trailand camp, live alone in the woods, fight fire and wild beasts. Oh! It'dbe 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 tosay about my future? Wouldn't you rather have me happy and successful asa 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 forestrun down. You've got sixty acres of hard woods that ought to be bringinga regular income. If I can't prove it, if I can't interest you, I'llagree to study medicine. But if I do you're to let me try forestry. "

"Well, Kenneth, that's a fair proposition, " returned father, evidentlysurprised at my earnestness "Come on. We'll go up in the woods. Hal, Isuppose he's won you over?"

"Ken's got a big thing in mind, " replied Hal, loyally "It's justsplendid. "

I never saw the long, black-fringed line of trees without joy in thepossession of them and a desire to be among them. The sixty acres oftimber land covered the whole of a swampy valley, spread over a rollinghill sloping down to the glistening river. 

"Now, son? go ahead, " said my father, as we clambered over a rail fenceand 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 afaint rustling of leaves and the mellow note of a hermit-thrush. Thedeep shadows were lightened by shafts of sunshine which, here and there, managed to pierce the canopy of foliage. Somehow, the feeling roused bythese 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 reachedmaturity; many are dead at the tops; all of them should have been cutlong ago. They make too dense a shade for the seedlings to survive. Lookat that bunch of sapling maples. See how they reach up, trying to getto the light. They haven't a branch low down and the tops are thin. Yetmaple is one of our hardiest trees. Growth has been suppressed. Do younotice there are no small oaks or hickories just here? They can't livein deep shade. Here's the stump of a white oak cut last fall. It wasabout two feet in diameter. Let's count the rings to find its age--aboutninety years. It flourished in its youth and grew rapidly, but it had ahard time after about fifty years. At that time it was either burned, ormutilated 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 ofsome kind, as is indicated by this black scar. After that the rings grewnarrower. The tree struggled to live. "

We walked on with me talking as fast as I could get the words out. Ishowed father a giant, bushy chestnut which was dominating all the treesaround it, and told him how it retarded their growth. On the other hand, the other trees were absorbing nutrition from the ground that would havebenefited the chestnut. 

"There's a sinful waste of wood here, " I said, as we climbed over andaround the windfalls and rotting tree-trunks. "The old trees die and areblown down. The amount of rotting wood equals the yearly growth. Now, Iwant 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 holesbored in the bark. They were made by a beetle. Look!"

I swung my hatchet and split off a section of bark. Everywhere in thebark and round the tree ran little dust-filled grooves. I pried out anumber of tiny brown beetles, somewhat the shape of a pinching-bug, onlyvery much smaller. 

"There! You'd hardly think that that great tree was killed by a lot oflittle bugs, would you? They girdle the trees and prevent the sap fromflowing. "

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 camefrom them killed the trees by eating the leaves. I showed how mice andsquirrels injured the forest by eating the seeds. 

"First I'd cut and sell all the matured and dead timber. Then I'd thinout the spreading trees that want all the light, and the saplings thatgrow too close together. I'd get rid of the beetles, and try to checkthe spread of caterpillars. For trees grow twice as fast if they are notchoked or diseased. Then I'd keep planting seeds and shoots in the openplaces, taking care to favor the species best adapted to the soil, andcutting those that don't grow well. In this way we'll be keeping ourforest while doubling its growth and value, and having a yearly incomefrom it. "

"Kenneth, I see you're in dead earnest about this business, " said myfather, slowly. "Before I came out here today I had been looking upthe subject, and I believe, with you, that forestry really means thesalvation of our country. I think you are really interested, and I've amind not to oppose you. "

"You'll never regret it. I'll learn; I'll work up. Then it's an outdoorlife--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. "Ilike the promise of it, and I like your attitude. If you have learned somuch while you were camping out here the past few summers it speaks wellfor you. But why do you want to go to Arizona?"

"Because the best chances are out West. I'd like to get a line onthe National Forests there before I go to college. The work will bedifferent; those Western forests are all pine. I've a friend, DickLeslie, a fellow I used to fish with, who went West and is now a fireranger in the new National Forest in Arizona--Penetier is the name ofit. He has written me several times to come out and spend a while withhim 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 thecollege. " Then he surprised me by drawing a letter from his pocketand handing it to me. "My friend, Mr. White, got this letter from thedepartment at Washington. It may be of use to you out there. "

So it was settled, and when father drove off homeward Hal and I wentback to camp. It would have been hard to say which of us was the moreexcited. 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 thewilderness of Penetier. I am afraid my mind was as much occupied withrifles and mustangs as with the study of forestry. But, though theadventure called most strongly to me, I knew I was sincere aboutthe forestry end of it, and I resolved that I would never slight myopportunities. So, smothering conscience, I fell to the delight ofmaking plans. I was for breaking camp at once, but Hal persuaded me tostay one more day. We talked for hours. Only one thing bothered me. Halwas jolly and glum by turns. He reveled in the plans for my outfit, buthe 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 toring me in next summer!"

II. THE MAN ON THE TRAIN

Travelling was a new experience to me, and on the first night after Ileft home I lay awake until we reached Altoona. We rolled out of smokyPittsburg at dawn, and from then on the only bitter drop in my cup ofbliss was that the train went so fast I could not see everything out ofmy window. 

Four days to ride! The great Mississippi to cross, the plains, the RockyMountains, then the Arizona plateaus-a long, long journey with a wildpine forest at the end! I wondered what more any young fellow could havewished. With my face glued to the car window I watched the level countryspeed by. 

There appeared to be one continuous procession of well-cultivatedfarms, little hamlets, and prosperous towns. What interested me most, ofcourse, were the farms, for all of them had some kind of wood. We passeda zone of maple forests which looked to be more carefully kept than theothers. Then I recognized that they were maple-sugar trees. The farmershad cleaned out the other species, and this primitive method of forestryhad produced the finest maples it had ever been my good-fortune to see. Indiana was flatter than Ohio, not so well watered, and therefore lessheavily timbered. I saw, with regret, that the woodland was being cutregularly, tree after tree, and stacked in cords for firewood. 

At Chicago I was to change for Santa Fe, and finding my train inthe station I climbed aboard. My car was a tourist coach. Father hadinsisted on buying a ticket for the California Limited, but I had arguedthat a luxurious Pullman was not exactly the thing for a prospectiveforester. Still I pocketed the extra money which I had assured him heneed not spend for the first-class ticket. 

The huge station, with its glaring lights and clanging bells, and theoutspreading city, soon gave place to prairie land. 

That night I slept little, but the very time I wanted to be awake--whenwe 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 ofcountry it drained, and of the forests there must be at its source. Thencame the never-ending Kansas corn-fields. I do not know whether it wastheir length or their treeless monotony, but I grew tired looking atthem. 

From then on I began to take some notice of my fellow-travelers. Theconductor proved to be an agreeable old fellow; and the train-boy, though I mistrusted his advances because he tried to sell me everythingfrom 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 himwhenever I got the chance. Then occasional passengers occupied the seatopposite me from town to town. They were much alike, all sunburned andloud-voiced, and it looked as though they had all bought their highboots and wide hats at the same shop. 

The last traveller to face me was a very heavy man with a great bullethead and a shock of light hair. His blue eyes had a bold flash, his longmustache 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 aleather watch-chain that was thick and strong enough to have held up atown-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 vividscenes from certain yellow-backed volumes, and certain uncomfortablememories of my father's displeasure. "Isn't this the old cattle townwhere there used to be so many fights?"

"Sure. An' not so very long ago. Here, look out the window. " He clappedhis big hand on my knee; then pointed. "See that hill there. Dead Man'sHill it was once, where they buried the fellers as died with their bootson. "

I stared, and even stretched my neck out of the window. 

"Yes, old Dodge was sure lively, " he continued, as our train passedon. "I seen a little mix-up there myself in the early eighties. Fivecow-punchers, friends they was, had been visitin' town. One feller, playful-like, takes another feller's quirt--that's a whip. An' the otherfeller, playful-like, says, 'Give it back. ' Then they tussles forit, 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 startedthe play, pulls his gun. He'd hardly flashed it when they all pullsguns, an' it was some noisy an' smoky. In about five seconds there wasfive dead cowpunchers. Killed themselves, as you might say, just forfun. That's what life was worth in old Dodge. " After this story I feltmore kindly disposed ward my travelling companion, and would haveasked for more romances but the conductor came along and engaged him inconversation. Then my neighbor across the aisle, a young fellow not mucholder than myself, asked me to talk to him. 

"Why, yes, if you like, " I replied, in surprise. He was pale; there werered 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, " heexplained, 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 themoney. "

He looked up at me and then out of the window at the sun settingred across the plains. I tried to make him think of something besidehimself, but I made a mess of it. The meeting with him was a shock tome. Long after dark, when I had stretched out for the night, I keptthinking of him and contrasting what I had to look forward to with hisdismal future. Somehow it did not seem fair, and I could not get rid ofthe idea that I was selfish. 

Next day I had my first sight of real mountains. And the Pennsylvaniahills, that all my life had appeared so high, dwindled to nothing. AtTrinidad, where we stopped for breakfast, I walked out on the platformsniffing at the keen thin air. When we crossed the Raton Mountainsinto New Mexico the sick boy got off at the first station, and I wavedgood-bye to him as the train pulled out. Then the mountains and thefunny little adobe huts and the Pueblo Indians along the line made meforget everything else. 

The big man with the heavy watch-chain was still on the train, and afterhe had read his newspaper he began to talk to me. 

"This road follows the old trail that the goldseekers took inforty-nine, " he said. "We're comin' soon to a place, Apache Pass, wherethe Apaches used to ambush the wagon-trains, It's somewheres alonghere. "

Presently the train wound into a narrow yellow ravine, the walls ofwhich grew higher and higher. 

"Them Apaches was the worst redskins ever in the West. They used to hideon top of this pass an' shoot down on the wagon-trains. "

Later in the day he drew my attention to a mountain standing all byitself. It was shaped like a cone, green with trees almost to thesummit, and ending in a bare stone peak that had a flat top. 

"Starvation Peak, " he said. "That name's three hundred years old, datesback to the time the Spaniards owned this land. There's a story about itthat's likely true enough. Some Spaniards were attacked by Indians an'climbed to the peak, expectin' to be better able to defend themselvesup 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 asbad, if not so plentiful, as when Billy the Kid run these parts. I sawtwo 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 happenednear 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 tolearn 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 Ilooked 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 itbugs. 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 forGovernment forestry--to save the timber, not cut it. "

It seemed to me he gave a little start of surprise; he certainlystraightened 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 wentinto the next car. I took his manner to be the Western abruptness that Ihad 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 totake 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 occurto me some Indians offering to sell me beads straightway drove it out ofmy mind again. 

When I awoke the next day, it was to see the sage ridges and red buttesof Arizona. We were due at Holston at eight o'clock, but owing to acrippled engine the train was hours late. At last I fell asleep to beawakened 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 looksharp. Holston's not a safe place for a stranger at night. "

I stepped off into a windy darkness. A lamp glimmered in the stationwindow. By its light I made out several men, the foremost of whom hada dark, pointed face and glittering eyes. He wore a strange hat, and Iknew from pictures I had seen that he was a Mexican. Then the bulky formof Buell loomed up. I called, but evidently he did not hear me. The mentook his grips, and they moved away to disappear in the darkness. WhileI 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 whatappeared to be the shadow of a mountain. It was the quietest and darkesttown I had ever struck. 

I decided to turn toward the right-hand light, for the conductor hadsaid "down the street. " I set forth at a brisk pace, but the lonelinessand strangeness of the place were rather depressing. 

Before I had gone many steps, however, the sound of running water haltedme, and just in the nick of time, for I was walking straight into aditch. By peering hard into the darkness and feeling my way I founda bridge. Then it did not take long to reach the light. But it was asaloon, and not the hotel. One peep into it served to make me face aboutin double-quick time, and hurry in the opposite direction. 

Hearing a soft footfall, I glanced over my shoulder, to see the Mexicanthat 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 beatviolently. Turning once again, I discovered that the fellow could not beseen 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 notso 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 whichwas 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 goodearnest. 

I made for the stairs, and, after a backward look into the street, I ranup. A smelly lamp shed a yellowish glare along a hall. I pushed openthe first door, and, entering the room, bolted myself in. Then all thestrength went out of my legs. When I sat down on the bed I was in a coldsweat and shaking like a leaf. Soon the weakness passed, and I movedabout the room, trying to find a lamp or candle. Evidently the hotel, and, for that matter, the town of Holston, did not concern itselfwith such trifles as lights. On the instant I got a bad impression ofHolston. I had to undress in the dark. When I pulled the window open alittle at the top the upper sash slid all the way down. I managed toget it back, and tried raising the lower sash. It was very loose, but itstayed up. Then I crawled into bed. 

Though I was tired and sleepy, my mind whirled so that I could not getto sleep. If I had been honest with myself I should have wished myselfback home. Pennsylvania seemed a long way off, and the adventures that Ihad dreamed of did not seem so alluring, now that I was in a lonely roomin a lonely, dark town. Buell had seemed friendly and kind--at least, in the beginning. Why had he not answered my call? The incident didnot look well to me. Then I fell to wondering if the Mexican had reallyfollowed me. The first thing for me in the morning would be to buy arevolver. Then if any Mexicans--

A step on the tin roof outside frightened me stiff. I had noticed aporch, or shed, under my window. Some one must have climbed upon it. Istopped 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 Icouldn't. I was scared--frightened half to death. 

If there had been a bolt on the window the matter would not have been sodisturbing. I lay there a-quiver, eyes upon the gray window space of myroom. Dead silence once more intervened. All I heard was the pound of myheart against my ribs. 

Suddenly I froze at the sight of a black figure against the light ofmy window. I recognized the strange bat, the grotesque outlines. I wasabout to shout for help when the fellow reached down and softly began toraise the sash. 

That made me angry. Jerking up in bed, I caught the heavy pitcher fromthe wash-stand and flung it with all my might. 

Crash!

Had I smashed out the whole side of the room it could scarcely have mademore noise. Accompanied by the clinking of glass and the creaking oftin, my visitor rolled off the roof. I waited, expecting an uproar fromthe other inmates of the hotel. No footstep, no call sounded withinhearing. Once again the stillness settled down. 

Then, to my relief, the gray gloom lightened, and dawn broke. Neverhad I been so glad to see the morning. While dressing I cast gratifiedglances at the ragged hole in the window. With the daylight my couragehad 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 beencareful, " I thought, a little cockily. 

I went down-stairs into the office. The sleepy porter was mopping thefloor. Behind the desk stood a man so large that he made Buell seemsmall. He was all shoulders and beard. 

"Can I get breakfast?"

"Nobody's got a half-hitch on you, has they?" he replied, jerking amonstrous thumb over his shoulder toward a door. 

I knew the words half-hitch had something to do with a lasso, and I wasrather taken back by the hotel proprietor's remark. The dining-room wasmore attractive than anything I had yet seen about the place: the linenwas clean, and the ham and eggs and coffee that were being served toseveral rugged men gave forth a savory odor. But either the waiter wasblind or he could not bear, for he paid not the slightest attention tome. I waited, while trying to figure out the situation. Something waswrong, and, whatever it was, I guessed that it must be with me. Afterabout an hour I got my breakfast. Then I went into the office, intendingto be brisk, businesslike, and careful about asking questions. 

"I'd like to pay my bill, and also for a little damage, " I said, tellingwhat 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 thesequeer people. In the broad light of day Holston looked as bad as ithad made me feel by night. All I could see were the station andfreight-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 brickbuildings, and, farther out, many frame houses. 

Moreover, this street led my eye to great snowcapped mountains, and Istopped 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-billswere miles away. Penetier, I remembered from one of Dick's letters, wason the extreme northern slope, and it must be anywhere from forty tosixty 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 fullbreath, with a sense on being among the pines. 

Now I must buy my outfit and take the trail for Penetier. This Iresolved to do with as few questions as possible. I never before wastroubled by sensitiveness, but the fact had dawned upon me that I didnot like being taken for a tenderfoot. So, with this in mind, I entereda general merchandise store. 

It was very large, and full of hardware, harness, saddles, blankets--everything that cowboys and ranchmen use. Several men, twoin shirt-sleeves, were chatting near the door. They saw me come in, andthen, for all that it meant to them, I might as well not have been inexistence at all. So I sat down to wait, determined to take Western waysand 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-leggedindividual came in too he at once supplied with his wants, I began to getangry. I waited another five minutes, and still the friendly chattingwent 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 trailedinto the right place. Smith, treat this lad right. It's guns an' knivesan' lassoes he wants, I'll bet a hoss. "

"Yes, I want an outfit, " I said, much embarrassed. "I'm going to meet afriend out in Penetier, a ranger--Dick Leslie. "

Buell started violently, and his eyes flashed. "Dick--Dick Leslie!" hesaid, 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 absorbinginterest of my outfit. Father had given me plenty of money, so that Ihad but to choose. I had had sense enough to bring my old corduroys andboots, and I had donned them that morning. One after another I made mypurchases--Winchester, revolver, bolsters, ammunition, saddle, bridle, lasso, blanket. When I got so far, Buell said: "You'll need a mustangan' a pack-pony. I know a feller who's got jest what you want. " And withthat he led me out of the store. 

"Now you take it from me, " he went on, in a fatherly voice, "Holstonpeople haven't got any use for Easterners. An' if you mention yourbusiness--forestry an' that--why, you wouldn't be safe. There's many inthe 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 trailtoday, 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 thetownspeople and their attitude toward Easterners until we arrived at akind of stock-yard full of shaggy little ponies. The sight of them droveevery 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 sowild-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 wastrying 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 muchof a tenderfoot. Thet's the best mustang in the lot. Cless, how much forhim, 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-fivedollars left, and I had been very much afraid that I could not buy themustang, let alone the pack-pony and saddle. 

"Cless, send round to Smith for the lad's outfit, an' saddle up for himat 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, cutout much that I wanted, saying the thing to think of was a light packfor 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 didnot explain. He kept with me, still he remained in the office while Iwent up-stairs. Somehow this suited me, for I did not want him to seethe broken window. I took a few things from my grip and rolled them in abundle. Then I took a little leather case of odds and ends I had alwayscarried when camping and slipped it into my pocket. Hurrying down-stairsI left my grip with the porter, wrote and mailed a postal card to myfather, and followed the impatient Buell. 

"You see, it's a smart lick of a ride to Penetier, and I want to getthere before dark, " he explained, kindly. 

I could have shouted for very glee when I saw the black mustang saddledand bridled. 

"He's well broke, " said Cless. "Keep his bridle down when you ain'tin the saddle. An' find a patch of grass fer him at night. The pony'llstick 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 thehang 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) overthe saddle, and then pass a long rope in remarkable turns and wonderfulloops 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 athome. 

"Climb up. Let's see if you fit the stirrups, " said Cless. "Couldn't bebetter. "

"Now, young feller, you can hit the trail, " put in Buell, with his bigvoice. "An' remember what I told you. This country ain't got much usefor a feller as can't look out for himself. "

He opened the gate, and led my mustang into the road and quite somedistance. The pony jogged along after us. Then Buell stopped with afinger outstretched. 

"There, at the end of this street, you'll find a trail. Hit it an' stickto 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 didnot 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 itfrom me. "

I thanked him, and, turning, with a light heart I faced the blackmountain and my journey. 

It was about ten o'clock when Hal jogged into a broad trail on theoutskirts of Holston. A gray flat lay before me, on the other side ofwhich 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 burdenedpony. That sage-flat was miles wide, though it seemed so narrow. Theback of the lower slope began to change to a dark green, which told me Iwas 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 whiteoaks at home, and stunted, with ragged dead tops. They proved to me thattrees isolated from their fellows fare as poorly as trees overcrowded. Where pines grow closely, but not too closely, they rise straight andtrue, cleaning themselves of the low branches, and making good lumber, free of knots. Where they grow far apart, at the mercy of wind and heatand free to spread many branches, they make only gnarled and knottylumber. 

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 upona magnificent forest. A little farther on the trail walled me in withgreat seamed trunks, six feet in diameter, rising a hundred feet beforespreading a single branch. 

Meanwhile my mustang kept steadily up the slow-rising trail, and thetime passed. Either the grand old forest had completely bewitched me orthe sweet smell of pine had intoxicated me, for as I rode along utterlycontent I entirely forgot about Dick and the trail and where I washeading. Nor did I come to my senses until Hal snorted and stoppedbefore a tangled windfall. 

Then I glanced down to see only the clean, brown pine-needles. There wasno trail. Perplexed and somewhat anxious, I rode back a piece, expectingsurely to cross the trail. But I did not. I went to the left and tothe right, then circled in a wide curve. No trail! The forest about meseemed at once familiar and strange. 

It was only when the long shadows began to creep under the trees that Iawoke 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 andthat one, I rushed to and fro over ground which looked, whatever way Iturned, exactly the same. And I kept saying, "I'm lost! I'm lost!" Notuntil I dropped exhausted against a pine-tree did any other thought cometo me. 

The moment that I stopped running about so aimlessly the panicky feelingleft me. I remembered that for a ranger to be lost in the forest was anevery-day affair, and the sooner I began that part of my education thebetter. Then it came to me how foolish I had been to get alarmed, when Iknew 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 somefears that I might not soon find Dick Leslie, but these I dismissed forthe present, at least. A suitable place to camp for the night must befound. I led the mustang down into the hollows, keeping my eye sharp forgrass. 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 apool of clear water. 

Often as I had made camp back in the woods of Pennsylvania, the doingof it now was new. For this was not play; it was the real thing, and itmade the old camping seem tame. I took the saddle off Hal and tied himwith my lasso, making as long a halter as possible. Slipping the packfrom the pony was an easier task than the getting it back again waslikely to prove. Next I broke open a box of cartridges and loadedthe Winchester. My revolver was already loaded, and hung on my belt. Remembering Dick's letters about the bears and mountain-lions inPenetier Forest, I got a good deal of comfort out of my weapons. ThenI built a fire, and while my supper was cooking I scraped up a mass ofpine-needles for a bed. Never had I sat down to a meal with such a senseof 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 thetwilight seemed to move under the giant pines and creep down thehollow? While I gazed the gray shadows deepened to black, and night camesuddenly. My campfire seemed to give almost no light, yet close at handthe flickering gleams played hide-and-seek among the pines and chased upthe straight tree trunks. The crackling of my fire and the light stepsof the grazing mustangs only emphasized the silence of the forest. Thena low moaning from a distance gave me a chill. At first I had no ideawhat 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 thewoods. It would murmur from different parts of the forest; sometimes itwould cease for a little, and then travel and swell toward me, only todie away again. But it rose steadily, with shorter intervals of silence, until the intermittent gusts swept through the tree-tops with a rushingroar. I had listened to the crash of the ocean surf, and the resemblancewas a striking one. 

Listening to this mournful wind with all my ears I was the betterprepared for any lonesome cries of the forest; nevertheless, a sudden, sharp "Ki-yi-i!" seemingly right at my back, gave me a fright that sentmy tongue to the roof of my mouth. 

Fumbling at the hammer of my rifle, I peered into the black-streakedgloom of the forest. The crackling of dry twigs brought me to my feet. At the same moment the mustangs snorted. Something was prowling aboutjust beyond the light. I thought of a panther. That was the only beast Icould think of which had such an unearthly cry. 

Then another bowl, resembling that of a dog, and followed by yelps andbarks, told me that I was being visited by a pack of coyotes. I spentthe good part of an hour listening to their serenade. The wild, mournfulnotes sent quivers up my back. By-and-by they went away, and as my firehad burned down to a red glow and the night wind had grown cold I beganto think of sleep. 

But I was not sleepy. When I had stretched out on the soft bed ofpine-needles with my rifle close by, and was all snug and warm under theheavy 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 hugepines and the glimmer of stars, and my ears open to the rush and roarof the wind, every sense alert. Hours must have passed as I lay thereliving over the things that had happened and trying to think out whatwas to come. At last, however, I rolled over on my side, and with myhand on the rifle and my cheek close to the sweet-smelling pine-needlesI 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 Iturned over in my mind the proper thing for me to do. Evidently I mustpack 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 howdependent I was upon my mustangs. When I had tried for I do not know howlong to get my pack to stay on the pony's back I saw where Mr. Clesshad played a joke on me. All memory of the diamond-hitch had faded intoutter confusion. First the pack fell over the off-side; next, on top ofme; then the saddle slipped awry, and when I did get the pack to remainstationary upon the patient pony, how on earth to tie it there becamemore and more of a mystery. Finally, in sheer desperation, I ran roundthe pony, pulled, tugged, and knotted the lasso; more by luck thanthrough sense I had accomplished something in the nature of thediamond-hitch. 

I headed Hal up the gentle forest slope, and began the day's journeywherever chance might lead me. As confidence came, my enjoymentincreased. I began to believe I could take care of myself. I reasonedout that, as the peaks were snow-capped, I should find water, and verylikely game, up higher. Moreover, I might climb a foothill or bluff fromwhich I could get my bearings. 

It seemed to me that I passed more pine-trees than I could have imaginedthere were in the whole world. Miles and miles of pines! And in everymile they grew larger and ruggeder and farther apart, and so high thatI could hardly see the tips. After a time I got out of the almost levelforest into ground ridged and hollowed, and found it advisable to turnmore to the right. On the sunny southern slopes I saw trees that dwarfedthe ones on the colder and shady north sides. I also found many smallpines and seedlings growing in warm, protected places. This showed methe value of the sun to a forest. Though I kept a lookout for deer orgame of any kind, I saw nothing except some black squirrels with whitetails. They were beautiful and very tame, and one was nibbling at what Iconcluded must have been a seed from a pine-cone. 

Presently I fancied that I espied a moving speck far down through theforest glades. I stopped Hal, and, watching closely, soon made certainof it. Then it became lost for a time, but reappeared again somewhatcloser. It was like a brown blur and scarcely moved. I reined Hal moreto the right. Not for quite a while did I see the thing again, and whenI did it looked so big and brown that I took up my Winchester. Then itdisappeared 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 beingseen myself. 

I waited behind a pine, and suddenly three horsemen rode across a gladenot two hundred yards away. The foremost rider was no other than theMexican 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 hegoing? Had he followed me? Was there a trail?

As long as the three men were in sight I watched them. When the lastbrown speck had flitted and disappeared far away in the forest Iretraced my steps to my mustang, pondering upon this new turn in myaffairs. 

"Things are bound to happen to me, " I concluded, "and I may as well makeup my mind to that. "

While standing beside Hal, undecided as to my next move, I heard awhistle. It was faint, perhaps miles away, yet unmistakably it was thewhistle of an engine. I wondered if the railroad turned round this sideof the peaks. Mounting Hal, I rode down the forest to the point where Ihad seen the men, and there came upon a trail. I proceeded along thisin the direction the men had taken. I had come again to the slow-risinglevel that I had noted earlier in my morning's journey. After severalmiles a light or opening in the forest ahead caused me to use morecaution. As I rode forward I saw a vast area of tree-tops far below, andthen I found myself on the edge of a foot-hill. 

Right under me was a wide, yellow, bare spot, miles across, a horribleslash in the green forest, and in the middle of it, surrounded by stackson stacks of lumber, was a great sawmill. 

I stared in utter amazement. A sawmill on Penetier! Even as I gazed atrain 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 Dickwere there the Mexican would be likely to have troubles of his own. Iremembered Dick's reputation as a fighter. But suppose I did not findDick at the sawmill? This part of the forest was probably owned byprivate individuals, for I couldn't imagine Government timber beingcut in this fashion. So I tied Hal and the pony amidst a thick clump ofyoung pines, and, leaving all my outfit except my revolver, I struck outacross the slash. 

No second glance was needed to tell that the lumbering here was carelessand without thought for the future. It had been a clean cut, and whatsmall saplings had escaped the saw had been crushed by the dropping andhauling 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. Onlythe straight, unbranched trunks had been used. The tops of the pines hadnot been lopped, and lay where they had fallen. It was a wilderness ofyellow brush, a dry jungle. The smell of pine was so powerful that Icould 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 beenhastily constructed. Swinging along at a rapid step on the ties I soonreached the outskirts of the huge stacks of lumber; I must have walkedhalf a mile between two yellow walls. Then I entered the lumber camp. 

It was even worse-looking than the slash. Rows of dirty tents, linesof squatty log-cabins, and many flat-board houses clustered around animmense sawmill. Evidently I had arrived at the noon hour, for the millwas 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 along, dirty apron. 

"Is Dick Leslie here?" I asked. 

"I dunno if Dick's come in yet, but I 'specks him, " he replied. "Be youthe 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 abench where several men were eating. They were brawny fellows, cladin overalls and undershirts, and one, who spoke pleasantly to me, hadsawdust on his bare arms and even in his hair. The cook set before mea bowl of soup, a plate of beans, potroast, and coffee, all of which Iattacked with a good appetite. Presently the men finished their meat andwent 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 landbelongs 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 tothink hard. 

"Sure. "

I wanted to ask questions, but thought it wiser to wait. I knew enoughalready to make out that I had come upon the scene of a gigantic lumbersteal. Buell's strange manner on the train, at the station, and hiseagerness to hurry me out of Holston now needed no more explanation. Ibegan 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 himholdin' 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 yourgun on him. Greaser's a coward. I seen a young feller he'd cheated makehim crawl. Anyway, it'll be all day with him when Dick finds out hetried to rob you. An' say, stranger, if a feller stays sober, thiscamp's safe enough in daytime, but at night, drunk or sober, it's atough place. "

Before I had finished eating a shrill whistle from the sawmill calledthe hands to work; soon it was followed by the rumble of machinery andthe 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 likedto be at home. But here I was, and I determined not to show the whitefeather. 

I passed a row of cook-shacks like the one I had been in, and severalstores and saloons. The lumber-camp was a little town. A rambling logcabin attracted me by reason of the shaggy mustangs standing before itand 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 theclink of silver. Seeing the place was crowded, I thought I might findDick there, so I stepped inside. My entrance was unnoticed, so far as Icould tell; in fact, there seemed no reason why it should be otherwise, for, being roughly dressed, I did not look very different from the manyyoung fellows there. I scanned all the faces, but did not see Dick's, nor, for that matter, the Mexican's. Both disappointed and relieved, Iturned 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 thelumber-yard at the back of the mill, where a trestle slanted down toa 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. Atstations along the canal stood others pike-poling the logs toward thetrestle, where an endless chain caught them with sharp claws and hauledthem up. Half-way from, the ground they were washed clean by a circle ofwater-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 theshort intervals when it was not cutting were filled with a thunderouscrash that jarred the whole building. After a few confused glances I gotthe working order into my head, and found myself in the most interestingplace I had ever seen. 

As the stream of logs came up into the mill the first log was shuntedoff 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 foranother cut. The run back was very swift. Then a huge black iron headbutted up from below and turned the log over as easily as if it had beena straw. This was what made the jar and crash. On the first cut the longstrip 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 wastrimmed a man stationed near the huge band-saw made signs to those onthe carriage, and I saw that they got from him directions whether tocut the log into timbers, planks, or boards. The heavy timbers, afterleaving the saw, went straight down the middle of the mill, the plankswent to the right, the boards in another direction. Men and boys wereeverywhere, each with a lever in hand. There was not the slightestcessation 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 fourminutes. 

The place fascinated me. I had not dreamed that a sawmill could bebrought to such a pitch of mechanical perfection, and I wondered howlong the timber would last at that rate of cutting. The movement and dintired me, and I went outside upon a long platform. Here workmen caughtthe planks and boards as they came out, and loaded them upon truckswhich were wheeled away. This platform was a world in itself. It sentarms everywhere among the piles of lumber, and once or twice I was asmuch lost as I had been up in the forest. 

While turning into one of these byways I came suddenly upon Buell andanother man. They were standing near a little house of weather-strips, evidently an office, and were in their shirt-sleeves. They had not seenor heard me. I dodged behind a pile of planks, intending to slip backthe way I had come. Before I could move Buell's voice rooted me to thespot. 

"His name's Ward. Tall, well-set lad. I put Greaser after him the othernight, 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 Lesliefixed as far as this lumber deal is concerned, but he won't stand forany more. He was harder to fix than the other rangers, an' I'm afraid ofhim. " 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 histrail. 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 isstraight. He'll queer my deal in a minute if he gets wise. Mind you, I'mgettin' leary of Washington. We've seen about the last of these lumberdeals. If I can pull this one off I'll quit; all I want is a little moretime. 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 outthe 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 wantto be foresters can't be rich. Failing that--you say he's a kid whowants 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' cutclean. 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 tenderfootkid?" demanded Buell. 

"Not so loud. .. . We'll not fall down. But caution--use caution. You madea mistake in trusting so much to the Greaser. "

"I know, an' I'm afraid of Leslie. An' that other fire-ranger, JimWilliams, he's a Texan, an' a bad man. The two of them could about trimup 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 peepingfrom 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 squeezingbetween 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 bracesand posts, soon got to where I could drop down. Once on the ground I ranalong under the platform until I saw a lane that led to the street. Myone thought was to reach the cabin where the Negro cook stayed andask him if Dick Leslie had come to camp. If he had not arrived, then Iintended 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 allalike, and in my hurry I would have passed the cook's shack had it notbeen for the sight of a man standing in the door. That stalwart figure Iwould have known anywhere. 

"Dick!" I cried, rushing at him. 

What Dick's welcome was I did not hear, but judging from the grip he puton 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 atarm's-length. "Let's have a look at you. .. . Grown I say, but you're ahusky lad!"

While he was looking at me I returned the scrutiny with interest. Dickhad always been big, but now he seemed wider and heavier. Among thesebronzed Westerners he appeared pale, but that was only on account of hisfair skin. 

"Ken, didn't you get my letter--the one telling you not to come West yeta while?"

"No, " I replied, blankly. "The last one I got was in May--about themiddle. 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 footto another, and a cloud darkened his brow. But his blue eyes burned witha warm light as he put his hand on my shoulder. 

"Ken, I'm glad to see you, " he said, earnestly. "It's like gettinga glimpse of home. But I wrote you not to come. Conditions havechanged--there's something doing here--I'll--"

"You needn't explain, Dick, " I replied, gravely. "I know. Buell and--" Iwaved my hand from the sawmill to the encircling slash. 

Dick's face turned a fiery red. I believed that was the only time DickLeslie ever failed to look a fellow in the eye. 

"Ken!. .. You're on, " he said, recovering his composure. "Well, wait tillyou 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 theStates, " said Dick. "Ken, you know Jim. "

If ever I knew anything by heart it was what Dick had written me aboutthis Texan, Jim Williams. 

"Ken, I shore am glad to see you, " drawled Jim, giving my hand a squeezethat I thought must break every bone in it. 

Though Jim Williams had never been described to me, my first sight ofhim fitted my own ideas. He was tall and spare; his weather-beatenface seemed set like a dark mask; only his eyes moved, and they had aquivering 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 bigbuttons, overalls, top-boots with very high heels, and long spurs. Aheavy revolver swung at his hip, and if I had not already known that JimWilliams had fought Indians and killed bad men, I should still have seensomething that awed me in the look of him. 

I certainly felt proud to be standing with those two rangers, and forthe 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 othernight. "

"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 withlaughter. 

"You knocked him off the roof? Wal, thet shore is dee-lightful. It shoreis!"

"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 Iknow 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 theGreaser?"

"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 toshut my mouth. "

Dick looked from me to Jim, and Jim slowly straitened his tall form. Fora moment neither spoke. Dick's white face caused me to look away fromhim. 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. "Comeon, 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 notaffect me so much as the easy, gay manner of the Texan. Little coldquivers ran over me, and my knees knocked together. For the moment myanimosity toward the Mexican vanished, and with it the old hunger to bein the thick of Wild Western life. I was afraid that I was going to seea man killed without being able to lift a hand to prevent it. 

The rangers marched me between them down the street and into the cornersaloon. Dick held me half behind him with his left hand while Jimsauntered ahead. Strangest of all the things that had happened was thesudden silencing of the noisy crowd. 

The Mexican was not there. His companions, Bud and Bill, as Buell hadcalled them, were sitting at a table, and as Jim Williams walked intothe center of the room they slowly and gradually rose to their feet. Onewas a swarthy man with evil eyes and a scar on his cheek; the otherhad a brick-red face and a sandy mustache with a vicious curl. Neitherseemed to be afraid, only cautious. 

"We're all lookin' for thet Greaser friend of yourn, " drawled Jim. "Ishore 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 toneseemed to indicate pleasant indifference; still, no one could have beenmisled by it, for the long, steady gaze he gave the men and his coolpresence that held the room quiet meant something vastly different. No reply was offered. Bud and Bill sat down, evidently to resume theircard-playing. The uneasy silence broke to a laugh, then to subduedvoices, and finally the clatter and hum began again. Dick led meoutside, 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 madecertain he had returned, but the burly form which blocked the light inthe 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 desireto 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 anda kind of daring flash in his eyes. He seemed too eager, too glad to seeme. 

"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'llbe 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 Buellbecame even more smiling and voluble. 

"Dick? Oh, Dick an' I stand all right; take thet from me. Dick'll agreeto what I want. I need a young feller bad. Money's no object. You're abright youngster. You'll look out for my interests. Here!" He pulledout a large wad of greenbacks, and then spoke in a lower voice. "Youunderstand that money cuts no ice 'round this camp. We've a big deal. We need a smart young feller. There's always some little irregularitiesabout 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; Icould 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 lumbersteal?"

He drew in his breath audibly, yet still he did not speak. Either he wasdull of comprehension or else he was astonished beyond words. I knew Iwas mad to goad him like that, but I could not help it. I grew hot withanger, 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'dqueer your big deal. .. . Well, Mr. Buell, that's exactly what I'm goingto 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 aviolent wrench that freed me. Then I saw Dick swing back his shoulderand shoot out his arm. He knocked Buell clear across the room, andwhen the man fell I thought the cabin was coming down in the crash. Heappeared 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. Thelumberman lurched out of the door, and we heard him cursing after he haddisappeared. 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, andhe ended up with a grim laugh. 

"Ken, you're sure bent on starting something, as Jim would say. You'vestarted it all right. And Jim'll love you for it. But I'm responsible toyour 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 youon 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 spokewas when he asked me where I had tied my mustangs. Soon we were hurryingout through the slash toward the forest. Dick's troubled face keptdown my resentment, but my heart grew like lead. What an ending tomy long-cherished trip to the West! It had lasted two days. Thedisappointment seemed more than I could bear. 

We found the mustangs as I had left them, and the sight of Hal andthe feeling of the saddle made me all the worse. We did not climb thefoot-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 wereached the top he looked again in a way to convince me that he had someapprehensions of being followed. 

Twilight of that eventful day found us pitching camp in a thicklytimbered hollow. I could not help dwelling on how different my feelingswould have been if this night were but the beginning of many nights withDick. It was the last, and the more I thought about it the more wretchedI grew. Dick rolled in his blanket without saying even good-night, andI lay there watching the veils and shadows of firelight flicker on thepines, and listening, to the wind. Gradually the bitterness seemed to goaway; my body relaxed and sank into the soft, fragrant pine-needles; thegreat shadowy trees mixed with the surrounding darkness. When I awoke itwas 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 forestresembled a fine park. In the sunny patches seedlings were sprouting, many little bushy pines were growing, and the saplings had sufficientroom and light to prosper. I commented to Dick upon the differencebetween this part of Penetier and the hideous slash we had left. 

"There were a couple of Government markers went through here and markedthe 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 knowthe 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 thelumbermen bought so much land and cut over it--skinned it. Two yearsago, when the National Forests were laid out, the lumbering men--thatis, the loggers, sawmill hands, and so on--found they did not get asmuch employment as formerly. So generally they're sore on the NationalForest idea. "

"But, Dick, if they understand the idea of forestry they'd never opposeit. "

"Maybe. I don't understand it too well myself. I can fight fire--that'smy business; but this ranger work is new. I doubt if the Westernerswill take to forestry. There've been some shady deals all over the Westbecause of it. Buell, now, he's a timber shark. He bought so much timberfrom the Government, and had the markers come in to mark the cut; thenafter they were gone, he rushed up a mill and clapped on a thousandhands. "

"And the rangers stand for it? Where'll their jobs be when theGovernment finds out?"

"I was against it from the start. So was Jim, particularly. But theother rangers persuaded us. "

It began to dawn upon me that Dick Leslie might, after all, turn out tobe good soil in which to plant some seeds of forestry. I said no morethen, as we were busy packing for the start, but when we had mountedI began to talk. I told him all I had learned about trees, how I lovedthem, and how I had determined to devote my life to their study, care, and development. As we rode along under the wide-spreading pines Iillustrated my remarks by every example I could possibly use. The more Italked the more interested Dick became, and this spurred me on. PerhapsI exaggerated, but my conscience never pricked me. He began to askquestions. 

We reached a spring at midday, and halted for a rest. I kept onpleading, and presently I discovered, to my joy, that I had made astrong impression upon Dick. It seemed a strange thing for me to betrying 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 Inever heard a word of what you've been telling me. My duties havebeen the practical ones that any woodsman knows. Jim and the otherrangers--why, they don't know any more than I. It's a great thing, andI've queered my chance with the Government. "

"No, you haven't--neither has Jim--not if you'll be straight from nowon. You can't keep faith with Buell. He tried to kidnap me. That letsyou out. We'll spoil Buell's little deal and save Penetier. A letterto father will do it. He has friends in the Forestry Department atWashington. Dick, what do you say? It's not too late!"

The dark shade lifted from the ranger's face, and he looked at me withthe smile of the old fishing days. 

"Say? I say yes!" he exclaimed, in ringing voice, "Ken, you've made aman of me!"

VI. BACK TO HOLSTON

Soon we were out of the forest, and riding across the sage-flat withHolston in sight. Both of us avoided the unpleasant subject of myenforced home-going. Evidently Dick felt cut up about it, and it causedme such a pang that I drove it from my mind. Toward the end of our rideDick began again to talk of forestry. 

"Ken, it's mighty interesting--all this you've said about trees. Some ofthe things are so simple that I wonder I didn't hit on them long ago; infact, I knew a lot of what you might call forestry, but the scientificideas--they stump me. Now, what you said about a pine-tree cleaningitself--come back at me with that. "

"Why, that's simple enough, Dick, " I answered. "Now, say here we havea clump of pine saplings. They stand pretty close--close enough to makedense shade, but not too crowded. The shade has prevented the lowerbranches from producing leaves. As a consequence these branches die. Then they dry, rot, and fall off, so when the trees mature theyare clean-shafted. They have fine, clear trunks. They have cleanedthemselves, 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 horsesin Cless's corral, we went to the hotel and proceeded to compose theletter. This turned out more of a task than we had bargained for. Butwe got it finished at last, not forgetting to put in a word for JimWilliams, and then we both signed it. 

"There!" I cried. "Dick, something will be doing round Holston beforemany days. "

"That's no joke, you can bet, " replied Dick, wiping his face. "Ken, it'smade 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. Evidentlyhe did not intend to actually put me aboard a train, and the time forparting had come. He watered his horses at the trough, and fussed overhis pack and fumbled with his saddle-girths. It looked to me as thoughhe had not the courage to say goodby. 

"Ken, it didn't look so bad--so mean till now, " he said. "I'm all brokenup. .. . 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 thesaddle. 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 opencountry. 

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 togo home. Dick had taken it for granted that I would board the next trainfor the East. But I was not going to do anything of the sort. To myamaze 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 mymustang and outfit. 

"It's shift for myself now, " I thought, soberly. "I guess I can makegood. . .. I'm going back to Penetier. "

Even in the moment of impulse I knew how foolish this would be. But Icould not help it. That forest had bewitched me. I meant to go back toit. 

"I'll stay away from the sawmill, " I meditated, growing lighter of heartevery minute. "I'll keep out of sight of the lumbermen. I'll go higherup 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 ofprovisions that Buell had decided against when he helped me with myoutfit. 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 nearingsunset when I rode out of Holston this second time. The sage flat wasbare and gray. Dick had long since reached the pines, and would probablymake camp at the spring where we had stopped for lunch. I certainly didnot want to catch up with him, but as there was small chance of that; itcaused me no concern. 

Shortly after sunset twilight fell, and it was night when I reached thefirst 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, insome places like a huge black tent, and I had not ridden far when theold fear of night, the fancy of things out there in the darkness, oncemore possessed me. It made me angry. Why could I not have the sameconfidence that I had in the daytime? It was impossible. The forest wasfull of moving shadows. When the wind came up to roar in the pine-tipsit was a relief because it broke the silence. 

I began to doubt whether I could be sure of locating the spring, and Ifinally decided to make camp at once. I stopped Hal, and had swung myleg over the pommel when I saw a faint glimmer of light far ahead. Ittwinkled 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 tooclose now. "

I pondered the question. The blaze was a long way off, and I concludedI could risk camping on the spot, provided I did not make a fire. Accordingly I dismounted, and was searching for a suitable place whenI 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 furtherconsideration. I had a clear sense of responsibility. I knew that fromnow on I should be called upon to reason out many perplexing things. Idid not want to make any mistakes. So I tied Hal and the pack-pony to abush fringing the trail, and set off through the forest. 

It dawned upon me presently that the campfire was much farther away thanit appeared. Often it went out of sight behind trees. By degrees it grewlarger and larger. Then I slowed down and approached more cautiously. Once when the trees obscured it I traveled some distance without gettinga 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 ona 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 gustyroar. I kept very close to the trail, for that was the only means bywhich 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 couldnot make out the words. 

Curiosity got the better of me. If the men were hired by Buell I wantedto know what they were quarrelling about. I stole stealthily from treeto tree, and another hollow opened beneath me. It was so wide and thepines so overshadowed it that I could not tell how close the oppositeside might be to the campfire. I slipped down along the edge of thetrail. The blaze disappeared. Only a faint arc of light showed throughthe gloom. 

I peered keenly into the blackness. At length I reached the slope. HereI 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 voicesof men. I backed down the slope, crossed the trail, and came up on theother side. Pines grew thick on this level, and I stole silently fromone to another. Finally I reached the black trunk of a tree close to thecampfire. 

For a moment I lay low. I did not seem exactly afraid, but I was alltense and hard, and my heart drummed in my ears. There was somethingticklish about this scouting. Then I peeped out. 

It added little to my excitement to recognize the Mexican. He sat nearthe fire smoking a cigarette. Near him were several men, one of whomwas Bill. Facing them sat a man with his back to a small sapling. He wastied with a lasso. 

One glance at his white face made me drop behind the tree, where I laystunned 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 notseem to think at all. Voices loud in anger roused me. Raising myself, Iguardedly 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 righthand 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 thugsinto my camp pretending to be friendly. You grab a fellow behind hisback, 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 himback 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 hasgiven us the slip!"

"I tell you, Ken Ward gave me the slip, " replied Dick. "I'll admit Imeant to see him safe in Holston. But he wouldn't go. He ran off from meright here in this forest. "

What could have been Dick's object in telling such a lie? It made mewonder. Perhaps these lumbermen were more dangerous than I had supposed, and Dick did not wish them to believe I had left Penetier. Maybe he wasplaying for time, and did not want them to get alarmed and escape beforethe 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 crazyto 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 tokeep you and Ward prisoners till this lumber deal is pulled off. We'renot going to be stopped now. "

Leslie turned crimson, and strained on the lasso that bound him to thesapling. "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. JimWilliams, my pardner, is wise. He expects me back tomorrow. "

"See hyar, Stockton, " put in Bill, "you're new in Arizona, an' I want togive you a hunch. If Jim Williams hits this trail, you ain't goin' to bewell enough to care about any old lumber steal. "

"Jim hit the trail all right, " went on Dick. "He's after Greaser. It'dgo hard with you if Jim happened to walk in now. "

"I don't want to buck against Williams, that's certain, " repliedStockton. "I know his record. But I'll take a chance--anyway, till Buellknows. It's his game. "

Dick made no answer, and sat there eyeing his captors. There was littletalk after this. Bud threw a log on the fire. Stockton told the Mexicanto take a look at the horses. Greaser walked within twenty feet of whereI lay, and I held my breath while he passed. The others rolled in theirblankets. It was now so dark that I could not distinguish anythingoutside of the campfire circle. But I heard Greaser's soft, shufflingfootsteps as he returned. Then his dark, slim figure made a shadowbetween me and the light. He sat down before the fire and began to rolla cigarette. He did not seem sleepy. 

A daring scheme flashed into my mind. I would crawl into camp and freeDick. Not only would I outwit the lumber thieves, but also make Dickthink well of me. What would Jim Williams say of a trick like that? Thethought of the Texan banished what little hesitation I felt. Glancinground the bright circle, I made my plan; it was to crawl far back intothe darkness, go around to the other side of the camp, and then slipup behind Dick. Already his head was nodding on his breast. It made mefurious to see him sitting so uncomfortably, sagging in the lasso. 

I tried to beat down my excitement, but there was a tingling all overme 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 dieddown to a moaning. I thought of myself lying there, with my skinprickling and my eyes sharp on the darkening forms. I thought of thenights I had spent with Hal in the old woods at home. How full thepresent seemed! My breast swelled, my hand gripped my revolver, my eyespierced the darkness, and I would not have been anywhere else for theworld. 

Greaser smoked out his cigarette, and began to nod. That was the signalfor me. I crawled noiselessly from the tree. When I found myself goingdown into the hollow, I stopped and rose to my feet. The forest was sopitchy black that I could not tell the trees from the darkness. I gropedto the left, trying to circle. Once I snapped a twig; it cracked likea pistol-shot, and my heart stopped beating, then began to thump. ButGreaser never stirred as he sat in the waning light. At last I had halfcircled the camp. 

After a short rest I started forward, slow and stealthy as a creepingcat. When within fifty feet of the fire I went down on all-fours andbegan to crawl. Twice I got out of line. But at last Dick's burlyshoulders loomed up between me and the light. 

Then I halted. My breast seemed bursting, and I panted so hard that Iwas in a terror lest I should awaken some one. Again I thought of what Iwas doing, and fought desperately to gain my coolness. 

Now the only cover I had was Dick's broad back, for the sapling to whichhe was tied was small. I drew my hunting-knife. One more wriggle broughtme close to Dick, with my face near his hands, which were bound behindhim. I slipped the blade under the lasso, and cut it through. 

Dick started as if he had received an electric shock. He threw back hishead and uttered a sudden exclamation. 

Although I was almost paralyzed with fright I put my hand on hisshoulder and whispered: "S-s-s-h! It's Ken!"

Greaser uttered a shrill cry. Dick leaped to his feet. Then I grewdizzy, and my sight blurred. I heard hoarse shouts and saw dark formsrising as if out of the earth. All was confusion. I wanted to run, butcould 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 twomen on the ground, with Dick standing over them. Stockton was closingin. Greaser ran around them with something in his hand that glittered inthe firelight. Stockton dived for Dick's legs and upset him. They wentdown together, and the Mexican leaped on them, waving the bright thinghigh over his head. 

I bounded forward, and, grasping his wrist with both hands, I wrenchedhis arm with all my might. Some one struck me over the head. I saw amillion darting points of light--then all went black. 

When I opened my eyes the sun was shining. I had a queer, numb feelingall over, and my head hurt terribly. Everything about me was hazy. Idid not know where I was. After a little I struggled to sit up, and withgreat difficulty managed it. My hands were tied. Then it all came backto me. Stockton stood before me holding a tin cup of water toward mylips. My throat was parched, and I drank. Stockton had a great bruiseon his forehead; his nostrils were crusted with blood, and his shirt washalf 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 Billnursing his eye, and bathing it with a wet handkerchief. It was swollenshut, puffed out to the size of a goose-egg, and blue as indigo. Dickhad certainly landed hard on Bill. Then I turned round to see Dicksitting against the little sapling, bound fast with a lasso. His cleanface did not look as if he had been in a fight; he was smiling, yetthere was anxiety in his eyes. 

"Ken, now you've played hob, " he said. It was a reproach, but his lookmade 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 tickleJim to death. I was an old woman. But that cold knife-blade made mejump. "

I glanced round the camp for the Mexican and Bud and the fifth man, butthey were gone. Bill varied his occupation of the moment by kneadingbiscuit dough in a basin. Then there came such a severe pain in my headthat 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, Ithink you saved me from being knifed by the Greaser. You twisted hisarm half off. He cursed all night. .. . Ha! there he comes now with youroutfit. "

Sure enough, the Mexican appeared on the trail, leading my horses. I wasso glad to see Hal that I forgot I was a prisoner. But Greaser's sullenface and glittering eyes reminded me of it quickly enough. I readtreachery in his glance. 

Bud rode into camp from the other direction, and he brought a bunch ofhorses, two of which I recognized as Dick's. The lumbermen set aboutgetting breakfast, and Stockton helped me to what little I could eat anddrink. Now that I was caught he did not appear at all mean or harsh. Idid 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, werebundled astride our mounts. The pack-ponies led the way, with Billfollowing; I came next, Greaser rode behind me, and Dick was between Budand Stockton. So we traveled, and no time was wasted. I noticed that themen kept a sharp lookout both to the fore and the rear. We branched offthe main trail and took a steeper one leading up the slope. We rodefor hours. There were moments when I reeled in my saddle, but for thegreater while I stood my pain and weariness well enough. Some time inthe afternoon a shrill whistle ahead attracted my attention. I made outtwo 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 turnedout to be no other than the absent man I had been wondering about. Hehad been dispatched to fetch the lumberman. 

Buell was superbly mounted on a sleek bay, and he looked very much thesame jovial fellow I had met on the train. He grinned at the disfiguredmen. 

"Take it from me, you fellers wouldn't look any worse bunged up if you'dbeen jolted by the sawlogs in my mill. "

"We can't stand here to crack jokes, " said Stockton, sharply. "Someranger might see us. Now what?"

"You ketched the kid in time. That's all I wanted. Take him an' Leslieup in one of the canyons an' keep them there till further orders. Youneedn't stay, Stockton, after you get them in a safe place. An' you cansend 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 ofthe letter to Washington, but somehow I kept silent. 

"Leslie, " went on Buell, "I'll overlook your hittin' me an' let you goif 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 hiseyes. 

"There's one thing, Buell, " said Stockton. "Jim Williams is wise. You'vegot to look out for him. "

Buell's ruddy face blanched. Then, without another word, he waved hishand 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. Theforest still kept its open, park-like character. Under the great pinesthe ground was bare and brown with a thick covering of pine-needles, butin the glades were green grass and blue flowers. 

Once across this level we encountered a steeper ascent than any I hadyet climbed. Here the character of the forest began to change. Therewere other trees than pines, and particularly one kind, cone-shaped, symmetrical, and bright, which Dick called a silver spruce. I was gladit belonged to the conifers, or pine-tree family, because it was themost beautiful tree I had ever seen. We climbed ridges and threadedthrough aspen thickets in hollows till near sunset. Then Stocktonordered a halt for camp. 

It came none too soon for me, and I was so exhausted that I had to behelped off my mustang. Stockton arranged my blankets, fed me, and bathedthe bruise on my head, but I was too weary and sick to be grateful orto care about anything except sleep. Even the fact that my hands wereuncomfortably 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 gonefrom my head. That made everything else seem all right. 

Soon we were climbing again, and my interest in my surroundings grew aswe went up. For a while we brushed through thickets of scrub oak. Thewhole slope of the mountain was ridged and hollowed, so that we werealways 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. Ilooked down a long incline of sharp tree-tips. The roar of water rosefrom below, and in places a white rushing torrent showed. Above loomedthe snow-clad peak, glistening in the morning sun. How wonderfully faroff and high it still was!

To my regret it was shut off from my sight as we descended into thecanyon. However, I soon forgot that. I saw a troop of coyotes, and manyblack and white squirrels. From time to time huge birds, almost as bigas turkeys, crashed out of the thickets and whirred away. They flewswift as pheasants, and I asked Dick what they were. 

"Blue grouse, " he replied. "Look sharp now, Ken, there are deer ahead ofus. See the tracks?"

Looking down I saw little, sharp-pointed, oval tracks. Presently twofoxes crossed an open patch not fifty yards from us, but I did not geta glimpse of the deer. Soon we reached the bottom of the canyon, andstruck into another trail. The air was full of the low roar of tumblingwater. This mountain-torrent was about twenty feet wide, but itsswiftness and foam made it impossible to tell its depth. The trail ledup-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. Iheard 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 astrange, whistling sound. 

On going forward we found that Bill had killed a deer and was roping iton 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 wasexceedingly rough, and made hard going for the horses. Suddenly I wasamazed to see the gorge open out into a kind of amphitheatre severalhundred feet across. The walls were steep, and one side shelved out, making a long, shallow cave, In the center of this amphitheatre was adeep hole from which the mountain stream boiled and bubbled. 

"Hyar we are, " said Bill, and swung out of his saddle. The other menfollowed suit, and helped Dick and me down. Stockton untied our hands, saying he reckoned we would be more comfortable that way. Indeed wewere. My wrists were swollen and blistered. Stockton detailed theMexican 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 straightfrom the peaks. We're not a thousand feet below the snow-line. "

"I can tell that. Look at those Jwari pines, " I replied, pointing upover the wall. A rugged slope rose above our camp-site, and it wascovered with a tangled mass of stunted pines. Many of them were twistedand misshapen; some were half dead and bleached white at the tops. "It'smy 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 supposenot one in a thousand seedlings takes root and survives. But the forestfights hard to live. "

"Well, Ken, we may as well sit back now and talk forestry till Buellskins all he wants of Penetier, " said Dick. "It's really a finecamping-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 happento turn up? I thought you were going to hop on the first train forhome. "

"Dick, you had another think coming. I couldn't go home. I'll have agreat 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 biggerthan 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 withsuspicious 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 appearedto 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. Wemade 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'llhave good grub. Herky-Jerky's the best cook this side of Holston, andyou'll be left untied in the daytime. But if either of you attempts toget away it means a leg shot off. Do you get that?"

"All right, Stockton; that's pretty square of you, considering, " repliedDick. "You're a decent sort of chap to be mixed up with a thief likeBuell. I'm sorry. "

Stockton turned away at this rather abruptly. Then Bill appeared onthe wall above, and began to throw down firewood. Bud returned from thecanyon, where he had driven the horses. Greaser sat on a stone puffing acigarette. It was the first time I had taken a good look at him. He wassmaller than I had fancied; his feet and hands and features resembledthose of a woman, but his eyes were live coals of black fire. In thedaylight 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 onearth could he have stopped a pig in a lane. A stubby beard coveredthe lower half of his brick-red face. The most striking thing aboutHerky-Jerky, however, was his perpetual grin. He looked very jolly, yetevery time he opened his mouth it was to utter bad language. He cursedthe fire, the pans, the coffee, the biscuits, all of which he handledmost skillfully. It was disgusting, and yet aside from this I ratherliked him. 

It grew dark very quickly while we were eating, and the wind that dippeddown into the gorge was cold. I kept edging closer and closer to theblazing campfire. I had never tasted venison before, and rather dislikedit at first. But I soon cultivated a liking for it. 

That night Stockton tied me securely, but in a way which made it easyfor me to turn. I slept soundly and awoke late. When I sat up Stocktonstood by his saddled horse, and was giving orders to the men. Hespoke sharply. He made it clear that they were not to be lax in theirvigilance. Then, without a word to Dick or me, he rode down the gorgeand disappeared behind a corner of yellow wall. 

Bill untied the rope that held Dick's arms, but left his feet bound. Iwas freed entirely, and it felt so good to have the use of all my limbsonce more that I pranced round in a rather lively way. Either my anticsannoyed Herky-Jerky or he thought it a good opportunity to show hisskill with a lasso, for he shot the loop over me so hard that it stungmy back. 

"I'm all there as a roper!" he said, pulling the lasso tight round mymiddle. 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 asI walked. Herky-Jerky put me to carrying Dick's breakfast from thecampfire up into the cave. This I did with alacrity. Dick and Iexchanged commonplace remarks aloud, but we had several little whispers. 

"Ken, we may get the drop on them or give them the slip yet, " whisperedDick, 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, butI did not want to go alone down that canyon without a gun. Stockton hadtaken my revolver and hunting-knife, but I still had the little leathercase which Hal and I had used so often back on the Susquehanna. Besidesa pen-knife this case contained salt and pepper, fishing hooks andlines, matches--a host of little things that a boy who had never beenlost might imagine he would need in an emergency. While thinking andplanning 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 oftrout--speckled trout, " said Herky-Jerky. "But they can't be ketched. "

"Why not?" I demanded. I had not caught little trout in the Pennsylvaniahills 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-Jerkysaid 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 greenishswirls. The outlet was a narrow little cleft through which the waterflowed slowly, as though it did not want to take its freedom. The rushand roar came from the gorge below. 

Herky-Jerky returned with a long, slender pole. It was as pliant as abuggy-whip, and once trimmed and rigged it was far from being a poortackle. Herky-Jerky watched me with extreme attention, all the timegrinning. 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 ofsight. 

"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 thebait 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 bentdouble, wobbled, and swayed this way and that. The fish was a powerfulone; his rushes were like those of a heavy bass. But never had a bassgiven me such a struggle. Every instant I made sure the tackle would bewrecked. Then, just at the breaking-point, the fish would turn. At lasthe began to tire. I felt that he was rising to the surface, and I put onmore strain. Soon I saw him; then he turned, flashing like a gold bar. Iled my captive to the outlet of the spring, where I reached down andgot my fingers in his gills. With that I lifted him. Dick whooped when Iheld up the fish; as for me, I was speechless. The trout was almost twofeet 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 fishingpole. 

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. Theymade 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 theother end of the lasso. More than once they tethered me up short for noother reason than to torment me. Yet never in my life had I so enjoyedfishing. 

By-and-by Bill and Herky-Jerky left the camp. I heard Herky tell Greaserto keep his eye on the stew-pots, and it occurred to me that Greaser hadbetter keep his eye on Ken Ward. When I saw Bud lie down I rememberedwhat Dick had whispered. I pretended to be absorbed in my fishing, butreally I was watching Greaser. As usual, he was smoking, and appearedlistless, but he still held on to the lasso. 

Suddenly I saw a big blue revolver lying on a stone and I could evencatch the glint of brass shells in the cylinder. It was not close to Budnor so very close to Greaser. If he should drop the lasso! A wild ideapossessed 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 inMexican; he got up to move the stew-pot and dropped the lasso. 

When he reached the fire I bounded up, jerking the lasso far behindme. I ran and grabbed the revolver. Greaser heard me and wheeled witha yell. Bud sat up quickly. I pointed the revolver at him, then atGreaser, 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 youmove 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 itsteadied, I squeezed it hard. Bang! It went off with a bellow like acannon. The bullet scattered the gravel near Greaser. His yellow faceturned 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 tremendouspull on the lasso and I seemed to be sailing in the air. I got a blurredglimpse of Herky-Jerky leaning back on the taut lasso. Then I plungeddown, 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 petrifyme. I should have gone straight to the bottom like a piece of lead butfor 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-Jerkyhauling away on the rope. When he caught sight of me he looked as ifready 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 meround and round in the pool. When he had pulled me across he ran tothe other side and jerked me back. I was drawn through the water witha force that I feared would tear me apart. Greaser chattered like ahideous monkey, and ran to and fro in glee. Herky-Jerky soon had mesputtering, gasping, choking. When he finally pulled me out of the holeI 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 fullyreturned I was lying in the cave on my blankets. A great lassitudeweighted me down. The terrible thrashing about in the icy water hadquenched my spirit. For a while I was too played out to move, and laythere 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 gotout of them. Herky brought up my coat, which, fortunately, I had takenoff before the ducking. I did not have the heart to speak to Dick orlook at him, so I closed my eyes and fell asleep. 

It was another day when I awoke. I felt all right except for a sorenessunder my arms and across my chest where the lasso had chafed andbruised me. Still I did not recover my good spirits. Herky-Jerky kept ongrinning and cracking jokes on my failure to escape. He had appropriatedmy revolver for himself, and he asked me several times if I wanted toborrow it to shoot Greaser. 

That day passed quietly, and so did the two that followed. The men wouldnot let me fish nor move about. They had been expecting Stockton, andas 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 keepclose watch over Dick and me. Then he rode away. Dick and I resumed ourtalk about forestry, and as we were separated by the length of the caveit 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 someparts of the East; it's only an experiment out here. "

Then I went on to tell him about the method of the farmer. He usuallyhad a small piece of forest, mostly hard wood. When the snow was on hecut firewood, fence-rails, and lumber for his own use in building. Someseasons lumber brought high prices; then he would select matured logsand haul them to the sawmill. But he would not cut a great deal, and hewould use care in the selection. It was his aim to keep the land wellcovered with forest. He would sow as well as harvest. 

"Now the Government policy is to preserve the National Forests for theuse of the people. The soil must be kept productive. Agriculture wouldbe impossible without water, and the forests hold water. The West wantspeople to come to stay. The lumberman who slashes off the timber may getrich 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-Jerkywere hanging on our words with unconcealed attention. Even the Mexicanwas listening. Dick's cue was to scare them, or at least to have somefun at their expense. 

"They've passed it, " I replied. "Fellows like Buell will go to thepenitentiary 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 NationalGuard. He's a friend of my father's. Why, these kidnappers will behanged!"

"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, withthe 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 canshow them to my friends back East. "

"It'll be great--what you'll have to tell, " went on Dick. "It'll befunny, too. "

Greaser had begun to snarl viciously, and Herky and Bill looked glum andthoughtful. The arrival of Bud interrupted the conversation and put anend 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 questionshard to answer. Dick flashed me a significant look, which was as muchas to say that Jim was growing suspicious. Bud had brought a store ofwhiskey, and his companions now kept closer company with him than everbefore. 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 reallywent to find another place for the camp, for the present spot wascertainly a kind of trap. But from the looks of Greaser I guessed thatthey were leaving him to keep guard while they went off to drink bythemselves. Greaser muttered and snarled. As the moments passed his facegrew sullen. 

All at once he came toward me. He bound my hands and my feet. Dick wasalready securely tied, but Greaser put another lasso on him. Then heslouched down the gorge. His high-peaked Mexican sombrero bobbed abovethe rocks, then disappeared. 

"Ken, now's the chance, " said Dick, low and quick. "If you can only workloose! There's your rifle and mine, too. We could hold this fort for amonth. "

"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 withyour teeth. "

I raised my head to get the direction, and then, with a violent twistof my body, I started toward him; but being bound fast I could not guidemyself, 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. Thethought of rolling into the spring filled me with horror. Suddenly Ibumped 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. Buthow 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. Youhitch yourself this way--That's it---good!"

What Dick called easy as pie was the hardest work I ever did. I lay flaton my back, bound hand and foot, and it was necessary to jerk my bodyalong the log till my hands should be under the knife. I lifted my legsand edged along inch by inch. 

"Fine work, Ken! Now you're right! Turn on your side! Be careful youdon't loosen the knife!"

Not only were my wrists bound, but the lasso had been wrapped round myelbows, holding them close to my body. Turning on my side, I found thatI could not reach the knife--not by several inches. This was a bitterdisappointment. I strained and heaved. In my effort to lift my bodysidewise I pressed my face into the gravel. "Hurry, Ken, hurry!" criedDick. "Somebody's coming!"

Thus urged, I grew desperate. In my struggle I discovered that it waspossible to edge up on the log and stick there. I glued myself to thatlog. By dint of great exertion I brought the tight cord against theblade. It parted with a little snap, my elbows dropped free. Raisingmy wrists, I sawed quickly through the bonds. I cut myself, the bloodflowed, but that was no matter. Jerking the knife from the log, Isevered 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 hehad been secured. I had cut half through the knots when a shrill cryarrested 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 grabbedup a round stone and let fly. That was where my ball-playing stood mein good stead, for the stone hit Greaser on the shoulder, knocking himflat. 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 wenttogether. We wrestled and thrashed off the ledge, and when we landed inthe 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 anew-born fury that lent me such strength. He screeched, he snappedlike 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 himback again. Then I began to bang him in the ribs. 

"That's the place!" shouted Dick. "Ken, you're going to do him up! Soakhim! 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. Withall 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 andHerky running up the gorge, and, farther down, Bud staggering andlurching. 

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 wallwhere climbing was possible. Above the yells of the men I heard Dick'spiercing cry:

"Go-go-go, Ken!"

I sent the loose rocks down in my flight. Here I leaped up; there I ranalong a little ledge; in another place I climbed hand and foot. The lastfew yards was a gravelly incline. I seemed to slide back as much as Igained. 

"Come back hyar!" bawled Bill. 

Crack! Crack! Crack. .. The reports rang out in quick succession. Abullet whistled over me, another struck the gravel and sent a shower ofdust into my face. I pitched my rifle up over the bank and began to digmy fingers and toes into the loose ground. As I gained the top two morebullets sang past my head so close that I knew Bill was aiming to morethan scare me. I dragged myself over the edge and was safe. 

The canyon, with its dense thickets and scrubby clumps of trees, laybelow 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 soongained the cover of the woods. 

XI. THE OLD HUNTER

I ran till I got a stitch in my side, and then slowed down to adog-trot. The one thing to do was to get a long way ahead of mypursuers, for surely at the outset they would stick like hounds to mytrail. 

A mile or more below the gorge I took to the stream and waded. Itwas slippery, dangerous work, for the current tore about my legs andthreatened to upset me. After a little I crossed to the left bank. Herethe slope of the canyon was thick with grass that hid my tracks. It wasa 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 thefrying-pan into the fire. Hurriedly I examined my Winchester. Themagazine contained ten cartridges. What luck that Stockton had neglectedto unload it! This made things look better. I had salt and pepper, aknife, and matches--thanks to the little leather case--and so I couldlive in the woods. 

It was too late for regrets. I might have freed Dick somehow or evenheld the men at bay, but I had thought only of escape. The lack of nerveand judgment stung me. Then I was bitter over losing my mustang andoutfit. 

But on thinking it all over, I concluded that I ought to be thankful forthings as they were. I was free, with a whole skin. That climb out ofthe gorge had been no small risk. How those bullets had whistled andhissed!

"I'm pretty lucky, " I muttered. "Now to get good and clear of thisvicinity. They'll ride down the trail after me. Better go over thisridge into the next canyon and strike down that. I must go down. But howfar? What must I strike for?"

I took a long look at the canyon. In places the stream showed, also thetrail; then there were open patches, but I saw no horses or men. Witha grim certainty that I should be lost in a very little while, I turnedinto the cool, dark forest. 

Every stone and log, every bit of hard ground in my path, served to helphide my trail. Herky-Jerky very likely had the cowboy's skill at findingtracks, but I left few traces of my presence on that long slope. Only anIndian or a hound could have trailed me. The timber was small and roughbrush grew everywhere. Presently I saw light ahead, and I came to anopen space. It was a wide swath in the forest. At once I recognized thepath of an avalanche. It sloped up clean and bare to the gray cliffs farabove. Below was a great mass of trees and rocks, all tangled in blacksplintered ruin. I pushed on across the path, into the forest, and upand down the hollows. The sun had gone down behind the mountain, and theshadows were gathering when I came to another large canyon. It looked somuch like the first that I feared I had been travelling in a circle. Butthis 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 ledgesof rock. The far side of this canyon was steep and craggy. Soon Idiscovered a place where I thought it would be safe to build a fire. Myclothes were wet, and the air had grown keen and cold. Gathering a storeof wood, I made my fire in a niche. For a bed I cut some sweet-scentedpine boughs (I thought they must be from a balsam-tree), and these Ilaid close up in a rocky corner. Thus I had the fire between me andthe opening, and with plenty of wood to burn I did not fear visits frombears or lions. At last I lay down, dry and warm indeed, but very tiredand hungry. 

Darkness closed in upon me. I saw a few stars, heard the cheery crackleof 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. Thefire had died out completely, there was frost on the stones. To build upanother fire and to bathe my face in the ice-water of the brook were myfirst tasks. The air was sweet; it seemed to freeze as I breathed, andwas a bracing tonic. I was tingling all over, and as hungry as a starvedwolf. 

I set forth on a hunt for game. Even if the sound of a shot betrayedmy whereabouts I should have to abide by it, for I had to eat. Steppingsoftly along, I glanced about me with sharp eyes. Deer trails werethick. The bottom of this canyon was very wide, and grew wider as Iproceeded. Then the pines once more became large and thrifty. I judged Ihad come down the mountain, perhaps a couple of thousand feet belowthe camp in the gorge. I flushed many of the big blue grouse, and I sawnumerous coyotes, a fox, and a large brown beast which moved swiftlyinto a thicket. It was enough to make my heart rise in my throat. Todream of hunting bears was something vastly different from meeting onein a lonely canyon. 

Just after this I saw a herd of deer. They were a good way off. I beganto slip from tree to tree, and drew closer. Presently I came to a littlehollow with a thick, short patch of underbrush growing on the oppositeside. 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. Tremblingwith eagerness, I leveled my rifle. I could not get the sight to staysteady on the deer. Even then, with the rifle wobbling in my intenseexcitement, I thought of how beautiful that wild creature was. Strainingevery 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 downin a heap. 

I tore through the bushes, and had almost reached the bottom of thehollow 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 wasdead. My bullet had entered high above the shoulder at the juncture ofthe neck. Though I had only aimed at him generally, I took a good dealof pride in my first shot at a deer. 

Fortunately my pen-knife had a fair-sized blade. With it I decided tocut out part of the deer and carry it back to my camp. Then it occurredto me that I might as well camp where I was. There were several jumblesof rock and a cliff within a stone's-throw of where I stood. Besides, Imust get used to making camp wherever I happened to be. Accordingly, Itook hold of the deer, and dragged him down the hollow till I came to aleaning slab of rock. 

Skinning a deer was, of course, new to me. I haggled the flesh somewhatand cut through the skin often, my knife-blade being much too small forsuch work. Finally I thought it would be enough for me to cut out thehaunches, and then I got down to one haunch. It had bothered me how Iwas going to sever the joint, but to my great surprise I found theredid not seem to be any connection between the bones. The haunch came outeasily, 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 astick solved the problem of cooking. Then it was that the little flatflask, full of mixed salt and pepper, rewarded me for the long carryingof it. I was hungry, and I feasted. 

By this time the sun shone warm, and the canyon was delightful. I roamedaround, sat on sunny stones, and lay in the shade of pines. Deer browsedin the glades. When they winded or saw me they would stand erect, shootup their long cars, and then leisurely lope away. Coyotes trotted outof thickets and watched me suspiciously. I could have shot several, but deemed it wise to be saving of my ammunition. Once I heard a lowdrumming. I could not imagine what made it. Then a big blue grousestrutted out of a patch of bushes. He spread his wings and tail and neckfeathers, after the fashion of a turkey-gobbler. It was a flap or shakeof his wings that produced the drumming. I wondered if he intended, byhis actions, to frighten me away from his mate's nest. So I went towardhim, and got very close before he flew. I caught sight of his mate inthe bushes, and, as I had supposed, she was on a nest. Though wanting tosee her eggs or young ones, I resisted the temptation, for I was afraidif 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 werenot in sight. The canyon widened down the slope, and I was pretty surethat it opened out flat into the great pine forest of Penetier. The onlything that bothered me was the loss of my mustang and outfit; I couldnot reconcile myself to that. So I wandered about with a strange, fullsense of freedom such as I had never before known. What was to be theend of my adventure I could not guess, and I wasted no time worryingover it. 

The knowledge I had of forestry I tried to apply. I studied the northand south slopes of the canyon, observing how the trees prospered on thesunny side. Certain saplings of a species unknown to me had been gnawedfully ten feet from the ground. This puzzled me. Squirrels could nothave done it, nor rabbits, nor birds. Presently I hit upon the solution. The bark and boughs of this particular sapling were food for deer, andto 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 rootswas 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 heldthe water! I pried bark off dead trees and dug into decayed logs to findthe insect enemies of the trees. The open places, where little coloniesof pine sprouts grew, seemed generally to be down-slope from the parenttrees. It was easy to tell the places where the wind had blown theseeds. 

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 cookedmy supper and made my bed. When I had laid up a store of firewood it wasnearly dark. 

With night came the coyotes. The carcass of the deer attracted them, andthey approached from all directions. At first it was fascinating to hearone howl far off in the forest, and then to notice the difference in thesound as he came nearer and nearer. The way they barked and snapped outthere in the darkness was as wild a thing to hear as any boy could havewished for. It began to be a little too much for me. I kept up a brightfire, and, though not exactly afraid, I had a perch picked out in thenearest tree. Suddenly the coyotes became silent. Then a low, continuousgrowling, a snapping of twigs, and the unmistakable drag of a heavybody over the ground made my hair stand on end. Gripping my rifle, Ilistened. I heard the crunch of teeth on bones, then more sounds ofsomething being dragged down the hollow. The coyotes began to barkagain, but now far back in the forest. 

Some beast had frightened them. What was it? I did not know whether abear would eat deer flesh, but I thought not. Perhaps timber-wolveshad disturbed the coyotes. But would they run from wolves? It came to mesuddenly--a mountain-lion!

I hugged my fire, and sat there, listening with all my ears, imaginingevery rustle of leaf to be the step of a lion. It was long before thethrills and shivers stopped chasing over me, longer before I coulddecide to lie down. But after a while the dead quiet of the forestpersuaded 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 Ihad 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 tothe ground, plainly marked the trail. But search as I might, I couldnot find the track of the animal that had dragged off the deer. Afterfollowing the trail for a few rods, I decided to return to camp and cookbreakfast before going any farther. While I was at it I cut many thinslices of venison, and, after roasting them, I stored them away in thecapacious pocket of my coat. 

My breakfast finished, I again set out to see what had become of theremains of the deer. In two or three places the sharp hoofs had cutlines in the soft earth, and there were tufts of whitish-gray hairelsewhere. A hundred yards or more down the hollow I came to a bare spotwhere recently there had been a pool of water. Here I found cat tracksas 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 enormousbrute he must have been! I cast fearful glances into the surroundingthickets. 

It was not needful to travel much farther. Under a bush well hidden in aclump of trees lay what now remained of my deer. A patch of gray hair, afew long bones, a split skull, and two long ears--no more! Even the hidewas gone. Perhaps the coyotes had finished the job after the lion hadgorged himself, but I did not think so. It seemed to me that coyoteswould have scattered the remains. Those two long ears somehow seemedpathetic. 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 aglade below me. I had to fight myself to keep from shooting. The windblew rather strong in my face, which probably accounted for the deer notwinding me. 

Then the whip-like crack of a rifle riveted me where I stood. One of thedeer fell, and the others bounded away. I saw a tall man stride downthe slope and into the glade. He was not like any of the loggers orlumbermen. They were mostly brawny and round-shouldered. This man waslithe, erect; he walked like athletes I had seen. Surely I should find afriend in him, and I lost no time in running down into the glade. He sawme 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--thekeenest and clearest I had ever looked into. They shone with a kindlylight, otherwise I might have thought his face hard and stern. Hisshoulders were very wide, his arms long, his hands enormous. Hisbuckskin shirt attracted my attention to his other clothes, which lookedlike leather overalls or heavy canvas. A belt carried a huge knife and anumber of shells of large caliber; the Winchester he had was exceedinglylong and heavy, and of an old pattern. The look of him brought back myold fancy of Wetzel or Kit Carson. 

"So I'm lost, " I concluded, "and don't know what to do. I daren't try tofind the sawmill. I won't go back to Holston just yet. "

"An' why not, youngster? 'Pears to me you'd better make tracks fromPenetier. "

I told him why, at which he laughed. 

"Wal, I reckon you can stay with me fer a spell. My camp's in the headof this canyon. "

"Oh, thank you, that'll be fine!" I exclaimed. My great good luck filledme with joy. "Do you stay on the mountain?"

"Be'n here goin' on eighteen years, youngster. Mebbe you've heerd myname. 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 waswonderful to see his skill. In a few cuts and strokes, a ripping of thehide and a powerful slash, he had cut out a haunch. It took even lesswork for the second. Then he hung the rest of the deer on a snag, andwiped 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 leavehim 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 tracksaway from a cougar. I lent my pack of hounds to a pard over nearSpringer. 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 momentI almost forgot Dick and Buell. Forestry seemed less important thanhunting. 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 havestepped out of one of my dreams. So I trudged along beside him, askinga question now and then, and listening always. He certainly knew whatwould interest me. There was scarcely a thing he said that I would everforget. After a while, however, the trail became so steep and rough thatI, at least, had no breath to spare for talking. We climbed and climbed. The canyon had become a narrow, rocky cleft. Huge stones blocked theway. A ragged growth of underbrush fringed the stream. Dead pines, withbranches like spears, lay along the trail. 

We came upon a little clearing, where there was a rude log-cabin witha stone chimney. Skins of animals were tacked upon logs. Under the bankwas a spring. The mountain overshadowed this wild nook. 

"Wal, youngster, here's my shack. Make yourself to home, " said HiramBent. 

I was all eyes as we entered the cabin. Skins, large and small, and ofmany colors, hung upon the walls. A fire burned in a wide stone grate. Arough table and some pans and cooking utensils showed evidence of recentscouring. A bunch of steel traps lay in a corner. Upon a shelf weretin cans and cloth bags, and against the wall stood a bed of glossybearskins. To me the cabin was altogether a most satisfactory place. 

"I reckon ye're tired?" asked the hunter. "Thet's some pumpkins of aclimb 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 forestrythat he left off his task of the moment to talk about it. I was not longin discovering that what he did not know about trees and forests washardly worth learning. He called it plain woodcraft. He had never heardof forestry. All the same I hungered for his knowledge. How lucky for meto fall in with him! The things that had puzzled me about the pines heanswered easily. Then he volunteered information. From talking of theforest, he drifted to the lumbermen. 

"Wal, the lumber-sharks are rippin' holes in Penetier. I reckon theywouldn't stop at nothin'. I've heered some tough stories about thetsawmill gang. I ain't acquainted with Leslie, or any of them fellers younamed 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 upthem kidnappers. I reckon you'd better hang up with me fer a while. Youdon'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 sendword home to your people. "

"I sent word home about the big steal of timber. That was before I gotkidnapped. By this time the Government knows. "

"Wal, you don't say! Thet was pert of you, youngster. An' will theGovernment round up these sharks?"

"Indeed it will. The Government is in dead earnest about protecting theNational Forests. "

"So it ought to be. Next to a forest fire, I hate these skinned timbertracts. 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 forhim, but as he did not return I lay down upon the bearskins and droppedto sleep. It seemed I had hardly closed my eyes when I felt a hand on myarm and heard a voice. 

"Wake up, youngster. Thar's two old bears an' a cub been foolin' withone 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 hisshoulder. 

"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, andI was constantly skipping from stone to stone. The grassy slopes grewfewer, and finally gave way altogether to cracked cliffs and weatheredrocks. A fringe of pine-trees leaned over the top with here and there ablasted spear standing out white. 

"I had my trap set up thet draw, " said Hiram Bent, as he pointed towardan intersecting canyon. "Just before I waked you I was comin' alonghere, an' I heered an all-fired racket up thar, an' so I watched. Soonthree black bears come paddlin' down, an' the biggest was draggin' thetrap with the chain an' log. Then I hurried to tell you. They can't befar. "

"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 beenplowin' up the stones. "

There were deep tracks in the sand, and broad furrows, and stonesoverturned, and places where a heavy object had crushed the gravel evenand smooth. 

The old hunter kept striding on, and I wondered bow he could go so fastwithout running. Presently we came to where the canyon forked. Hiramstarted 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 wentup 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 befar. You'll hear him bellerin' long before you git to him, though hemight lay low, so you steer clear of big boulders an' thickets. Killhim, 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 heroff. Hurry on, now. Keep your eye peeled, an' you'll be safe as if youwere to home. "

With that he disappeared round the corner of stone wall where thecanyon divided. I wheeled and went to the right. This wing of the canyontwisted and turned and was full of stones. A shallow sheet of watergleamed 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 thewalls, the boulders and pieces of cliff that obstructed my path, and theoccasional thickets--all made me halt with careful step and finger onthe trigger. I followed the splashes on the stones, which told methat the bear had passed that way. As I went cautiously on I felt atightening at my throat. The light above grew dimmer. When I stopped tolisten it was so silent that I heard only the pounding of my heart andmy own quick breathing. I pressed on and on, going faster all the timenot that I felt braver, but I longed to end the suspense. Suddenly thesilence was broken by a threatening roar. It swept down on me, swellingas 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. Verycautiously I peered around a projecting corner of wall. There sat a hugeblack bear on his haunches holding up a great steel trap which clutchedone 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 thattrap. He touched it gingerly with his free paw, and nosed it. I crept upclose to the corner of stone and looked around again. The bear was nowclose 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 toreason about them. Then he roused into furious action, swinging thetrap, dragging the log, and bellowing in such a frightful manner that Idodged back behind the wall. 

But this sudden change in the bear, this appalling roar with its note ofpain, awakened me to his suffering. When the noise stopped and I lookedagain, 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 onthe 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 himout of his misery. When I leveled my rifle it was as steady as the rockbeside me. Aiming just below his ear, I pressed the trigger. The dullreport re-echoed from wall to wall. The bear lurched slightly, and hishead fell upon his outstretched paws. I waited, ready to shoot againupon the slightest movement, but there was none. 

With rifle ready I cautiously approached the bear. As I came close heseemed larger and larger, but he showed no signs of life. I looked atthe glossy black fur, the flecks of blood on the side of his head wheremy bullet had entered, the murderous saw-teeth of the heavy trap bitingto the bone, and the cruelty of that trap seemed to drive from me allpride of achievement. It was nothing except mercy to kill a trappedcrippled bear that could not run or fight. Then and there I gained adislike for trapping animals. 

The crack of the old hunter's rifle made me remember that I was to hurryback up the other canyon, so I began to run. I bounded from stone tostone, dashed over the sand-bars, jumped the brook, and went down thatcanyon perhaps in far greater danger of bodily harm than when I had goneup. 

But when I turned the corner it was another story. The first canyon hadbeen easy climbing compared to this one. It was narrow, steep, and fullof dead pines fallen from above. Running was impossible. I clamberedupward over the loose stones, under the bridges of pines, round theboulders. Presently I heard a shout. I could not tell where it camefrom, but I replied. A second call I identified as coming from high upthe ragged canyon side, and I started up. It was hard work. Certainly nobears or hunter had climbed out just here. At length, sore, spent, andtorn, I fell out of a tangle of brush upon the edge of the canyon. Aboveme 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 afairly 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 trappedbear is about the pitifulest thing I ever seen. But it's seldom one evergits into trap of mine. "

"This one you shot must be the old mother bear. Where's the cub? Did itget away?"

"Not yet. Lookup in the tree. "

I looked up the black trunk through the network of slender branches, andsaw the bear snuggling in a fork. His sharp ears stood up against thesky. 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 soattractive 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 climbedshell-bark hickory-trees with the lowest limb fifty feet from theground. . . But there weren't any bears up them. "

"You must keep out of his way if he comes down on you. He's a sassylittle chap. Now take this rope an' go up an' climb round him. "

"Climb round him?" I queried, as I gazed dubiously upward. "You mean toslip 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 goeshigher?"

"I'm lookin' fer him to go clean to the top. But you can beat him toit--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'sworth. But if he stands on the branches an' you come up close he mightbat you one. Mebbe I'd better go up. "

"Oh, I'm going--I only wanted to know what to expect. Now, in case I getabove him, what then?"

"Make him back down till he reaches these first branches. When he getsso 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. Itwas the work of only a moment to reach the first branch. 

"Wal, I reckon you're some relation to a squirrel at thet, " said HiramBent. "Jest as I thought the little cuss is climbin' higher. Thet'sgoin' 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 nowhugging it. At that short distance he looked alarmingly big. But I sawhe would have all he could do to hold on, and if I could climb the lefttrunk and get above him there would be little to fear. How I did itso quickly was a mystery, but amid the cracking of dead branchesand pattering of falling bark and swaying of the tree-top I gained aposition above him. 

He was so close that I could smell him. His quick little eyes snappedfire and fear at once; he uttered a sound that was between a whine and agrowl. 

"Hey, youngster!" yelled Hiram, "thet's high enough--'tain't safe--becareful now. "

With the words I looked out below me, to see the old hunter standing inthe 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 belowwas a slender, dead limb. I slid down and got it, and, holding on withmy 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 tohim. I slipped down the trunk--holding on one instant and sliding downthe next. But below the fork it was harder for Cubby and easier forme. The branches rather hindered his backward progress while they aidedmine. Growling and whining, with long claws ripping the bark, he wentdown. All of a sudden I became aware of the old hunter threshing aboutunder the tree. 

"Hold on--not so fast!" he yelled. 

Still the cub kept going, and stopped with his haunches on the firstbranch. There, looking down, he saw an enemy below him, and hesitated. But he looked up, and, seeing me, began to back down again. Hirampounded the tree with a dead branch. Cubby evidently intended to reachthe ground, for the noise did not stop him. Then the hunter ran a littleway 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 ingetting up to the first branch again, where he halted. 

"Throw the noose on him now--anywhere, " ordered the hunter. "An' we'veno 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 hesent it flying. Then began a duel between us, in which he continuallygot the better of me. All the while the old hunter prodded Cubby frombelow. 

"You ain't quick enough, " said Hiram, impatiently. 

Made reckless by this, I stepped down to another branch directly overthe bear, and tried again to rope him. It was of no use. He slipped outof the noose with the sinuous movements of an eel. Once it caught overhis ears and in his open jaws. He gave a jerk that nearly pulled me frommy perch. I could tell he was growing angrier every instant, and alsobraver. Suddenly the noose, quite by accident, caught his nose. Hewagged 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 myboot. 

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 getstoo close. "

Then I saw the halter had come off the bear and had fallen to theground. Hiram picked it up, arranged the noose, and, holding it in histeeth began to limb after the bear. Cubby was now only a few feet underme, working steadily up, growling, and his little eyes were like pointsof green fire. 

"Stop him! Stand on his head!" mumbled Hiram, with the rope in histeeth. 

"What!--not on your life!"

But, reaching up, I grasped a branch, and, swinging clear of the lowerone, 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 nooseover a bind foot. After several attempts he succeeded, and then threwthe 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 Iwas 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 fallhalf stunned me. I thought every bone in my body was broken. I roseunsteadily, and for a moment everything whirled before my eyes. Then Idiscovered that the roar in my ears was the old hunter's yell. I saw himhauling on the rope. There was a great ripping of bark and many strangesounds, and then the cub was dangling head downward. Hiram had pulledhim from his perch, and hung him over the lowest branch. 

"Thar, youngster, git busy now!" yelled the hunter. "Grab the otherrope--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 himwe'll think we're fast to chain lightnin'. "

The bear swung about five feet from the ground. As I ran at him with thenoose he twisted himself, seemed to double up in a knot, then he droppedfull-stretched again, and lunged viciously at me. Twice I felt the windof his paws. He spun around so fast that it kept me dancing. I flung thenoose and caught his right paw. Hiram bawled something that made me allthe more heedless, and in tightening the noose I ran in too close. Thebear gave me a slashing cuff on the side of the head, and I went downlike a tenpin. 

"Git a hitch thar--to the saplin'!" roared Hiram, as I staggered to myfeet. "Rustle now--hurry!"

What with my ringing head, and fingers all thumbs, and Hiram roaringat me, I made a mess of tying the knot. Then Hiram let go his rope, andwhen 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 couldpick 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 longleaps 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. Suddenlythe strain lessened. I got up, to see that the old hunter had hold ofthe other rope. 

"Now, stretch him out!" he yelled. 

Between us we stretched the cub out, so that all he could do wasstruggle and paw the air and utter strange cries. Hiram tied his ropeto a tree, and then ran back to relieve me. It was high time. He took myrope and fastened it to a stout bush. 

"Thar, youngster, I reckon thet'll hold him! Now tie his paws an' muzzlehim. "

He drew some buckskin thongs from his pocket and handed them to me. Wewent up to the straining cub, and Hiram, with one pull of his powerfulhands, brought the hind legs together. 

"Tie 'em, " he said. 

This done, with the aid of a heavy piece of wood he pressed the cub'shead down and wound a thong tightly round the sharp nose. Then he tiedthe 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 broadback. 

"Come on, you trail behind, an' keep your eye peeled to see he doesn'twork thet knot off his jaws. .. . Say, youngster, now you've got him, whatin thunder will you do with him?"

I looked at my torn trousers, at the blood on my skinned and burninghands, and I felt of the bruise on my head, as I said, grimly: "I'llhang 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 asack of oats. When we reached the cabin he fastened a heavy dog-collarround Cubby's neck and snapped a chain to it. Doubling the halter, hetied 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 washe free of the buckskin thongs than he leaped away, only to be pulled upby the halter. Then he rolled over and over, clawing at the chain, andsquirming to get his head out of the collar. 

"He might choke hisself, " said Hiram, "but mebbe he'll ease up if westay 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 ofDick Leslie, and asked if there were not some way to get him out of theclutches of the lumber thieves. 

"I've been thinkin' about thet, " replied the hunter, "an' I reckon wecan. Tomorrow we'll cross the ridge high up back of thet spring-holecanyon, an' sneak down. 'Pears to me them fellers will be trailin' youpretty hard, an' mebbe they'll leave only one to guard Leslie. More'nthet, the trail up here to my shack is known, an' I'm thinkin' we'd besmart 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'twant 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 ahundred. An' he'd make a heap of trouble. Mebbe we'll ketch a littlecub--one you can carry in your arms. "

"That'd be still better, " I replied. "But if we don't, I'll try to takehim back home. "

The old hunter said I made a good shot at the big bear, and that hewould give me the skin for a rug. It delighted me to think of that hugeglossy bearskin on the floor of my den. I told Hiram how the bear hadsuffered, and I was glad to see that, although he was a hunter andtrapper, 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 meforget all about venison. By the time we had climbed up the other canyonand 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 thingneeded to make me happy. Dick was in my mind even when Hiram cooked asupper that almost made me forget my manners. Certainly the broiled bearmeat made me forget venison. Then we talked before the burning logsin the stone fire-place. Hiram sat on his home-made chair and smokeda 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 differentfrom Hiram Bent and Jim Williams. Jim's soft drawl and kind, twinklingeyes were not what any book-reader would expect to find in a dangerousman. And Hiram Bent was so simple and friendly, so glad to have even aboy to talk to, that it seemed he would never stop. If it had not beenfor his striking appearance and for the strange, wild tales he told ofhis lonely life, he would have reminded me of the old canal-lock tendersat home. 

Once, when he was refilling his pipe and I thought it would be a goodtime 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 theNational Forests. You have full power. The object is to conserve ournational resources. What will you do?"

"Wal, Mr. President, " he began, slowly and seriously, and with greatdignity, "the Government must own the forests an' deal wisely with them. These mountain forests are great sponges to hold the water, an' wemust stop fire an' reckless cuttin'. The first thing is to overcomethe opposition of the stockmen, an' show them where the benefit will betheirs in the long run. Next the timber must be used, but not all usedup. We'll need rangers who're used to rustlin' in the West an' knowWestern ways. Cabins must be built, trails made, roads cut. We'll needa head forester for every forest. This man must know all that's on hispreserve, an' have it mapped. He must teach his rangers what he knowsabout trees. Penetier will be given over entirely to the growin' ofyellow 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 bethinned. Care oughten be taken not to cut on the north an' west edges ofthe 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 NationalForest. "

"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 forestercan fight fire. But those home-seekers must want a home, an' not besquattin' 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 thesettler 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 willstamp down young growth, an' too many sheep leave no grazin' for otherstock. The bead forester must know his business, an' not let his rangebe overstocked. The small local herders an' sheepmen must be consideredfirst, the big stockmen second. Both must be charged a small fee perhead 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 abellows. Fire would race through here faster 'n a man could run. I'llneed special fire rangers, an' all other rangers must be trained tofight fire, an' then any men living in or near the forest will be paidto 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. Brushpiles an' slashes mustn't be burned in dry or windy weather. "

Just where we left off talking I could not remember, for I dropped offto sleep. I seemed hardly to have closed my eyes when the hunter calledme in the morning. The breakfast was smoking on the red-hot coals, andoutside the cabin all was dense gray fog. 

When, soon after, we started down the canyon, the fog was lifting andthe forest growing lighter. Everything was as white with frost as if ithad snowed. A thin, brittle frost crackled under our feet. When we, hadgotten below the rocky confines of the canyon we climbed the slope tothe level ridge. Here it was impossible not to believe it had snowed. The forest was as still as night, and looked very strange with thewhite aisles lined by black tree trunks and the gray fog shrouding thetree-tops. Soon we were climbing again, and I saw that Hiram meant tohead the canyon where I had left Dick. 

The fog split and blew away, and the brilliant sunlight changed theforest. The frost began to melt, and the air was full of mist. Weclimbed and climbed--out of the stately yellow-pine zone, up among thegnarled 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 carrymy rifle and keep up with the hunter without talking. Besides, Hiram hadanswered me rather shortly, and I thought it best to keep silent. Fromtime to time he stopped to listen. Then when he turned to go down theslope be trod carefully, and cautioned me not to loosen stones, and hewent slower and yet slower. From this I made sure we were not far fromthe springhole. 

"Thar's the canyon, " he whispered, stopping to point below, where ablack, 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'llmake a noise. "

Then he slipped off, and it was wonderful to see how noiselessly hestepped, and how he moved between trees and dead branches without asound. I managed pretty well, yet more than once a rattling stone or abroken branch stopped Hiram short and made him lift a warning hand. 

At last we got down to the narrow bench which separated the canyon-slopefrom the deep cut. It was level and roughly strewn with boulders. Herewe took to all fours and crawled. It was easy to move here withoutnoise, 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 hadhalted only a few feet from the edge of the gorge where I had climbedout in my escape. He was listening. There was not a sound save the dullroar of rushing water. 

Hiram slid forward a little, and rose cautiously to look over. I didthe same. When I saw the cave and the spring-hole I felt a catch in mythroat. 

But there was not a man in sight. Dick's captors had broken camp; theywere gone. The only thing left in the gorge to show they had ever beenthere 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 Isaw what he really meant by "making tracks. " Fortunately, after a short, killing climb, the return was all down-hill. One stride of Hiram'sequalled two of mine, and he made his faster, so that I had to trot nowand then to catch up. Very soon I was as hot as fire, and every step wasan effort. But I kept thinking of Dick, of my mustang and outfit, and Ivowed I would stick to Hiram Bent's trail till I dropped. For the matterof 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. Istrapped my rifle over my shoulder, and then went out to untie my bearcub. It would have cost me a great deal to leave him behind. I knew Iought to, still I could not bring myself to it. All my life I had wanteda bear cub. Here was one that I had helped to lasso and tie up with myown 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 noteaten anything, but he had drunk the water we had left for him. To mysurprise he made no fuss when I untied the rope; on the other hand, heseemed to look pleased, and I thought I detected a cunning gleam in hislittle eyes. He paddled away down the canyon, and, as this was in thedirection 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 youforget it, " said Hiram Bent. 

The truth of that was very soon in evidence. Cubby would not let wellenough alone, and he would not have a slack rope. I think he wanted tochoke himself or pull my arms out. When I realized that Cubby was threetimes as strong as I was I began to see that my work was cut out forme. The more, however, that he jerked me and hauled me along, the more Idetermined to hang on. I thought I had a genuine love for him up to thetime he had almost knocked my head off, but it was funny how easilyhe roused my anger after that. What would have happened had he takena notion to go through the brush? Luckily he kept to the trail, whichcertainly was rough enough. So, with watching the cub and keeping myfeet free of roots and rocks, I had no chance to look ahead. Still I hadno concern about this, for the old hunter was at my heels, and I knew hewould keep a sharp lookout. 

Before I was aware of it we had gotten out of the narrow canyon into avalley with well-timbered bottom, and open, slow rising slopes. We weregetting down into Penetier. Cubby swerved from the trail and started upthe left slope. I did not want to go, but I had to keep with him, andthat was the only way. The hunter strode behind without speaking, and soI gathered that the direction suited him. By leaning back on the ropeI walked up the slope as easily as if it were a moving stairway. Cubbypulled me up; I had only to move my feet. When we reached a level oncemore I discovered that the cub was growing stronger and wanted to gofaster. We zigzagged across the ridge to the next canyon, which at aglance I saw was deep and steep. 

"Thet'll be some work goin' down that!" called Hiram. "Let me pack yourgun. "

I would have been glad to give it to him, but how was I to manage? Icould not let go of the rope, and Hiram, laden as he was, could notcatch up with me. Then suddenly it was too late, for Cubby lungedforward 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 thepine-needles. I did not leap to my feet; I was jerked up. Then began awild chase down that steep, bushy slope. Cubby got going, and I could nomore have checked him than I could a steam-engine. Very soon I saw thatnot 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 throughthickets, I dodged a thousand trees. In some grassy descents it was asif 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 outstretchedhands, 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 thanKen Ward it would be bard to imagine. Leaping up, I strove withevery ounce of might to hold in the bear. But though fury lent me newstrength, he kept the advantage. 

Presently I saw the bottom of the canyon, an open glade, and an oldlog-cabin. I looked back to see if the hunter was coming. He was not insight, 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 onone side of a sapling and I on the other, with the result that we werebrought up short. I crashed through some low bushes and bumped squarelyinto the cub. Whether it was his frantic effort to escape, or justexcitement, or deliberate intention to beat me into a jelly I had nomeans to tell. The fact was he began to dig at me and paw me and maulme. Never had I been so angry. I began to fight back, to punch and kickhim. 

Suddenly, with a crashing in the bushes, the cub was hauled away fromme, and then I saw Hiram at the rope. 

"Wal, wal!" he ejaculated, "your own mother wouldn't own you now!" Thenhe laughed heartily and chuckled to himself, and gave the cub a coupleof jerks that took the mischief out of him. I dragged myself after Hiraminto the glade. The cabin was large and very old, and part of the roofwas 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 fighterinside, where mebbe he won't be so noisy. "

The hunter hauled the cub up short, and half pulled, half lifted himinto the door. I took off my rifle, emptied my pockets of brush and beatout the dust, and combed the pine-needles from my hair. My hands werepuffed and red, and smarted severely. And altogether I was in no amiableframe of mind as regarded my captive bear cub. 

When I stepped inside the cabin it was dark, and coming from the brightlight 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 arude ladder led up to a loft. Hiram had thrown his pack aside, and hadtied Cubby to a peg in the log wall. 

"Wal, I'll fetch in some fresh venison, " said the hunter. "You restawhile, an' then gather some wood an' make a fire. "

The rest I certainly needed, for I was so tired I could scarcelyuntie the pack to get out the blankets. The bear cub showed signs orweariness, which pleased me. It was not long after Hiram's departurethat I sank into a doze. 

When my eyes opened I knew I had been awakened by something, but I couldnot tell what. I listened. Cubby was as quiet as a mouse, and his veryquiet and the alert way he held his ears gave me a vague alarm. He hadheard something. I thought of the old hunter's return, yet this did notreassure me. 

All at once the voices of men made me sit up with a violent start. Whocould they be? Had Hiram met a ranger? I began to shake a little, andwas about to creep to the door when I heard the clink of stirrups andsoft thud of hoofs. Then followed more voices, and last a loud volley ofcurses. 

"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 Ifelt cold and sick. Suddenly I caught sight of the ladder leading tothe loft. Like a monkey I ran up, and crawled as noiselessly as possibleupon the rickety flooring of dry pine branches. Then I lay therequivering. 

XIV. A PRISONER

It chanced that as I lay on my side my eye caught a gleam of lightthrough a little ragged hole in the matting of pine branches. Part ofthe interior of the cabin, the doorway, and some space outside wereplainly visible. The thud of horses had given place to snorts, and thencame a flopping of saddles and packs on the ground. "Any water hyar?"asked a gruff voice I recognized as Bill's. "Spring right thar, " replieda 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 Dickwas 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, andyou 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 wassaid, 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 oldhunter deserted me? I flouted such a thought. It was next to a certaintythat he had seen the lumbermen, and for reasons best known to himselfhad not returned to the cabin. But he was out there somewhere among thepines, and I did not think any of those ruffians was safe. 

Then I heard stealthy footsteps approaching. Soon I saw the Mexicanslipping cautiously to the door. He peeped within. Probably the interiorwas dark to him, as it had been to me. He was not a coward, for hestepped inside. 

At that instant there was a clinking sound, a rush and a roar, and ablack mass appeared to hurl itself upon the Mexican. He went down witha piercing shriek. Then began a fearful commotion. Screams and roarsmingled with the noise of combat. I saw a whirling cloud of dust onthe cabin floor. The cub had jumped on the Mexican. What an unmercifulbeating 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 petbear. Greaser surely thought he had fallen in with his evil spirit, forhe howled to the saints to save him. 

Herky-Jerky was the only one of his companions brave enough to start tohelp him. 

"The cabin's full of b'ars!" he yelled. 

At his cry the bear leaped out of the cloud of dust, and shot acrossthe threshold like black lightning. In his onslaught upon Greaser he hadbroken his halter. Herky-Jerky stood directly in his path. I caught onlya glimpse, but it served to show that Herky was badly scared. The cubdove 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 raisedhimself, and then he sat there, red as a lobster, and bawled curseswhile he made his huge revolver spurt flame on flame. 

I could not see the other men, but their uproarious mirth could havebeen heard half a mile away. When it dawned upon Herky, he was sofurious that he spat at them like an angry cat and clicked his emptyrevolver. 

Then Greaser lurched out of the door. I got a glimpse of him, and, for awonder, was actually sorry for him. He looked as if he had been througha 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 aroundin the dim light, stumbling over everything. Part of the time they werein the light space near the door, and the rest I could not see them. Iscarcely dared to breathe. I felt a creepy chill, and my eyesight grewdim. 

"Who does this stuff belong to, anyhow?" Buell was saying. "An' what wasthet 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 thetkid'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 ownwords Williams is lookin' for us, an' if he's lookin' for anybody I knowhe'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 JimWilliams. "

"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 itfrom me! Now, what's best to do?"

"Buell, the game's going against you, " said Dick Leslie. "Thepenitentiary is where you'll finish. You'd better let me loose. OldBent 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 tolet 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 millan' told me the kid had got away I made up my mind to ketch him an' shethis 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 rightnow. .. . 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 fromhim. Buell fumed and stamped. 

"Bud, you're the only one in this bunch of loggerheads thet has anysense. What d'you say?"

"Quiet down an' wait here, " replied Bud. "Mebbe old Bent didn't hearthem shots of Herky's. He may come back. Let's wait awhile, an', if hedoesn'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. Iheard some of them light their pipes. Bud leaned against the left ofthe door, Buell sat on the other side, and beyond them I saw as much ofHerky as his boots. I knew him by his bow-legs. 

The stillness that set in began to be hard on me'. When the men weremoving about and talking I had been so interested that my predicamentdid not occupy my mind. But now, with those ruffians waiting silentlybelow, I was beset with a thousand fears. The very consciousness that Imust be quiet made it almost impossible. Then I became aware that my oneposition cramped my arm and side. A million prickling needles were atmy elbow. A band as of steel tightened about my breast. I grew hot andcold, and trembled. I knew the slightest move would be fatal, so I bentall my mind to lying quiet as a stone. 

Greaser came limping back into the cabin, and found a seat without anyone speaking. It was so still that I heard the silken rustle of paper ashe rolled a cigarette. Moments that seemed long as years passed, with mymuscles 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 anduncomfortable 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 notthink of anything except the certainty that I would soon lose control ofmy muscles and fall over. 

The tingling changed to a painful vibration, and perspiration stung myface. The strain became unbearable. All of a sudden something seemedto break within me, and my muscles began to ripple and shake. I had nopower to stop it. More than that, the feeling was so terrible that Iknew 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 intothe light of the door. He was bending over something. Then he extendedhis hand, back uppermost, toward Buell. On the back of that broad brownhand were pieces of leaf and bits of pine-needles. The trembling ofmy body had shaken these from the brush on the rickety loft. More thanthat, in the yellow bar of sunlight which streamed in at the door therefloated particles of dust. 

Bud silently looked upward. There was a gleam in his black eyes, and hismouth 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 tohis 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 bootssuddenly stood on end, and I knew then he had also risen. The silencewhich 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 abrutal 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. Myvery 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 headappeared above the loft I hit it with all my might. 

Bud bawled like a wounded animal, and fell to the ground with the noiseof a load of bricks. Through my peep-hole I saw him writhing, with bothhands pressed to his head. Then, lying flat on his back, he whipped outhis 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 ofBud's hand. "What d'you mean by thet?"

In the momentary silence that followed I listened intently, even whileI 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 wasnot scared. But blood flowed fast. Warm, oily, slippery, it ran downinside my shirt sleeve and dripped off my fingers. 

"Bud, " hoarsely spoke up Bill, breaking the stillness, "mebbe you killedhim!"

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 leakin a roof. It was directly under me, and, quick as thought, I knew thesound 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, strainedmovement. 

"Buell, " cried Dick Leslie, in piercing tones, "Heaven help youmurdering thieves if that boy's killed! I'll see you strung up right inthis forest. Ken, speak! Speak!"

It seemed then, in my pain and bitterness, that I would rather let Buellthink me dead. Dick's voice went straight to my heart, but I made noanswer. 

"Leslie, I didn't kill him, an' I didn't order it, " said Buell, in avoice strangely shrunk and shaken. "I meant no harm to the lad. .. . Goup, 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 goyourself, " said Bill, coolly. 

With a growl Buell mounted the ladder. When his great shock head hovein sight I was seized by a mad desire to give him a little of his ownmedicine. With both hands I lifted the piece of pine branch and broughtit down with every ounce of strength in me. 

Like a pistol it cracked on Buell's head and snapped into bits. Thelumberman gave a smothered groan, then clattered down the ladder androlled 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 prettybadly 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 knewthe game was all up for me. Several of the men began to prod through thethin covering of dry brush. One of them reached me, and struck so hardthat I lurched violently. 

That was too much for the rickety loft floor. It was only a bit of brushlaid on a netting of slender poles. It creaked, rasped, and went downwith a crash. I alighted upon somebody, and knocked him to the floor. Whoever it was, seized me with iron hands. I was buried, almostsmothered, in the dusty mass. My captor began to curse cheerfully, and Iknew 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. Theothers scrambled from under the remains of the loft, and all viewed mecuriously. 

"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 faceand anxious eyes. 

"Ken, " he called, with both gladness and doubt in his voice, "you lookpretty 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 explosionof strange language. Herky was plainly glad I had not been badly hurt. Ihad already heard mirth, anger, disgust, and fear in his outbreaks, andnow relief was added. He stripped off my coat, cut off the bloody sleeveof my shirt, and washed the wound. It was painful and bled freely, butit was not much worse than cuts from spikes when playing ball. Herkybound it tightly with a strip of my shirt-sleeve, and over that myhandkerchief. 

"Thar, kid, thet'll stiffen up an' be sore fer a day or two, but itain't nothin'. You'll soon be bouncin' clubs offen our heads. "

It was plain that Herky--and the others, for that matter, exceptBuell--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 anice 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 init, and I heard him half whisper to Buell: "What 'd I tell you? Thet'sa 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 sayingthings like this to Buell. This time Buell had no answer ready, and satnursing his head. "Wal, I hev a little headache myself, an' the crack Igot wasn't nothin' to yourn, " concluded Bud. Then Bill began packing thesupplies 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 theblankets near Dick. 

"Dick, I shot a bear and helped to tie up a cub, " I said. And then Itold him all that had happened from the time I scrambled out of thespring-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 hewould give a year's pay to have me safe back in Pennsylvania. 

Herky-Jerky announced supper in his usual manner--a challenge to findas good a cook as he was, and a cheerful call to "grub. " I did notknow what to think of his kindness to me. Remembering how he had nearlydrowned me in the spring, I resented his sudden change. He could not doenough for me. I asked the reason for my sudden popularity. 

Herky scratched his head and grinned. "Yep, kid, you sure hev riz in myestimashun. "

"Hey, you rummy cow-puncher, " broke in Bud, scornfully. "Mebbe you'dlike 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 wasdistributed very proper. "

They bandied such talk between them, and occasionally Bill chimedin with a joke. Greaser ate in morose silence. There must have beensomething on his mind. Buell took very little dinner, and appeared to bein 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 badlyenough to prevent sleep. Twice I had nearly dropped off when loud laughsor voices roused me. My eyes closed with a picture of those rough, darkmen sitting before the fire. 

A noise like muffled thunder burst into my slumber. I awakened with mybody 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 exceptHerky were wildly excited. Buell was abusing Bud for something, and Budwas blaming Buell. 

"Thet's no way to talk to me!" said Bud, angrily. "He didn't break loosein my watch!'

"You an' Greaser had the job. Both of you--went to sleep--take thet fromme!"

"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. Idid ask if it was true, but none of them paid any attention to me. Buellthen ordered Herky-Jerky to trail Dick and see where he had gone. Herkyrefused 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 inwith Bent, it's goin' to git hot fer us round here. "

This silenced Buell, but did not stop his restless pacings. His face waslike a thunder-cloud, and he was plainly worried and harassed. Once Buddeliberately asked what he intended to do with me, and Buell snarled areply which no one understood. His gloom extended to the others, exceptHerky, 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 noanswer. 

"Well, anyway, " I went on, "somebody cut these ropes. I'm mighty soreand uncomfortable. "

Herky-Jerky did not wait for permission; he untied me, and helped me tomy feet. I was rather unsteady on my legs at first, and my injured armfelt like a board. It seemed dead; but after I had moved it a little thepain 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 turnup. Buell sat in the doorway, moodily watching the trail. Once he spoke, ordering the Mexican to drive in the horses. I fancied from this thatBuell 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 rifleand 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 theashes 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!" exclaimedHerky-Jerky. 

The sound of running feet drew nearer, and suddenly the group at thedoor broke to admit the Mexican. One side of his terrified facewas covered with blood. His eyes were staring, his hands raised, hestaggered as if about to fall. 

"Senyor William! Senyor William!" he cried, and then called on SaintSomebody. 

"Jim Williams! I said so, " muttered Bud. 

Bill caught hold of the excited Mexican, and pulled him nearer thelight. 

"Thet ain't a bad hurt. Jest cut his ear off!" aid Bill. "Hyar, standstill, you wild man! you're not goin' to die. Git some water, Herky. Fellers, Greaser has been oneasy ever since he knew Jim Williams waslookin' fer him. He thinks Jim did this. But Jim Williams don't use arifle, an', what's more, when he shoots he don't miss. You all heerd therifle-shot. "

"Then it was old Bent or Leslie?" questioned Buell. 

"Leslie it were. Bent uses a 45-90 caliber. Thet shot we heerd was fromthe 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 theball had carried away the lower part of the ear, and with it, ofcourse, the gold earring. The wound must have been extremely painful;it certainly took all the starch out of Greaser. He kept mumbling in hisown 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 onthet kid's life if he comes slingin' lead round this cabin. "

Herky-Jerky spat tobacco-juice across the room and grunted. Then, withhis beady little eyes as keen and cold as flint, he said: "Buell, Leslieknows you daren't harm the kid; an' as fer bullets, he'll take good carewhere he stings 'em. This deal of ours begins to look like a wild-goosestunt. It never was safe, an' now it's worse. "

Here was even Herky-Jerky harping on Buell's situation. To me it did notappear much more serious than before. But evidently they thought Buellseemed on the verge of losing control of himself. He glared at Herky, and rammed his fists in his pockets and paced the long room. Presentlyhe 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 andbudded into the log wall. Buell jumped back into the room. His faceworked, his breath hissed between his teeth, as with trembling handhe examined the front of his coat. A big bullet had torn through bothlapels. 

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 theirsmoke, " he said; "look, Bill, up the slope. They're too fur off, but wemay as well send up respects. " With that he aimed his revolver throughthe narrow crack and deliberately shot six times. The reports clappedlike thunder, the smoke from burnt powder and the smell of brimstonefilled the room. By way of reply old Hiram's rifle boomed out twice, andtwo heavy slugs crashed through the roof, sending down a shower of dustand 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-Jerkyhad his gun in hand, but contented himself with peering from differentchinks between the logs. I hid behind the wide stone fireplace, andthough I felt pretty safe from flying bullets, I began to feel the icygrip of fear. I had seen too much of these men in excitement, and knewif circumstances so brought it about there might come a moment whenmy life would not be worth a pin. They were all sober now, and deadlyquiet. Buell showed the greatest alarm, though he had begun to settledown to what looked like fight. Herky was more fearless than any ofthem, and cooler even than Bill. All at once I missed the Mexican. Ifhe had not slipped out of the room he had hidden under the brush of thefallen loft or in a pile of blankets. But the room was smoky, and it washard 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 ingleams through the holes in the ragged roof. There was a pleasant swishof 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 severalshots from the hillside. Soon the clatter of hoofs died away in thedistance. 

"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 itwas plain to all eyes that Greaser had slipped out. I remembered thaton this side of the cabin there was quite a thick growth of youngpine. Greaser had been able to conceal himself as he crawled toward thehorses, and had probably been seen at the last moment. Herky-Jerky wasthe only one to make comment. 

"I ain't wishin' Greaser any hard luck, but hope he carried away acouple 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 thismess, " 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 intothe 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 yougo to jail in Holston for stealing lumber I'll say a good word for youand your men. There won't be any charge of kidnapping or violence. "

After a long pause, during which Buell bored me with gimlet eyes, hesaid, in a queer voice: "Say thet again. "

I repeated it, and added that he could not gain anything now by holdingme 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?" heshouted. He was quivering with rage, and the red flamed in his neck andface. 

"Buell, I did get to Holston and I did send word to Washington, " Iwent on, hurriedly for I had begun to lose my calmness. "I wrote tomy father. He knows a friend of the Chief Forester who is close to theDepartment at Washington. By this time Holston is full of officers ofthe forest service. Perhaps they're already at your mill. Anyway, thegame's up, and you'd better let me go. "

Buell's face lost all its ruddy color, slowly blanched, and changedterribly. The boldness fled, leaving it craven, almost ghastly. Realizing he had more to fear from the law than conviction of his latestlumber 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 clinchedteeth were unintelligible. In that moment he would have killed me. 

Herky-Jerky met his onslaught, and flung him back. Then, with his handon the butt of his revolver, he spoke:

"Buell, hyar's where you an' me split. You've bungled your big deal. Thekid stacked the deck on you. But I ain't a-goin' to see you do him harmfer it. "

"Herky's right, boss, " put in Bill, "thar's no sense in addin' murder tothis mess. Strikes me you're in bad enough. "

"So thet's your game? You're double-crossin' me now--all on a chance atkidnappin' for ransom money. Well, I'm through with the kid an' all ofyou. Take thet from me!"

"You skunk!" exclaimed Herky-Jerky, with the utmost cheerfulness. 

"Wal, Buell, " said Bill, in cool disdain, "comsiderin' my fondness ferfresh air an' open country, I can't say I'm sorry to dissolve futurerelashuns. I was only in jail onct, an' I couldn't breathe free. "

It was then Buell went beside himself with rage. He raised his hugefists, and shook himself, and plunged about the room, cursing. Suddenlyhe picked up an axe, and began chopping at the rotten log above thehole where Greaser had slipped out. Bud yelled at him, so did Bill;Herky-Jerky said unpleasant things. But Buell did not hear them. Hehacked and dug away like one possessed. The dull, sodden blows fellfast, scattering pieces of wood about the floor. The madness that wasin Buell was the madness to get out, to escape the consequences of hisacts. His grunts and pants as he worked showed his desperate energy. Then he slammed the axe against the wall, and, going down flat, began tocrawl through the opening. Buell was a thick man, and the hole appearedtoo 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 theirarms without turning. But I wheeled quickly. Bill, too, had his handshigh 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, slowTexan I remembered. But the smile was not now in his eyes, and his lipswere set in a thin, hard line. 

XVI. THE FOREST'S GREATEST FOE

Jim Williams sent out a sharp call. From the canyon-slope came answeringshouts. There were sounds of heavy bodies breaking through brush, followed by the thudding of feet. Then men could be plainly heardrunning up the trail. Jim leaned against the door-post, and the threefellows before him stood rigid as stone. 

Suddenly a form leaped past Jim. It was Dick Leslie, bareheaded, hishair standing like a lion's mane, and he had a cocked rifle in hishands. Close behind him came old Hiram Bent, slower, more cautious, but no less formidable. As these men glanced around with fiery eyes thequick look of relief that shot across their faces told of ungroundedfears. 

"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 swiftlyobeyed an order. Herky and Bill and Bud jerked their arms down andextended their hands out behind. After that quick action they againturned into statues. There was a breathless suspense in every act. Andthere was something about Jim Williams then that I did not like. I wasin a cold perspiration for fear one of the men would make some kind ofa move. As the very mention of the Texan had always caused a littlesilence, so his presence changed the atmosphere of that cabin room. Before his coming there had been the element of chance--a feeling ofdanger, to be sure, but a healthy spirit of give and take. That had allchanged with Jim Williams's words "Hands up!" There was now somethingterrible hanging in the balance. I had but to look at Jim's eyes, narrowslits of blue fire, at the hard jaw and tight lips, to see a glimpse ofthe man who thought nothing of life. It turned me sick, and I was all ina 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 allcame back, utterly transforming the man. This was the Jim Williams I hadcome to love. With a wrench I recovered myself. 

"Are you all right, Ken?" asked Dick. And old Hiram questioned me witha worried look. This anxiety marked the difference between these men andWilliams. I hastened to assure my friends that I was none the worse formy captivity. 

"Ken, your little gun doesn't shoot where it points, " said Jim. "I shorehad 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 withblood. 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, Iwould rather have had him get away on my horse than stay to be shot byJim. 

Dick called me to go outside with him. My pack was lying under one ofthe pines near the cabin, and examination proved that nothing had beendisturbed. We found the horses grazing up the canyon. Buell had takenthe horse of one of his men, and had left his own superb bay. Mostlikely he had jumped astride the first animal he saw. Dick said I couldhave Buell's splendid horse. I had some trouble in catching him, as hewas restive and spirited, but I succeeded eventually, and we drove theother horses and ponies into the glade. My comrades then fell to arguingabout what to do with the prisoners. Dick was for packing them off toHolston. Bent talked against this, saying it was no easy matter to drivebound 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 atme, screwed up his face in the most astonishing manner, all of which Ipresently made out to mean that he wanted to speak to me. So I went overto 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'rerustled down to Holston?"

"I'll remember, Herky, " I promised, and I meant to put in a good wordfor him. Because, whether or not his reasons had to do with kidnappingand ransom, he had saved me from terrible violence, perhaps death. 

It was decided that we would leave the prisoners in the cabin and ridedown to the sawmill. Hiram was to return at once with officers. If nonecould be found at the mill he was to guard the prisoners and take careof them till Dick could send officers to relieve him. Thereupon wecooked a meal, and I was put to feeding Herky and his companions. Dickordered me especially to make them drink water, as it might be a day orlonger before Hiram could get back. I made Bill drink, and easily filledup Herky; but Bud, who never drank anything save whiskey, gave me ajob. He refused with a growl, and I insisted with what I felt sure wasChristian patience. Still he would not drink, so I put the cup to hislips and tipped it. Bud promptly spat the water all over me. And I aspromptly 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 madeBud 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 sawsomething 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 fromthe ground, and it was another to be astride him. Target--that was hisname--had a spirited temper, an iron mouth, and he had been used to asterner hand than mine. He danced all over the glade before he decidedto behave himself. Riding him, however, was such a great pleasure thata more timid boy than I would have taken the risk. He would not letany horse stay near him; he pulled on the bridle, and leaped whenevera branch brushed him. I had been on some good horses, but never onone with a swing like his, and I grew more and more possessed with thedesire to let him run. 

"Like as not he'll bolt with you. Hold him in, Ken!" called Dick, ashe mounted. Then he shouted a final word to the prisoners, saying theywould be looked after, and drove the pack-ponies into the trail. As werode out we passed several of the horses that we had decided to leavebehind, and as they wanted to follow us it was necessary to drive themback. 

I had my hands full with the big, steel-jawed steed I was trying to holdin. It was the hardest work of the kind that I had ever undertaken. Ihad never worn spurs, but now I began to wish for them. We traveled ata good clip, as fast as the pack-ponies could go, and covered a longdistance by camping-time. I was surprised that we did not get out of thecanyon. The place where we camped was a bare, rocky opening, with a bigpool in the center. While we were making camp it suddenly came over methat I was completely bewildered as to our whereabouts. I could not seethe mountain peaks and did not know one direction from another. Evenwhen Jim struck out of our trail and went off alone toward Holston Icould not form an idea of where I was. All this, however, added to myfeeling of the bigness of Penetier. 

Dick was taciturn, and old Hiram, when I tried to engage him inconversation, cut me off with the remark that I would need my breath onthe morrow. This somewhat offended me. So I made my bed and rolled intoit. Not till I had lain quiet for a little did I realize that every boneand muscle felt utterly worn out. I seemed to deaden and stiffen moreeach moment. Presently Dick breathed heavily and Hiram snored. The redglow of fire paled and died. I heard the clinking of the hobbles onTarget, and a step, now and then, of the other horses. The sky grewever bluer and colder, the stars brighter and larger, and the night windmoaned 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 seemedto fade away. 

When Dick roused me the forest was shrouded in gray, cold fog. No timewas lost in getting breakfast, driving in the horses, and packing. Hardly any words were exchanged. My comrades appeared even soberer thanon the day before. The fog lifted quickly that morning, and soon the sunwas shining. 

We got under way at once, and took to the trail at a jog-trot. I knew myhorse better and he was more used to me, which made it at least bearableto both of us. Before long the canyon widened out into the level forestland thickly studded with magnificent pines. I had again the feeling ofawe and littleness. Everything was solemn and still. The morning air wascool, and dry as toast; the smell of pitch-pine choked my nostrils. Werode briskly down the broad brown aisles, across the sunny glades, underthe murmuring pines. 

The old hunter was leading our train, and evidently knew perfectlywhat he was about. Unexpectedly he halted, bringing us up short. Thepack-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 theirlead, 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 thenHiram Bent stopped again. This time he looked significantly at Dickwithout speaking a word. 

"Ah!" exclaimed Dick. I thought his tone sounded queer, but it did notat the moment strike me forcibly. We rode on. The forest became lighter, glimpses of sky showed low down through the trees, we were nearing aslope. 

For the third time the old hunter brought us to a stop, this time on theedge of a slope that led down to the rolling foot-hills. I could onlystand and gaze. Those open stretches, sloping down, all green and brownand beautiful, robbed me of thought. 

"Look thar!" cried Hiram Bent. 

His tone startled me. I faced about, to see his powerful armoutstretched and his finger pointing. His stern face added to my suddenconcern. Something was wrong with my friends. I glanced in the directionhe indicated. There were two rolling slopes or steps below us, and theywere like gigantic swells of a green ocean. Beyond the second one rose along, 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, swellingfoot-hills, rose that rounded, changing line of blue cloud. 

"The slash! the slash! Buell's fired the slash!" cried Dick, as onesuddenly 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 theworst wind we could have. These canyon-draws suck in the wind, an' firewill 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 withall my ears while watching with all my eyes. The line of rolling cloudexpanded, seemed to burst and roll upward, to bulge and mushroom. In afew short moments it covered the second slope as far to the right andleft as we could see. The under surface was a bluish white. It shotup swiftly, to spread out into immense, slow-moving clouds of creamyyellow. 

"Hear thet?" Hiram Bent shook his gray head as one who listened to diretidings. 

The wind, sweeping up the slope of Penetier, carried a strong, pungentodor of burning pitch. It brought also a low roar, not like the wind inthe trees or rapid-rushing water. It might have been my imagination, butI fancied it was like the sound of flames blowing through the wood of acampfire. 

"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 upthe 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 tracksfor 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 alittle an' have to circle. The safest place in this forest is where wecamped. 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 inalmost the opposite direction. Left alone, I turned my horse and drovethe pack-ponies along our back-trail. Thus engaged, I began to recoversomewhat from the terror that had stupefied me. Still, I kept lookingback. I found the mouth of the canyon and the trail, and in what Ithought a very short time I reached the bare, rocky spot where we hadlast camped. The horses all drank thirstily, and I discovered that I washot and dry. 

Then I waited. At every glance I expected to see Dick and Hiram ridingup the canyon. But moments dragged by, and they did not come. Here therewas no sign of smoke, nor even the faintest hint of the roar of thefire. The wind blew strongly up the canyon, and I kept turning my earto it. In spite of the fact that my friends did not come quickly I hadbegun to calm my fears. They would return presently with knowledge ofthe course of the fire and the way to avoid it. My thoughts were mostlyoccupied with sorrow for beautiful Penetier. What a fiend Buell was! Ihad 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 shoutedin joy. But what I thought Dick and Hiram was a herd of deer. They wererunning wildly. They clicked on the stones, and scarcely swerved for thepack-ponies. It took no second glance to see that they were fleeingfrom the fire. This brought back all my alarms, and every moment that Iwaited thereafter added to them. I watched the trail and under the treesfor my friends, and I scanned the sky for signs of the blue-white cloudsof 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 isdoing!"

The camping-place was low down between two slopes, one of which was highand had a rocky cliff standing bare in the sunlight. I conceived theidea 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, stillit was long and took considerable time. Before I reached the gray cliffI looked down over the forest to see the rolling, smoky clouds. Weclimbed higher and still higher, till Target reached the cliff and couldgo no farther. Leaping off, I tied him securely and bent my efforts togetting around on top of the cliff. If I had known what a climb it wasI should not have attempted it, but I could not back out with the summitlooming over me. It ran up to a ragged crag. Hot, exhausted, and out ofbreath, I at last got there. 

As I looked I shouted in surprise. It seemed that the whole of Penetierwas under my feet. The green slope disappeared in murky clouds of smoke. There were great pillars and huge banks of yellow and long streaks ofblack, and here and there, underneath, moving splashes of red. The thingdid not stay still one instant. It changed so that I could not tellwhat it did look like. Them were life and movement in it, and somethingterribly sinister. I tried to calculate how far distant the fire was andhow 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 breezeand smelled the burnt wood. Puffs of white smoke ran out ahead of themain clouds, and I saw three of them widely separated. What theymeant puzzled me. But all of a sudden I saw in front of the nearest aflickering gleam of red. Then I knew those white streams of smoke rosewhere the fire was being sucked up the canyons. They leaped along withamazing speed. It was then that I realized that Dick and Hiram had beencaught by one of these offshoots of the fire, and had been compelled toturn away to save their lives. Perhaps they would both be lost. For amoment I felt faint, but I fought it off. I had to think of myself. Itwas every one for himself, and perhaps there was many a man caught onPenetier with only a slender chance for life. 

"Oh! oh!" I cried, suddenly. "Herky, Bud, and Bill tied helpless in thatcabin! Dick forgot them. They'll be burned to death!"

As I stood there, trembling at the thought of Herky and his comradesbound 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 beenshot, and clattered down that crag with wings guiding my long leaps. Nocrevice or jumble of loose stones or steep descent daunted me. I reachedthe horse, and, grasping the bridle, I started to lead him. We hadzigzagged up, we went straight down. Target was too spirited to balk, but he did everything else. More than once he reared with his hoofs highin the air, and, snorting, crashed down. He pulled me off my feet, hepawed at me with his great iron shoes. When we got clear of the roughestand most thickly overgrown part of the descent I mounted him. ThenI needed no longer to urge him. The fire had entered the canyon, the hollow roar swept up and filled Target with the same fright thatpossessed me. He plunged down, slid on his haunches, jumped the logs, crashed through brush. I had continually to rein him toward the camp. Hewanted to turn from that hot wind and strange roar. 

We reached a level, the open, stony ground, then the pool. Thepack-ponies were standing patiently with drooping heads. The sun wasobscured in thin blue haze. Smoke and dust and ashes blew by with thewind. 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 mypockets 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 overthe saddle and tied it fast. My fingers worked swiftly. There was afluttering in my throat, and my sight was dim. All the time the roar ofthe forest fire grew louder and more ominous. 

The ponies would be safe. I would be safe in the lee of the big rocksnear the pool. But I did not mean to stay. I could not stay with thosemen lying tied up in the cabin. Herky had saved me. Still it was notthat which spurred me on. 

Target snorted shrilly and started back from the water, ready tostampede. Slipping the bridle into place, I snapped the bit between histeeth. 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 waslike a blue twilight. 

The appalling roar held me spellbound with my foot in the stirrup. Itdrew my glance even in that moment of flight. 

Under the shifting cloud flashes of red followed by waves of fireraced through the tree-tops. That the forest fire traveled through thetree-tops was as new to me as it was terrible. The fire seemed to makeand 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 seenof the end of the world. 

Target broke the spell by swinging me up into the saddle as he leapedforward 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 rocksI looked back. There was a vast wave of fire rolling up the canyon andspreading up the slopes. It was so close that I nearly fainted. Withboth hands knotted and stiff I clung to the pommel in a cold horror, andI looked back no more to see the flames reaching out for me. But I couldnot keep the dreadful roar from filling my ears, and it weakened me sothat I all but dropped from the saddle. Only an unconscious instinct tofight for life made me hold on. 

Blue and white puffs of smoke swept by me. The trail was a dim, twistingline. The slopes and pines, merged in a mass, flew backward in brownsheets. Above the roar of the pursuing fire I heard the thunder ofTarget's hoofs. I scarcely felt him or the saddle, only a motion and thesplitting 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 adesperate resolve not to give up. 

The great bay horse was running to save his life and to save mine. Itwas a race with fire. When I thought of the horse, and saw how fast hewas 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 beenmade for leisurely travel. Many turns were sudden and sharp. I loosenedthe reins, and cried out to Target. Evidently I had unknowingly held himin, for he lengthened out, and went on in quicker, longer leaps. Inthat moment riding seemed easy. I listened to the roar behind me, nowa little less deafening, and began to thrill. We were running away fromthe fire. 

Hope made the race seem different. Something stirred and beat warmwithin me, driving out the chill in my marrow. I leaned over the neck ofthe great bay horse, and called to him and cheered him on. Then I sawhe was deaf and blind to me, for he was wild. He had the bit between histeeth, 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 guidednor stopped than could the forest fire. The trail grew more winding andoverhung more thickly by pine branches. The horse did not swerve an inchfor tree or thicket, but ran as if free, and the saving of my life beganto be a matter of dodging. Once a crashing blow from a branch almostknocked me from the saddle. The wind in my ears half drowned the roarbehind me. With hands twisted in Target's mane I bent low, watching withkeen eyes for the trees and branches ahead. I drew up my knees andbent my body, and dodged and went down flat over the pommel like awild-riding Indian. Target kept that straining run for a longer distancethan I could judge. With the same breakneck speed he thundered on overlogs and little washes, through the thick, bordering bushes, and aroundthe sudden turns. His foam moistened my face and flecked my sleeves. Thewind came stinging into my face, the heavy roar followed at my back withits 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 standthat killing pace? I began to talk soothingly to him, to pull on thebridle; but he might have been an avalanche for all he heeded. StillI kept at him, fighting him every moment that I was free from lowbranches. Gradually the strain began to tell. 

The sight of a cabin brought back to my mind the meaning of the wildrace with fire. I had forgotten the prisoners. I had reached the forestglade and the cabin, but Target was still going hard. What if I couldnot stop him! Summoning all my strength, I quickly threw weight andmuscle back on the reins and snapped the bit out of his teeth. Thencoaxing, commanding, I pulled him back. In the glade were four horses, standing bunched with heads and ears up, uneasy, and beginning to befrightened. Perhaps the sight of them helped me to stop Target; atany 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 wasclear, though the fog of smoke overspread the sun. The wind blew strongwith a scent of pitch. Now that I was not riding, the roar of the firesounded close. I caught the same strange growl, the note of on-sweepingfury. Again the creepy cold went over me. I felt my face blanch, andthe 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 pantinghard. In one cut I severed the rope on his feet; in another, that roundhis raw and bloody wrists. Herky had torn his flesh trying to releasehis hands. 

"Kid, how'd you git back hyar?" he questioned, with his sharp littleeyes glinting on me. "Did the fire chase you? Whar's Leslie?"

"Buell fired the slash. Penetier is burning. Dick and Hiram sent me backto the pool below, and then didn't come. They got caught--oh!. .. I'mafraid--lost!. .. Then I remembered you fellows. The fire's coming--it'sawful--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 wasalmost unconscious. He had struggled terribly. His heels had dug a holein the hard clay floor; his wrists were skinned; his mouth and chincovered with earth, probably from his having bitten the ground inhis agony. Herky helped him up and gave him a drink from a littlepocket-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 ascool 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 ahoss now, an' we'll try to head acrost the ridge. "

I remounted Target, and the three men caught horses and climbed upbareback. Bill led the way across the glade, up the slope, into thelevel forest. There we broke into a gallop. The air upon this higherground was dark and thick, but not so hard to breathe as that lowerdown. We pressed on. For a while the roar receded, and almost deadened. Then it grew clearer again' filled out, and swelled. Bud wanted to sheeroff to the left. Herky swore we were being surrounded. Bill turned adeaf ear to them. From my own sense of direction I fancied we were goingwrong, 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 roarwas anything to tell by. We galloped on, always governed by the roar, always avoiding the slope up the mountain. If we once started up thatwith the fire in our rear we were doomed. Perhaps there were times whenthe wind deceived us. It was hard to tell. Anyway, we kept on, growingmore bewildered. Bud looked like a dead man already and reeled inhis saddle. The horses were getting hard to manage, and the wind wasstrengthening and puffed at us from all quarters. Bill still lookedcool, but the last vestige of color had faded from his face. Thesethings boded ill. Herky had grown strangely silent, which fact was theworst of all for me. For that tough, scarred, reckless little wretch tohold his tongue was the last straw. 

The air freshened somewhat, and the forest lightened. Almost abruptly werode out to the edge of a great, wide canyon. It must have crossed theforest at right angles to the canyon we had left. It was twice as wideand 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 thetree-tops, to our left was foggy gloom, behind rolled the unceasingroar. We all looked straight across. Probably each of us harbored thesame thought. Before that wind the fire would leap the canyon in flamingbounds, and on the opposite level was the thick pitch-pine forest ofPenetier proper. So far we had been among the foot-hills. We dared notenter the real forest with that wild-fire back of us. Momentarily westood irresolute. It was a pause full of hopelessness, such as mighthave 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. "Wemust 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'retalkin' about?"

"Yes, yes! Come on! We'll back-fire!"

I led the way down the slope, and they came close at my heels. I rodeinto the shallow brook, and dismounted about the middle between thebanks. 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 everyhundred 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 waslong and dry. There was brush near by, and the pine-needle mats almostbordered the bank. I struck a match and dropped it. 

Sis-s-s! Flare! It was almost like dropping a spark into gunpowder. Theflame ran quickly, reached the pine-needles, then sputtered and fizzedinto a big blaze. The first pine-tree exploded and went off like arocket. We were startled by the sound and the red, up-leaping pillarof fire. Sudden heat shot back at us as if from a furnace. Great sparksbegan to fall. 

"It's goin'!" yelled Herky-Jerky, his voice ringing strong. He clappedhis hat down on my bare head. Then he started running up-stream. 

I darted in the opposite direction. I heard Bud and Bill yelling, andthe angry crack and hiss of the fire. A few rods down I stopped, struckanother match, and lit the grass. There was a sputter and flash. Thenthe flame flared up, spread like running quicksilver, and, meeting thepine-needles, changed to red. I ran on. There was a loud flutter behindme, then a crack almost like a shot, then a seething roar. Another pinehad gone off. As I stopped to strike the third match there came threedistinct reports, and then others that seemed dulled in a windy roar. I raced onward, daring only once to look back. A fearful sight met mygaze. The slope was a red wave. The pines were tufts of flame. The airwas filled with steaming clouds of whirling smoke. Then I fled onwardagain. 

Match after match I struck, and when the box was empty I must havebeen a mile, two miles, maybe more, from the starting-point. I waswringing-wet, and there was a piercing pain in my side. I plunged acrossthe brook, and in as deep water as I could find knelt down to cover allbut my face. Then, with laboring breaths that bubbled the water near mymouth, I kept still and watched. 

The back-fire which I had started swept up over the slope and down thebrook like a charge of red lancers. Spears of flame led the advance. Theflame 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 inthe tree-tops. Even as I gazed, appalled in the certainty of a horriblefate, 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 anytask or play. But I had never known what fire was. I knew now. Storms ofair and sea were nothing compared to this. It was the greatest forcein nature. It was fire. On one hand, I seemed cool and calculated thechances; on the other, I had flashes in my brain, and kept crying outcrazily, 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, andoccasionally the crash of a failing branch. It was intolerably hot, butI could stand the heat better than the air. I coughed and strangled. I could not get my breath. My eyes smarted and burned. Crawling closeunder the bank, I leaned against it and waited. 

Some hours must have passed. I suffered, not exactly pain, but adiscomfort 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 thecanyon. Twice I crawled out upon the bank, but the heat drove me backinto the water. The snow-water from the mountain-peaks had changed fromcold to warm; still, it gave a relief from the hot blast of air. Moretime dragged by. Weary to the point of collapse, I grew not to careabout anything. 

Then the yellow fog lightened, and blew across the brook and lifted andsplit. The parts of the canyon-slope that I could see were seared andblackened. The pines were columns of living coals. The fire was eatinginto their hearts. Presently they would snap at the trunk, crash down, and burn to ashes. Wreathes of murky smoke circled them, and driftedaloft to join the overhanging clouds. 

I floundered out on the bank, and began to walk up-stream. After all, itwas not so very hot, but I felt queer. I did not seem to be able to stepwhere 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 wantedto feel overjoyed at that, but I was too tired. Anyway I was sure thefire had crossed below or above. It would be tearing down on this sidepresently, 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 legstrembled, my feet lost all sense of touching the ground. I could not gomuch farther. Just then I heard a shout. It was close by. I answered, and heard heavy steps. I peered through the smoky haze. Something darkmoved 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 strangeeagerness in me; his rough greeting seemed to bring me back from adistance. 

"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 whiskerswas 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 adream. 

XVIII. CONCLUSION

That dreadful feeling of motion went away, and I became unconscious ofeverything. When I awoke the sun was gleaming dimly through thin filmsof smoke. I was lying in a pleasant little ravine with stunted pinesfringing its slopes. The brook bowled merrily over stones. 

Bud snored in the shade of a big boulder. Herky whistled as he brokedead branches into fagots for a campfire. Bill was nowhere in sight. Isaw several of the horses browsing along the edge of the water. 

My drowsy eyelids fell back again. When I awoke a long time seemed tohave passed. The air was clearer, the sky darker, and the sun had gonebehind 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 thecanyon, 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 bigforest. Thet back-fire did the biz. Say, kid, wasn't settin' off thempines 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 toHolston 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 strangelassitude made me indifferent. But Herky's calm mention of taking meback to Holston changed the color of my mood. I began to feel morecheerful. The meal we ate was scant enough--biscuits and steaks ofbroiled venison with a pinch of salt; but, starved as we were, it wasmore than satisfactory. Herky and Bill were absurdly eager to serve me. Even Bud was kind to me, though he still wore conspicuously over hisforehead the big bruise I had given him. After I had eaten I began togain strength. But my face was puffed from the heat, my injured arm wasstiff 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 forfirewood, 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 lightextending up into the steely sky. 

"The forest fire?"

"Yep, she's burnin' some. But you oughter seen it last night. Not thetit ain't worth seein' jest now. Come along with me. "

He led me where the ravine opened wide. I felt, rather than saw, a steepslope beneath. Far down was a great patch of fire. It was like a crazyquilt, here dark, there light, with streaks and stars and streams offire shining out of the blackness. Masses of slow-moving smoke overhungthe brighter areas. The night robbed the forest fire of its fiercenessand lent it a kind of glory. The fire had ceased to move; it had spentits force, run its race, and was now dying. But I could not forget whatit had been, what it had done. Thousands of acres of magnificent pineshad perished. The shade and color and beauty of that part of the foresthad gone. The heart of the great trees was now slowly rolling away inthose dark, weird clouds of smoke. I was sad for the loss and sick withfear for Dick and Hiram. 

Herky must have known my mind. 

"You needn't feel bad, kid. Thet's only a foothill or so of Penetiergone up in smoke. An' Buell's sawmill went, too. It's almost a surething 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' Budan' 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. Sometime in the night I awoke. The fire was still burning brightly. Bud andBill 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 ofthe campfire wafted up together. Then I saw and felt that he had coveredme with his coat and vest. 

I slept far into the next day. Herky was in camp alone. The others hadgone, Herky said, and he would not tell me where. He did not appear ascheerful as usual. I suspected he had quarreled with his companions, very likely about what was to be done with me. The day passed, and againI 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 thehorses. They had browsed far up the ravine, and the dawn had broken bythe time he returned. Target stood well to be saddled, nor did hebolt when I climbed up. Perhaps that ride I gave him had chastened andsubdued his spirit. Well, it had nearly killed me. Herky mounted the onehorse 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 burnedforest land. Then as we descended into the big canyon we turned a curveand saw, far ahead to the left, a black, smoky, hideous slope. We keptto the right side of the brook and sheered off just as we reached apoint opposite, where the burned line began. Fire had run up that sidetill checked by bare weathered slopes and cliffs. As far down the brookas eye could see through the smoky haze there stretched that blackline of charred, spear-pointed pines, some glowing, some blazing, allsmoking. 

From time to time, as we climbed up the slope, I looked back. The higherI got the more hideous became the outlook over the burned district. Iwas 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 thoseacres denuded of their timber by the fire of a few days. But as hourafter hour went by, with our trail leading through miles and miles ofthe same old forest that had bewitched me, I began to feel a little lessgrief at the thought of what the fire had destroyed. It was a loss, yetonly a small part of vast Penetier. If only my friends had gotten outalive!

Herky was as relentless in his travelling as I had found him in someother ways. He kept his pony at a trot. The trail was open, we madefast time, and when the sun had begun to cast a shadow before us we weregoing down-hill. Busy with the thought of my friends, I scarcely notedthe passing of time. It was a surprise to me when we rode down the lastlittle foot-hill, out into the scattered pines, and saw Holston only afew miles across the sage-flat. 

"Wal, kid, we've come to the partin' of the ways, " said Herky, with astrange 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 mightas well let me have him. "

"Sure, Herky. " I jumped off at once, led the horse over, and heldout the bridle. Herky dismounted, and began fumbling with the stirrupstraps. 

"Your legs are longer'n mine, " he explained. 

"Oh yes, Herky, I almost forgot to return your hat, " I said, removingthe wide sombrero. It had a wonderful band made of horsehair and abuckle of silver with a strange device. 

"Wal, you keep the hat, " he replied, with his back turned. "Greaserstole 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 injail in Yuma. "

"Thank you, Herky. I'll keep it, though I'd never need anything to makeme remember Arizona--or you. "

Herky swung his bow-legs over Target and I got astride the lean-backedpony. 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 littleeyes gleamed, but he turned away without another word, and, slappingTarget on the flank, rode off under the trees. 

I put the hat back on my head and watched Herky for a moment. Hissilence and abrupt manner were unlike him, but what struck me most wasthe 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 werelong. We reached the outskirts of the town perhaps a couple of hoursbefore sundown. A bank of clouds had spread out of the west andthreatened rain. 

The first person I met was Cless, and he put the pony in his corral andhurried me round to the hotel. On the way he talked so fast and said somuch that I was bewildered before we got there. The office was full ofmen, and Cless shouted to them. There was the sound of a chair scrapinghard on the floor, then I felt myself clasped by brawny arms. Afterthat 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, Ithought, and after that some one gave me a hot, nasty drink, and I feltthe cool sheets of a bed. 

The next morning all was clear. Dick came to my room and tried to keepme in bed, but I refused to stay. We went down to breakfast, and sat ata table with Jim and Hiram. It seemed to me that I could not answer anyquestions 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 beenburned. The fire had in some way been confined to the foot-hills. It hadrained all night, so the danger of spreading was now over. My letter hadbrought the officers of the forest service; even the Chief, who had beentravelling west over the Santa Fe, had stopped off and was in Holstonthen. There had been no arrests, nor would there be, unless Buell orStockton 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 inthe 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 secondtime. 

"We didn't get out. We went back to the pool where we sent you. Thepack-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. Weweathered the fire all right, and then rode in to Holston. Now themystery is where were you?"

"Then you saved all the ponies?"

"Yes, and brought your outfit in. But, Ken, we--that was awful of us toforget 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 heavoided 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 saveour 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 runsome. 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 inthat big canyon. "

"Back-fire!" exclaimed Dick, slamming the table with his big fist. Thenhe 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 broughtthe 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 metagain. 

"It was a wild boy's trick, Ken--that ride in the very face of fire ina 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' itwould 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 byit; nevertheless it pleased me more than anything that had ever beensaid me in my life. 

Then came the reading of letters that had a rived for me. In Hal'sletter, first and last harped on having been left behind. Father sent mea check, and wrote that in the event of a trouble in the lumber districthe 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 packedthem up--all except Herky sombrero, which I wore. Then I went to therailroad station to see the schedule, and I compromised with fatherby deciding to take the limited. The fast east-bound train had gonea 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 offup-stairs to a hall full of men. At one end were tables littered withpapers, and here men were signing their name Dick explained that forestrangers were being paid and new ones hired. Then he introduced meofficers of the service and the Chief. I knew by the way they looked atme that Dick had been talking. It made me so tongue-tied that I couldnot 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 touchedwith gray. 

"Kenneth Ward, " he went on, pleasantly, "I hope that letter ofintroduction 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 intomy pocket to bring forth the letter. It was wrinkled, soiled, andhad been soaked with water. I began to apologize for its disreputableappearance 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 ofbright young fellows. Here, look at this map. "

He drew my attention to a map lying on the table, and made crosses andtracings with a pencil while he talked. 

"This is Penetier. Here are the Arizona Peaks. The heavy shadingrepresents timbered land. All these are canyons. Here's Oak CreekCanyon, the one the fire bordered. Now I want you to tell me how youworked that back-fire, and, if you can, mark the line you fired. "

This appeared to me an easy task, and certainly one I was enthusiasticover. I told him just how I had come to the canyon, and how I saw thatthe fire would surely cross there, and that a back-fire was the onlychance. Then, carefully studying the map, I marked off the three milesHerky 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 mea 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 yourhead, and you are interested in forestry. Perhaps you can help us. Personally I shall be most pleased to hear what you think might be donein Penetier. "

I gasped and stared, and could scarcely believe my ears. But he was notjoking; he was as serious as if he had addressed himself to one of hisofficers. I looked at them all, standing interested and expectant. Dickwas as grave and erect as a deacon. Jim seemed much impressed. But oldHiram Bent, standing somewhat back of the others, deliberately winked atme. 

But for that wink I never could have seized my opportunity. It made meremember my talks with Hiram. So I boiled down all that I had learnedand launched it on the Chief. Whether I was brief or not, I was out ofbreath when I stopped. He appeared much surprised. 

"Thank you, " he said, finally. "You certainly have been observant. " Thenhe turned to his officers. "Gentlemen, here's a new point of view fromfirst-hand observation. I call it splendid conservation. It's in theline of my policy. It considers the settler and lumberman instead ofcombating him. "

He shook hands with me again. "You may be sure I'll not lose sight ofyou. Of course you will be coming West next summer, after your term atcollege?"

"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 gamewarden in the same forest. You may spend next summer with them. "

I stammered some kind of thanks, and found myself going out anddown-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 outthere. "

"I don't have to ask you, Mr. Dick, " I replied. 

"Lad, I'll need a young fellar bad next summer, " said old Hiram, withtwinkling 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 theGreaser?"

"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, heseemed so easy-going, so careless--almost sweet, like a woman; but thenI 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, andcertainly would get his just deserts; but I did not want him punishedany more for what he had done to me. 

Those last few hours sped like winged moments. We talked and planned alittle, I divided my outfit among my friends, and then it was time forthe train. That limited train had been late, so they said, every day fora 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, andI said good-bye calmly. I had my part to play. My short stay with themhad made me somehow different. But my coolness was deceitful. Dickhelped me on the train and wrung my hand again. 

"Good-bye, Ken. It's been great to have you out. .. . Next year you'll beback in the forests!"

He had to hurry to get off. The train started as I looked out of mywindow. There stood the powerful hunter, his white head bare, and he waswaving his hat. Jim leaned against a railing with his sleepy, carelesssmile. I caught a gleam of the blue gun swinging at his hip. Dick's eyesshone warm and blue; he was shouting something. Then they all passedback out of sight. So my gaze wandered to the indistinct black lineof Penetier, to the purple slopes, and up to the cold, whitemountain-peaks, and Dick's voice rang in my ears like a prophecy:"You'll be back in the forests. "