A Lost Opportunity
Half an hour later the two boys were all but ready to go on. Before
rolling his pack, Charley filled his coffee-pot in the run and thoroughly
soaked the last embers of their fire.
"You'll never burn any timber," he said, as he poured on the last potful.
Then he stowed the coffee-pot in his pack and in a few moments the two
boys were once more afoot.
They struck directly for the top of the knob, as the ranger had told them
to do. The slope of the ground alone guided them. So dense was the stand
of timber that the huge trunks shut off the view in all directions. It was
almost as though they were encircled by palisades. And so thick was the
shade that rarely did a sunbeam reach the earth. They were in the forest
primeval, a land of perpetual gloom. There was no underbrush and they
could travel rapidly. In a very short time they came to the top of the
knob.
The summit had been entirely cleared of timber. On the very highest point
one lone tree remained. A long pole had been planted near its trunk, with
its top fastened to a branch of the tree. Crossbars between the tree and
the pole made a sort of rude ladder of the affair. And well up the tree a
rough staging had been constructed of small limbs. The boys saw at once
that this was a rude sort of watch-tower, and they suspected that the
ranger had been in the tree when he discovered the smoke from their fire.
They climbed up the tree and surveyed the scene before them in silence.
Indeed, it was too sublime for words. On every side stretched the forest.
Mile upon mile, league after league, east, west, north, south, far as the
eye could reach, spread the leafy roof of the forest, seemingly
illimitable, boundless, vast as the ocean, a sea of trees. And like a sea
the forest rose and fell in huge billows. On either hand great mountains
reared their huge bulk heavenward. Beyond them other ranges heaved their
rugged crests aloft. And still other ranges lay beyond these. Over all was
a cover of living green, the canopy of the forest. Sublime, majestic,
awesome, almost overpowering was the spectacle. And neither lad could find
words to express the emotion that arose within him. So they stood and
looked in silent wonder. Finally Charley spoke.
"It's worth all we've been through, Lew, just to see this," he said. "I
shall be well paid for the trip, even if we never get a fish."
Presently Lew looked up at the sun. Then he examined the mountains a
little to the left of the sun.
"There's where we go," he said, pointing over the nearest ridge to a gap
in the mountain beyond it. "The trout-stream will be in the third valley.
We've got to travel due east. And it will be some hike, too--over a
mountain and through a high gap. Let's pick out our landmarks and get
under way. It will take us a good many hours to make it, but we ought to
be there in time to have trout for supper."
For a few moments the boys examined the way in silence.
"See that bunch of rocks on the summit?" asked Lew. "They look like
chimney-rocks from here. Anyway, they stick up higher than any other part
of the mountain. And there's three tall pines right beside them. That's a
good landmark. It's exactly in a straight line for the gap. We can find
that mark if we can find anything. But you can't see very clearly through
this timber. Was there ever anything like it?"
"Finest timber I ever set eyes on, Lew. Isn't it wonderful? and to think
that the whole state was once covered with timber like that!"
They climbed down the rude ladder, slipped their packs over their
shoulders, and set off down the mountainside at a fast pace. And they
could go fast in such timber. No underbrush tripped them or caught in
their sacks. No low limbs impeded their progress. Indeed there was hardly
a limb nearer the ground than fifty feet. Their only care was for the
rocks and the roughness underfoot. From time to time they paused as they
came to some mammoth pine, and gazed in awed wonder at its huge bulk.
As they got down into the bottom the timber seemed to be even larger than
it was on the slope. The forest floor was soft and springy. Their feet
sank into it as into a soft, thick rug. The top of this leafy covering was
dry enough; but a few inches under the surface, the forest mold was as
moist as though a shower had just fallen. Yet there had been almost no
rain for months. Not only did the leaves hold the moisture, but the very
shade itself conserved it by preventing evaporation.
In the very centre of the valley ran a little stream. Long before they
could see it, they heard the brook talking to itself. The forest was
filled with a gentle murmur, which grew to a distinct rushing sound as
they approached the stream.
"Can't you just hear it speak?" said Lew. "What do you suppose it is
saying?"
"Those really are voices," insisted Charley.
"Now who's getting dippy?" laughed Lew. "You'll be as bad as I am if you
keep on."
"But I do hear voices," protested Charley. "I plainly heard the word
'six.' Listen. Somebody said 'eight,' just as plain as could be."
Lew looked puzzled. "Of course there might be some fishermen in here
besides ourselves," he said.
They looked carefully about them, but at first saw nothing. Then a voice
distinctly said, "Hemlock--five." There could no longer be any doubt.
Some one besides themselves was in the forest.
They made their way in the direction of the sound. Presently they saw
three men. Two of them carried calipers and walked in advance. The third
came behind and held a pencil and note-book.
"Wonder who they are and what they are doing," Charley said quietly.
"Let's watch and see."
But in a moment the approaching party caught sight of them. "Good-morning,
boys," said the man with the note-book. "Out for trout?"
"Surest thing you know," replied Lew. "But we've had hard luck. We
intended to fish in the valley back of us. It used to be a fine place for
trout. But it's been burned over and there are no trout left."
"I know," said the man. "I've seen it. Be careful with your fires, boys.
We don't want any more of this fine timber burned."
"Are you a forest-ranger, too?" asked Charley eagerly.
"No; I'm the forester. I have charge of this forest."
"Why, I thought you were at headquarters with your fire crew," cried
Charley, hardly realizing what he was saying.
The man looked at him sharply. "I ought to be and I wish I were," he said.
"I don't like this a bit. But I was ordered by the Commissioner to send in
an immediate estimate on the amount of timber in this stand. There's a
big sale on and they have to know how much there is to sell." He paused
and then added: "How in the world did you know I was supposed to be at
headquarters with the fire crew?"
"A ranger told us so. We met him over in the other valley. He said he
wished he was with you."
"Oh! That would be Morton," said the forester. "I sent him out on patrol
because we were short of fire patrols."
"Could you use me as a fire patrol?" said Charley quickly.
The forester looked at him searchingly. "Why do you want to be a fire
patrol?" he asked.
"I've got to go to work at something," said Charley, "and I'd love to help
care for the forest. You see, I'm almost through high school and I've got
to go to work and help Dad the minute I've graduated. He wants me to go
into the factory with him. I hate factories. But I love the woods. You'd
never be sorry, if you hired me, sir."
"Are you sure it isn't work rather than the factory you dislike?" demanded
the forester bluntly.
"No, no!" protested Charley. "I'd work day and night gladly if I could do
what I want to do. And there's nothing I can think of I'd rather do than
help take care of the forest."
"Very good," said the forester, "but I need patrols now, not after school
closes in June."
"Maybe I could get excused for the rest of the term," pleaded Charley.
"And throw away your chance to graduate? I don't think I want that kind
of a boy for a fire patrol," said the forester with a frown. "You might
decide to quit this job, too, about the time we stacked up against a hot
fire."
Lew spoke up. "You don't understand what Charley means, sir," he
explained. "Charley is away ahead of most of us in his school work. He's
done enough now to give him his diploma."
"Indeed!" replied the forester.
Then he turned to Charley in apology. "I beg your pardon, young man. I
misjudged you. I should like to have such an exemplary young man for a
patrol, but you are too young. We practically never employ a man not yet
of age as a fire patrol. A boy would have to have very unusual
qualifications if we did take him. I'm sorry, my lad. I believe you are a
fine boy, and I'd like to hire you. But you are too young."
Charley turned his head away to hide the tears that he could not keep back
as he saw the opportunity slipping away from him. Then he dashed his hand
across his eyes and again faced the forester.
"You do not understand who we are," he said with determination, "nor what
our qualifications are. I am accustomed to the woods, sir. I know
something of woodcraft. I have fought fire in the forest. I have spent
weeks in the mountains. And I am a wireless operator, sir. Are any of your
patrols better qualified?"
The forester looked at him with renewed interest. "As a patrol," he
remarked, "you would have to deal with grown men. You would find yourself
in many situations that you could not handle. Grown men do not like to
take orders from boys."
"I have handled men, sir; that is, I have helped to handle them. I helped
to capture the German dynamiters at Elk City, sir, when the Camp Brady
Wireless Patrol saved that place from destruction."
"Are you a member of that organization?" asked the forester with
increasing interest. "I remember reading about that."
"We both are," said Charley. "And I could help you so much with my
wireless, sir. Your ranger told us this morning that if he found a fire he
couldn't handle, he would have to go clear out to the highway before he
could summon help. With the wireless, help could be summoned almost
instantly."
The forester smiled indulgently. "It sounds good," he commented. "But you
forget that we have no wireless and that none of us knows anything about
radio-telegraphy. No; I am afraid I can't use you, though I'd like to. If
you still want a job when you are of age, come to me. I can use you as a
patrol and I might even have a place for you as a ranger. We have mighty
few rangers as well educated and equipped as you will be. Or you might
even decide to go to Mont Alto and take a degree in forestry and become a
forester like myself. I would like to see you in the service, but I can't
take you in now. I must get on with my work and hurry back to my office.
Good-bye and good luck to you. And don't forget about your fires."
Turning to the elder of his two companions, he said, "All right, Finnegan.
Go ahead."
The man stepped to the nearest tree, slipped his calipers on it
breast-high, then glanced aloft. "White pine, forty-three, five," he
called.
The forester put down the figures in his cruising book.
"Hemlock, twenty-eight, four," called the other man.
The men were experienced timber cruisers. They were measuring the amount
of wood in the forest. The first man meant that the white pine tree he was
measuring was forty-three inches in diameter breast-high and would make
five standard logs, each sixteen feet long. The second scaler had measured
a hemlock twenty-eight inches in diameter and long enough for four logs.
They were measuring the timber on a few acres, so as to form an estimate
of the amount for sale.
The work interested Lew greatly, but Charley had no heart for anything. He
had fought hard and apparently his last chance had slipped away from him.
He was very quiet as they made their way through the valley. Even the run
in the bottom failed to stir him, though he loved the little mountain
streams passionately. Yet he did notice that here, beneath the lofty
pines, where the forest mold lay deep and spongy, the brook flowed
strongly. It sang as it rushed along between its rugged banks. But there
was no music in its song for Charley. So alluring was the stream that Lew
wanted to fish, but Charley had no heart even to try for a trout; though
it was practically a certainty that there were trout aplenty to be had.
Time heals all wounds. It would heal Charley's: but not enough time had
yet elapsed for the healing process to begin. At present he could think of
nothing but his dismal prospects.
So they went on through the bottom and slowly ascended the opposite
mountain. As they had suspected might be the case, it was impossible to
distinguish the landmarks they had chosen. The innumerable great trunks of
the pines cut off their vision as effectually as a high board fence could
have done. But the slope of the land told them which way to go, and the
freedom from underbrush made it possible for them to travel in a
comparatively straight line. So they reached the crest of the mountain,
after a stiff climb, not far from the spot which they had selected.
The summit was sparsely timbered and they had no difficulty either in
finding their landmarks or in mapping out their way down the farther slope
and across the valley to the gap beyond. This second valley was also well
timbered. In the middle of this second valley another fine brook flowed.
And here they rested and had a bite to eat, with a cold drink from the
stream. Then they filled the canteen again and pressed on. The afternoon
was well advanced before they had climbed through the pass and reached the
valley that was to be their home for the next few days.
Like the valley in which they had met the forester, this bottom contained
some wonderful pines, though it was really a mixed stand of timber with
hardwoods beneath and the pine tops rising high above them. There were
countless numbers of these mammoth pines that towered a hundred to a
hundred and twenty-five feet in air. The hardwoods, though shut out from
some of the light, were also wonderful for size and vigor. It was a
splendid example of a "two-storied-forest." The resulting shade was so
dense that it was like twilight at the ground level. And the stream that
went rushing among the trees was a joy to behold. Deep, dark, crystal
clear, and almost as cold as ice, it was an ideal haunt for trout.
By the time they reached it, Charley had recovered his spirits. "Oh boy!"
he cried, when they reached the margin of the run. "Look at this brook."
As he stopped and dipped his hand in the water, he added, "It's cold
enough to freeze a fellow. Thank goodness, there isn't any underbrush
here. We won't have to wade. I'll wager this place is full of fish."
Hardly had he spoken before a great trout darted across the stream,
almost at their feet. Charley extended his rod over the water and waved it
vigorously a few times. Instantly trout darted out from a dozen different
points.
"Gee whiz!" shouted Charley. "Did you see 'em, Lew? I can hardly wait to
get a line in."
"We've got to get our camp made before we do any fishing," replied Lew.
"Let's hustle up and find a good camp site."
They walked rapidly up the valley, keeping a few yards back from the brook
so as not to alarm the trout.
"I don't know how our wireless will work among all these trees," said Lew.
"If we could find an open spot I'm sure it would be better."
Presently they came to exactly the sort of place they desired. At some
time, evidently within a few months, for no brush had as yet sprung up, a
hurricane had swept through the forest: and where it had passed lay a
windrow of trees as flat as a swath of grain after the scythe has gone
through it. The windrow was several rods in width, and not a tree remained
standing within that space. The fallen trees were piled upon one another
in confused masses.
For a time the boys gazed at the scene with awe. "That opening will make a
fine place to hang our aerial if we can get the wires up," said Lew. "I
believe that we have enough wire to hang 'em up pretty high and still have
a long lead-in wire. If there is, then we can camp back here under the
trees close to the run. We have no tent and the dense tops will protect
us from dew. It'll be much warmer back among the trees, too."
Speedily they found a place that suited them. They put their packs on the
ground and got out their wireless instruments. Then they made some rude
spreaders from branches that Lew cut in the windrow. When the aerial was
ready to hang up, Charley took a length of wire and made his way across
the windrow and up a slender tree that stood on the farther edge of the
opening. He fastened one end of the wire to the spreader and the other end
he attached to the tree. Lew was duplicating his movements on the other
side of the opening. In no time the aerial was swinging above the windrow,
and the lead-in wire had been brought back through the trees to the camp
site. Here the instruments were connected and the wire coupled to them.
The dry cells were next wired and the outfit was then ready. Lew sat down
beside the spark-gap and pressed the key. Bright flashes leaped from point
to point. He adjusted the gap, so as to get the best spark, then laid the
pack bags over the instruments.
"We missed out on listening to Roy this time," he said, "but I'll bet we
can raise the rest of the bunch. She works fine. We've got a dandy spark."
"Good!" cried Charley. "It won't be long before it is dark. It's already
twilight under these trees. Now for the trout."