An Accident in the Wilderness
As though she also were pleased at Charley's good fortune, Dame Nature
smiled her best in the days that immediately followed. The sun rose warm
and grateful. The forest was instinct with the spirit of spring, of
new-born life, of hope eternal. Wilderness birds sang in the branches. The
brook babbled and gurgled and ran madly down the slope. The leaves
overhead whispered of the new life that had come. All the forest animals
seemed filled with the joy of living. And Charley was not a whit behind
them. His whole being thrilled with happiness.
Now he could see matters in their true light; or if his vision were a
trifle clouded, the clouds were tinged with rose instead of black, as they
had been previously.
Charley thanked Providence that he was just where he was. In some respects
an unusual boy, he was mentally no abler than many of his fellows. He
possessed a trueness of vision and an understanding of things that were,
however, unusual in a lad of his age. Always he had had to earn the
things that he wanted. And always he had been able, within reason, to get
what he desired. Early in life, therefore, he had come to understand that
everything has its price, and that he who is willing to pay the price can
get almost anything he wishes. So now, instead of bewailing the fact that
he was where he was, as many another lad would have done under the
circumstances, he rejoiced. He rejoiced because he had sense enough to
understand that his opportunity was at hand, here in the forest, and now.
In another respect Charley was mature for his years. He had come to
understand, at least in a measure, that real success is always won by long
and persistent effort in a given direction. Like other boys, Charley had
his dreams and cherished lofty ambitions. But the stern necessities of
life, as he had lived it, had taught him that dreams seldom come true as
the result of luck, but are realized most certainly through consistent
effort. He did not want to go to work in the factory because he hated the
dirt and the noise and the odors and the sense of being cooped up, like an
animal in a pen. Now he had all the freedom in the world, and the
opportunity had come to become well acquainted with the things that he
loved--trees, flowers, ferns, birds, animals, and all the other gifts of
nature.
When Charley looked abroad and realized that his opportunity had come, and
come in such a delightful way, he could hardly keep from shouting in his
happiness. Like the sensible lad he was, he immediately asked himself this
question, "What is the best thing for me to do first?" He decided that he
would go on with the training of his pup. All day, as he walked through
the forest, he labored to teach the young dog to trot quietly at his
heels, or to walk silently in front of him.
Charley's purpose, of course, was to have the dog always at hand, to give
him warning of the approach of man or beast, and to fight for him, if
necessary. That the pup should learn not to betray himself or his master,
was equally needful. So Charley had the additional task of teaching the
dog to be silent, excepting for a very low growl, upon the approach of
other creatures. Charley thought of the Leatherstocking and his dog, and
wondered how that dog had been trained so wonderfully.
Day after day the lessons continued. Charley had abundant opportunity to
work with the pup, for the forest was full of creatures that constantly
excited the young animal. The training required no end of patience: but
Charley loved the dog and never wearied in his efforts. By the time he had
completed his labors with the pup, his own shadow was hardly more constant
and quiet than the dog.
Charley was elated one day when the dog signaled the approach of a
fisherman by no more than the faintest sort of a bark, and then at
command, came promptly to heel and remained there, silent and watchful. It
was the pup's first test with human beings. The fisherman proved to be
one of two who were making their way along the margin of the run. Charley
and the dog remained quietly behind some bushes until the fishermen were
out of sight and hearing. Then Charley praised his little pup and went on.
His efforts with the dog, however, did not prevent him from thinking of
other matters. Day after day his mind returned to the problem of the
forest fire and the piece of green pasteboard. Ever since he had found the
telltale pile of ashes and the charred pasteboard beneath it, Charley had
been turning the problem over in his mind. How he was to solve the puzzle
he did not see. Somewhere, he felt sure, he had seen pasteboard like the
charred piece now in possession of Mr. Morton; but when or where he had
seen it, he had not the slightest recollection. How he was ever to find
another piece like it, he could not imagine; for as a fire patrol he had
neither time nor opportunity to mingle with people.
He could see just one possibility of success. Undoubtedly there was a
great deal more of the green pasteboard in the world than had been
contained in the burned box. Hence persons other than the incendiary must
have some of that same pasteboard. Perhaps some of those persons might
bring a bit of it into the forest. Campers and fishermen often brought
food and other things into the woods in pasteboard boxes. So Charley
resolved to examine carefully every camp he came to, and even to
scrutinize the remains of camp fires. But day followed day and Charley
found nothing to enlighten him.
One day when Charley was on his way to meet the ranger, he suddenly
realized that he was away behind time. Charley hated the idea of being
tardy, especially when he had no reason for being late. He had been
training his dog, and his work with the pup had delayed him more than he
realized. But with haste he could still reach the meeting-place on time.
At the fastest pace that he thought he could hold Charley set off. His
daily hikes through the forest had rapidly made a good walker of him, and
now he went along at a rate that would speedily have tired out most
travelers. Sometimes, to rest himself by changing his gait, he went scout
pace, walking fifty steps, then jogging fifty. He allowed nothing to
hinder him or take his attention. When he reached the meeting-place it
still lacked a few minutes of the appointed hour. Charley was pleased to
find that he had arrived before the ranger.
When the time of meeting came and the ranger was not there, Charley began
to scan the fire trail carefully and to look about for smoke clouds. He
knew that something of moment must be afoot to make the ranger tardy for
his appointment. The ranger was not visible, however, though Charley could
see straight down the fire trail for a long distance.
"I'll go meet him," said Charley. "He's sure to come this way."
In the sand of the trail he printed a message for the ranger, in case the
latter should be coming by an unaccustomed route, and continued along the
trail. He had gone a full mile before he met Mr. Morton.
"Sorry I am late, Charley," said the ranger. "A lot of stuff came to the
office for you last night and the chief asked me to fetch it out this
morning. I think your new battery has come."
"It's about time," said Charley. "I had about given up hope of ever seeing
it." Then he added, "But you couldn't pack that way out here. It must
weigh sixty pounds."
"Is that all?" laughed the ranger. "I had come to believe that it weighed
in the neighborhood of half a ton."
"Did you really try to carry it?" asked Charley.
"Sure. The chief sent all your stuff as far as he could in the truck, and
I packed it in as far as I could carry it. That's why I'm late. But I had
to drop it a distance back. I brought these along, however, and thought
we'd go back and get the battery, for I'm sure that's what it is." He
paused and handed to Charley two pasteboard boxes he had strapped to his
back. The larger one was bulky, but weighed comparatively little. The
other was small.
"I wonder what it is," said Charley, as he untied the string and opened
the smaller box. "The amplifier," he said. Then he opened the larger box.
"Your wireless!" he cried in delight. "Everything is here, even to the
aerial. Only the spreaders are lacking. We could make them and have this
outfit set up in no time if we had to. Isn't it bully? Now we can talk
directly with each other as soon as you learn to send and read. Won't that
be dandy?" With practiced eye he once more glanced over the outfit to make
sure everything was there. Then he tied the box up again.
"I'll just take it back with me," he added. "This goes to your house, you
know, and you can pick it up on your way home. We'll take it as far as the
battery and leave it there."
They strode rapidly along the trail, and in half an hour reached the
battery where the ranger had set it down. Some traps lay on top of the
battery.
"I forgot to bring them sooner," said the ranger.
Charley lifted the box. "How in the world," he said, "did you ever pack
that thing over these mountains on your back? Why, you've carried that
more than four miles."
"We'll cut a couple of saplings and tie them to the box for handles," said
the ranger. "Then we can carry it easily. Give me your axe."
Charley handed his little axe to the ranger, and began to fumble in his
pocket for the cord which he had used as a leash for his dog. The ranger
looked around him for suitable poles. Close by the trail lay the rotting
trunk of a large tree that had fallen years before. On the far side of
this log and close to it some fine saplings had grown up, probably made
thrifty by the rotting wood of the great tree. The ranger reached over the
log to chop a sapling. At the same instant the pup, ranging in the bushes,
growled savagely. Momentarily the ranger lifted his eyes, letting his axe
head sink to the ground. Something moved under it, and at the same instant
a hideous head reared itself above the leaves and struck with
lightning-like rapidity, hitting the ranger just above the wrist-bone.
With a startled exclamation the ranger drew up his arm. As he did so, a
huge rattler glided away through the brush.
Charley turned at the ranger's cry. He comprehended the situation at a
glance. "Quick!" he cried, springing to the ranger's side. "Give me your
arm."
He jerked back the ranger's sleeve, disclosing two dark spots on the back
of the wrist where the fangs had punctured the skin. Drops of blood were
oozing from them. Charley whipped out his knife and without hesitation
drew the keen blade several times across the ranger's wrist. Blood began
to flow down the hand. Putting his lips to the wound, Charley sucked out
mouthful after mouthful of blood, which he spat on the ground.
"Now squeeze your wrist tight just above the bite," said Charley. "Stop
the circulation of blood if you can."
Like a flash Charley picked up the dog leash and tied an end of it around
the ranger's arm, close to the shoulder, drawing it so tight that the
ranger winced. He cut the dangling end and took a second turn just above
the ranger's elbow. Then he made a third turn half-way down the forearm.
With little sticks he twisted the cords still tighter. Then he jerked out
his hypodermic syringe, which he carried already filled with fluid, and
thrusting the needle into the bleeding arm, injected the permanganate into
the wound.
Meantime, the ranger stood silent, his face pale, his jaws set
courageously. "Where did you learn to do all that?" he finally asked
Charley, with evident admiration. "You go about it like a doctor."
"When the Wireless Patrol was in camp at Fort Brady," replied Charley,
"one of the fellows was bitten by a copperhead. Dr. Hardy had already
drilled us in first-aid and we knew just what to do. You bet none of us
will ever forget."
"I shall owe my life to you," said Mr. Morton. "That is, I shall if----"
"There's no if about it," interrupted Charley with determination. "We got
most of the poison out of your arm. I'll bet on that. What's left may make
you sick, but it can't kill you. What we've got to do is to prevent that
poison from reaching your heart, at least in any quantity. You sit down
against this tree and keep quiet so your heart will beat as slow as
possible. In about twenty minutes loosen this bottom cord. Loosen the
middle one after another twenty minutes, and open the third at the end of
an hour. That's all I know how to do. Thank God, we've got a wireless
here! Now I'm going to get it up as quick as possible."
He tore open the pasteboard boxes and took out one instrument after
another, coupling up the wires quickly and skilfully. Then he seized the
little axe, chopped some branches for spreaders, fastened the aerial wires
to them, and added other wires to suspend them by. Quickly he selected two
trees for supports, and climbing up first one and then the other, soon had
his aerial dangling directly above the fire trail. He coupled up his
lead-in wire and ran his eye over the outfit. Everything was complete.
Only the power was lacking. With the axe he pried off the lid of the box
containing the battery, tore away the paper and excelsior wrappings, and
in another moment had his wires around the binding posts. He threw over
his switch, and springing to his key pressed his finger on it. A brilliant
flash shot between the points of his spark-gap. Rapidly he adjusted the
points until his instrument was giving a spark of maximum strength. Then
he settled himself to the task ahead.
"WXY--WXY--WXY--CBC," called Charley. (Frankfort Radio Station--Charley
Russell calling.) Several times he repeated the call. Then he shut off his
switch and sat in silence listening for a reply. None came.
"They may be talking to somebody," he muttered. Again he called.
"WXY--WXY--WXY--CBC," he flashed again and again. Once more he sat quiet
and listened. At first he got no reply. Then, clear as a bell on a frosty
morning, a signal sounded in his ear: "CBC--CBC--CBC--I--I--I." (Charley
Russell--I'm here.)
Charley sighed with relief. "Got 'em," he said to the ranger. Then he
turned intently to his key.
"Please telephone District Forester Marlin at Oakdale instantly," he
rapped out. "Ranger Morton bitten rattlesnake. Send motor-car where
battery was delivered this morning. May need man help ranger. Bring
doctor. Tell wife get ready. Will listen for answer."
As Charley sat waiting for a reply, he studied the face of the ranger. It
was set hard. Courage was written on it plainly.
The ranger started to speak. "Don't talk," interrupted Charley. "Keep as
quiet as you can, and watch your bandages. If you keep them tight too long
it harms your blood somehow."
They sat in silence a while. Then Charley said, "I wish you didn't have to
walk, but I guess there's nothing for it but to hike out to the highway at
the earliest possible moment. We'll start the instant we've heard from Mr.
Marlin."
"What about your instruments?"
"I'll nail the cover on the battery box and put the other things in the
pasteboard box. I don't think anything will touch them. It's all we can
do, anyway."
He felt in his pockets and found a stub of a pencil and a scrap of paper.
"Property of the Pennsylvania Forestry Department. Please do not touch,"
he printed in large letters. With his knife blade he pried out the tacks
that held the address tag on the battery box and tacked his sign on the
box. Then his receiver began to buzz. Charley gave the return signal.
"Forester on wire now," came the message. "Wants to know where you are and
how Morton is."
Charley ticked off the information and waited for a reply. It came very
soon. "Will rush doctor and men. Come as far to meet me as you can."