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Transcriber’s note:
In this book, words and phrases originally in italics are
enclosed by underscores _like this_.
SCOTT BURTON, FORESTER
[Illustration: “Good shot, old man,” he cried to Morgan.]
SCOTT BURTON
FORESTER
by
EDWARD G. CHEYNEY
Illustrated by Norman Rockwell
D. Appleton and Company
New York London
1917
Copyright, 1917, by
D. Appleton and Company
Printed in the United States of America
TO
MY BROTHER
Whose broad-minded views
Have had an ever-present influence on my life
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
ILLUSTRATIONS
“Good shot, old man,” he cried to Morgan
By night they had ... camped within sight of the lights
of Red Wing
His instinct was to run ... but he stood there too terrified
to move
He waved his knife threateningly, and tried to warn Scott off
SCOTT BURTON, FORESTER
CHAPTER I
“Hello, Scotty, have you decided yet which one it will be?” Dick
Bradshaw called, eagerly, as he ran up the walk to the old Burton home.
He had been away for two weeks, and when he left, the selection of a
forest school for Scott had been the all absorbing question.
“Yes,” Scott answered, “it was decided a week ago. You know there never
has been any doubt in my mind. I picked out the Western college in the
first place, but father and mother did not want me to go so far away
from home. I persuaded them last week that it was the best thing to do,
and they consented.”
Dick’s face fell. “That means I shall not see you for four years,” he
growled.
“Oh no, Dick,” Scott answered quickly, “not over three at the most, and
possibly not over two. That was what persuaded father and mother to let
me go. You see they may give me enough extra credit for that extra high
school work and those three years of summer school we took, to enable me
to squeeze through in two years. I have sent in my credits, and shall
find out when I get there.”
Dick brightened up a little. The boys had grown up together in the
little New England village, the closest of friends, and the idea of a
long separation was pretty hard, especially for the one who was to stay
at home. They had always had the same tastes in books, studies and
pleasures. Both were hard students and both preferred long walks in the
woods and fields to the games that most boys play. These traits had kept
them somewhat apart from the other boys, and thrown them almost
exclusively on each other’s society.
“When do you go?” Dick asked.
“Early tomorrow morning,” Scott answered. “You see it takes two days to
get there. I was afraid you would not get back in time for me to see you
at all.”
“Tomorrow!” Dick exclaimed indignantly. “Why didn’t you pick out Yale?
You could have come home once in a while then, and we could have had a
great time together there next year.” Dick was planning on taking some
special work in biology at Yale the next season.
Scott was stung by the reproach in Dick’s voice. “You know perfectly
well I would have done it if I could. Yale has a graduate school and I
could not get in. Why don’t you come out with me?”
“Maybe I shall if you find out that it is any good. Why do you want to
go to a place that you do not know anything about?” Dick remonstrated.
“But I do know something about it, Dick. I know that it is in a new
country that I have never seen, that it has a good reputation, and that
a large part of the work is given in camp. What more do you want?”
“Well,” Dick answered, “that camp part sounds good to me and if the
biology is taught in a camp I may be out there with you next year. You
find out about that and let me know. I have to be going now. I just came
up on the way from the train to find out what you had decided. Mother is
waiting for me. See you later.” And he hurried down the walk.
“Come over after supper,” Scott called after him and walked slowly into
the house. This thing of leaving Dick when he was taking it so hard was
the toughest pull of all. He knew Dick through and through, and he
suddenly realized that he did not know anything about any of the people
where he was going. His intimate knowledge of boys was limited almost
entirely to Dick, and he felt a certain timidity in meeting so many
strangers.
As he entered the old home where he had always lived he felt that it was
dearer to him than he knew, in spite of the fact that he was so eager to
leave it. His father was a doctor there in the little village of Wabern,
Mass., a man devoted to his profession, which yielded a large amount of
work with a small income. He had always taken it for granted that his
only child would follow in his footsteps, and for many years he had
tried in every way to interest the boy in his work. He had taken him on
many a long drive on the rounds of his work and tried to impress on him
the beauties of healing sickness and alleviating pain. It was not till
Scott was a strapping big fellow of sixteen that the astonished father
realized that his boy had drifted hopelessly away from the medical
profession.
He had noted with pride Scott’s collection of plants, bugs, small
animals and rocks, and the boy’s love for such things pleased him. It
came to him as a shock when he discovered that the boy’s point of view
was entirely different from his own. For him the specimens were all
related in some way to the medical profession; to Scott they represented
only the different phases of nature. It was the make-up of the great
“outdoors” which interested him, and he longed to be a part of it. It
was the opportunity of such a life that first attracted him toward
forestry, and his mind once made up he bent all his energies to
preparing for the work. His father and mother concealed their
disappointment as best they could and helped him along in this unknown
line of work.
At last the time had come when a special course at college was
necessary, and the question of which school had to be decided. Scott’s
lack of a degree barred him from the graduate schools of the East, and
in his heart he was rather glad of it. He knew every plant, animal and
rock in that section of the country and was eager for new fields to
conquer. The greater proportion of actual woods work was a further
incentive. With these things in mind he had studied the catalogs of the
different schools by the hour, and had finally decided on Minnesota. His
parents had objected at first on account of the distance from home but
they had finally yielded to his wish.
And now the question was settled. His application had been accepted,
Dick had given a grudging approval, and he was actually packing up to
go.
In the hall he met his father, a mild-eyed man of fifty, just returning
from his daily round of mercy.
“Well, Scott,” he said cheerfully, “you are leaving the old nest and
taking a pretty long flight for the first one. See that you fly
straight, boy. Your mother and I have done all that we can to develop
your wings, and the rest of it is up to you. Let’s go to dinner.”
Mrs. Burton was waiting for them in the dining-room. She was very tired
from the work of preparing Scott for his journey, and blue at the
thought of losing him, but she smiled her sweetest smile, and did her
best to cheer the boy’s last meal at home. There was nothing unusual
about the dinner, but Scott felt a certain close companionship with his
father and mother, an equality, that he had never felt before. It gave
him a new feeling of confidence and responsibility that no amount of
lecturing could have done.
Before they arose from the table the doctor said: “Here’s something for
you to remember, Scott. You already know that book knowledge is not
everything. You know that a great deal can be learned from nature, but
there is one important source of knowledge that you must not neglect.
You are going where there will be hundreds of young men, men of all
kinds and character. They will be a good sample of the men of the world,
and it is important that you should know them. Do not do there as you
have done here at home, pick one man for your constant companion and be
indifferent to all the others. You must know them all. Study some of
them for the good traits that you ought to have, and others for the bad
traits that you want to avoid. You can learn something from everyone of
them. You must learn from them how to take a man’s measure for yourself
and not have to rely on the judgment of others. If you learn to judge
men truly your success in other things will be pretty certain.
“Just one thing more. You have insisted on taking up work that is
different from the life I had always planned for you. Perhaps you think
that I am hurt and resent it. That is not true. I want you to feel that
I have every confidence in your judgment and ability to make a success
of anything you undertake even when you choose something of which I am
entirely ignorant. This new work should prepare you to make some use of
wild land, as I understand it, and I am going to make you a proposition.
“That ten thousand-acre tract of cut-over forest in New Hampshire that
your grandfather left us should be made to produce something. I am
willing to give you this tract for your own on two conditions. The first
is that you successfully complete your course and pass your Civil
Service examinations as a proof of your training; and second, that you
show your ability to pick responsible men for your companions. Of the
latter I shall have to be the judge. Fill those two conditions and the
land is yours.”
For the life of him Scott could not find anything to say. It was the
first time his father had ever spoken to him in that way, as one man to
another and it choked him up queerly. He could not even thank his father
for the offer. He was relieved when Dick Bradshaw came in and went with
him to his room to help finish packing and look over his equipment.
The two boys talked till almost midnight over the possibilities of the
western country and the new things that would be found there. The
necessity of Scott’s catching an early train finally forced them to
separate with many a promise of a very active correspondence.
Scott slept like a top till his mother called him at four o’clock. The
train was due at five-fifteen, and everything had to be done in a rush.
His mother preferred it so. Almost before he knew it he had eaten a
hurried breakfast, had hastened to the station, and was looking out of
the car window into the hazy morning with the brave tones of his
mother’s voice still ringing in his ears, “Good-bye, Scott. Remember how
you have lived and write me what you do. As long as you can do that you
are safe.”
All day long he sat with his nose almost glued against the windowpane
noting every change in topography and speculating on the geological
formation. Occasionally he thought of his father’s injunction and tore
himself away from the window long enough to notice the people around
him. The country outside was of much greater interest to him, but there
kept ringing through his brain continuously, “I will give you that ten
thousand-acre tract.” Surely no other boy had ever had such a chance as
that. It was as big as many a German national forest.
About noon of the second day he passed through St. Paul, and on to
Minneapolis. A thrill passed through Scott as he realized that he was
actually west of the Mississippi River.
Scott hastened from the train with the rest of the passengers, and
pushed his way through the crowded gate into the station. He was burning
to see the College he had been dreaming about for so long. He had no
idea where it was located but he felt certain that a College which had
attracted him from such a great distance must be a matter of pride to
all the citizens and very easily found.
He walked to the first street corner and asked a passerby. “Can you tell
me the way to the Forest School?”
The stranger stopped abruptly. “The what?”
“The Forest School.”
“To the Forest School,” the man repeated wonderingly. “No, I’m afraid I
can’t. I am a stranger here myself. Never heard of it.”
Scott tried another man with a busy up-to-date air. “Pardon me, can you
tell me the way to the Forest School?”
The man passed on with an indifferent look and paid no further attention
to him.
“Humph,” Scott thought. “City manners seem to be different from ours at
home.”
He watched a few people pass by and selected for his next victim an
elderly gentleman with a kindly face and a leisurely air.
“Pardon me, sir, can you tell me the way to the Forest School?”
The old gentleman stopped courteously and apologized for not quite
catching the question.
Scott repeated it.
The old man shook his head doubtfully. “Never heard of it, my boy. What
sort of a place is it?”
Scott was beginning to think that he must have come to the wrong city.
However, the old gentleman was exceedingly polite, and the boy tried to
explain. “It is a school where they train foresters, sir.”
“Oh,” said the old gentleman in a rather doubtful tone. “Strange I have
never heard of it. Let’s ask the policeman.”
They consulted that dignitary, but he had never heard of it and could
find no clue in his little yellow book.
Suddenly the old man seemed to have an inspiration. “Isn’t part of the
University, is it?” he asked.
“Why, certainly it is,” Scott blurted indignantly. The ignorance of
these people was remarkable.
“Oh well, then,” said the old gentleman, “that’s easy. Take that car
right there and get off at Fourteenth Street. You can see it from
there.”
Scott thanked him and hurried into the car. He felt that his troubles
were over at last and he would soon be a duly registered embryo
forester. The University loomed up big as he left the car at Fourteenth
Street, and the gayly dressed students were wandering everywhere in the
idleness of registration day.
Scott tackled an amiable looking fellow and once more inquired the way
to the Forest School. The amiable student stopped and grinned at him
sympathetically. “Well now, old man, that’s too bad. You are miles off
your course.”
Scott’s face fell. “Why, isn’t this the University?” he asked.
“Certainly this is the University,” answered the wise one, “but the
Forest School is part of the Agricultural Department, and that is miles
away at the end of yonder carline. Take the car back the way you came
clear to the end of the carline, and you’ll find the Agricultural
College half a mile beyond that.”
“Thank you very much,” said Scott gratefully, “you are the first person
I have met in the whole city who seems to really know anything about
it.”
“Don’t mention it, old man,” said his new friend with a bow. “You’ll get
there in the end all right.”
The ride back to the end of the carline seemed almost endless, but the
fact that one of those splendid young fellows had called him “old man,”
and the thought that he would soon be one of them cheered him up
wonderfully. The car came to the end of the track at last and he walked
down the road briskly, eager to be a full-fledged student and swagger
like the fellow with the red shoes and the decorated sweater who had
talked to him. He could see the buildings on the hill ahead, but was
rather surprised to find a high board fence around the grounds; the
gate, too, was locked. A man in uniform answered his knock.
“Is this the Agricultural College?” Scott asked by way of an
introduction, for he felt sure that it was.
“No, sonny,” the man answered with a broad grin, “this is the County
Poor Farm, and you are the fourth man them smart alecks have sent out
here today. Now you get back on that car you just left and tell the
conductor to put you off at the Agricultural College, and don’t let
anybody else steer you.”
Scott thanked him with downcast mien, and trudged dejectedly back to the
car. Visions of that gay young sophomore who had called him “old man,”
and deceived him so cheerfully floated before him in a red haze. He
wondered what his father would think of his judgment. He swore all kinds
of vengeance, and it looked for a while as though the whole sophomore
class was in danger.
He drew back as the car passed the University for fear the sophomore
might be waiting to see him go by. Sure enough there he was on the
corner and Scott had a hard time to restrain himself from going out to
thrash him then and there. He eyed the conductor suspiciously when he
called the Agricultural College to try to detect whether he was in the
general conspiracy against all freshmen. He did not feel nearly so sure
of the real Agricultural College when he saw it as he had of the County
Poor Farm. However, it was the right place at last, and a printed sign
pointed the way to the registrar’s office.
Nearly all the students he met on the long winding path leading up to
the administration building were carrying suitcases, and most of them
gazed nervously about them like strangers in a strange land. Scott
threaded his way through the crowds of students grouped idly around the
halls and stairway to a place in the long line which was crawling slowly
past the registrar’s window. A young man wearing the badge of the Y. M.
C. A. approached him and asked if he was looking for a room, but Scott
remembered the trip to the county poor farm too vividly to take any more
advice from a student, and refused to even discuss the matter with him.
The crowd in the line was certainly a mixed one, and from their
appearance he concluded that his father was right in saying that they
were a good sample of nearly all the different kinds of people in the
world. The large proportion of girls worried him a good deal till he
found that they were registering for domestic science, an entirely
separate course from his own. He had not been accustomed to the idea of
coeducation, so popular in the West.
In due time he reached the window and presented his permit.
“Scott Burton,” the registrar read in kindly tones, “of Wabern, Mass. I
remember your case. You have a number of advanced credits. Let’s see.
Here is the report of your case from the enrollment committee. They have
allowed you credit for one semester of mathematics, four of language,
four of rhetoric, four of botany, two of geology, two of zoology, and
two of chemistry. That leaves you only elementary forestry, dendrology,
mechanical drawing and forest engineering to complete the work of the
first two years.”
That was a little better than Scott had even dared to hope. He asked
eagerly, “Then I can finish in two years?”
“Possibly, you will have to see the Students’ Work Committee tomorrow
about that. They may let you take some extra work on probation but you
will have to drop it if your marks are not up to grade at the end of the
first four weeks. In the meanwhile you will be registered as a freshman.
Here is your registration card. See that it is filled in, and your fees
paid by five P. M. tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” said Scott. “Can you tell me where I can get some
information about a boarding house?”
The registrar gave him one of the printed lists that the student had
tried to give him a little while before, and turned to the next student
in the line.
With his registration card in his pocket Scott felt more certain of
himself again. He was not only a student, he was almost a junior, and if
the other students in the halls had happened to notice him they would
have seen a very different looking boy from the one who had gone in a
half-hour before.