The Forester's Daughter: A Romance of the Bear-Tooth Range

by Hamlin Garland

  V

  THE GOLDEN PATHWAY

  Young Norcross soon became vitally engaged with the problems whichconfronted McFarlane, and his possible enrolment as a guard filled himwith a sense of proprietorship in the forest, which made him quitecontent with Bear Tooth. He set to work at once to acquire a betterknowledge of the extent and boundaries of the reservation. It was,indeed, a noble possession. Containing nearly eight hundred thousandacres of woodland, and reaching to the summits of the snow-lined peaks tothe east, south, and west, it appealed to him with silent majesty. Itdrew upon his patriotism. Remembering how the timber of his own state hadbeen slashed and burned, he began to feel a sense of personalresponsibility. He had but to ride into it a few miles in order toappreciate in some degree its grandeur, considered merely as the sourceof a hundred swift streams, whose waters enriched the valleys lyingbelow.

  He bought a horse of his own--although Berrie insisted upon his retainingPete--and sent for a saddle of the army type, and from sheer desire tokeep entirely clear of the cowboy equipment procured puttees like thoseworn by cavalry officers, and when he presented himself completelyuniformed, he looked not unlike a slender, young lieutenant of thecavalry on field duty, and in Berrie's eyes was wondrous alluring.

  He took quarters at the hotel, but spent a larger part of each day inBerrie's company--a fact which was duly reported to Clifford Belden.Hardly a day passed without his taking at least one meal at theSupervisor's home.

  As he met the rangers one by one, he perceived by their outfits, as wellas by their speech, that they were sharply divided upon old lines andnew. The experts, the men of college training, were quite ready to beknown as Uncle Sam's men. They held a pride in their duties, a respectfor their superiors, and an understanding of the governmental policywhich gave them dignity and a quiet authority. They were less policementhan trusted agents of a federal department. Nevertheless, there was muchto admire in the older men, who possessed a self-reliance, a knowledge ofnature, and a certain rough grace which made them interesting companions,and rendered them effective teachers of camping and trailing, and whilethey were secretly a little contemptuous of the "schoolboys"; they wereall quite ready to ask for expert aid when knotty problems arose. It wasno longer a question of grazing, it was a question of lumbering andreforestration.

  Nash, who took an almost brotherly interest in his apprentice,warningly said: "You want to go well clothed and well shod. You'll haveto meet all kinds of weather. Every man in the service, I don't carewhat his technical job is, should be schooled in taking care of himselfin the forest and on the trail. I often meet surveyors and civilengineers--experts--who are helpless as children in camp, and when Iwant them to go into the hills and do field work, they are almostuseless. The old-style ranger has his virtues. Settle is just the kindof instructor you young fellows need."

  Berrie also had keen eyes for his outfit and his training, and under herdirection he learned to pack a horse, set a tent, build a fire in therain, and other duties.

  "You want to remember that you carry your bed and board with you," shesaid, "and you must be prepared to camp anywhere and at any time."

  The girl's skill in these particulars was marvelous to him, and added tothe admiration he already felt for her. Her hand was as deft, as sure, asthe best of them, and her knowledge of cayuse psychology more profoundthan any of the men excepting her father.

  One day, toward the end of his second week in the village, the Supervisorsaid: "Well, now, if you're ready to experiment I'll send you over toSettle, the ranger, on the Horseshoe. He's a little lame on his pen-handside, and you may be able to help him out. Maybe I'll ride over therewith you. I want to line out some timber sales on the west side ofPtarmigan."

  This commission delighted Norcross greatly. "I'm ready, sir, thismoment," he answered, saluting soldier-wise.

  That night, as he sat in the saddle-littered, boot-haunted front room ofNash's little shack, his host said, quaintly: "Don't think you areinheriting a soft snap, son. The ranger's job was a man's job in the olddays when it was a mere matter of patrolling; but it's worse and more ofit to-day. A ranger must be ready and willing to build bridges, fightfire, scale logs, chop a hole through a windfall, use a pick in a ditch,build his own house, cook, launder, and do any other old trick that comesalong. But you'll know more about all this at the end of ten days than Ican tell you in a year."

  "I'm eager for duty," replied Wayland.

  The next morning, as he rode down to the office to meet the Supervisor,he was surprised and delighted to find Berea there. "I'm riding, too,"she announced, delightedly. "I've never been over that new trail, andfather has agreed to let me go along." Then she added, earnestly: "Ithink it's fine you're going in for the Service; but it's hard work, andyou must be careful till you're hardened to it. It's a long way to adoctor from Settle's station."

  He was annoyed as well as touched by her warning, for it proclaimed thathe was still far from looking the brave forester he felt himself to be.He replied: "I'm not going to try anything wild, but I do intend tomaster the trailer's craft."

  "I'll teach you how to camp, if you'll let me," she continued. "I've beenon lots of surveys with father, and I always take my share of the work. Ithrew that hitch alone." She nodded toward the pack-horse, whose neatload gave evidence of her skill. "I told father this was to be a realcamping expedition, and as the grouse season is on we'll live on thecountry. Can you fish?"

  "Just about that," he laughed. "Good thing you didn't ask me if I could_catch_ fish?" He was recovering his spirits. "It will be great fun tohave you as instructor in camp science. I seem to be in for all kinds ofgood luck."

  They both grew uneasy as time passed, for fear something or some onewould intervene to prevent this trip, which grew in interest each moment;but at last the Supervisor came out and mounted his horse, thepack-ponies fell in behind, Berrie followed, and the student of woodcraftbrought up to rear.

  "I hope it won't rain," the girl called back at him, "at least not tillwe get over the divide. It's a fine ride up the hill, and the foliage isat its best."

  It seemed to him the most glorious morning of his life. A few large whiteclouds were drifting like snow-laden war-vessels from west to east,silent and solemn, and on the highest peaks a gray vapor was lightlyclinging. The near-by hills, still transcendently beautiful with theflaming gold of the aspen, burned against the dark green of the fartherforest, and far beyond the deep purple of the shadowed slopes rose tosmoky blue and tawny yellow. It was a season, an hour, to create rapturesin a poet, so radiant, so wide-reaching, so tumultuous was the landscape.Nothing sad, nothing discouraging, showed itself. The wind was brisk, theair cool and clear, and jewel-like small, frost-painted vines and ripenedshrubberies blazed upward from the ground. As he rode the youth silentlyrepeated: "Beautiful! Beautiful!"

  For several miles they rode upward through golden forests of aspens. Oneither hand rose thick walls of snow-white boles, and in the mystic glowof their gilded leaves the face of the girl shone with unearthly beauty.It was as if the very air had become auriferous. Magic coins dangled fromthe branches. Filmy shadows fell over her hair and down her strong youngarms like priceless lace. Gold, gold! Everywhere gold, gold and fire!

  Twice she stopped to gaze into Wayland's face to say, with hushedintensity: "Isn't it wonderful! Don't you wish it would last forever?"

  Her words were poor, ineffectual; but her look, her breathless voice madeup for their lack of originality. Once she said: "I never saw it solovely before; it is an enchanted land!" with no suspicion that thelarger part of her ecstasy arose from the presence of her young andsympathetic companion. He, too, responded to the beauty of the day, ofthe golden forest as one who had taken new hold on life after longillness.

  Meanwhile the Supervisor was calmly leading the way upward, vaguelyconscious of the magical air and mystic landscape in which his young folkfloated as if on wings, thinking busily of the improvements which werestill necessary in the trail, and weighing with care th
e clouds whichstill lingered upon the tallest summits, as if debating whether to go orto stay. He had never been an imaginative soul, and now that age hadsomewhat dimmed his eyes and blunted his senses he was placidly contentwith his path. The rapture of the lover, the song of the poet, had longsince abandoned his heart. And yet he was not completely oblivious. Tohim it was a nice day, but a "weather breeder."

  "I wonder if I shall ever ride through this mountain world as unmoved ashe seems to be?" Norcross asked himself, after some jarring prosaicremark from his chief. "I am glad Berrie responds to it."

  At last they left these lower, wondrous forest aisles and entered theunbroken cloak of firs whose dark and silent deeps had a stern beauty alltheir own; but the young people looked back upon the glowing world belowwith wistful hearts. Back and forth across a long, down-sweeping ridgethey wove their toilsome way toward the clouds, which grew each hour moreformidable, awesome with their weight, ponderous as continents in theirmajesty of movement. The horses began to labor with roaring breath, andWayland, dismounting to lighten his pony's burden, was dismayed todiscover how thin the air had become. Even to walk unburdened gave him asmothering pain in his breast.

  "Better stay on," called the girl. "My rule is to ride the hill going upand walk it going down. Down hill is harder on a horse than going up."

  Nevertheless he persisted in clambering up some of the steepest parts ofthe trail, and was increasingly dismayed by the endless upward reaches ofthe foot-hills. A dozen times he thought, "We must be nearly at the top,"and then other and far higher ridges suddenly developed. Occasionally theSupervisor was forced to unsling an ax and chop his way through a fallentree, and each time the student hurried to the spot, ready to aid, butwas quite useless. He admired the ease and skill with which the older manput his shining blade through the largest bole, and wondered if he couldever learn to do as well.

  "One of the first essentials of a ranger's training is to learn to swingan ax," remarked McFarlane, "and you never want to be without a realtool. _I_ won't stand for a hatchet ranger."

  Berrie called attention to the marks on the trees. "This is thegovernment sign--a long blaze with two notches above it. You can trustthese trails; they lead somewhere."

  "As you ride a trail study how to improve it," added the Supervisor,sheathing his ax. "They can all be improved."

  Wayland was sure of this a few steps farther on, when the Supervisor'shorse went down in a small bog-hole, and Berrie's pony escaped only bythe most desperate plunging. The girl laughed, but Wayland was appalledand stood transfixed watching McFarlane as he calmly extricated himselffrom the saddle of the fallen horse and chirped for him to rise.

  "You act as if this were a regular part of the journey," Wayland said toBerrie.

  "It's all in the day's work," she replied; "but I despise a bog worsethan anything else on the trail. I'll show you how to go round this one."Thereupon she slid from her horse and came tiptoeing back along the edgeof the mud-hole.

  McFarlane cut a stake and plunged it vertically in the mud. "That means'no bottom,'" he explained. "We must cut a new trail."

  Wayland was dismounting when Berrie said: "Stay on. Now put your horseright through where those rocks are. It's hard bottom there."

  He felt like a child; but he did as she bid, and so came safely through,while McFarlane set to work to blaze a new route which should avoid theslough which was already a bottomless horror to the city man.

  This mishap delayed them nearly half an hour, and the air grew dark andchill as they stood there, and the amateur ranger began to understand howserious a lone night journey might sometimes be. "What would I do if whenriding in the dark my horse should go down like that and pin me in themud?" he asked himself. "Eternal watchfulness is certainly one of theforester's first principles."

  The sky was overshadowed now, and a thin drizzle of rain filled the air.The novice hastened to throw his raincoat over his shoulders; butMcFarlane rode steadily on, clad only in his shirtsleeves, unmindful ofthe wet. Berrie, however, approved Wayland's caution. "That's right; keepdry," she called back. "Don't pay attention to father, he'd rather getsoaked any day than unroll his slicker. You mustn't take him for modelyet awhile."

  He no longer resented her sweet solicitude, although he consideredhimself unentitled to it, and he rejoiced under the shelter of his finenew coat. He began to perceive that one could be defended against astorm.

  After passing two depressing marshes, they came to a hillside so steep,so slippery, so dark, so forbidding, that one of the pack-horses balked,shook his head, and reared furiously, as if to say "I can't do it, and Iwon't try." And Wayland sympathized with him. The forest was gloomy andcold, and apparently endless.

  After coaxing him for a time with admirable gentleness, the Supervisor,at Berrie's suggestion, shifted part of the load to her own saddle-horse,and they went on.

  Wayland, though incapable of comment--so great was the demand upon hislungs--was not too tired to admire the power and resolution of the girl,who seemed not to suffer any special inconvenience from the rarefied air.The dryness of his open mouth, the throbbing of his troubled pulse, theroaring of his breath, brought to him with increasing dismay the factthat he had overlooked another phase of the ranger's job. "I couldn'tchop a hole through one of these windfalls in a week," he admitted, asMcFarlane's blade again liberated them from a fallen tree. "To do officework at six thousand feet is quite different from swinging an ax up hereat timber-line," he said to the girl. "I guess my chest is too narrow forhigh altitudes."

  "Oh, you'll get used to it," she replied, cheerily. "I always feel it alittle at first; but I really think it's good for a body, kind o'stretches the lungs." Nevertheless, she eyed him with furtive anxiety.

  He was beginning to be hungry also--he had eaten a very earlybreakfast--and he fell to wondering just where and when they were tocamp; but he endured in silence. "So long as Berrie makes no complaint mymouth is shut," he told himself. "Surely I can stand it if she can." Andso struggled on.

  Up and up the pathway looped, crossing minute little boggy meadows, onwhose bottomless ooze the grass shook like a blanket, descending steepravines and climbing back to dark and muddy slopes. The forest wasdripping, green, and silent now, a mysterious menacing jungle. All thewarmth and magic of the golden forest below was lost as though itbelonged to another and sunnier world. Nothing could be seen of the high,snow-flecked peaks which had allured them from the valley. All about themdrifted the clouds, and yet through the mist the flushed face of the girlglowed like a dew-wet rose, and the imperturbable Supervisor jogged hisremorseless, unhesitating way toward the dense, ascending night.

  "I'm glad I'm not riding this pass alone," Wayland said, as they pausedagain for breath.

  "So am I," she answered; but her thought was not his. She was happy atthe prospect of teaching him how to camp.

  At last they reached the ragged edge of timber-line, and there, rollingaway under the mist, lay the bare, grassy, upward-climbing, naked neck ofthe great peak. The wind had grown keener moment by moment, and when theyleft the storm-twisted pines below, its breath had a wintry nip. The rainhad ceased to fall, but the clouds still hung densely to the loftiestsummits. It was a sinister yet beautiful world--a world as silent as adream, and through the short, thick grass the slender trail ran like atimid serpent. The hour seemed to have neither daytime nor season. Allwas obscure, mysterious, engulfing, and hostile. Had he been alone theyouth would have been appalled by the prospect.

  "Now we're on the divide," called Berea; and as she spoke they seemed toenter upon a boundless Alpine plain of velvet-russet grass. "This is theBear Tooth plateau." Low monuments of loose rock stood on small ledges,as though to mark the course, and in the hollows dark ponds of icy waterlay, half surrounded by masses of compact snow.

  "This is a stormy place in winter," McFarlane explained. "These piles ofstone are mighty valuable in a blizzard. I've crossed this divide inAugust in snow so thick I could not see a rod."

  Half an hou
r later they began to descend. Wind-twisted, storm-bleacheddwarf pines were first to show, then the firs, then the blue-greenspruces, and then the sheltering deeps of the undespoiled forest opened,and the roar of a splendid stream was heard; but still the Supervisorkept his resolute way, making no promises as to dinner, though hisdaughter called: "We'd better go into camp at Beaver Lake. I hope you'renot starved," she called to Wayland.

  "But I am," he replied, so frankly that she never knew how faint hereally was. His knees were trembling with weakness, and he stumbleddangerously as he trod the loose rocks in the path.

  They were all afoot now descending swiftly, and the horses ramped downthe trail with expectant haste, so that in less than an hour fromtimber-line they were back into the sunshine of the lower valley, and atthree o'clock or thereabouts they came out upon the bank of an exquisitelake, and with a cheery shout McFarlane called out: "Here we are, out ofthe wilderness!" Then to Wayland: "Well, boy, how did you stand it?"

  "Just middling," replied Wayland, reticent from weariness and with joy oftheir camping-place. The lake, dark as topaz and smooth as steel, lay ina frame of golden willows--as a jewel is filigreed with gold--and aboveit the cliffs rose three thousand feet in sheer majesty, their upperslopes glowing with autumnal grasses. A swift stream roared down a lowledge and fell into the pond near their feet. Grassy, pine-shadowedknolls afforded pasture for the horses, and two giant firs, at the edgeof a little glade, made a natural shelter for their tent.

  With businesslike certitude Berrie unsaddled her horse, turned him loose,and lent a skilful hand at removing the panniers from the pack-animals,while Wayland, willing but a little uncertain, stood awkwardly about.Under her instruction he collected dead branches of a standing fir, andfrom these and a few cones kindled a blaze, while the Supervisor hobbledthe horses and set the tent.

  "If the work of a forester were all like this it wouldn't be so bad," heremarked, wanly. "I think I know several fellows who would be glad to doit without a cent of pay."

  "Wait till you get to heaving a pick," she retorted, "or scaling lumberin a rain, or building a corduroy bridge."

  "I don't want to think of anything so dreadful. I want to enjoy thismoment. I never was hungrier or happier in my life."

  "Do ye good," interjected McFarlane, who had paused to straighten up thecoffee-pot. "Most people don't know what hunger means. There's nothingfiner in the world than good old-fashioned hunger, provided you've gotsomething to throw into yourself when you come into camp. This is a greatplace for fish. I think I'll see if I can't jerk a few out."

  "Better wait till night," said his daughter. "Mr. Norcross is starving,and so am I. Plain bacon will do me."

  The coffee came to a boil, the skillet gave off a wondrous savor, andwhen the corn and beans began to sizzle, the trailers sat down to theirfeast in hearty content, with one of the panniers for a table, and thefir-tree for roof. "This is one of the most perfectly appointeddining-rooms in the world," exclaimed the alien.

  The girl met his look with a tender smile. "I'm glad you like it, forperhaps we'll stay a week."

  "It looks stormy," the Supervisor announced, after a glance at thecrests. "I'd like to see a soaking rain--it would end all our worry aboutfires. The country's very dry on this side the range, and your duty forthe present will be to help Tony patrol."

  While he talked on, telling the youth how to beat out a small blaze andhow to head off a large one, Wayland listened, but heard his instructionsonly as he sensed the brook, as an accompaniment to Berea's voice, for asshe busied herself clearing away the dishes and putting the camp torights, she sang.

  "You're to have the tent," said her father, "and we two huskies willsleep under the shade of this big fir. If you're ever caught out," heremarked to Wayland, "hunt for one of these balsam firs; there's always adry spot under them. See here!" And he showed him the sheltered circlebeneath the tree. "You can always get twigs for kindling from their innerbranches," he added, "or you can hew into one of these dead trees and getsome pitchy splinters. There's material for everything you want if youknow where to find it. Shelter, food, fire are all here for us as theywere for the Indians. A ranger who needs a roof all the time is not worthhis bacon."

  So, one by one, the principles of camping were taught by the kindly oldrancher; but the hints which the girl gave were quite as valuable, forWayland was eager to show her that he could be, and intended to be, aforester of the first class or perish in the attempt.

  McFarlane went farther and talked freely of the forest and what it meantto the government. "We're all green at the work," he said, "and we oldchaps are only holding the fort against the thieves till you youngsterslearn how to make the best use of the domain."

  "I can see that it takes more than technical training to enable a man tobe Supervisor of a forest," conceded Wayland.

  McFarlane was pleased with this remark. "That's true, too. It's a bigresponsibility. When I first came on, it was mainly patrolling; but now,with a half dozen sawmills, and these 'June Eleventh Homesteads,' and thenew ways of marking timber, and the grazing and free-use permits, theoffice work has doubled. And this is only the beginning. Wait tillColorado has two millions of people, and all these lower valleys areclamoring for water. Then you'll see a new party spring up--right here inour state."

  Berrie was glowing with happiness. "Let's stay here till the end of theweek," she suggested. "I've always wanted to camp on this lake, and nowI'm here I want time to enjoy it."

  "We'll stay a day or two," said her father; "but I must get over to thatditch survey which is being made at the head of Poplar, and then Moore iscoming over to look at some timber on Porcupine."

  The young people cut willow rods and went angling at the outlet of thelake with prodigious success. The water rippled with trout, and in halfan hour they had all they could use for supper and breakfast, and,behold, even as they were returning with their spoil they met a covey ofgrouse strolling leisurely down to the lake's edge. "Isn't it a wonderfulplace!" exclaimed the happy girl. "I wish we could stay a month."

  "It's like being on the Swiss Family Robinson's Island. I never was morecontent," he said, fervently. "I wouldn't mind staying here all winter."

  "I would!" she laughed. "The snow falls four feet deep up here. It'slikely there's snow on the divide this minute, and camping in the snowisn't so funny. Some people got snowed in over at Deep Lake last year andnearly all their horses starved before they could get them out. This is afierce old place in winter-time."

  "I can't imagine it," he said, indicating the glowing amphitheater whichinclosed the lake. "See how warmly the sun falls into that high basin!It's all as beautiful as the Tyrol."

  The air at the moment was golden October, and the dark clouds which layto the east seemed the wings of a departing rather than an approachingstorm; and even as they looked, a rainbow sprang into being, arching thelake as if in assurance of peace and plenty, and the young people, asthey turned to face it, stood so close together that each felt the glowof the other's shoulder. The beauty of the scene seemed to bring themtogether in body as in spirit, and they fell silent.

  McFarlane seemed quite unconscious of any necromancy at work upon hisdaughter. He smoked his pipe, made notes in his field-book, directing anoccasional remark toward his apprentice, enjoying in his tranquil,middle-age way the beauty and serenity of the hour.

  "This is the kind of thing that makes up for a hard day's ride," he said,jocosely.

  As the sunset came on, the young people again loitered down to thewater's edge, and there, seated side by side, on a rocky knoll, watchedthe phantom gold lift from the willows and climb slowly to the cliffsabove, while the water deepened in shadow, and busy muskrats marked itsglossy surface with long silvery lines. Mischievous camp-birds peered atthe couple from the branches of the pines uttering satirical comment,while squirrels, frankly insolent, dropped cones upon their heads andbarked in saucy glee.

  Wayland forgot all the outside world, forgot that he was studying to be aforest
ranger, and was alive only to the fact that in this mostbewitching place, in this most entrancing hour, he had the companionshipof a girl whose eyes sought his with every new phase of the silent andwonderful scene which shifted swiftly before their eyes like a noiselessyet prodigious drama. The blood in his thin body warmed. He forgot hisfatigue, his weakness. He was the poet and the forest lover, and this theheart of the range.

  Lightly the golden glory rose till only the highest peaks retained itsflame; then it leapt to the clouds behind the peaks, and gorgeously littheir somber sulphurous masses. The edges of the pool grew black asnight; the voice of the stream grew stern; and a cold wind began to fallfrom the heights, sliding like an invisible but palpable icy cataract.

  At last the girl rose. "It is getting dark. I must go back and getsupper."

  "We don't need any supper," he protested.

  "Father does, and you'll be hungry before morning," she retorted, withsure knowledge of men.

  He turned from the scene reluctantly; but once at the camp-firecheerfully gave his best efforts to the work in hand, seconding Berrie'sskill as best he could.

  The trout, deliciously crisp, and some potatoes and batter-cakes made ameal that tempted even his faint appetite, and when the dishes werewashed and the towels hung out to dry, deep night possessed even the highsummit of stately Ptarmigan.

  McFarlane then said: "I'll just take a little turn to see that the horsesare all right, and then I think we'd better close in for the night."

  When they were alone in the light of the fire, Wayland turned to Berrie:"I'm glad you're here. It must be awesome to camp alone in a wilderness;and yet, I suppose, I must learn to do it."

  "Yes, the ranger often has to camp alone, ride alone, and work alone forweeks at a time," she assured him. "A good trailer don't mind a nighttrip any more than he does a day trip, or if he does he never admits it.Rain, snow, darkness, is all the same to him. Most of the boys arefifteen to forty miles from the post-office."

  He smiled ruefully. "I begin to have new doubts about this rangerbusiness. It's a little more vigorous than I thought it was. Suppose afellow breaks a leg on one of those high trails?"

  "He mustn't!" she hastened to say. "He can't afford really to takereckless chances; but then father won't expect as much of you as he doesof the old-stagers. You'll have plenty of time to get used to it."

  "I may be like the old man's cow and the green shavings, just as I'mgetting used to it I'll die."

  She didn't laugh at this. "You mustn't be rash; don't jump into any hardjobs for the present; let the other fellow do it."

  "But that's not very manly. If I go into the work I ought to be able totake my share of any task that turns up."

  "You'd better go slow," she argued. "Wait till you get hardened to it.You need something over your shoulders now," she added; and rose and laida blanket over him. "You're tired; you'll take a chill if you're notcareful."

  "You're very considerate," he said, looking up at her gratefully. "But itmakes me feel like a child to think I need such care. If honestly trying,if going up against these hills and winds with Spartan courage will do megood, I'm for it. I'm resolved to show to you and your good father that Ican learn to ride and pack and cut trail, and do all the rest ofit--there's some honor in qualifying as a forester, and I'm going to doit."

  "Of course there isn't much in it for you. The pay, even of a fullranger, isn't much, after you count out his outlay for horses and saddlesand their feed, and his own feed. It don't leave so very much of hisninety dollars a month."

  "I'm not thinking of that," he retorted. "If you had once seen a doctorshake his head over you, as I have, you'd think just being here in thisglorious spot, as I am to-night, would be compensation enough. It's a joyto be in the world, and a delight to have you for my teacher."

  She was silent under the pleasure of his praise, and he went on: "I_know_ I'm better, and, I'm perfectly certain I can regain my strength.The very odor of these pines and the power of these winds will bring itback to me. See me now, and think how I looked when I came here six weeksago."

  She looked at him with fond agreement. "You _are_ better. When I saw youfirst I surely thought you were--"

  "I know what you thought--and forget it, _please_! Think of me as one whohas touched mother earth again and is on the way to being made a giant.You can't imagine how marvelous, how life-giving all this is to me. It ispoetry, it is prophecy, it is fulfilment. I am fully alive again."

  McFarlane, upon his return, gave some advice relating to the care ofhorses. "All this stock which is accustomed to a barn or a pasture willquit you," he warned. "Watch your broncos. Put them on the outward sideof your camp when you bed down, and pitch your tent near the trail, thenyou will hear the brutes if they start back. Some men tie their stock allup; but I usually picket my saddle-horse and hobble the rest."

  It was a delightful hour for schooling, and Wayland would have beencontent to sit there till morning listening; but the air bit, and at lastthe Supervisor asked: "Have you made your bed? If you have, turn in. Ishall get you out early to-morrow." As he saw the bed, he added: "I seeyou've laid out a bed of boughs. That shows how Eastern you are. We don'tdo that out here. It's too cold in this climate, and it's too much work.You want to hug the ground--if it's dry."

  The weary youth went to his couch with a sense of timorous elation, forhe had never before slept beneath the open sky. Over him the giantfir--tall as a steeple--dropped protecting shadow, and looking up hecould see the firelight flickering on the wide-spread branches. His bedseemed to promise all the dreams and restful drowse which the books onoutdoor life had described, and close by in her tiny little canvas househe could hear the girl in low-voiced conversation with her sire. Allconditions seemed right for slumber, and yet slumber refused to come!

  After the Supervisor had rolled himself in the blanket, long after allsounds had ceased in the tent, there still remained for the youth a scoreof manifold excitations to wakefulness. Down on the lake the muskrats andbeavers were at their work. Nocturnal birds uttered uncanny, disturbingcries. Some animal with stealthy crackling tread was ranging thehillside, and the roar of the little fall, so far from lulling him tosleep--as he had imagined it would--stimulated his imagination till hecould discern in it the beat of scurrying wings and the patter ofpernicious padded feet. "If I am appalled by the wilderness now, whatwould it seem to me were I alone!" he whispered.

  Then, too, his bed of boughs discovered unforeseen humps and knobs, andby the time he had adjusted himself to their discomfort, it becameevident that his blankets were both too thin and too short. And the gelidair sweeping down from the high places submerged him as if with a floodof icy water. In vain he turned and twisted within his robes. No soonerwere his shoulders covered and comfortable than his hip-bones began toache. Later on the blood of his feet congealed, and in the effort to wrapthem more closely, he uncovered his neck and shoulders. The frost becamea wolf, the night an oppressor. "I must have a different outfit," hedecided. And then thinking that this was but early autumn, he added:"What will it be a month later?" He began to doubt his ability to measureup to the heroic standard of a forest patrol.

  The firelight flickered low, and a prowling animal daringly sniffed aboutthe camp, pawing at the castaway fragments of the evening meal. The youthwas rigid with fear. "Is it a bear? Shall I call the Supervisor?" heasked himself.

  He felt sadly unprotected, and wished McFarlane nearer at hand. "It maybe a lion, but probably it is only a coyote, or a porcupine," heconcluded, and lay still for what seemed like hours waiting for the beastto gorge himself and go away.

  He longed for morning with intense desire, and watched an amazinglyluminous star which hung above the eastern cliff, hoping to see it paleand die in dawn light, but it did not; and the wind bit even sharper. Hislegs ached almost to the cramping-point, and his hip-bones protruded likeknots on a log. "I didn't know I had door-knobs on my hips," he remarked,with painful humor, and, looking down at his feet, he saw that a thickrime
was gathering on his blanket. "This sleeping out at night isn't whatthe books crack it up to be," he groaned again, drawing his feet up tothe middle of his bed to warm them. "Shall I resign to-morrow? No, I'llstay with it; but I'll have more clothing. I'll have blankets six inchesthick. Heaps of blankets--the fleecy kind--I'll have an air-mattress."His mind luxuriated in these details till he fell into an uneasy drowse.