The Young Forester

by Zane Grey

  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!"