The Young Forester

The Young Forester

The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Young Forester, by Zane Grey #10
in our series by Zane Grey
Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check the
copyright laws for your country before posting these files!!
Please take a look at the important information at the end of this
document. We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk,
keeping an electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove
this.
This Etext has been prepared by Bill Brewer, [email protected]
THE YOUNG FORESTER
By Zane Grey
I. CHOOSING A PROFESSION
I loved outdoor life and hunting. Some way a grizzly bear would come
in when I tried to explain forestry to my brother.
"Hunting grizzlies!" he cried. "Why, Ken, father says you've been
reading dime novels."
"Just wait, Hal, till he comes out here. I'll show him that forestry isn't
just bear-hunting."
My brother Hal and I were camping a few days on the Susquehanna
River, and we had divided the time between fishing and tramping. Our
camp was on the edge of a forest some eight miles from Harrisburg.

The property belonged to our father, and he had promised to drive out
to see us. But he did not come that day, and I had to content myself
with winning Hal over to my side.
"Ken, if the governor lets you go to Arizona can't you ring me in?"
"Not this summer. I'd be afraid to ask him. But in another year I'll do
it."
"Won't it be great? But what a long time to wait! It makes me sick to
think of you out there riding mustangs and hunting bears and lions."
"You'll have to stand it. You're pretty much of a kid, Hal--not yet
fourteen. Besides, I've graduated."
"Kid!" exclaimed Hal, hotly. "You're not such a Methuselah yourself!
I'm nearly as big as you. I can ride as well and play ball as well, and I
can beat you all--"
"Hold on, Hal! I want you to help me to persuade father, and if you get
your temper up you'll like as not go against me. If he lets me go I'll
bring you in as soon as I dare. That's a promise. I guess I know how
much I'd like to have you."
"All right," replied Hal, resignedly. "I'll have to hold in, I suppose. But
I'm crazy to go. And, Ken, the cowboys and lions are not all that
interest me. I like what you tell me about forestry. But who ever heard
of forestry as a profession?"
"It's just this way, Hal. The natural resources have got to be conserved,
and the Government is trying to enlist intelligent young men in the
work-- particularly in the department of forestry. I'm not exaggerating
when I say the prosperity of this country depends upon forestry."
I have to admit that I was repeating what I had read.
"Why does it? Tell me how," demanded Hal.
"Because the lumbermen are wiping out all the timber and never

thinking of the future. They are in such a hurry to get rich that they'll
leave their grandchildren only a desert. They cut and slash in every
direction, and then fires come and the country is ruined. Our rivers
depend upon the forests for water. The trees draw the rain; the leaves
break it up and let it fall in mists and drippings; it seeps into the ground,
and is held by the roots. If the trees are destroyed the rain rushes off on
the surface and floods the rivers. The forests store up water, and they
do good in other ways."
"We've got to have wood and lumber," said Hal.
"Of course we have. But there won't be any unless we go in for forestry.
It's been practiced in Germany for three hundred years."
We spent another hour talking about it, and if Hal's practical sense,
which he inherited from father, had not been offset by his real love for
the forests I should have been discouraged. Hal was of an industrious
turn of mind; he meant to make money, and anything that was good
business appealed strongly to him. But, finally, he began to see what I
was driving at; he admitted that there was something in the argument.
The late afternoon was the best time for fishing. For the next two hours
our thoughts were of quivering rods and leaping bass,
"You'll miss the big bass this August," remarked Hal, laughing. "Guess
you won't have all the sport."
"That's so, Hal," I replied, regretfully. "But we're talking as if it were a
dead sure thing that I'm going West. Well, I only hope so."
What Hal and I liked best about camping--of course after the
fishing--was to sit