The Young Forester | Page 2

around the campfire. Tonight it was more pleasant
than ever, and when darkness fully settled down it was even thrilling.
We talked about bears. Then Hal told of mountain-lions and the habit
they have of creeping stealthily after hunters. There was a hoot-owl
crying dismally up in the woods, and down by the edge of the river
bright-green eyes peered at us from the darkness. When the wind came
up and moaned through the trees it was not hard to imagine we were

out in the wilderness. This had been a favorite game for Hal and me;
only tonight there seemed some reality about it. From the way Hal
whispered, and listened, and looked, he might very well have been
expecting a visit from lions or, for that matter, even from Indians.
Finally we went to bed. But our slumbers were broken. Hal often had
nightmares even on ordinary nights, and on this one he moaned so
much and thrashed about the tent so desperately that I knew the lions
were after him.
I dreamed of forest lands with snow-capped peaks rising in the
background; I dreamed of elk standing on the open ridges, of
white-tailed deer trooping out of the hollows, of antelope browsing on
the sage at the edge of the forests. Here was the broad track of a grizzly
in the snow; there on a sunny crag lay a tawny mountain-lion asleep.
The bronzed cowboy came in for his share, and the lone bandit played
his part in a way to make me shiver. The great pines, the shady, brown
trails, the sunlit glades, were as real to me as if I had been among them.
Most vivid of all was the lonely forest at night and the campfire. I
heard the sputter of the red embers and smelled the wood smoke; I
peered into the dark shadows watching and listening for I knew not
what.
On the next day early in the afternoon father appeared on the river road.
"There he is," cried Hal. "He's driving Billy. How he's coming"
Billy was father's fastest horse. It pleased me immensely to see the pace,
for father would not have been driving fast unless he were in a
particularly good humor. And when he stopped on the bank above
camp I could have shouted. He wore his corduroys as if he were ready
for outdoor life. There was a smile on his face as he tied Billy, and,
coming down, he poked into everything in camp and asked
innumerable questions. Hal talked about the bass until I was afraid he
would want to go fishing and postpone our forestry tramp in the woods.
But presently he spoke directly to me.
"Well, Kenneth, are you going to come out with the truth about that
Wild-West scheme of yours? Now that you've graduated you want a

fling. You want to ride mustangs, to see cowboys, to hunt and
shoot--all that sort of thing."
When father spoke in such a way it usually meant the defeat of my
schemes. I grew cold all over.
"Yes, father, I'd like all that-- But I mean business. I want to be a forest
ranger. Let me go to Arizona this summer. And in the fall I'd--I'd like to
go to a school of forestry."
There! the truth was out, and my feelings were divided between relief
and fear. Before father could reply I launched into a set speech upon
forestry, and talked till I was out of breath.
"There's something in what you say," replied my father. "You've been
reading up on the subject?"
"Everything I could get, and I've been trying to apply my knowledge in
the woods. I love the trees. I'd love an outdoor life. But forestry won't
be any picnic. A ranger must be able to ride and pack, make trail and
camp, live alone in the woods, fight fire and wild beasts. Oh! It'd be
great!"
"I dare say," said father, dryly; "particularly the riding and shooting.
Well, I guess you'll make a good-enough doctor to suit me."
"Give me a square deal," I cried, jumping up. "Mayn't I have one word
to say about my future? Wouldn't you rather have me happy and
successful as a forester, even if there is danger, than just an ordinary,
poor doctor? Let's go over our woodland. I'll prove that you are letting
your forest run down. You've got sixty acres of hard woods that ought
to be bringing a regular income. If I can't prove it, if I can't interest you,
I'll agree to study medicine. But if I do you're to let me try forestry."
"Well, Kenneth, that's a fair proposition," returned father, evidently
surprised at my earnestness "Come on. We'll go up in the woods. Hal, I
suppose he's won you