The Young Wireless Operator--As a Fire Patrol | Page 5

a smile came on his
face. "Quit your kidding," he said. "What do they come at?"
"Ten dollars," replied the lumber dealer soberly.
The two boys stared at him incredulously.
"Impossible!" cried Lew. "What are they really worth?"
"Ten dollars," replied the man. His voice was sharp and a frown had

gathered on his forehead. "Ten dollars, and cheap at that."
Charley turned to his companion with a look of dismay. "We can never
build our boat with wood at such a price," he cried. "With five dollars
to pay for oars, and two dollars for paint, and some more for nails and
rowlocks, and lock and chain, the boat would cost eighteen or twenty
dollars just for the materials. That's three times as much as we have
got."
After an instant the look on Charley's face changed to one of intense
indignation. He had a quick temper, and now he turned to the lumber
dealer in anger.
"I guess the sugar profiteers are not the only ones who ought to be in
the penitentiary," he said hotly. "You can keep your old boards. And I
hope they rot for you."
Then he turned on his heel and started toward the gate, followed by
Lew.
"Come back here!"
The words rang out sharp and sudden. The voice was commanding and
compelling. Involuntarily the two boys turned back. The lumber dealer
stood before them, his face ablaze with indignation. Under his fiery
glances the boys were speechless. For a moment the man said nothing.
Evidently he was struggling with his temper. When he had gotten
control of himself he spoke. His voice was deep and low, but harsh and
cutting.
"Before you make a fool of yourself again, young man," he said,
speaking directly to Charley, "you had better know what you are
talking about. You called me a profiteer for asking $100 a thousand feet
for those cedar boards. Young man, those boards cost me $90 a
thousand in the cars at the station. That leaves me a margin of $10 a
thousand for handling them. Out of that I have to pay to have the
boards hauled from the station, pay for insurance on them, pay their
proportionate share of overhead expense, and pay for hauling them to

customers. How much of that $10 do you think is left for profit? So
little it almost requires a microscope to see it. I have to handle a good
many hundred feet of lumber to make as much as the cheapest sort of
laborer gets for a day's pay. The fact is, young man, that far from
profiteering on that lumber, I am selling it at a smaller profit than I ever
sold any lumber before in my life. Some lumber I am handling at a loss.
But in these critical days, with factories closing everywhere, and men
by the thousands being thrown out of work, the best thing a man can do,
either for himself or for his country, is to keep business moving. That's
why I am selling lumber without profit."
Charley was suddenly abashed. "I'm awfully sorry I called you a
profiteer," he said humbly. "I beg your pardon."
"It's all right, young man," said the lumber dealer, a smile once more
lighting up his face. "You are too young to understand how critical the
business situation really is. But be careful in future how you call people
names."
"I certainly will," agreed Charley. "But I'd like to know this. Who
is profiteering in lumber? Who is responsible for such terrible
prices?"
"Well, there has been profiteering in lumber, as in everything
else. But there is a real reason why the price of lumber is so high, and
that is the scarcity of timber."
"Scarcity!" cried Charley incredulously. "Why, the forests are full of
timber."
"And what is it like?" demanded the lumber dealer. "Go out to the
forests and look at it. There's nothing but little poles that will scarcely
make six-inch boards. We don't produce one-fourth of the lumber we
use in this state, and we are using wood ten times as fast as our forests
are growing it."
"I thought Pennsylvania was a great lumbering state," protested Lew.

"For a good many years it led the nation in the production of lumber,
young man, but now it ranks twentieth among the states. If only fire
could be kept out of the forests, we might some day raise our own
timber again. But the lumbermen chopped down the big trees and fire
has destroyed the little ones and even burned the forest soil so that
nothing grows in it again. We have not only destroyed our forests, but
we have so injured the land that new trees do not grow to take the place
of those we cut."
The