The Young Wireless Operator--As a Fire Patrol | Page 8

the fine stand of pines in that little valley
we're heading for? When we were there three years ago there hadn't
been a tree cut in that valley. There must be millions and millions of
feet of lumber there."
"And do you remember," replied Charley, "how dark it was under those
pines, and how cold the water in the run was, and what schools of trout
we saw? Gee! I wish it had been trout season then! But we ought to
get'em now. Oh boy! I can hardly wait to get there."
"Then we had better be jogging on. It'll be dark before we know it."
"All right," returned Charley, "but I'm going to get a drink before I go
any farther."
"I want one, too. Guess I'll fill the canteen. Then we won't have to, stop
every time we want a drink."

The two boys scrambled down the slope to the brook. The lumber trail
was near the bottom of the notch and they had only a few yards to go.
The little run was rushing tumultuously down the notch, splashing over
rocks, scurrying over little sandy stretches, ever singing, ever
murmuring, in its downward course. Their packs and blankets made it
difficult to stretch out flat and drink from the stream, so Lew rinsed out
the canteen, filled it, and handed it to his companion. Charley took a
good drink and passed the canteen silently back to his chum.
"If you didn't really know it was the brook," said Lew, "you'd be
willing to swear you could hear somebody talking. You can hear voices
just as plain as can be. And you can almost make out what they say.
Many a time I've caught myself listening hard to try to make out the
words, when I heard a brook talking."
"It's no wonder people get scared and pretty nearly go crazy when they
are lost in the forest," replied Lew. "Without half trying, you can
imagine the forest is full of people or spooks or animals or something,
creeping up behind your back."
Lew bent down and once more filled the canteen. He corked it tight and
dipped it bodily into the run to wet the cloth cover, so that the water
within would be kept cool by evaporation. Then he slung the canteen
over his shoulder.
"I never saw a mountain stream so low at this time of the year," he
remarked, as he followed his companion up the trail. "You might think
it was August. But with no snow to melt and no rainfall this spring, it
isn't to be wondered at."
On they went up the trail. For a long time neither boy spoke. The
brambles still tore at their clothes and the bushes tripped them. In
places the young saplings were so dense that to force a way among
them was a difficult task. Their packs began to grow very heavy. But
they had one advantage. As Charley had suggested, the ground was
perfectly dry. There were no slippery sticks to tread on, nor any
moss-covered stones, treacherous with their soggy coats. So they could
give more attention to the obstacles above ground. But at best it was a

hard, difficult climb.
As they mounted higher and higher, the stream in the bottom constantly
dwindled. Long before the crest was reached, the brook had become a
very feeble stream, indeed. It had its source near the top of the pass, in
a great spring that welled up under a large rock. A single hemlock had
sprung up here in years past, and, watered by the spring, had grown to
enormous size. For some reason the lumbermen had passed it by. Now
it reared its giant bulk high above the younger growths around it,
casting a dense shade over the spring basin. Practically nothing grew in
this deep shade, so that the space above the spring was open and free
from bushes. On the trunk of this giant hemlock, where it could be seen
by all who came to the spring, was a white sign that read:
Everybody loses when timber burns. Pennsylvania Department
of Forestry.
"After our fight with the forest fire, when we were in camp at Fort
Brady, they don't need to tell any member of the Wireless Patrol to be
careful with fire," observed Lew. "But there are lots of people who do
need to be warned."
He dipped the canteen in the spring and passed on. "We're almost at the
top," he said, "and I'm not sorry."
"The light is already growing fainter," said Charley, "and it will bother
us to see before so very long. It's going to get dark awful early to-night.
We'd better hustle."
They reached the summit of the pass and started down the other slope.
The trail