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Updated: June 3, 2025
Then I'll fire the slash, an' that'll cover tracks." "Buell, I wouldn't want to be near Penetier when you light that fire. This forest will burn like tinder." "It's a whole lot I care then. Let her burn. Let the Government put out the fire. Now, what's to be done about this boy?" "I think I'd try to feel him out. Maybe he can be fixed. Boys who want to be foresters can't be rich.
Cabins must be built, trails made, roads cut. We'll need a head forester for every forest. This man must know all that's on his preserve, an' have it mapped. He must teach his rangers what he knows about trees. Penetier will be given over entirely to the growin' of yellow pine. Thet thrives best, an' the parasites must go.
"The forest's greatest foe! Old Penetier is doomed!" cried Dick Leslie. "That line of fire is miles long, and is spreading fast. It'll shoot up the canyons and crisscross the forest in no time. Bent, what'll we do?" "Mebbe we can get around the line. We must, or we'll have to make tracks for the mountain, an' thet's a long chance.
I'm very much pleased. We need a host of bright young fellows. Here, look at this map." He drew my attention to a map lying on the table, and made crosses and tracings with a pencil while he talked. "This is Penetier. Here are the Arizona Peaks. The heavy shading represents timbered land. All these are canyons. Here's Oak Creek Canyon, the one the fire bordered.
Perhaps they would both be lost. For a moment I felt faint, but I fought it off. I had to think of myself. It was every one for himself, and perhaps there was many a man caught on Penetier with only a slender chance for life. "Oh! oh!" I cried, suddenly. "Herky, Bud, and Bill tied helpless in that cabin! Dick forgot them. They'll be burned to death!"
The work will be different; those Western forests are all pine. I've a friend, Dick Leslie, a fellow I used to fish with, who went West and is now a fire ranger in the new National Forest in Arizona Penetier is the name of it. He has written me several times to come out and spend a while with him in the woods." "Penetier? Where is that near what town?" "Holston.
"How will you fight fire?" "Wal, thet's the hard nut to crack. Fire is the forest's worst enemy. In a dry season like this Penetier would burn like tinder blown by a bellows. Fire would race through here faster 'n a man could run. I'll need special fire rangers, an' all other rangers must be trained to fight fire, an' then any men living in or near the forest will be paid to help.
My thoughts were mostly occupied with sorrow for beautiful Penetier. What a fiend Buell was! I had heard him say he would fire the slash, and he had kept his word. Half an hour passed. I saw a flash of gray down the canyon, and shouted in joy. But what I thought Dick and Hiram was a herd of deer. They were running wildly. They clicked on the stones, and scarcely swerved for the pack-ponies.
"More'n a thousand. Buell's runnin' two shifts, day an' night." "Buell? Does he own this land?" "No. He's only the agent of a 'Frisco lumber company, an' the land belongs to the Government. Buell's sure slashin' the lumber off, though. Two freight-trains of lumber out every day." "Is this Penetier Forest?" I queried, carelessly, but I had begun to think hard. "Sure."
"They're gone," I whispered. "Wal, it 'pears so," replied Hiram. "An' it's a move I don't like. Youngster, it's you they want. Leslie's no particular use to them. They'll have to let him go sooner or later, if they hain't already." "What'll we do now?" "Make tracks. We'll cut back acrost the ridge an' git some blankets an' grub, then light out for the other side of Penetier."
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