The Rules of the Game

by Stewart Edward White

  VIII

  Bob took his examinations, passed successfully, and was at onceappointed as ranger. Thorne had no intention of neglecting the youngman's ability. After his arduous apprenticeship at all sorts of labour,Bob found himself specializing. This, he discovered, was becoming moreand more the tendency in the personnel of the Service. Jack Pollockalready was being sent far afield, looking into grazing conditions,reporting on the state of the range, the advisable number of cattle, thetrespass cases. He had a natural aptitude for that sort of thing. Ware,on the other hand, developed into a mighty builder. Nothing pleased himmore than to discover new ways through the country, to open them up, toblast and dig and construct his trails, to nose out bridge sites and onthem to build spans hewn from the material at hand. He made himself aset of stencils and with them signed all the forks of the trails, sothat a stranger could follow the routes. Always he painstakingly addedthe letters U.S.F.S. to indicate that these works had been done by hisbeloved Service. Charley Morton was the fire chief--though any and alltook a hand at that when occasion arose. He could, as California Johnexpressed it, run a fire out on a rocky point and lose it there betterthan any other man on the force. Ross Fletcher was the best policeman.He knew the mountains, their infinite labyrinths, better than any other;and he could guess the location of sheep where another might havesearched all summer.

  Though each and every man was kept busy enough, and to spare, on all thevaried business inseparable from the activities of a National Forest,nevertheless Thorne knew enough to avail himself of these especial giftsand likings. So, early in the summer he called in Bob and Elliott.

  "Now," he told them, "we have plenty of work to do, and you boys mustbuckle into it as you see fit. But this is what I want you to keep inthe back of your mind: someday the National Forests are going to supplya great part of the timber in the country. It's too early yet. There'stoo much private timber standing, which can be cut without restriction.But when that is largely reduced, Uncle Sam will be going into thelumber business on a big scale. Even now we will be selling a few shaketrees, and some small lots, and occasionally a bigger piece to some ofthe lumbermen who own adjoining timber. We've got to know what we haveto sell. For instance, there's eighty acres in there surrounded byWelton's timber. When he comes to cut, it might pay us and him to sellthe ripe trees off that eighty."

  "I doubt if he'd think it would pay," Bob interposed.

  "He might. I think the Chief will ease up a little on cuttingrestrictions before long. You've simply got to over-emphasize a matterat first to make it carry."

  "You mean----?"

  "I mean--this is only my private opinion, you understand--thatlumbering has been done so wastefully and badly that it has beennecessary, merely as education, to go to the other extreme. We'veinsisted on chopping and piling the tops like cordwood, and cutting upthe down trunks of trees, and generally 'parking' the forest simply toget the idea into people's heads. They'd never thought of such thingsbefore. I don't believe it's necessary to go to such extremes,practically; and I don't believe the Service will demand it when itcomes actually to do business."

  Elliott and Bob looked at each other a little astonished.

  "Mind you, I don't talk this way outside; and I don't want you to doso," pursued Thorne. "But when you come right down to it, all that'snecessary is to prevent fire from running--and, of course, to leave afew seed-trees. Yo' can keep fire from running just as well by pilingthe debris in isolated heaps, as by chopping it up and stacking it. Andit's a lot cheaper."

  He leaned forward.

  "That's coming," he continued. "Now you, Elliott, have had as thorough atheoretical education as the schools can give you; and you, Orde, havehad a lot of practical experience in logging. You ought to make a goodpair. Here's a map of the Government holdings hereabouts. What I want isa working plan for every forty, together with a topographicaldescription, an estimate of timber, and a plan for the easiest method oflogging it. There's no hurry about it; you can do it when nothing elsecomes up to take you away. But do it thoroughly, and to the best of yourjudgment, so I can file your reports for future reference when they areneeded."

  "Where do you want us to begin?" asked Bob.

  "Welton is the only big operator," Thorpe pointed out, "so you'd betterlook over the timber adjoining or surrounded by his. Then the basin andranges above the Power Company are important. There's a fine body oftimber there, but we must cut it with a more than usual attention towater supplies."

  This work Bob and Elliott found most congenial. They would start earlyin the morning, carrying with them their compass on its Jacob's-staff,their chain, their field notes, their maps and their axes. Arrived atthe scene of operations, they unsaddled and picketed their horses. Thencommenced a search for the "corner," established nearly fifty yearsbefore by the dead and gone surveyor, a copy of those field notes nowguided them. This was no easy matter. The field notes describedaccurately the location, but in fifty years the character of a countrymay change. Great trees fall, new trees grow up, brush clothes anerstwhile bare hillside, fire denudes a slope, even the rocks andboulders shift their places under the coercion of frost or avalanche.The young men separated, shoulder deep in the high brakes and alders ofa creek bottom, climbing tiny among great trees on the open slope of adistant hill, clambering busily among austere domes and pinnacles,fading in the cool green depths of the forest. Finally one would shoutloudly. The other scrambled across.

  "Here we are," Bob said, pointing to the trunk of a huge yellow pine.

  On it showed a wrinkle in the bark, only just appreciable.

  "There's our line blaze," said Bob. "Let's see if we can find it in thenotes." He opened his book. "'Small creek three links wide, course SW,'"he murmured. "'Sugar pine, 48 in. dia., on line, 48 links.' That's notit. 'Top of ridge 34 ch. 6 1. course NE.' Now we come to the down slope.Here we are! 'Yellow pine 20 in. dia., on line, 50 chains.' Twentyinches! Well, old fellow, you've grown some since! Let's see yourcompass, Elliott."

  Having thus cut the line, they established their course and went duenorth, spying sharply for the landmarks and old blazes as mentioned inthe surveyor's field notes.

  When they had gone about the required distance, they began to look forthe corner. After some search, Elliott called Bob's attention to agrown-over blaze.

  "I guess this is our witness tree," said he.

  Without a word Bob began to chop above and below the wrinkle in thebark. After ten minutes careful work, he laid aside a thick slab ofwood. The inner surface of this was shiny with pitch. The space fromwhich it had peeled was also coated with the smooth substance. Thispitch had filmed over the old blaze, protecting it against the new woodand bark which had gradually grown over it. Thus, although the originalblaze had been buried six inches in the living white pine wood,nevertheless the lettering was as clear and sharp as when it had beencarved fifty years before. Furthermore, the same lettering, onlyreversed and in relief, showed on the thick slab that Bob had peeledaway. So the tree had preserved the record in its heart.

  "Now let's see," said Bob. "This witness bears S 80 W. Let's findanother."

  This proved to be no great matter. Sighting the given directions fromthe two, they converged on the corner. This was described by the oldsurveyor as: "Oak post, 4 in. dia., set in pile of rocks," etc. The pileof rocks was now represented by scattered stones; and the oak post hadlong since rotted. Bob, however, unearthed a fragment on which ran asingle grooved mark. It was like those made by borers in dead limbs.Were it not for one circumstance, the searchers would not have beenjustified in assuming that it was anything else. But, as Bob pointedout, the passageways made by borers are never straight. The fact thatthis was so, established indisputably that it had been made by thesurveyor's steel "scribe."

  Having thus located a corner, it was an easy matter to determine theposition of a tract of land. At first hazy in its general configurationand extent, it took definition as the young men progressed with theaccurate work of timber estimating. Befor
e they had finished with it,they knew every little hollow, ridge, ravine, rock and tree in it. Outof the whole vast wilderness this one small patch had become thoroughlyknown.

  The work was the most pleasant of any Bob had ever undertaken. Itdemanded accuracy, good judgment, knowledge. It did not require feverishhaste. The surroundings were wonderfully beautiful; and if the menpaused in their work, as they often did, the spirit of the woods, whichas always had drawn aside from the engrossments of human activity, camecloser as with fluttering of wings. Sometimes, nervous and impatientfrom the busy, tiny clatter of facts and figures and guesses, from therestless shuttle-weaving of estimates and plans, Bob looked up suddenlyinto a deathless and eternal peace. Like the cool green refreshment ofwaters it closed over him. When he again came to the surface-world ofhis occupation, he was rested and slowed down to a respectable patience.

  Elliott was good company, interested in the work, well-bred,intelligent, eager to do his share--an ideal companion. He and Bobdiscussed many affairs during their rides to and from the work andduring the interims of rest. As time went on, and the tracts to beestimated and plotted became more distant, they no longer attempted toreturn at night to Headquarters. Small meadows offered them restingplaces for the day or the week. They became expert in taking care ofthemselves so expeditiously that the process stole little time fromtheir labours. On Saturday afternoon they rode to headquarters toreport, and to spend Sunday.