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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Young Forester"

Thousands of acres of magnificent pines had perished. The
shade and color and beauty of that part of the forest had gone. The heart
of the great trees was now slowly rolling away in those dark, weird clouds
of smoke. I was sad for the loss and sick with fear for Dick and Hiram.
Herky must have known my mind.
"You needn't feel bad, kid. Thet's only a foothill or so of Penetier gone
up in smoke. An' Buell's sawmill went, too. It's almost a sure thing thet
Leslie an' old Bent got out safe, though they must be doin' some tall
worryin' about you. I wonder how they feel about me an' Bud an' Bill? A
little prematoore roastin' for us, eh? Wal, wal!"
We went back to the camp. I lay down near the fire and fell asleep. Some
time in the night I awoke. The fire was still burning brightly. Bud and
Bill were lying with their backs to it almost close enough to scorch. Herky
sat in his shirtsleeves. The smoke of his pipe and the smoke of the
campfire wafted up together. Then I saw and felt that he had covered me
with his coat and vest.
I slept far into the next day. Herky was in camp alone. The others had
gone, Herky said, and he would not tell me where. He did not appear as
cheerful as usual. I suspected he had quarreled with his companions, very
likely about what was to be done with me.


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