a hundred acres.

"Is there any organized system for fighting these fires?" Peter asked.

"System! Well, when there's a fire we go and try to put it out----"
laughed Wells.

"How do the fires start?"

"Campers--hunters mos'ly--in the deer season. Railroads sometimes--at
the upper end."

"And you keep no watch for smoke?"

"Where would we watch from?"

"Towers. They ought to be built--with telephone connection to
headquarters."

"D'ye think the old man will stand for that?"

"He ought to. It's insurance."

"Oh!"

"It looks to me, Wells," said Peter after a pause, "that a good 'crown'
fire and a high gale, would turn all this country to cinders--like
this."

"It's never happened yet."

"It may happen. Then good-by to your jobs--and to Black Rock too
perhaps."

"I guess Black Rock can stand it, if the old man can."

They walked around the charred clearing and mounted a high sand dune,
from which they could see over a wide stretch of country. With a high
wooden platform here the whole of the Upper Reserve could be watched.
They sat for a while among the sandwort and smoked, while Peter
described the work in the German forests that he had observed before the
war. Shad had now reached the point of listening and asking questions as
the thought was more and more borne into his mind that this new
superintendent was not merely talking for talk's sake, but because he
knew more about the woods than any man the native had ever talked with,
and wanted Shad to know too. For Peter had an answer to all of his
questions, and Shad, though envious of Peter's grammar--for he had
reached an age to appreciate it--was secretly scornful of Peter's white
hands and carefully tied black cravat.

This dune was at the end of the first day's "cruise" and Shad had risen
preparatory to returning toward Black Rock when they both heard a
sound,--away off to their right, borne down to them clearly on the
breeze--the voice of a girl singing.

"Beth," said Shad with a kindling eye. And then carelessly spat, to
conceal his emotions.

"What on earth can she be doing in here?" asked Peter.

"Only half a mile from the road. It's the short cut from Gaskill's."

"I see," from Peter.

"Do you reckon you can find your way back alone, Nichols?" said Shad,
spitting again.

Peter grinned. "I reckon I can try," he said.

Shad pointed with his long arm in the general direction of Heaven. "That
way!" he muttered and went into the scrub oa