in
out the spreading trees that want all the light, and the saplings that
grow too close together. I'd get rid of the beetles, and try to check
the spread of caterpillars. For trees grow twice as fast if they are not
choked or diseased. Then I'd keep planting seeds and shoots in the open
places, taking care to favor the species best adapted to the soil, and
cutting those that don't grow well. In this way we'll be keeping our
forest while doubling its growth and value, and having a yearly income
from it."

"Kenneth, I see you're in dead earnest about this business," said my
father, slowly. "Before I came out here today I had been looking up
the subject, and I believe, with you, that forestry really means the
salvation of our country. I think you are really interested, and I've a
mind not to oppose you."

"You'll never regret it. I'll learn; I'll work up. Then it's an outdoor
life--healthy, free--why! all the boys I've told take to the idea.
There's something fine about it." "Forestry it is, then," replied he. "I
like the promise of it, and I like your attitude. If you have learned so
much while you were camping out here the past few summers it speaks well
for you. But why do you want to go to Arizona?"

"Because the best chances are out West. I'd like to get a line on
the National Forests there before I go to college. 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. It's a pretty rough country, Dick says; plenty of deer, bears,
and lions on his range. So I could hunt some while studying the forests.
I think I'd be safe with Dick, even if it is wild out there."

"All right, I'll let you go. When you return we'll see about the
college." Then he surprised me by drawing a letter from his pocket
and handing it to me. "My friend, Mr. White, got this letter from the
department at Washington. It may be of use to you out there."

So it was settled, and when father drove off homeward Hal and I went
back to camp. It would have been hard to say which of us was the more
excited. Hal did a war dance round the campfire. I was glad, however,
that he did not have the little twinge of remorse which I experienced,
fo