r I had not told him or father all that Dick had written about the
wilderness of Penetier. I am afraid my mind was as much occupied with
rifles and mustangs as with the study of forestry. But, though the
adventure called most strongly to me, I knew I was sincere about
the forestry end of it, and I resolved that I would never slight my
opportunities. So, smothering conscience, I fell to the delight of
making plans. I was for breaking camp at once, but Hal persuaded me to
stay one more day. We talked for hours. Only one thing bothered me. Hal
was jolly and glum by turns. He reveled in the plans for my outfit, but
he wanted his own chance. A thousand times I had to repeat my promise,
and the last thing he said before we slept was: "Ken, you're going to
ring me in next summer!"

II. THE MAN ON THE TRAIN

Travelling was a new experience to me, and on the first night after I
left home I lay awake until we reached Altoona. We rolled out of smoky
Pittsburg at dawn, and from then on the only bitter drop in my cup of
bliss was that the train went so fast I could not see everything out of
my window.

Four days to ride! The great Mississippi to cross, the plains, the Rocky
Mountains, then the Arizona plateaus-a long, long journey with a wild
pine forest at the end! I wondered what more any young fellow could have
wished. With my face glued to the car window I watched the level country
speed by.

There appeared to be one continuous procession of well-cultivated
farms, little hamlets, and prosperous towns. What interested me most, of
course, were the farms, for all of them had some kind of wood. We passed
a zone of maple forests which looked to be more carefully kept than the
others. Then I recognized that they were maple-sugar trees. The farmers
had cleaned out the other species, and this primitive method of forestry
had produced the finest maples it had ever been my good-fortune to see.
Indiana was flatter than Ohio, not so well watered, and therefore less
heavily timbered. I saw, with regret, that the woodland was being cut
regularly, tree after tree, and stacked in cords for firewood.

At Chicago I was to change for Santa Fe, and finding my train in
the station I climbed aboard. My car was a tourist coach. Father had
insisted on buying a ticket for the California Limited, but I had argued
that a luxurious Pullman was not exactly the thing for a prospective
forester. Still I pocketed the extra money which I had assured