have got to be
conserved, and the Government is trying to enlist intelligent young
men in the work--particularly in the department of forestry. I'm not
exaggerating when I say the prosperity of this country depends upon
forestry."

I have to admit that I was repeating what I had read.

"Why does it? Tell me how," demanded Hal.

"Because the lumbermen are wiping out all the timber and never thinking
of the future. They are in such a hurry to get rich that they'll
leave their grandchildren only a desert. They cut and slash in every
direction, and then fires come and the country is ruined. Our rivers
depend upon the forests for water. The trees draw the rain; the leaves
break it up and let it fall in mists and drippings; it seeps into the
ground, and is held by the roots. If the trees are destroyed the rain
rushes off on the surface and floods the rivers. The forests store up
water, and they do good in other ways."

"We've got to have wood and lumber," said Hal.

"Of course we have. But there won't be any unless we go in for forestry.
It's been practiced in Germany for three hundred years."

We spent another hour talking about it, and if Hal's practical sense,
which he inherited from father, had not been offset by his real love for
the forests I should have been discouraged. Hal was of an industrious
turn of mind; he meant to make money, and anything that was good
business appealed strongly to him. But, finally, he began to see what I
was driving at; he admitted that there was something in the argument.

The late afternoon was the best time for fishing. For the next two hours
our thoughts were of quivering rods and leaping bass.

"You'll miss the big bass this August," remarked Hal, laughing. "Guess
you won't have all the sport."

"That's so, Hal," I replied, regretfully. "But we're talking as if it
were a dead sure thing that I'm going West. Well, I only hope so."

What Hal and I liked best about camping--of course after the
fishing--was to sit around the campfire. Tonight it was more pleasant
than ever, and when darkness fully settled down it was even thrilling.
We talked about bears. Then Hal told of mountain-lions and the habit
they have of creeping stealthily after hunters. There was a hoot-owl
crying dismally up in the woods, and down by the edge of the river
bright-green eyes peered at us from the darkness. When the wind came up
and moaned through the trees it was not hard to imagine we were out
in the w