ent,
and was quite well-informed on reclamation projects, Wilbur found the
professor as stubborn as a mule, and every time he tried to bring the
conversation round to forest fires he would be snubbed promptly.

That evening Wilbur led the party to a camping place where, he reasoned,
there would be little likelihood of fire trouble, as it was a very open
stand and all the brush on it had been piled and burned in the spring.
But the lad was at his wits' end what further to do. He could not seize
and carry off all the fireworks, and even if he were able to do so, he
couldn't see that he had any right to. It was a great relief to the boy
when he heard a horse on the trail and the old Ranger cantered up.

"Oh, Rifle-Eye," he said, "I'm so glad you've come. Tell me what to
do," and the boy recounted his difficulty with the party from first to
last.

The old woodsman listened attentively, and then said:

"I reckon, son, we'll stroll over and sorter see just how the land lies.
There's a lot of things can be done with a mule by talkin' to him,
although there is some that ain't wholly convinced by a stick of
dynamite. We'll see which-all these here are."

"I think they're the dynamite kind," the boy replied.

"Well, we'll see," the Ranger repeated. He stepped in his loose-jointed
way to where the party was sitting around the campfire. Then, looking
straight at the man of the party, he said:

"You're a professor?"

The remark admitted of no reply but:

"I was for twenty years."

"And what did you profess?"

At this the camper rose to his feet, finding it uncomfortable to sit and
look up at the tall, gaunt mountaineer. He replied testily that it
wasn't anything to do with Rifle-Eye what chair he had held or in what
college, and he'd trouble him to go about his business.

Rifle-Eye heard him patiently to the end, and then asked again, without
any change of voice:

"And what did you profess?"

Once again the reputed educator expressed himself as to the Ranger's
interference and declared that he had been more annoyed since coming
into the forest than if he had stayed out of it. He worked himself up
into a towering rage. Presently Rifle-Eye replied quietly:

"You refuse to tell?"

"I do," snapped the professor.

"Is it because you are ashamed of what you taught, or of where you
taught it?" the Ranger asked.

This was touching the stranger in a tender place. He was proud of his
college and of his hobby, and he re