ack in that part of the forest so
soon. But Merritt, who indeed was anxious to get away, by his
conversation showed that he was awaiting the arrival and conveyance of a
trainload of machinery for the establishment of a large pulp-mill on the
Kern River. The trail over which this machinery would have to be taken
was brushed out and ready, all save about nine miles of it, a section
too small to make it worth while to call a Ranger from another part of
the forest. So the Supervisor announced his intention of doing the work
himself, together with Wilbur. The night preceding, just before they
turned in for the night, the boy turned to his chief and said:

"What time in the morning, Mr. Merritt?"

"I'll call you," replied the Supervisor.

He did, too, for at sharp five o'clock the next morning Wilbur was
wakened to find the older man up and with breakfast ready.

"I ought to have got breakfast, sir," said the boy; "why didn't you
leave it for me?"

"You need more sleep than I do," was the sufficient answer. "Now, tuck
in."

The boy waited for no second invitation and devoted his attention to
securing as much grub as he could in the shortest possible time.
Breakfast was over, the camp straightened up, and they were in the
saddle by a quarter to six. It was ten miles from Wilbur's camp to the
point where the trail should start. The country was very rough, and it
was drawing on for nine o'clock when they reached the point desired.

"Now," said the Supervisor, "take the brush hook and clear the trail as
I locate it."

Wilbur, accordingly, following immediately after his chief, worked for
all he knew how, cutting down the brushwood and preparing the trail.
Every once in a while Merritt, who had blazed the trail some distance
ahead, would return, and, bidding the boy pile brush, would attack the
underwood as though it were a personal enemy of his and would cover the
ground in a way that would make Wilbur's most strenuous moments seem
trifling in comparison. Once he returned and saw the lad laboring for
dear life, breathing hard, and showing by his very pose that he was
tiring rapidly, although it was not yet noon, and he called to him.

"Loyle," he said, "what are you breaking your neck at it that way for?"

"I don't come near doing as much as I ought unless I do hurry," he
said. "And then I'm a long way behind."

"You mean as much as me?"

The boy nodded.

"Absurd. No two men's speed is the same. Don't force work.