The Young Wireless Operator—As a Fire Patrol: Or, The Story of a Young Wireless Amateur Who Made Good as a Fire PatrolTheiss, Lewis E. (Lewis Edwin)
General
The Young Wireless Operator—As a Fire Patrol: Or, The Story of a Young Wireless Amateur Who Made Good as a Fire Patrol
Theiss, Lewis E. (Lewis Edwin)
Forest fires -- Prevention and control -- Juvenile fiction; Radio operators -- Juvenile fiction
But Charley was not in a responsive mood. The thought of the man Collins
and his evil-favored companion weighed upon him heavily. Nor was the
knowledge that a wildcat was prowling about his camp reassuring; though
Charley was far from being afraid of the beast. And always the dread of
fire was in the background of his consciousness. What troubled him more
than anything else just now was the approaching loss of his chum. Could
Charley have diagnosed correctly the feelings that oppressed him now, he
would have known that it was the fear of loneliness more than any fear of
Bill Collins or wildcats or forest fires, that made him sad. To read about
Robinson Crusoe was all right, but to be Robinson Crusoe was quite a
different matter--at least a Crusoe without a good man Friday. And Charley
was too downcast at present to realize that the pup at his heels could be
to him all that Friday was to his master, and perhaps more.
Again and again Charley turned over in his mind the problem of how he
could get the battery he needed. More than ever he felt that he absolutely
must have it. Such a battery would cost many, many dollars. To be sure,
Charley's salary would soon bring him in enough money to pay for such a
battery; but all of his income, or practically all of it, Charley knew, he
must give to his father. How he should get around the difficulty, Charley
could not see.
As they trudged on, he talked the matter over with Lew again. Lew seemed
unduly light-hearted over the matter, and even smiled about it. Instead of
sympathizing with his chum, he counseled him not to worry about it, as the
way would likely open. That seemed so heartless that Charley was hurt. He
thought that his chum, about to leave the forest himself, no longer was
concerned. So he fell silent, and walked along in greater dejection than
ever.
Long before the sun had touched the zenith, the three forest guards had
reached the last ridge that lay between them and the highway.
"You've come far enough, Charley," said the ranger, "and perhaps it would
have been better if you had stopped short of this. If anything should
happen in that big timber, you are a long distance from it. There's a good
spring part way up this ridge, and it's high enough so that we can get a
good view. We'll stop there and eat our dinner. We can watch as we eat.
After you've had a good rest, you had better hike for camp. You're a good
ten miles away from your tent."
They climbed to the spring, took each a good drink, and sat down to eat
their food. The panorama that spread before them was wondrously beautiful,
but Charley had no heart for scenery. He ate in silence, his eyes for the
most part bent on the ground.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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