After a time he began to feel drowsy. He took his blanket and his rifle, and, closing his cabin door, climbed to the fire-tower. He closed and bolted the trap-door in the floor of the tower. For some time he sat on the edge of his bunk, watching the forest. Behind the eastern mountains the sky began to glow. The moon was coming up. In another hour or two, Charley knew, the forest would be flooded with silvery light. He loved the moonlight on the pines, but he was becoming too sleepy to stay awake to see it. The moment the moon's first rays shot over the eastern hilltops, Charley lay back in his bunk, stood his rifle within reach, drew the blankets about him, and was almost instantly asleep. Yet he slumbered uneasily. Terrible dreams disturbed him. Once or twice he awoke and started up in alarm. Once the slender tower seemed to vibrate as though some one were mounting the ladder. But Charley dismissed the idea as idle fancy, for the nocturnal stillness was unbroken. So, fitfully, Charley slept through the night. Dawn found him afoot. Eagerly he scanned the horizon. Banks of mist lay over the valleys, concealing much of the forest. Slowly Charley examined the horizon, half fearful, half relieved. From the two sides of his tower he could see nothing disturbing. But when he turned to the third side his heart stood still. Unmistakable in the whitish mist, darker clouds were rising upward. The forest was afire. Intently Charley studied the smoke pillar, trying to locate it exactly and to estimate the extent of the blaze. Satisfied, he swept his glance farther along the horizon, but stopped abruptly. A second spiral of smoke was stealing upward through the mist. Before he had completed his survey, Charley discovered four more smoke columns. Somebody had fired the forest in half a dozen different places. Whoever had done it must have known the forest intimately. The blazes had been kindled just where they would do the most damage.