The Young Wireless Operator-As a Fire Patrol Part 26

"I've been working at it a little," said the ranger. "To tell the truth, I don't care much about it. I'd just as soon stick to the telephone. But the wife is crazy over it. She says if we knew how to do it and had the instruments, we could talk at any time. She's learned the alphabet already."

"She has! Bully for her!" cried Charley. "Hurry up with that outfit, Lew, so we can teach her to send and read. I'll be glad to talk to her, even if her husband doesn't want to."

"I'll be home by sunset," said Lew, "and you can call me at eight o'clock. I shall have had a chance to talk to the fellows by that time and I hope that I shall have something good to report to you. I'm coming out the first Friday I can, to spend Sat.u.r.day and Sunday with you. Good-bye."

Charley shook hands heartily with his two friends and turned back into the forest. Although he was still somewhat cast down, the intense depression that had weighed upon him during the morning was lightened. The events of the past twenty-four hours had made him forget temporarily the plan to teach Mr. Morton how to operate the wireless. But the news that the ranger's wife was also to become a radio operator pleased him more and more as he turned the matter over in his mind.

The pup, rubbing against his heels, recalled another matter to his mind.

He had to train the dog to be useful to him.

"No time like the present," muttered Charley to himself. And the training of the pup began then and there. All the way home, through the wide valleys, over the mountain tops, and across the little streams, Charley worked with the pup, trying to teach him to be silent and to walk quietly at his heels. And though many, many subsequent lessons were necessary before the pup was even half trained, the work with the dog made Charley forget his loneliness. He arrived at his camp, which he found undisturbed, once more in his normal frame of mind.

What shortly followed was to send him to bed soon afterward as happy as the traditional lark. For when Charley got into touch with Lew by wireless at the appointed time, Lew told him that the Wireless Patrol had met him, Lew, at the station in a body, with the news that funds for the battery had all been earned and the battery ordered; and that when he had told them of Charley's situation, the club had voted unanimously and enthusiastically to send the battery to Charley for him to use as long as he needed it in the forest.

Furthermore, Lew informed him, Henry had been talking to the wireless men at the Frankfort station, and not only were they willing to work with him to protect the forest, but they were also sending an amplifier to Oakdale so that Charley would be sure to get their messages with the greatest distinctness. The battery would be forwarded as soon as it reached the Wireless Club and had been inspected, and the amplifier would go with it.

No wonder that Charley rolled up in his blankets, with s.h.i.+ning eyes, careless alike of cats and Collinses. With the pup and the new battery he felt that he should indeed be in position to render efficient service to his forester and his ranger, both of whom he was coming to love, and to the grand old forest around him.

Chapter XVII

An Accident in the Wilderness

As though she also were pleased at Charley's good fortune, Dame Nature smiled her best in the days that immediately followed. The sun rose warm and grateful. The forest was instinct with the spirit of spring, of new-born life, of hope eternal. Wilderness birds sang in the branches. The brook babbled and gurgled and ran madly down the slope. The leaves overhead whispered of the new life that had come. All the forest animals seemed filled with the joy of living. And Charley was not a whit behind them. His whole being thrilled with happiness.

Now he could see matters in their true light; or if his vision were a trifle clouded, the clouds were tinged with rose instead of black, as they had been previously.

Charley thanked Providence that he was just where he was. In some respects an unusual boy, he was mentally no abler than many of his fellows. He possessed a trueness of vision and an understanding of things that were, however, unusual in a lad of his age. Always he had had to earn the things that he wanted. And always he had been able, within reason, to get what he desired. Early in life, therefore, he had come to understand that everything has its price, and that he who is willing to pay the price can get almost anything he wishes. So now, instead of bewailing the fact that he was where he was, as many another lad would have done under the circ.u.mstances, he rejoiced. He rejoiced because he had sense enough to understand that his opportunity was at hand, here in the forest, and now.

In another respect Charley was mature for his years. He had come to understand, at least in a measure, that real success is always won by long and persistent effort in a given direction. Like other boys, Charley had his dreams and cherished lofty ambitions. But the stern necessities of life, as he had lived it, had taught him that dreams seldom come true as the result of luck, but are realized most certainly through consistent effort. He did not want to go to work in the factory because he hated the dirt and the noise and the odors and the sense of being cooped up, like an animal in a pen. Now he had all the freedom in the world, and the opportunity had come to become well acquainted with the things that he loved--trees, flowers, ferns, birds, animals, and all the other gifts of nature.

When Charley looked abroad and realized that his opportunity had come, and come in such a delightful way, he could hardly keep from shouting in his happiness. Like the sensible lad he was, he immediately asked himself this question, "What is the best thing for me to do first?" He decided that he would go on with the training of his pup. All day, as he walked through the forest, he labored to teach the young dog to trot quietly at his heels, or to walk silently in front of him.

Charley's purpose, of course, was to have the dog always at hand, to give him warning of the approach of man or beast, and to fight for him, if necessary. That the pup should learn not to betray himself or his master, was equally needful. So Charley had the additional task of teaching the dog to be silent, excepting for a very low growl, upon the approach of other creatures. Charley thought of the Leatherstocking and his dog, and wondered how that dog had been trained so wonderfully.

Day after day the lessons continued. Charley had abundant opportunity to work with the pup, for the forest was full of creatures that constantly excited the young animal. The training required no end of patience: but Charley loved the dog and never wearied in his efforts. By the time he had completed his labors with the pup, his own shadow was hardly more constant and quiet than the dog.

Charley was elated one day when the dog signaled the approach of a fisherman by no more than the faintest sort of a bark, and then at command, came promptly to heel and remained there, silent and watchful. It was the pup's first test with human beings. The fisherman proved to be one of two who were making their way along the margin of the run. Charley and the dog remained quietly behind some bushes until the fishermen were out of sight and hearing. Then Charley praised his little pup and went on.

His efforts with the dog, however, did not prevent him from thinking of other matters. Day after day his mind returned to the problem of the forest fire and the piece of green pasteboard. Ever since he had found the telltale pile of ashes and the charred pasteboard beneath it, Charley had been turning the problem over in his mind. How he was to solve the puzzle he did not see. Somewhere, he felt sure, he had seen pasteboard like the charred piece now in possession of Mr. Morton; but when or where he had seen it, he had not the slightest recollection. How he was ever to find another piece like it, he could not imagine; for as a fire patrol he had neither time nor opportunity to mingle with people.

He could see just one possibility of success. Undoubtedly there was a great deal more of the green pasteboard in the world than had been contained in the burned box. Hence persons other than the incendiary must have some of that same pasteboard. Perhaps some of those persons might bring a bit of it into the forest. Campers and fishermen often brought food and other things into the woods in pasteboard boxes. So Charley resolved to examine carefully every camp he came to, and even to scrutinize the remains of camp fires. But day followed day and Charley found nothing to enlighten him.

One day when Charley was on his way to meet the ranger, he suddenly realized that he was away behind time. Charley hated the idea of being tardy, especially when he had no reason for being late. He had been training his dog, and his work with the pup had delayed him more than he realized. But with haste he could still reach the meeting-place on time.

At the fastest pace that he thought he could hold Charley set off. His daily hikes through the forest had rapidly made a good walker of him, and now he went along at a rate that would speedily have tired out most travelers. Sometimes, to rest himself by changing his gait, he went scout pace, walking fifty steps, then jogging fifty. He allowed nothing to hinder him or take his attention. When he reached the meeting-place it still lacked a few minutes of the appointed hour. Charley was pleased to find that he had arrived before the ranger.

When the time of meeting came and the ranger was not there, Charley began to scan the fire trail carefully and to look about for smoke clouds. He knew that something of moment must be afoot to make the ranger tardy for his appointment. The ranger was not visible, however, though Charley could see straight down the fire trail for a long distance.

"I'll go meet him," said Charley. "He's sure to come this way."

In the sand of the trail he printed a message for the ranger, in case the latter should be coming by an unaccustomed route, and continued along the trail. He had gone a full mile before he met Mr. Morton.

"Sorry I am late, Charley," said the ranger. "A lot of stuff came to the office for you last night and the chief asked me to fetch it out this morning. I think your new battery has come."

"It's about time," said Charley. "I had about given up hope of ever seeing it." Then he added, "But you couldn't pack that way out here. It must weigh sixty pounds."

"Is that all?" laughed the ranger. "I had come to believe that it weighed in the neighborhood of half a ton."

"Did you really try to carry it?" asked Charley.

"Sure. The chief sent all your stuff as far as he could in the truck, and I packed it in as far as I could carry it. That's why I'm late. But I had to drop it a distance back. I brought these along, however, and thought we'd go back and get the battery, for I'm sure that's what it is." He paused and handed to Charley two pasteboard boxes he had strapped to his back. The larger one was bulky, but weighed comparatively little. The other was small.

"I wonder what it is," said Charley, as he untied the string and opened the smaller box. "The amplifier," he said. Then he opened the larger box.

"Your wireless!" he cried in delight. "Everything is here, even to the aerial. Only the spreaders are lacking. We could make them and have this outfit set up in no time if we had to. Isn't it bully? Now we can talk directly with each other as soon as you learn to send and read. Won't that be dandy?" With practiced eye he once more glanced over the outfit to make sure everything was there. Then he tied the box up again.

"I'll just take it back with me," he added. "This goes to your house, you know, and you can pick it up on your way home. We'll take it as far as the battery and leave it there."

They strode rapidly along the trail, and in half an hour reached the battery where the ranger had set it down. Some traps lay on top of the battery.

"I forgot to bring them sooner," said the ranger.

Charley lifted the box. "How in the world," he said, "did you ever pack that thing over these mountains on your back? Why, you've carried that more than four miles."

"We'll cut a couple of saplings and tie them to the box for handles," said the ranger. "Then we can carry it easily. Give me your axe."

Charley handed his little axe to the ranger, and began to fumble in his pocket for the cord which he had used as a leash for his dog. The ranger looked around him for suitable poles. Close by the trail lay the rotting trunk of a large tree that had fallen years before. On the far side of this log and close to it some fine saplings had grown up, probably made thrifty by the rotting wood of the great tree. The ranger reached over the log to chop a sapling. At the same instant the pup, ranging in the bushes, growled savagely. Momentarily the ranger lifted his eyes, letting his axe head sink to the ground. Something moved under it, and at the same instant a hideous head reared itself above the leaves and struck with lightning-like rapidity, hitting the ranger just above the wrist-bone.

With a startled exclamation the ranger drew up his arm. As he did so, a huge rattler glided away through the brush.

Charley turned at the ranger's cry. He comprehended the situation at a glance. "Quick!" he cried, springing to the ranger's side. "Give me your arm."

He jerked back the ranger's sleeve, disclosing two dark spots on the back of the wrist where the fangs had punctured the skin. Drops of blood were oozing from them. Charley whipped out his knife and without hesitation drew the keen blade several times across the ranger's wrist. Blood began to flow down the hand. Putting his lips to the wound, Charley sucked out mouthful after mouthful of blood, which he spat on the ground.

"Now squeeze your wrist tight just above the bite," said Charley. "Stop the circulation of blood if you can."

Like a flash Charley picked up the dog leash and tied an end of it around the ranger's arm, close to the shoulder, drawing it so tight that the ranger winced. He cut the dangling end and took a second turn just above the ranger's elbow. Then he made a third turn half-way down the forearm.

With little sticks he twisted the cords still tighter. Then he jerked out his hypodermic syringe, which he carried already filled with fluid, and thrusting the needle into the bleeding arm, injected the permanganate into the wound.

Meantime, the ranger stood silent, his face pale, his jaws set courageously. "Where did you learn to do all that?" he finally asked Charley, with evident admiration. "You go about it like a doctor."

"When the Wireless Patrol was in camp at Fort Brady," replied Charley, "one of the fellows was bitten by a copperhead. Dr. Hardy had already drilled us in first-aid and we knew just what to do. You bet none of us will ever forget."

"I shall owe my life to you," said Mr. Morton. "That is, I shall if----"