So it was settled, and when father drove off homeward Hal and I went back
to camp. It would have been hard to say which of us was the more excited.
Hal did a war dance round the campfire. I was glad, however, that he did
not have the little twinge of remorse which I experienced, for I had not
told him or father all that Dick had written about the wilderness of
Penetier. I am afraid my mind was as much occupied with rifles and mustangs
as with the study of forestry. But, though the adventure called most
strongly to me, I knew I was sincere about the forestry end of it, and I
resolved that I would never slight my opportunities. So, smothering
conscience, I fell to the delight of making plans. I was for breaking camp
at once, but Hal persuaded me to stay one more day. We talked for hours.
Only one thing bothered me. Hal was jolly and glum by turns. He reveled in
the plans for my outfit, but he wanted his own chance. A thousand times I
had to repeat my promise, and the last thing he said before we slept was:
"Ken, you're going to ring me in next summer!"



II. THE MAN ON THE TRAIN

Travelling was a new experience to me, and on the first night after I left
home I lay awake until we reached Altoona. We rolled out of smoky Pittsburg
at dawn, and from then on the only bitter drop in my cup of bliss was that
the train went so fast I could not see everything out of my window.

Four days to ride! The great Mississippi to cross, the plains, the Rocky
Mountains, then the Arizona plateaus-a long, long journey with a wild pine
forest at the end! I wondered what more any young fellow could have wished.
With my face glued to the car window I watched the level country speed by.