Charley fastened his aerial between the fire-tower and his old watch tree, which was still standing, but which had been shorn of most of its branches to allow the watchman in the tower to see past it.  Finally, everything was complete.  The wireless was in working condition, Charley’s few furnishings were in place, the stores put away, and the cabin was fully ready for his occupancy.

Immediately Charley called up Mrs. Morton on the telephone and asked her to talk to him on the wireless.  A moment later their invisible messages were speeding back and forth over the miles of billowing pine tops that intervened between the two little forest homes, and no listener in on the department telephone system could either know that they were talking or tell what they said.  Charley was overjoyed when Mrs. Morton told him that her husband was about ready to come back to work.  His arm was still painful and he could not use it much, but he could now get around well and was fast becoming strong again.

When Charley told the forester the news, the latter expressed his pleasure.  He studied Charley’s face a moment to see how Charley felt over the news.

“You realize what it means to you when Jim is able to do his work again, do you?” asked Mr. Marlin.

“Certainly,” said Charley.  A feeling of regret passed through his mind and was mirrored on his face.  But there was nothing unkind or unfair about it.  “Maybe some day I’ll qualify as a real ranger,” sighed Charley, “but I’m glad I had this opportunity to learn something.”

“Charley,” continued the forester, “you’ve earned the right to see this lumber operation through.  It’s a big responsibility.  You’ve worked night and day to get ready for the job.  Do you think I’m the kind of man who would rob you of the reward that you have justly earned?”

“I don’t exactly understand,” said Charley.

“I mean,” replied the forester, “that no matter whether Jim gets well in time or not, you are going to handle the lumber operation in this district.  Jim can do something else.  There’s plenty of work for a dozen rangers.  You are to be the boss of this job.”

“Do you really mean it?” cried Charley in delight.

“Surely I mean it,” said the forester.  “It wouldn’t be a fair deal not to let you take charge after the way you’ve tried to qualify for the work.”

Charley held out his hand.  “Thanks,” was all that he could say, for a lump came into his throat.

“And while we are talking about the lumber job,” the forester went on, “I want to say that I was never so badly fooled about anything in my life.  The cut isn’t coming anywhere near my estimate.  It must be five to ten thousand feet per acre less than I thought it would run.  I guess the Big Chief at Harrisburg will think I’m a pretty poor timber cruiser.”

“How’s that?” asked Charley.