Watson assures me that he has personally known many cases where a tree had been blown across a trail, and the shepherd would stop his sheep, set fire to the “wind-fall” and then leave it to burn—­sometimes allowing it to smolder for months, to the infinite peril of the forest should an arousing wind blow the fire into life and make it spread.

Fire notices, however, now are everywhere, and a few severe punishments have largely put a stop to all carelessness on the part of shepherds, let alone their culpable neglect.  There are still campers and automobilists and others, of the so-called superior and educated race, who need as severe lessons as some of these ignorant Basque shepherds.  They knock down the forest-service placards, throw down matches, cigar and cigarette stumps, and often go off and leave a campfire burning.  The time is rapidly coming when severer and swifter penalties will be meted out to this class of culprits, for not only are their actions against the law, but they jeopardize all property in and near to the forests, as well as the lives, sometimes, of many innocent men, women and children, besides destroying the value of the mountain slopes as watersheds.

As our trail winds and ascends, the rotting stumps of trees cut years ago meet the eye on every hand, until at length, when at about 7000 feet altitude we see no more.  The indications are clear that, though the timber is abundant above this elevation, for some reason or other cutting ceased.  Careful observation reveals a possible reason for this.  From this point on up the soil is both thin and poor, and though the trees seem to have flourished they are, in reality, gnarled, twisted, stunted and unfit for a good quality of lumber.  Many of them are already showing signs of decay, possibly a proof that they grew rapidly and are rotting with equal or greater speed.

[Illustration:  Pleasure Party on the ‘Wild Goose’, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration:  Looking Toward the Casino, Tahoe Tavern, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration:  A Trail Party About to Leave Tahoe Tavern]

[Illustration:  On the Trail Returning from the Summit of Mt.  Tallac]

At this elevation, 7000 to 8000 feet, the red fir begins to appear.  It is an attractive and ever-pleasing tree, its dark red bark soon making it a familar friend.

How remarkably a woodsman can read what would be an unintelligible jumble of facts to a city man.  Here on one trip we found a tree.  Its top was smitten off and removed a distance of forty to fifty feet.  Parts of the tree were scattered for a distance of two hundred yards.  What caused it?  The unobservant man would have passed it by, and the observant, though untrained and inexperienced, would have wondered without an answer.  And yet a few minutes’ observation, with the interpretation of Bob Watson, made it as clear as the adding of two to two.  The lightning had struck the tree, and shot the top off as if lifted and carried away bodily, at the same time scattering the pieces in every direction.  Then, it had seemed to jump from this tree to another, out of the side of which it had torn a large piece, as if, like a wild beast in angry fury, it had bitten out a giant mouthful of something it hated.  It had then jumped—­where?  There was no sign.  It simply disappeared.