“Because our family used to own that timber,” he said, sudden passion inflaming his eyes.  And Charley once more saw in them that savage look he had detected before.  “If my old fool of a grandfather hadn’t let himself be bilked out of the whole holding,” he said coarsely, “I’d own that timber to-day and I’d be a millionaire instead of a poor forest-ranger.  By rights the land is mine, anyway.”  And again the ranger swore at his dead ancestor.

Charley listened in disgust but made no comment.  The ranger saw that he had talked too much.  He muttered an apology.  “When I see somebody else getting the money that ought to be mine,” he said, “it makes me so mad that I could almost commit murder.”  Then he quickly changed the conversation and once more became the smooth, oily individual he was when Charley first saw him.

But Charley had seen and heard enough to be utterly disgusted with the man.  As early as possible he got away to his room on the pretext of weariness, but it was a long time before he went to bed.

Early next morning he was at headquarters, where Mr. Marlin introduced him to the half dozen men who were to serve under him.  Ordinarily ten men would form a unit for planting, but Charley did not know that, and so was ignorant of the fact that Mr. Marlin had tried to make his first day of authority easy and successful by giving him only a few selected men to handle.  Mr. Marlin introduced Charley to the men one by one, as they came in.  Charley tried to talk to them, but found it rather difficult.  The mountaineers had little to say.

When the men were all on hand, Mr. Marlin turned to them and said, “By the way, men, this is the lad who saved Morton’s life.”

At the mention of the sick ranger, Charley saw the men’s faces light up.

“He’s a little young yet, but he knows his business.  Jim says he handled the snake-bite as well as any doctor could have done.  I want you all to be good to this lad and help him as much as you can.”

Now they had found something in common to talk about.  All day long, at intervals, the crew discussed rattlers; and Charley told them, at their request, just how the ranger was bitten and what had been done to save him.

“You see,” he said, “the danger from snake-bite comes when the poison reaches the heart.  So it is necessary to suck as much of it out as possible and to prevent the remainder from reaching the heart except a little at a time.  That’s why the bandages were put on the arm so tight.  The old notion of taking a stimulant was all wrong.  The thing to do is to keep the heart beating as slowly as possible until the venom reaches it.  Then if it begins to slow up, give a stimulant.”

This suggestion was contrary to all forest practice and Charley could see that the men were greatly interested in it.  How much his recital about the snake contributed to his success that day he never realized.  He kept his lines straight, switched his men from one task to another, now relieved this man or that, and did his work in such a highly efficient manner that he would have had no trouble anyway; but at intervals all through the day the men reverted to the rattlesnake story.  They were so busy thinking about something else they almost forgot about Charley.