“He’s a prince,” muttered Charley, and fell to measuring logs.

Applying his log-rule to the small end of each log, he noted the diameter of the log and from the scale on the rule read the number of board-feet in the log.  Already Charley had done a little scaling of logs and he went at the work readily.  As he scaled pile after pile of logs, he worked faster and faster, acquiring greater facility with every measurement.  The contents of each pile he noted down, a log at a time, on a bit of paper.  When he had finished the work, he totaled up the board-feet, and whistled when he realized what a tremendous quantity of lumber was contained in the log piles he had been measuring.

“Gee!” he said to himself.  “At the price lumber is selling for now, those logs are worth a small fortune.  Gad!  It makes a fellow feel pretty sober when he thinks how easily he could make a mistake that would cost the state hundreds of dollars.”

He tucked his record in his pocket, along with his pencil, and started for his cabin.  Despite the fact that he was soon to lose his place of authority, he could not help feeling happy.  His diploma had been awarded to him on Commencement day, although he had not been able to be present to receive it, and that was one cause for happiness.  His comrades had never yet been able to visit him, but he had received a letter that morning telling him that the entire Wireless Patrol was coming out to spend a Sunday with him in the new cabin.  That was a second cause for happiness.  His friend, Mr. Morton, was almost well, and that was a third cause for happiness.  And finally, he had earned the confidence of his chief so completely that his chief was entrusting to him the very important task of overseeing the lumber operation.  That made Charley’s heart swell with pride.  Even the near approach of his reduction to the ranks again could not mar his happiness; for in his heart he knew that he had made good and that it was only a question of time until he should become a ranger in fact as well as in name.

So he went on his way happy, rejoicing in his accomplishment, enjoying the new life of the forest, joyous with the strength and hope and confidence of youth.  He came at last to his trail’s end, and climbed the tower to look for fire and to watch the sun go down.

“It’s warm enough so that a fellow could sleep up here now,” he said to himself suddenly.  “I’ll just build a bunk up here and then I can sleep here whenever I feel like it.  If I wake up in the night, I can take a look around and make sure everything is all right.”

He went down to his cabin and got a rope, some boards, foot-rule, saw, hammer, auger, and nails.  He went back to the tower and made some measurements.  Then he came down, cut his boards, bored holes into them, tied them together, and went up again with his tools and nails and the end of the rope.  He hauled up the boards and drew them into the watch-tower.  Then he nailed them together and had a snug little bunk that stretched completely across one side of the little structure.  He wove the cord back and forth across the bunk through the auger holes in place of springs.  Then he went down to the ground, made a tick out of one of his sheets, filled it with leaves and got it up to the tower.