“The hardest part of the whole thing,” he went on, warming to his recital as the boys were so evidently interested, “was packing the cumbersome storage batteries. These batteries were often lost in transit, too. If a pack horse happened to slip from the trail, its pack became loosened and went tumbling down the mountain side——”
“That’s the life!” interrupted Jimmy gleefully, and the visitor smiled at him.
“You might not think so if you happened to be the one detailed to travel back over the almost impassable trails for the missing apparatus,” observed Mr. Bentley ruefully. “It wasn’t all fun, that pioneer installation of radio. Not by any means.”
“But radio turned the trick just the same,” said Bob slangily. “I’ve read that a message that used to take two days to pass between ranger stations can be sent now in a few seconds.”
“Right!” exclaimed Mr. Bentley, his eyes glinting. “In a little while the saving in the cost of forest fires will more than pay for the installation of radio. We nose out a fire and send word by wireless to the nearest station, before the fire fairly knows it’s started.”
“But just what is it that you do?” asked Joe, with flattering eagerness.
“I do scout work,” was the reply. “I help patrol the fire line in cases of bad fires. The men fighting the fire generally carry a portable receiving apparatus along with them, and by that means, I, in my airplane, can report the progress of a fire and direct the distribution of the men.”
“It must be exciting work,” said Herb enviously. “That’s just the kind of life I’d like—plenty of adventure, something doing every minute.”
“There’s usually plenty doing,” agreed Mr. Bentley, with a likable grin. “We can’t complain that our life is slow.”
“I should think,” said Bob slowly, “that it might be dangerous, installing sets right there in the heavy timber.”