THE FIRST CONSERVATION EXPERT.
Work of a beaver in felling a tree with which to build a dam for his home.
Photograph by U. S. Forest Service.
CHAPTER XIII
HOW THE FOREST WON A GREAT DOCTOR
In the middle of the night the telephone bell rang. Instantly Wilbur heard the doctor's voice responding.
"Yes, where is it?" he queried. "Where? Oh, just beyond Basco Aleck's place. All right, I'll start right away."
There was some rummaging in the other rooms, and in less than five minutes' time the clatter of hoofs outside told the boy that the doctor was off, probably on the huge gray horse Wilbur had seen in the corral as he rode in that day. It was broad daylight when he wakened again, and Mrs. Davis was standing beside him with his breakfast tray. It was so long since Wilbur had not had to prepare breakfast for himself that he felt quite strange, but the night's rest had eased him wonderfully, and aside from a little soreness where he had had his scalp laid open, he was quite himself again.
"Did Doctor Davis have to go away in the night?" he asked. "I thought I heard the telephone."
"Yes," answered the doctor's wife. "But that is nothing new. Almost once a week, at least, he is sent for in the night, or does not reach home till late in the night. I've grown used to it," she added; "doctors' wives must."
"But distances are so great, and there are so few trails," said the boy, "and Doctor Davis is so famous, one would think that he would do better in a city."