"That's the best dinner I ever ate," he said; "I never thought fish could taste so good."
But he jumped up again immediately and took the dishes down to the spring to wash them. He had just dipped the plates into the pool under the spring when the old woodsman stopped him.
"You don't ever want to do that," he said. "There ain't any manner of use in foulin' a stream that you'll want to use all the time. Little bits of food, washin' off the plates, will soon make that water bad if you let them run in there. An' not only is that bad for you, but ef you'll notice, it's the overflow from that little pool that runs down through the meadow."
"And it would spoil the drinking water for the horses," exclaimed Wilbur; "I hadn't thought of that. I'm awfully glad you're along, Rifle-Eye, for I should be making all sorts of mistakes."
Under the advice of his friend Wilbur washed up and put away the dishes and then settled down for the evening. He made up his day's report, and then thought he would write a long letter. But he had penned very, few sentences when he began to get quite sleepy and to nod over the paper. The Ranger noted it, and told him promptly to go to bed.
"I'll finish this letter first," said Wilbur.
A moment or two later he was again advised to turn in, and again Wilbur persisted that he would finish the letter first. There was a short pause.
"Son," said Rifle-Eye, "what do you suppose you are ridin' from point to point of the forest for?"
"To see if there's any sign of fire," said the boy.
"And you've got to look pretty closely through those glasses o' yours, don't you?"