"Doughty," he said, "probably I shall not see you again until next autumn, when I come back from an inspection of the Alaskan camps, but I don't want to lose track of you. Write to me here, at the Survey, at least once a month, and they will forward my letters. I will not add anything to what the President has said, because I think no more is needed, but I will say that if you make good as well as you promise, I shall be glad to have you in my party. Not," he added, as an afterthought, "because of your scholarship or any friendships you may possess, but because I think you will be willing to work hard and do your best."
"My word," said the secretary with a whistle, "that's a lot—from you."
"It is," answered the geologist, shaking Roger's hand heartily, and leaving the boy alone with Mitchon.
"And now, Roger," said the latter, "I will take you where you can begin to acquire that large stock of experience."
CHAPTER II
A TENDERFOOT SNIPE-SHOOT
"What do you think of a man," said Mitchon to Roger, as they started for Field's office, "who can transform a festering tamarack swamp into a busy and prosperous farming country?"
"He must be a daisy," answered the boy emphatically.
"That's what Mr. Field has done in the last couple of years, and that's what you're to spend the next few weeks in doing. The Survey works for results, and if turning square mile after square mile of rankly timbered bog into a fertile region dotted with busy homesteads isn't getting results, I don't know what is."
"But how is it done?"