"Are you sure it isn't work rather than the factory you dislike?" demanded the forester bluntly.
"No, no!" protested Charley. "I'd work day and night gladly if I could do what I want to do. And there's nothing I can think of I'd rather do than help take care of the forest."
"Very good," said the forester, "but I need patrols now, not after school closes in June."
"Maybe I could get excused for the rest of the term," pleaded Charley.
"And throw away your chance to graduate? I don't think I want that kind of a boy for a fire patrol," said the forester with a frown. "You might decide to quit this job, too, about the time we stacked up against a hot fire."
Lew spoke up. "You don't understand what Charley means, sir," he explained. "Charley is away ahead of most of us in his school work. He's done enough now to give him his diploma."
"Indeed!" replied the forester.
Then he turned to Charley in apology. "I beg your pardon, young man. I misjudged you. I should like to have such an exemplary young man for a patrol, but you are too young. We practically never employ a man not yet of age as a fire patrol. A boy would have to have very unusual qualifications if we did take him. I'm sorry, my lad. I believe you are a fine boy, and I'd like to hire you. But you are too young."
Charley turned his head away to hide the tears that he could not keep back as he saw the opportunity slipping away from him. Then he dashed his hand across his eyes and again faced the forester.
"You do not understand who we are," he said with determination, "nor what our qualifications are. I am accustomed to the woods, sir. I know something of woodcraft. I have fought fire in the forest. I have spent weeks in the mountains. And I am a wireless operator, sir. Are any of your patrols better qualified?"