The Chief smiled a little.
“Too bad they didn’t use it all that way,” he said. “Now, look here, boys; I’ve heard how you rigged up ropes and slung—slung one of your number over the cliff——”
“That was me, sir,” interrupted Dan modestly.
“Whoever it was, it was a foolhardy and dangerous piece of business. You might have fallen and broken your neck. I’ll confess to a feeling of admiration for the pluck displayed, but I have no sympathy for the achievement. I am responsible for the welfare of you boys while you’re here in this camp. How do you suppose I could have faced your folks, Speede, if you had injured yourself?”
“I don’t think the danger was so great as you think, sir,” answered Dan. “We—we took every precaution.”
The Chief sniffed audibly. “The only sensible precaution would have been to have an ambulance waiting at the bottom,” he said dryly. “If you had to endanger your limbs—and I confess I can’t see the necessity of it—I’d prefer you did it in some better cause. In plain language, what you committed was an act of vandalism. To daub up the scenery with a lot of blue paint is nothing else. It shows not only mighty poor taste, but selfishness as well. The Lord put that cliff there to be a part of the natural scenery, for people to look at and enjoy. And when you deface it you are depriving others of their rights, merely to give yourselves an instant’s selfish satisfaction.”
He paused and awaited a reply; finally:
“It was Wickasaw started it, sir,” said Tom. “They painted their name there first, and they hadn’t any business doing that, sir; and so——”
“And so you thought you had to outrage good taste also? A very poor excuse, Ferris. Now I want you to promise never to attempt anything of the sort again. And I want you to promise, too, that whenever, not only while you’re here but all your lives, you know of an attempt on the part of any one to deface the natural scenery, you will do all in your power to prevent it. What do you say?”