ABOUND THE FIEE 55 



flush or darken in the flickering light, there sounds 

 the slow, gentle drawl of a reminiscent voice, the 

 quick, hearty laughter at a point well made, a shaft 

 well driven, the " puff -puff " of pipes, the slowly ex- 

 pelled smoke, hovering a moment, caught up in the 

 column of the fire, languidly whirling and dissolv- 

 ing incense to the spirit of fellowship, to the com- 

 munion of minds and hearts. 



Now old Bob Moak is talking, in his slow, deliber- 

 ate way. With crude, broad strokes he pictures to 

 us life as it was in his youth in the Northwest, among 

 the lumber camps. Tales of wild men and wild 

 lives with the sombre background of the fateful, 

 illimitable forest. There is little eloquence, no at- 

 tempt at theatricals or pose. Yet often one shud- 

 ders involuntarily at the stark brutality of the inci- 

 dents related and thrills with the pathos and heroism 

 of some awkwardly developed story of naked cruelty, 

 of magnanimity, of high courage. 



Now Brown, the Texan, deplores the passing of 

 the good old days when the whole West was a cattle 

 range, when men lived largely and without restraint. 

 In a high nasal voice he sings interminable cowboy 

 ballads of " Black Jack Davy," of "Little Joe the 

 Wrangler" and of others whose names and fates I 

 have forgotten. 



Now Frazer tells of the Forest Service, of his 

 adventures in divers states, or of early struggles, not 

 so many years ago, to enforce the .Government's 

 regulations on range and in forest. 



