AMERICAN FORESTRY 



345 



whether they would be saved or would perish remained 

 unanswered. 



Ten days later we went to Merced, there to meet the 

 men for whom Posey had telegraphed. When we arrived 

 the supplies had been bought and everything was ready 

 for the undertaking. 



Harland R. Wilson, from Los Angeles, was there with 

 his big seven-passenger car, which he had rigged out to 

 be the ridge-pole as well as one of the walls of our tent 

 an ingenious contraption of his own which made camp 

 pitching an easy matter. Wilson is a big, raw-boned, 

 powerful man of about 45, ex-sheriff, ex-constable, ex-star 

 football and baseball player, bronco-buster, botanist, 

 woodsman and father of six children. Mrs. Wilson, 

 genial and active, came along to cook the meals. 



There was also Prof. A. O. Garrett, from Utah, a 

 placid, elderly man with an encyclopedic mind and a vast 

 knowledge of all plants. The fourth member of the party, 

 who was so lively he might be counted as two members, 

 was Henry X- Putnam, from Michigan, little, energetic, 

 keen-eyed, and humorous, in love with the woods and 

 with his work, a veritable ferret in the matter of finding 

 whatever he sought. 



At Wowona we found the same rust on the under side 

 of the Ribes, and again at Mariposa. From there on an 

 inspection was made every mile, and at each stop were 

 found signs of the disease. Daily specimens were mailed 

 to Washington for expert analysis, and as we continued 

 our journey and found how wide-spread the disease had 

 become we dreaded more and more the decision the 

 definite determination whether it was the harmless Pinon 

 Pine Rust or the dreadful White Pine Blister Rust. 



From the Yosemite we traveled over the Tioga road 

 to Mono Lake and thence toward Lake Tahoe. All the 

 way we found the rust, but none of the sugar or white 

 pines betrayed symptoms of the disease. We crawled 

 out along their branches, looking for the tiny fungus 

 which feeds upon and blisters the bark, encircling the 

 trunk like a felon, choking the life of the tree, and some- 

 times causing it to swell hideously as if suffering from 

 some fantastic elephantiasis. But only the currants and 

 gooseberries showed signs of the rust. 



Finally, near Bridgeport, one early morning when 

 Putnam was away looking for firewood with which to 

 cook our breakfast, we heard a distant shout and went to 

 investigate. After much "halooing" we came upon a 

 great Pinon pine and on one of its branches was Putnam. 



"I've found it," he shouted. "Here it is thick! It's 

 the Pinon Rust, all right, I'll bet 10 to 1." 



We looked about and found that every currant and 

 gooseberry plant within a radius of several miles was 

 covered with the rust. And during that day as we drew 

 farther away from the group of Pinon pines the rust on 

 the Ribes became scarcer. 



"I think it is conclusive," said the Professor, "the 

 farther the wind has had to carry the spores the thinner 

 the rust becomes on the Ribes. It is very encouraging, 

 anyway." 



Indeed, it was so encouraging that Posey and I returned 

 to San Francisco that night while the others continued 

 their campaign. 



The next morning I telephoned Posey in his office. 



"Have you heard from Washington?" I asked. 



"I have," he answered, "and I have telegraphed the 

 news to the Professor and Wilson and Putnam. The 

 Department of Agriculture writes that all the specimens 

 they have received have been Pinon Pine Rust." 



"Put 'er there, old man !" I cried, forgetting that I was 

 in San Francisco and he was in Berkeley. 



HOW A BUILDER RESPECTED A TREE 

 By Helen Harrison 



TT is not always necessary to sacrifice full-grown trees 

 * when business blocks begin to crowd out residential 

 sections. The owner of this property built around the 

 half-century-old elm tree, rather than fell it, a fate that 

 met hundreds of similar trees in Bridgeport, Connecticut, 

 when one of the principal streets was widened. The space 

 taken up by this tree has been well camouflaged inside the 

 building by a shallow cupboard effect. Who knows but 

 the lines "Woodman, spare that tree," learned at the old 

 brick schoolhouse, may have been the influence at work 

 when the owner, the late George C. Edwards, formerly 

 president of the International Silver Company, gave in- 

 structions to his architect to build around this tree. 



