THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST 
TIMBER! 
Timber! 
T WO axmen run as they shout the warning; a forest 
giant snaps its last supporting sinews, moves with 
majestic grace as the topmost branches soar through 
sky, gathers momentum quickly and falls with a swelling 
roar and crash. Two hundred feet of straight timber. 
All the years since Columbus are recorded in its concen¬ 
tric rings—its log of life—and the last one measures 
twenty-four feet! A great historian is dead. But the 
life of service has just begun. Three more families can 
have homes. 
Timber! 
On a thousand hills, from a thousand slopes, comes 
the woodcutter’s cry. A battle cry! The nation’s great 
forest reserve is going into action. An industrial army 
is on the march. From the timberlands of the East, 
from the pine regions of the South, from the Great Lakes 
region comes this army of might and men to the virgin 
forests of the Pacific Northwest. Wartime destruction 
and peacetime construction both have swelled its ranks. 
Great sawmills are unlimbered. Hundreds of logging 
camps are pushing back the forest frontier. Cities with 
a permanent economic support in lumber are springing 
up. One hundred and fifty thousand men in camps and 
mills already are producing nearly one-third the nation’s 
lumber cut. By trainloads and shiploads the great 
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