"Rivers, Mr. President," answered the geologist.

"Mr. President!" Roger felt almost suffocated with joy at hearing that this praise of him had come direct to the ears of the President of the United States.

"I am delighted, Mr. Rivers, delighted," said the President, "to have this opportunity of seeing you again, and to hear you approve this new plan so heartily."

"I didn't approve of it at all, Mr. President," answered Rivers with characteristic abruptness, "but this boy has converted me."

"Tell the President the story, Mr. Rivers," suggested Mitchon.

"I had been pointing out to the lad," accordingly said the geologist, "how exceedingly strenuous is the work on the Alaskan trail, how that none but picked, experienced men of iron const.i.tution and frontier powers of endurance could carry out the work, and how one weak man in the party might cripple the entire season's trip."

The President nodded.

"That is absolutely true," he said; "that is why so many hunting trips are failures when there is a large party along. But I interrupt."

"So I urged that he must get a reputation before coming with me. As far as I can remember, I said to him, 'You must first learn your business as a rodman and so forth, be able to throw a diamond hitch over a vicious mule, climb a peak with no firmer hand-hold than your finger-nails will give you, learn to swim a glacier-fed river with a six-mile current, ride any brute that ever was foaled, run every kind of rapid in any sort of a canoe, find out how to swing an ax and build a bridge, be able to find your way over the most rugged country in the vilest weather or on a pitch-black night, get used to sixteen hours on the trail, and to picking out a soft rock to sleep on, chum up with grizzlies and grow to like mosquitoes, and by that time you will be ready for the Alaskan trail.'"

The President burst into a hearty laugh, and said,

"That ought to have settled him!"

"Hm! Settled him! He just said, 'You can enroll me on that party of yours,' and by all the powers, I will."

"You're right," said the President emphatically, "and I say to the workers of the Survey, as I said to another band of workers once, that it is a good thing that there should be a large body of our fellow citizens--that there should be a profession--whose members must, year in and year out, display those old, old qualities of courage, daring, resolution, and unflinching willingness to meet danger at need. I hope to see all our people develop the softer, gentler virtues to an ever-increasing degree, but I hope never to see them lose the sterner virtues that make men, men."

Roger listened with all his ears, hoping that the President would turn directly to him. Nor was he disappointed. After some congratulatory words to Rivers on the value of the Alaskan work and the ability displayed in its direction, he turned to Roger.

"My boy," he said, "you are starting out the right way. You are the first of a little army of workers who shall help to win the victories of peace. You have a n.o.bler mission than that of preserving a fine tradition unspotted, you have the rare honor of making the tradition. Be manly and straight, give a square deal and never be afraid of hard work, and make for yourself and for those who shall come after you a record worthy of inclusion in the annals of the Geological Survey of which we are so justly proud."

He shook hands with Roger again, and bowing to Rivers and Mitchon, went on his way with the Director. For a moment no one spoke, both men watching the boy keenly. Suddenly the look of solemnity and attention slipped from his face, and stepping forward unconsciously as though to follow, he burst out:

"He's fine! Oh, isn't he just bully!" Then he caught the secretary's smile, and he checked himself. "And wasn't he just kind to me! Oh, Mr.

Mitchon, how can I thank you, and you, Mr. Rivers. I have wanted to see the President for years and years, but I never dreamed of seeing him close, like that, and talking to him, except at some public reception, which would seem altogether different."

Tears of pride and joy stood in the lad's eyes, and he choked, unable to go on. The men were touched by the boy's intense patriotism and emotion, and then the secretary said softly:

"That, Roger, will be something to inspire you and make you stronger in all the hard moments of your life. The greatness of the President," he continued, "lies in his power to make greater all those with whom he comes in contact."

"I could never forget it," replied Roger in a low voice.

"And now," resumed Mitchon, "I may tell you that we were sure Mr. Rivers would not advise you to go to Alaska this year, and Mr. Herold told me to take you to Mr. Field, who has charge of the swamp work in Minnesota.

You will go out with him as soon as he opens field work, which, I presume, will be next week."

Rivers then turned to the boy.

"Doughty," he said, "probably I shall not see you again until next autumn, when I come back from an inspection of the Alaskan camps, but I don't want to lose track of you. Write to me here, at the Survey, at least once a month, and they will forward my letters. I will not add anything to what the President has said, because I think no more is needed, but I will say that if you make good as well as you promise, I shall be glad to have you in my party. Not," he added, as an afterthought, "because of your scholarship or any friendships you may possess, but because I think you will be willing to work hard and do your best."

"My word," said the secretary with a whistle, "that's a lot--from you."

"It is," answered the geologist, shaking Roger's hand heartily, and leaving the boy alone with Mitchon.

"And now, Roger," said the latter, "I will take you where you can begin to acquire that large stock of experience."

CHAPTER II

A TENDERFOOT SNIPE-SHOOT

"What do you think of a man," said Mitchon to Roger, as they started for Field's office, "who can transform a festering tamarack swamp into a busy and prosperous farming country?"

"He must be a daisy," answered the boy emphatically.

"That's what Mr. Field has done in the last couple of years, and that's what you're to spend the next few weeks in doing. The Survey works for results, and if turning square mile after square mile of rankly timbered bog into a fertile region dotted with busy homesteads isn't getting results, I don't know what is."

"But how is it done?"

"By drainage, my boy, as you will learn. Hundreds of thousands of acres are being reclaimed. That's what makes a country rich; it isn't the gold stored in vaults, but the gold waving on the fields at harvest time."

"But it must take an awful lot of work."

"Of course it takes work. Don't you remember Mr. Rivers told you that there would be no chance to loaf? You'll start on that toughening process soon enough, all right, all right."

Turning a corner of a hallway, Mitchon and the boy pa.s.sed into a small office, which was undergoing the throes of the annual tidying-up before being left alone all through the summer.

"Mr. Field," said the secretary, as he entered, "this is Roger Doughty, of whom I was speaking to you, who is to go out with you for a couple of weeks until Roberts comes back from the tule swamps and rejoins your party. You will have just about the same men as last year, will you not?"

The swamp surveyor extended a large loose-jointed hand to Roger.

"Glad to see you, Mr. Doughty," he said, and then, in answer to the secretary's question, continued, "I hope we do have the same men, Mr.

Mitchon, it makes the work a lot lighter."

"That's what you all say; but it doesn't make so much difference to you as it does to the parties away off from civilization, does it?"

"Well," drawled the other, "Minnesota's civilization in that swamp country doesn't hurt her much yet, I reckon. When you're eleven miles away from the nearest road, and that only a 'corduroy,' in a swamp over which you can't take a horse, and through which you can't take a boat, you begin to think that other human beings live a thundering way off.

Why," he said, "I've seen parts of that swamp so soft that we'd have to make a sort of platform of brush and three or four of us pull out one chap who had sunk below his waist, and that with only half a pack instead of the full load. No," he added, turning to Roger, "Minnesota's not so powerful civilized if it comes to that!"

"Why, I hadn't any idea that it was so wild! Is there much of that swamp?" asked the boy.

"Well, the little piece of land we're working on now contains about 2,500,000 acres."

"That's the Chippewa land, isn't it?" asked the secretary.

"Yes, all of it."

"What's Chippewa land?" queried Roger.