Slowly Charley and his friend made their way along the fire trail toward
the highway and safety, Charley assisting the ranger as much as possible.
The latter began to suffer great pain in his arm and the limb started to
swell. Meantime, the forester, with a physician and a helper, was racing
at top speed to reach the ranger. At a pace utterly reckless he drove his
car over the forest road, and the instant the rescue party arrived at the
point where Charley and Mr. Morton would reach the highway, they plunged
into the forest. Faster than he had ever raced to a forest fire, the
forester sped along the trail, his companions striving doggedly to keep up
with him. He was deep in the woods before he met Charley and the ranger.

With hand extended, the forester ran to his ranger. Their hands met in a
tight clasp. "How is it, Jim?" asked the forester, with anxious eyes.

"I'm all right," rejoined the ranger. "I'll pull out of this all O.K. That
snake got me right, though. If it hadn't been for Charley here, I don't
know how I would have made out. He's as good as a doctor."

By this time the doctor himself had come up, puffing too hard for words.
He nodded his head, clasped the ranger's hand, and with a single word of
greeting quickly began an examination of the injured arm. "How long ago
did this happen?" he puffed.

"More than two hours ago," said the ranger.

"You haven't kept these tight all that time, have you?" and the doctor
laid his finger on one of the cords around the ranger's arm.

"No, sir. Charley had me loosen them, one at a time, every twenty minutes
or so."