Page 261

SPANISH PEAK: A STORY
mer in as quiet self-forgetfulness and courage as ever inaspired a
weather-beaten old sailor watching the lighted lamp of his beacon
high set above a rockbound coast.
   When he died, alone, in his tent on Spanish Peak, and was laid
to rest in a granite crevice of that stern old mountain, one ranger
said: "For an old broken-down sheep herder, he was jest as fair-
minded and honest as any man I ever knew. And he was peart as
a robin, too."
   The Supervisor, listening, replied with especial precision, using
the official title: "Forest Guard Blaize was American born, of
Huguenot stock on his father's side. Like John Muir he herded
sheep a while in these mountains. Unlike Muir, who is the great
prose poet of California, he had not one scintilla of ability to ex-
press himself, excepting to a very few people, at rare intervals.
But he did his work here so well that the thought of him will make
better men of the rest of us. I don't know where or when we can
find anyone to take his place."
   There the vivid and flashing little old man had lived till the
end came, summering on his peak, wintering in his cabin some-
where among the yellow pines, and creating all about him his own
atmosphere of simple and effective loyalty to the Forest Service.
Twice a month, while he was keeping the outlook, Blaize had clam-
bered cheerfully down from his peak to where some passing ranger
had left his mail, and whatever supplies he needed. The rangers
were busy, and had not much in common with the mountain dweller;
when they noticed him coming down, they waved a careless hand,
shouted a word of cheer and rode on their ways; but more often
he had no glimpse of their passing.
   At morning, and at night, he rang his telephone call for the
main office, heard friendly questions, sent back his quiet replies,
had his little requirements noted.
   Blaize was the lone and responsible fire-guard of the whole
vast region beneath his peak, searching it from daylight till dark
with his marvelous eyes and his powerful binoculars. When a fire
broke out anywhere, he was at once in closest relation to the work;
he talked to the Office and to the rangers, reporting swift-changing
conditions, telling them how best to reach the battle-ground, where
to concentrate strength, and when to call up all the reserves. In
crises his messages grew so terse, so strong, so full of leadership
that they were obeyed as orders from a commander-in-chief.
   How it relieved the anxious office when old Blaize at last rang
up: "Only dead smoke now; the boys have tied their fire-lines
together, this time for keeps!"
                                                              261