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_The trees on Mars are few and stunted, says old Doc Yoris. There's plenty of gold, of course--but trees can be much more important!_
TREES _are where you find them_
By Arthur Dekker Savage
Illustrated by Philip Parsons
You might say the trouble started at the Ivy, which is a moving picturehouse in Cave Junction built like a big quonset. It's the only show inthese parts, and most of us old-timers up here in the timber country ofsouthwest Oregon have got into the habit of going to see a picture onSaturday nights before we head for a tavern.
But I don't think old Doc Yoris, who was there with Lew and Rusty andme, had been to more than two or three shows in his life. Doc is kind ofsensitive about his appearance on account of his small eyes and big noseand ears; and since gold mining gave way to logging and lumber mills,with Outsiders drifting into the country, Doc has taken to staying onhis homestead away back up along Deer Creek, near the boundary of theSiskiyou National Forest. It's gotten so he'll come to Cave Junctiononly after dark, and even then he wears dark glasses so strangers won'tnotice him too much.
I couldn't see anything funny about the picture when Doc startedlaughing, but I figure it's a man's own business when he wants to laugh,so I didn't say anything. The show was one of these scientific things,and when Doc began to cackle it was showing some men getting out of arocket ship on Mars and running over to look at some trees.
Rusty, who's top choker setter in our logging outfit, was trying to seeDoc's point. He can snare logs with a hunk of steel cable faster thananyone I know, but he's never had much schooling. He turned to Doc. "Idon't get it, Doc," he said. "What's the deal?"
Doc kept chuckling. "It's them trees," he said. "There's no trees likethat on Mars."
"Oh," said Rusty.
I suppose it was just chance that Burt Holden was sitting behind us andheard the talk. Burt is one of the newcomers. He'd come down from GrantsPass and started a big lumber mill and logging outfit, and was trying tofreeze out the little operators.
He growled something about keeping quiet. That got Rusty and Lew kind ofmad, and Lew turned around and looked at Burt. Lew is even bigger thanBurt, and things might have got interesting, but I wanted to see therest of the picture. I nudged him and asked him if he had a chew. Theywon't let you smoke in the show, but it's okay to chew, and most of uswere in the habit anyway, because there's too much danger of forest firewhen you smoke on the job.
Doc laughed every time the screen showed trees, and I could hear Burthumping around in his seat like he was irritated.
* * * * *
At the end of the show we drifted over to the Owl Tavern and took atable against the north wall, behind the pool tables and across from thebar. Doc had put his dark glasses back on, and he sat facing the wall.
Not that many people apart from the Insiders knew Doc. He hadn't beenvery active since the young medical doctor had come to Cave Junction in1948, although he never turned down anyone who came for help, and as faras I knew he'd never lost a patient unless he was already dead when Docgot there.
We were kidding Lew because he was still wearing his tin hat and caulkedboots from work. "You figuring on starting early in the morning?" Iasked him. Rusty and Doc laughed. It was a good joke because we rode outto the job in my jeep, and so we'd naturally get there at the same time.
Then Rusty sat up straighter and looked over at the bar. "Hey," he said,"Pop's talking to Burt Holden." Pop Johnson owns our outfit. He's one ofthe small operators that guys like Burt are trying to squeeze out.
"Hope he don't try to rook Pop into no deals," said Lew.
Doc tipped up his bottle of beer. In Oregon they don't sell anything butbeer in the taverns. "Times change," he said. "Back in 1900 all theywanted was gold. Now they're trying to take all the trees."
"It's the big operators like Burt," I said. "Little guys like Pop can'tcut 'em as fast as they grow. The companies don't have to reseed,either, except on National Forest land."
"That Burt Holden was up to my place couple weeks ago," said Doc. "Darnnear caught me skinning out a deer."
"He better not yap to the game warden," said Rusty. "Them laws is forsports and Outsiders, not us guys who need the meat."
"He wanted to buy all my timber," said Doc. "Offered me ten dollars athousand board feet, on the stump."
"Don't sell," I advised him. "If Burt offers that much, almost anyoneelse will pay twelve."
Doc looked at me. "I'd never sell my trees. Not at any price. I got ahundred and sixty acres of virgin stand, and that's the way it's gonnastay. I cut up the windfalls and snags for firewood, and that's all."
"Here comes Pop," said Lew.
Pop sat down with us and had a beer. He looked worried. We didn't askhim any questions, because we figure a man will talk if he wants to, andif he doesn't it's his own business.
He finally unlimbered. "Burt Holden wants to buy the mill," he said,wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
"Buy _your_ mill?" said Lew. "Hell, his mill is five times as big, andhe's even got a burner to take care of slashings, so he don't have toshut down in the fire season."
"He just wants the land," said Pop, "because it's near the highway. Hewants to tear down my setup and build a pulp mill."
"A _pulp_ mill!" If we could have seen Doc's eyes through the glasses Iimagine they'd have been popped open a full half inch. "Why, thenthey'll be cutting down everything but the brush!"
Pop nodded. "Yeah. Size of a log don't matter when you make paper--justso it's wood."
It seemed as though Doc was talking to himself. "They'll strip the landdown bare," he mumbled. "And the hills will wash away, and the chemicalsthey use in the mill will kill the fish in the creeks and the IllinoisRiver."
"That's why they won't let anyone start a pulp mill near Grants Pass,"said Pop. "Most of the town's money comes from sports who come up to theRogue River to fish."
Rusty set his jaw. "In the winter we _need_ them fish," he said. He wasright, too. The woods close down in the winter, on account of the snow,and if a man can't hunt and fish he's liable to get kind of hungry. Thatrocking chair money doesn't stretch very far.
"I ain't gonna sell," said Pop. "But that won't stop Burt Holden, andany place he builds the mill around here will drain into the Illinois."
Doc pushed back his chair and stood up to his full height of five footfour. "I'm gonna talk to Burt Holden," he said.
Rusty stood up to his six foot three. "I'll bring him over here, Doc,"he said. "We're handy to the cue rack here, and Lew and Simmons can keepthem guys he's with off my back."
I stood up and shoved Rusty back down. I'm no taller than he is, but Ioutweigh him about twenty pounds. I started working in the woods when westill felled trees with axes and misery whips--crosscut saws to theOutsiders. "I'll go get him," I said. "You're still mad about the show,and you wouldn't be able to get him this far without mussing him up."
"There won't be no trouble," said Doc. "I just want to make him anoffer."
* * * * *
I went over and told Burt that Doc wanted to talk to him. The three guyswith him followed us back to the table.
Burt figured he knew what it was all about, and he just stood over Docand looked down on him. "If it's about your timber, Yoris," he said,"I'll take it, but I can't pay you more than nine dollars now. Lumber'scoming down, and I'm taking a chance even at that." He rocked back andforth on his heels and looked at Pop as though daring him to saydifferent.
"I still don't want to sell, Mr. Holden," said Doc. "
But I've got betterthan three million feet on my place, and I'll _give_ it to you if youwon't put a pulp mill anywhere in the Illinois Valley."
We were all floored at that, but Burt recovered first. He gave a nastylaugh. "Not interested, Yoris. If you want to sell, look me up."
"Wait!" said Doc. "A pulp mill will take every tree in the Valley. In afew