Title: Trees Are Where You Find Them
Author: Savage, Arthur Dekker
Language: English
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[Illustration]


    _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 picture
house in Cave Junction built like a big quonset. It's the only show in
these parts, and most of us old-timers up here in the timber country of
southwest Oregon have got into the habit of going to see a picture on
Saturday nights before we head for a tavern.

But I don't think old Doc Yoris, who was there with Lew and Rusty and
me, had been to more than two or three shows in his life. Doc is kind of
sensitive about his appearance on account of his small eyes and big nose
and ears; and since gold mining gave way to logging and lumber mills,
with Outsiders drifting into the country, Doc has taken to staying on
his homestead away back up along Deer Creek, near the boundary of the
Siskiyou National Forest. It's gotten so he'll come to Cave Junction
only after dark, and even then he wears dark glasses so strangers won't
notice him too much.

I couldn't see anything funny about the picture when Doc started
laughing, 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 a
rocket ship on Mars and running over to look at some trees.

Rusty, who's top choker setter in our logging outfit, was trying to see
Doc's point. He can snare logs with a hunk of steel cable faster than
anyone I know, but he's never had much schooling. He turned to Doc. "I
don't get it, Doc," he said. "What's the deal?"

Doc kept chuckling. "It's them trees," he said. "There's no trees like
that on Mars."

"Oh," said Rusty.

I suppose it was just chance that Burt Holden was sitting behind us and
heard the talk. Burt is one of the newcomers. He'd come down from Grants
Pass and started a big lumber mill and logging outfit, and was trying to
freeze out the little operators.

He growled something about keeping quiet. That got Rusty and Lew kind of
mad, and Lew turned around and looked at Burt. Lew is even bigger than
Burt, and things might have got interesting, but I wanted to see the
rest of the picture. I nudged him and asked him if he had a chew. They
won't let you smoke in the show, but it's okay to chew, and most of us
were in the habit anyway, because there's too much danger of forest fire
when you smoke on the job.

Doc laughed every time the screen showed trees, and I could hear Burt
humping around in his seat like he was irritated.

       *       *       *       *       *

At the end of the show we drifted over to the Owl Tavern and took a
table against the north wall, behind the pool tables and across from the
bar. 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 been
very active since the young medical doctor had come to Cave Junction in
1948, although he never turned down anyone who came for help, and as far
as I knew he'd never lost a patient unless he was already dead when Doc
got there.

We were kidding Lew because he was still wearing his tin hat and caulked
boots from work. "You figuring on starting early in the morning?" I
asked him. Rusty and Doc laughed. It was a good joke because we rode out
to 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 of
the 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 but
beer in the taverns. "Times change," he said. "Back in 1900 all they
wanted 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't
cut '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. "Darn
near caught me skinning out a deer."

"He better not yap to the game warden," said Rusty. "Them laws is for
sports and Outsiders, not us guys who need the meat."

"He wanted to buy all my timber," said Doc. "Offered me ten dollars a
thousand board feet, on the stump."

"Don't sell," I advised him. "If Burt offers that much, almost anyone
else will pay twelve."

Doc looked at me. "I'd never sell my trees. Not at any price. I got a
hundred and sixty acres of virgin stand, and that's the way it's gonna
stay. 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 ask
him any questions, because we figure a man will talk if he wants to, and
if 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, and
he's even got a burner to take care of slashings, so he don't have to
shut down in the fire season."

"He just wants the land," said Pop, "because it's near the highway. He
wants to tear down my setup and build a pulp mill."

"A _pulp_ mill!" If we could have seen Doc's eyes through the glasses I
imagine they'd have been popped open a full half inch. "Why, then
they'll be cutting down everything but the brush!"

Pop nodded. "Yeah. Size of a log don't matter when you make paper--just
so it's wood."

It seemed as though Doc was talking to himself. "They'll strip the land
down bare," he mumbled. "And the hills will wash away, and the chemicals
they use in the mill will kill the fish in the creeks and the Illinois
River."

"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 the
Rogue River to fish."

Rusty set his jaw. "In the winter we _need_ them fish," he said. He was
right, 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. That
rocking chair money doesn't stretch very far.

"I ain't gonna sell," said Pop. "But that won't stop Burt Holden, and
any 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 foot
four. "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 keep
them guys he's with off my back."

I stood up and shoved Rusty back down. I'm no taller than he is, but I
outweigh him about twenty pounds. I started working in the woods when we
still felled trees with axes and misery whips--crosscut saws to the
Outsiders. "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 an
offer."

       *       *       *       *       *

I went over and told Burt that Doc wanted to talk to him. The three guys
with him followed us back to the table.

Burt figured he knew what it was all about, and he just stood over Doc
and 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's
coming down, and I'm taking a chance even at that." He rocked back and
forth on his heels and looked at Pop as though daring him to say
different.

"I still don't want to sell, Mr. Holden," said Doc. "But I've got better
than three million feet on my place, and I'll _give_ it to you if you
won't put a pulp mill anywhere in the Illinois Valley."

We were all floored at that, but Burt recovered first. He gave a nasty
laugh. "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 a
few years--"

"It'll make money, too," said Burt flatly.

"Money ain't everything by a long shot. It won't buy trees and creeks
and rain."

"It'll buy trees to make lumber." Burt was getting mad. "I don't want
any opposition from you, Yoris. I've had enough trouble from people who
try to hold back progress. If you don't like the way we run things here,
you can--hell, you can go back to Mars!"

It seemed to me that it was just about time to start in. I could have
taken Burt easiest, but I knew Rusty would probably swing on him first
and get in my way, so I planned to work on the two guys on Burt's right,
leaving the one on his left for Lew. I didn't want Pop to get tangled up
in it.

I don't generally wait too long after I make up my mind, but then I
noticed Rusty reaching out slowly for a cue stick, and I thought maybe
I'd better take Burt first, while Rusty got set. I never did see a guy
so one way about having something in his hands.

But Doc didn't drop out. "There ain't nothing but a few scrub trees on
Mars," he said to Burt, looking him square in the eye. "And no creeks
and no rain."

Burt curled his lip sarcastically. "The hell you say! Is that why you
didn't like it there?" You could see he was just trying to egg Doc into
saying he'd come from Mars, so he could give him the horse laugh. The
guys he was with were getting set for a fracas, but they were waiting
for Burt to lead off.

Doc didn't get caught. "But there's gold," he said, like he hadn't heard
Burt at all. "Tons of it--laying all over the ground."

I guess Burt decided to ride along. "Okay, Yoris," he said. "Tell you
what I'll do. For only one ton of Martian gold I'll agree to drop all
plans for a pulp mill, here or anywhere else. In fact, I'll get out of
business altogether."

Doc moved in like a log falling out of the loading tongs. "That's a
deal," he said. "You ready to go?"

Burt started to look disgusted, then he smiled. "Sure. Mars must be
quite a place if you came from there."

"Okay," said Doc. "You just stand up against the wall, Mr. Holden."
Burt's smile faded. He figured Doc was trying to maneuver him into a
likely position for us. But Doc cleared that up quick. "You boys get up
and stand aside," he ordered. "Get back a ways and give Mr. Holden
plenty of room." We didn't like it, but we cleared out from around the
table. A bunch from the bar and pool tables, sensing something was up,
came drifting over to watch. I could feel tension building up. "Now,"
said Doc, pointing, "you just stand right over there, Mr. Holden, and
fold your arms."

Burt didn't like the audience, and I guess he figured his plans were
backfiring when Doc didn't bluff. "You hill-happy old coot," he
snarled. "You'd better go home and sleep it off!" I grabbed hold of
Lew's arm and shook my head at Rusty. I wasn't going to interfere with
Doc now.

"You're not scared, are you, Mr. Holden?" said Doc quietly. "Just you
stand against the wall and take it easy. It won't hurt a bit."

       *       *       *       *       *

Burt Holden was plenty tough for an Outsider, and a hard-headed
businessman to boot, but he'd never run into a customer like Doc before.
You could see him trying to make up his mind on how to handle this
thing. He glanced around quick at the crowd, and I could tell he decided
to play it out to where Doc would have to draw in his horns. He actually
grinned, for the effect it would have on everybody watching. "All right,
Yoris," he said. He backed against the wall and folded his arms. "But
hadn't you better stand up here with me?"

"I ain't going," said Doc. "I don't like Mars. But you won't have no
trouble getting your gold. There's nuggets the size of your fist laying
all over the dry river beds."

"I hate to be nosey," said Burt, playing to the crowd, "but how are you
going to get me there?"

"With his head, o'course!" blurted Rusty before I could stop him. "Just
like he cures you when you're sick!" Doc had pulled Rusty through two or
three bad kid sicknesses--and a lot of the rest of us, too.

"Yep," said Doc. "A man don't need one of them rocket things to get
between here and Mars. Fact is, I never seen one."

Burt looked at the ceiling like he was a martyr, then back at Doc.
"Well, Yoris," he said in a tone that meant he was just about through
humoring him, "I'm waiting. Can you send me there or can't you?" The
start of a nasty smile was beginning to show at the corners of his
mouth.

"Sure," said Doc. He slumped down in his chair and cupped his hands
lightly around his dark glasses. I noticed his fingers trembling a
little against his forehead.

The lights dimmed, flickered and went out, and we waited for the
bartender to put in a new fuse. The power around here doesn't go haywire
except in the winter, when trees fall across the lines. A small fight
started over in a corner.

When the lights came back on, Doc and Pop started for the door, and Lew
and Rusty and I followed. Burt's buddies were looking kind of puzzled,
and a few old-timers were moving over to watch the fight. The rest were
heading back to the bar.

Rusty piled into the jeep with Doc and me. "When you going to bring him
back, Doc?" he asked when we started moving.

"Dunno," said Doc. He took off his glasses to watch me shift gears. He's
been after me for a long time to teach him how to drive. "It only works
on a man once."


THE END



Transcriber's Note:

    This etext was produced from _If Worlds of Science Fiction_ November
    1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
    copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
    typographical errors have been corrected without note.





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