“Bub, you’re a wonder,” admired Stanley, eying his shorter companion with a feeling of awe. “I suppose you’ll be studying up something entirely new in trails before long?”
“I have already,” replied Bub, complacently. “I got the idea from a piece of orange peel.”
“Why! how could you?” cried Stanley.
“City chap hired me to take him out trout fishing. He took an orange along and as he ate it he threw away the skin. I noticed that a bit of that peeling stuck out in the landscape like a sore thumb. I never saw a color that would beat it. If the peeling fell orange side up you couldn’t go anywhere near it without noticing it. It’s about the only thing I ever saw in the color line that seemed to jar with nature. So, I told Abner that if we could have some paraffine chalk, orange color, we could save blazing trees, save the bark as well as time, and have a trail you could never miss. The paraffine wouldn’t wash out. Then on ledges and rocks, where you have to depend on small piles of rocks, it would be just the thing to make your trail with. They have it at the wangan in red and yellow for marking lumber, but them colors won’t do. I want an orange.”
