For some weeks now we have been having a taste of really warm weather on the Rivers. The sun shines clear and hot from a cloudless sky. They tell us that at the Brizzard store in Orleans the thermometer holds steadily at one hundred degrees. All the little showers are gone away, and the Indians say that not even a few drops will fall until the rainy season in November. All the flowers have gone and the grass is dry and brown. It is true we still sleep at night under one blanket, but the wool comfortable we made for ourselves, and the traveling rug, have been rolled up and put out of sight.
About ten days ago we had a call from Mr. Hunter, who is one of the foresters, and we had a long heart-to-heart talk about vacations. It seems that everyone who works in either the Forestry or the Indian Service gets two days' vacation for every month that he has been on the job. The idea has gone completely to our heads. We have now been seven months on the Rivers and that would mean fourteen days' vacation. It also means we could go east. Mr. Hunter tells us that technically our field extends to Yreka, which is on the railroad. It is true that no Indians live in that part of the country, but from the standpoint of a vacation, until we reach Yreka, we are still in our own field, and therefore on the job. At Yreka, we could board the Southern Pacific, see our families, call on the Indian Department in Washington, talk Forestry regulations, traveling animals,