"We take a log trail just beyond here, and to-night we'll be in the 'Pineys.'" "And to-morrow I shall be off and at work," announced Tom.
They were soon picking their way along a shady fragrant trail, tall, straight, noble pines about them seeming to be vieing with each other in their efforts to reach the blue sky.

The wind now bore a new fragrance, and the air was heavily pungent with the odor of pine.
"Emma, does your nature cult explain to you why the trees grow so tall and so straight ?" asked Tom, riding up beside Miss Dean.
Emma shook her head.
"Because they are fighting the battle of nature--fighting for existence, for their very lives, just as all the world of humans is fighting its battle.

A tree must have light and air, or it dies.

To get these it must grow up, it must keep up with its competitors, the trees about it, and forge ahead of them if possible, ever reaching up and up for sunlight and air.

Once let it fall behind and it is lost; it is overwhelmed by the sturdier giants; it pales and pines and seems to lose its ambition.
The tree, knowing it has lost its grip, then seems to grow thin and gaunt, and one day it goes crashing down, to rot and furnish nourishment for the giants that overwhelmed it.