got a notice in the mail today,” Bob said that night at dinner, after they had finished their silent grace. “We lost the appeal for the THP for Big Tree Grove.”

“A THP is a timber harvest plan,” Nancy explained to Julian. “Robin probably told you they’re planning to log on the neighboring property.”

Julian nodded.

“It was bought by an investment firm in San Francisco. And they got a THP approved by the Department of Forestry. We were trying to fight it. At least get them to save the old-growth in Big Tree Grove. We filed an appeal. Bob went to the hearing and spoke and some scientists talked about how logging would affect the coho salmon and other wildlife. But I guess it didn’t do any good.”

“Another takeover by corporate America,” Bob said angrily. “Sometimes I think they just rubber-stamp those plans. Outside of the parks, the big trees are practically gone around here.”

Everybody sat gloomily for a few moments. “Julian thought it was illegal to cut down redwoods,” Robin said. “I wish it were.”

“I guess they don’t teach much forestry down in San Francisco,” Bob said.

Julian shook his head. “We’re always learning about the rain forests in Brazil. I didn’t know people were still cutting down redwoods. I thought it was against the law, or they were all preserved in the national forests.”

Bob gave him a puzzled look. “The national forests?”

“You know, I thought they were protected. I mean, if Big Tree Grove were in a national forest, they couldn’t cut it down, right?”

Bob and Nancy exchanged glances.

“Julian!” Robin was giving him that superior look again. “The national forests aren’t like parks. They log there all the time. Right, Dad?”

“Well, that’s true,” Bob said slowly.

“That was the whole reason the national forests were set up in the first place, to make sure America would have enough timber.” Robin gave him a look of exasperation. “Haven’t you ever heard of Gifford Pinchot?”

Why did she always know things that he didn’t, Julian wondered.

“The founder of the Forest Service? ‘The greatest good for the greatest number of people in the long run’? He and Teddy Roosevelt put millions and millions of acres into the national forests to protect them from profiteers. Doesn’t ring a bell?”

“Robin, that’s enough,” said Nancy.

Julian decided it was time to get the conversation back on track and away from his educational deficiencies. “So if you lost the appeal, does that mean there’s nothing else you can do to stop the logging?”

“Well,” Nancy said. “My mother always said, ‘A way will open.’ But I’m not sure how it can here.”

“Mom, don’t you think we should do everything we possibly can to stop them?” Robin asked. “I mean, some of those trees could be a thousand years old.”

“Of course. But Daddy and I worked pretty hard on our letter to the Board and they still approved the THP. I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do.”

“But Daddy, don’t you think we should try everything?”

“Like your mom says, we’ve done what we can. It’ll break my heart to see that grove cut down and sold off to the highest bidder just to line some investor’s pocket—some guy in Texas or New York who’s never even seen this place.”

There was another long silence, and then Nancy said, “What did you two do this afternoon?”

“They left me behind,” said Molly. “They ran away from me.”

“No, we didn’t,” Robin said innocently. “When?”

“When you ran off across the creek.” Molly’s eyes started to fill with tears.

“Julian and I were having a race. We didn’t know you wanted to come!”

“You did too. You liar!”

“Liar! Liar! Liar!” Jo-Jo called out.

“Hush now, Jo-Jo,” Nancy said, then turned and looked at Robin severely. “You know what I’ve told you about leaving Molly out. Imagine how you’d feel if you were the one excluded.”

“We didn’t exclude her, Mom!”

Nancy gave her a look.

“OK, next time she can come,” Robin said reluctantly. “Mom, can I ask you a question?”

“Ye-es,” said Nancy, already suspicious.

“You know Ariel’s coming in August, right?”

“Right.”

“Wouldn’t it be fun if Julian could come too? And maybe even his friend Danny? It would be like camp. And we’d be doing a public service. We could educate them.”

Nancy glanced quickly at her husband. “I don’t know, Robin. Daddy and I would have to talk it over.”

“Please, Mom?”

“It’s true when the boys were your age we used to have their friends over all the time. Remember, Bob, the summer the Larsen boys came?”

“That was different. The Larsen boys were like family.”

There was an embarrassed pause.

“I’m just saying we don’t even know Julian’s friend,” Bob said. “And we still haven’t spoken to Julian’s mother.”

“Well, that’s true,” Nancy conceded. “The circumstances are different.” She turned to Julian. “You’ve been awfully quiet. Do you really want to come back, or is this just another one of Robin’s crazy schemes?”

“No. It would be great.” Though he couldn’t imagine how he would get away from Sibley twice.

“You know, August is harvest time. We’d keep you boys working pretty hard,” Nancy said.

“That’s OK. Danny’s my best friend. He wouldn’t mind working. He’s got a lot of energy.”

Bob gave Nancy a look, as if the word “energy” had some special significance for him.

“Well, August is a long way off,” Nancy said. “And Julian may change his mind after he’s had to put up with us for a couple of weeks.” She smiled gently at him. “But it really has been wonderful having him here. He’s been so great with Jo-Jo.”

Jo-Jo was stirring his soup and talking under his breath in what sounded like Russian. Julian leaned closer and could barely make out Jo-Jo whispering over and over, “Julian’s my best friend.”

Bob began a new project the next day: extending the old deer fence in the far garden. Julian was relieved from watching Jo-Jo to help him. Every morning for a week, they’d set off early for Bob’s airy workshop, open on all sides and covered with a tin roof. A small sawmill stood at one edge, powered, somehow, by the engine of an old Ford pickup truck that was set on blocks.

In the workshop, Bob seemed less preoccupied and the professorlike quality, which Julian had felt at their first meeting, was even more pronounced. He explained each step of the process with good-humored precision, from choosing the right trees for the lumber to deciding the correct height of the fence. After a few days, Julian had learned how to debark a small tree and how to place the trunk on the log beam and guide it toward the enormous circular saw. He could tell the difference between fir and redwood, cut a two-by-four, and saw the lumber to the right specifications.

Julian liked the work shed, with the tools all hung neatly in their places and the sweet smell of wood shavings in the air. A large bin of wood scraps stood near the sawmill, and Julian started to think that maybe he could use them to build something of his own. He thought for days about what to make, rejecting a toolbox (he didn’t have any tools) and a birdhouse (too big to hide from Daphne). Finally, he decided on a simple wooden box with a lid, just a little bigger than his hand.

The next morning, Julian lingered next to Bob in the workshop, watching him sharpen an ax blade. Finally, he worked up the courage to say, “Could I ask you a question?”

Bob gave a curt nod.

“I was wondering if you’d mind if I tried to build something of my own. Something small—it wouldn’t take a lot of wood. And I’d do it after we were done working.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Julian handed him a rough sketch he’d drawn of the little box.

“Did you ever take drafting?” Bob asked.

Julian shook his head.

“Shop? Do they still teach shop in junior high?”

“No. At least not in my school.”

“Too bad,” Bob said. “You have a knack. You learn fast and you work hard. I’ve had college students out here for a month who couldn’t do what you do. I couldn’t trust them with a handsaw.”

Julian felt his face grow warm and realized he was grinning foolishly. He turned away and looked over toward the sawmill.

Bob glanced at the paper again. “A box is a good place to start. Take anything you need. Here, come with me.”

They went to the woodpile and Bob helped Julian select a few pieces of wood—oak for the sides and bottom, and cherry for the top. The next afternoon, they guided the wood carefully through the sawmill and Julian, by himself, cut it to size. He would join the pieces together in a perfect little box, then sand it smooth to the touch.

By the end of his second week, something clenched and anxious inside of Julian had begun to melt away. In its place, he felt an easy contentment. He would wake in the morning to the sun shining in through the skylight, or to Jo-Jo’s round face just a few inches from his own, and wonder what the new day promised. His stark bedroom at Sibley’s seemed like another world.

Late Friday morning, Nancy announced that the girls had been so productive in school that they could take the rest of the day off. Robin gave Julian a significant look, and they managed to sneak out while Molly was in the bathroom.

It was hot, even in the forest. At the river, Robin pulled a white bandana from her pocket, dipped it in the water, and wrapped it around her forehead. It gave her a fierce, savage look.

When they had crossed into the Greeley property, Robin turned off the path. Julian tried to search the canopy for the tree house, but the forest floor was full of obstacles—broken branches, roots, and crumbling logs. The ground rose and fell unexpectedly. Julian’s foot sank into a hole and he fell to the ground, cutting his left knee on a sharp rock.

The sight of the blood trickling down into his sock made him woozy. Robin grimaced, took off her bandana, and wrapped it expertly it around his knee.

“Are you OK?” she asked. “Do you want to stop for now?”

“No. Let’s keep going.” His knee pulsed with pain but he didn’t want Robin to think he was a wimp.

They trudged on until their way was blocked by a giant log stretching a hundred feet on either side of them and almost as high as their heads. Julian ran his fingertips along the thick cords of reddish bark. Robin clambered up some branches to the top of the log, which formed a wide bridge across the cluttered forest floor.

“Come up here,” she said. “It’s easier.” Julian got a toehold on a broken branch. As he pulled himself up, he banged his cut knee, flooding his body with pain. The white bandana was now stained with blood. Julian closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw it. The tree house was about thirty feet in the air. It stood in the crevice between two redwoods that had grown together at their base and then separated. The wooden beams and planks blended into the shady forest.

They ran to the end of the tree trunk, slid to the ground, and dashed over to the redwoods, peering up at the tree house.

“It’s fantastic,” Julian said. “Much more houselike than I thought it was going to be.” There was an open deck on one side and a small wooden structure on the other.

“I wish we knew how to get up,” Robin said.

It was awfully high. Too high for a ladder. And the only branches were above the tree-house roof.

“You can’t ask your brothers?”

“They won’t be back from Guatemala until July. Anyway, I told you, they won’t show me until I turn twelve.”

“But we need to get up now. What if I can’t come back in August? We’ve got to be able to get up somehow.”

“Maybe we can figure out something on our own. We’ve got two more weeks. Then, once we’re up, we can start planning Operation Redwood!”

Julian kept staring longingly up at the tree.

“Julian, we’re not getting up there today, that’s for sure. We don’t have a rope or anything. But my dad has a whole book on tree climbing. Or we can use the Internet. If we find anything, we’ll come back tomorrow.”

They were almost at the house when they saw Bob standing outside the barn, waving to get their attention. “Hey, Julian,” he shouted. “You got a message from your friend Danny this morning. He wanted you to call. Said to tell you something about the tide. I didn’t quite get it. It’s still on the machine.”

Robin gave Julian a quizzical look and he tried to suppress a surge of panic. Be calm, he told himself. He began to jog toward the house, then the pain in his knee slowed him to a quick walk. It’s probably nothing. Danny’s just looking for some excuse to use his stupid code.

When they reached the kitchen, they saw a red “2” flashing on the answering machine. Robin pushed a button and he heard Danny’s familiar, husky voice.

“Uh, hello. This is Danny. I’m calling for Julian, who’s staying with you.” He sounded slightly out of breath. “Um, could you please give him a message. Could you tell him the tide is rising? I really need to talk to him. It’s kind of an emergency.” His voice was rising higher with every word. “Well, nobody’s sick or dead or anything. But . . . if you could just tell him the tide is rising and he should call me that would be great. Um, thank you. And, um, I can’t remember if I said that I’m Danny, Julian’s friend?”

The machine beeped and immediately a second message began. “Hi, Bob,” said a gravelly male voice. “It’s Ralph down at the sheriff’s. We’ve got a Daphne Carter from San Francisco on the line who says you’ve kidnapped her nephew. I’m going to be in the neighborhood. I’d like to drop by and maybe we can clear this thing up. See you soon.”