HARDWOOD RECORD 



19 



A Woods Story 



by 



IDAH McGLONE GIBSON 



The Hero of the "Thumb 



99 



(Illustrated hv Supplement.) 



Wash Drawing 



by 



THOMAS J. NICHOLL 



"What's tin' matter with old Pierre?" 



' ' Oh, I guess that mare of his he 'tends 

 like a baby 'as got the colic." 



The men had come in from supper and 

 heaped the great logs on the open fire that 

 1 nearly filled one end of the bunk shanty. 



They had eaten as only men can eat who 

 work hard in the open, and were now 

 sprawled upon benches and bunks. The 

 smell of strong tobacco mingled with the 

 resinous odor of the burning pine — the air 

 was heavy with smoke, and the firelight 

 as it touched here and there a red shirt 

 or scarf and glinted upon the rugged faces 

 a moment revealed the whole as a great 

 genre painting. Outside, the indescribable 

 t-tillness of the snow-enveloped woods was 

 broken from time to time by a sharp crack 

 as an overburdened limb shook itself clear 

 of its ice and snow. 



"I can't see why Pierre makes so much 

 fuss over that mare," continued the man 

 who had asked about the teamster. "Her 

 hide looks as though it was moth-eaten, 

 she has no tail and she's blind in one 

 • vr. Never could understand why the Old 

 Man gives her room in the barn — ought to 

 have her stall for one of the work horses.'' 



"It's a good thing there are some things 

 you don't know in this world, lad.'' said 

 Jim, the foreman, as he knocked his pipe 

 against the bunk end and rolled over into 

 the firelight and conversation. 



Jim had been with the boss ever since 

 he had been in the lumber business and he 

 usually had a story to tell of the times 

 when the Old Man was a. young man, and 

 was taking out surface clear pine logs that 

 would scale two to the thousand. 



The boys drew a bit closer about the 

 fire, and a snoring occupant of one of the 

 bunks was kicked into quiet if not wake- 

 fulness. Then they turned expectantly to 

 dim. 



"It was when the Old Man and Pierre 

 and me were all a bit younger than we are 

 now that the mare earned her keep for 

 life, and if that stubborn French-Canuck 

 would consent the mare would be given a 

 berth at one of those new-fangled board- 

 ing stables, and he could live at one of 

 those table-ili' holies for the rest of his 

 days, but Pierre he says 'Non, non, 111 'son, 

 what for it is for me to cat if I tak ' with 

 me nevair 1' petit' grave.' 



"When Pierre says '1' petit' ' he means 

 'little,'" explained Jim gravely. ''Von 

 see he's like all the French and half-breeds 

 about here, he gets kind of crazy like when 

 In? tries to talk United States." 



"What do you 'spose ho meant by tak- 



ing a grave with him.''' asked Tim, the 

 top-loader, curiously. 



"Why, ho means that little place out 

 there where he leads the old mare everj 

 night after we quit work — the old man's 

 wife is under that mound," said dim, 

 quietly. 



"What:" simultaneously came from 

 half a dozen throats, as the men suddenly 

 straightened themselves up. "Tell us about 

 it, Jim, ' ' said Tim. 



Jim got up and filled his pipe and seated 

 himself somewhat in the shadow, drew a 

 few whiffs in silence and just as the boys 

 had given up hope of the story he began: 



"Pierre, the Old Man and me won- hoys 

 together. Pierre was born over Montreal 

 way, but was brought up uear the Indian 

 settlement. The Old Man's folks lived in 

 Sebewaing, and I was the good-for-nothing 

 son of an Irishman wdio thought he could 

 farm, but who only managed to get a little 

 to eat from the clearing between here and 

 town. We all grew up more or less to- 

 gether, although Pierre never seemed to 

 forget Ids French ways. He always talked 

 his French-Canuck like he does now, and 

 he went off into the woods for weeks alone 

 just like he does now sometimes. There 

 were more Injuns 'round here then, and 

 one day I noticed Pierre talking to about 

 the prettiest little squaw I ever looked at. 

 I didn't wonder then that he'd refused to 

 go to town with the Old Man and me the 

 summer before. The boss was with me 

 when we saw them, and 1 noticed soon after 

 that he made many trips over to the set- 

 tlement, too. 'Twasn't long before the 

 squaw was living in the log shanty that 

 stood over there where you see the mound, 

 and Pierre had disappeared into the woods. 



"The Old Man began to take out logs 

 in this section that winter, and he asked 

 me to go in with him. 1 w ; as feeling a lit- 

 tle sore at the tune, for it was said in a 

 whisper that he'd built the log shanty and 

 visited it often. I told him I wouldn't 

 have anything to do with him, his logs or 

 ids squaw. He didn't get mad or cuss 

 either, lie only said slowly 'All right.' Be- 

 fore the job was begun there was a little 

 girl at the log shanty, and the men talked 



s '4 1 deal among themselves, but no one 



dared to say much to the ol.l Man, who 



was openly pleased with the baby, which 

 its moi her called 1. '["'t it ' Bijou. 



"I was over on the Cass that, winter, 

 and didn't know when Pierre made his re 

 appearance, but the boys told me in the 

 spring he'd turned up about the middle of 



the winter, pale and gaunt. He visited the 



shanty often, too, and was never so happy 



as when he had Hie little half -br I kid 



in his arms. But he was friends with the 

 Old Man, they said, and that floored me, 

 lor I thought Pierre was stuck on the 

 squaw himself, and I didn't see how he 

 could swallow the log shanty and the kid. 

 Old Injun Dave, the grandfather of the 

 little squaw, was drunk most of the time 

 these days and he never saw the Old Man 

 without coining away with some coin to 

 buy more rum. 



"You know, boys, we have to work hard 

 in the woods, and we don't have much time 

 to do the preacher act, and we wouldn't 

 know how to go about it if we did. Things 

 went on just the same, and the Old Man 

 took out about a million feet of as good 

 timber as ever grew in the Thumb that 

 winter, and in the spring the camp shanties 

 were left in Pierre's charge as usual when 

 the boys left for the summer. I saw the 

 Old Man pass the clearing two or three 

 times a week on his way to the shanty, but 

 I didn't speak to him, for it went, agin' 

 me to think he would do anyone dirt, lei 

 alone an Injun woman. 



" You remember that summer of '71, not 

 a bit of rain, everything dry as tinder, and 

 along about the middle of July everyone 

 began to talk of the forest fires that were 

 raging 'round us. We could even catch 

 the smell in the air, but no one seemed 

 much worried. It grew hotter and hotter." 



"Oui, she mak' lak' dat pot of hell dat 

 is between," said a voice near the door- 

 \\a\. No one had noticed that Pierre had 

 int. red until he, overcome by the memories 

 brought up by Jim's talk, took up the 

 story. 



"Nom de dieu, I nevaire know she so 

 hot, and she's come lak' dam hurry too. De 

 smoke she come down and I mak' me 'fraid 

 he mak' trouble for L 'petit' Bijou and her 

 maman. 



"I fin' me Injun Dave, and sen' her 

 quick — tell Jim bring 01' Man here, and 

 lien I wait me.-' 



"The sky looked like a great red-hot 

 brass kettle as the sun came through the 

 settling smoke," interrupted Jim, "and I 

 1(11 you I got m rvous, lor the air was 

 ting thicker and thicker every minute. I 

 finally decided to go into town and hunt 

 up the Old -Man and see if he really C 



igh about the squaw and her kid to 



send for them. 1 was walking up 

 wdieii I came plump upon Injun I la 1 

 drunk he could hardly stand. 



"'What's the matter, Dave,' I asked, 

 for 1 mistrust.',! Pierre had sent hin 



