20 



HARDWOOD RECORD 



the same errand I was on, 'are you lost?' 



" 'No, no, Injun no lust,' he answered, as 

 he tried to stand up straight, 'Injun no 

 lost, wigwam lust, Injun here. Wigwam 

 full of fire suoii.' he continued, 'Injun find 

 boss me, tell him wigwam burn, kill squaw 

 and papoose, wigwam full of fire soon.' 



" 'And you are full of firewater now, 

 you old whelp,' I said, as I started toward 

 the boss, who I saw coming toward me in 

 his old buckboard, with his horse dripping 

 with sweat. I forgot all our differences 

 the moment I looked into his face. Boys, 

 he had changed from a young man into, an 

 old one. He had driven his horse from Sag- 

 inaw on a dead run that day. He hardly 

 allowed me to tell him what I feared when 

 he got me into his buggy and we started 

 for the shanty. Before we reached my 

 house the air was so thick we couldn 't see 

 across the road, and we could hear the 

 awful sound of falling timber. Through the 

 steadily thickening smoke here and there 

 would shoot up a curling snake of fire as 

 one tree after another burst into flame. The 

 horse at last sunk in his tracks, and, I told 

 the Old Man we could go no further. 'We 

 jmist,' he shouted, and just then we heard 

 the voice of Pierre. 



" 'Marche. allons, nom de dieu, vite,' 

 and out of that burning hell came some- 

 thing that was hardly a wagon, for one 

 of its wheels was off and it was dragging 

 along on the other three, the horses were 

 a mass of blistering burns without tails or 

 manes, and standing up in front was Pierre, 

 his clothes in shreds, and if ever there was 

 a crazy man it was that Canuck. 



" 'Where is my wife!' cried the Old Man, 

 as we ran on beside the tired horses. Pierre 

 only locked behind where under some blan- 

 kets was what seemed to be the form of a 

 human being. The horses stumbled on 

 while back of us raced that awful sea of 

 fire. The darkness below grew thicker, but 

 the whole sky was a glowing red. The 

 flames seemed almost fiends as they came 

 rolling after us; thicker and thicker grew 

 the smoke. The team, crazy with fright 

 and pain and blind with smoke, plunged 

 on. Only a madman like Pierre could have 

 kept that rickety wagon from turning over. 



" 'Where are you going?' I yelled, as 

 he turned off the road that led to my 

 bouse." 



"I mak' for de lak ' dat tim'." inter- 

 rupted the voice from the doorway; 'I 

 know dam well o 'ly de water she can save. ' ' 



"I heard the old man calling on God to 

 save the squaw and the kid, between 

 Pierre 's mixed French and English curses, 

 as he tried to keep the horses in the 

 trail,'' continued Jim. "Suddenly behind 

 us the whole air seemed to explode, the 

 darkness became for a moment a living 

 sheet of flame, and then the black settled 

 down again only pierced by the trees of 

 fire. 



"'Thank God, thank God,' sobbed the 



Old Man, as we heard the horses splash 

 into the water; we could not see the lake; 

 we could only feel; and Pierre drove on 

 until I shouted to him that if he didn 't 

 stop he would drown us. I think he'd 

 have done it, too, if the mare's mate hadn't 

 fallen dead from flight, burns and ex- 

 haustion. There was a faint cry from un- 

 der the blankets, and in . a minute both 

 Pierre and the Old Man were out in the 

 water lifting them to look at mother and 



child. 



" 'ftita, ' called the Old Man softly, but 

 there was no answer except that wailing 

 cry. 



" 'My God, Jim, she's dead,' he said, 

 as he fell partly into the wagon. Pierre 

 had gotten the papoose in his arms, and I 

 covered both the Old Man and his wife 

 with the wet blankets. 



' ' For twenty hours we stayed there in 

 water to the arm-pits, with the steaming 

 blankets about us, too exhausted to speak. 

 At last I must have lost track of time, for 

 I don 't remember much until I heard 

 Pierre trying to comfort the child. We 

 found shortly that the Old Man still lived, 

 Inn his wife had gone to sleep forever. Then 



came the blessed rain, and with the clear- 

 ing of the smoke the whole face of the 

 landscape had changed and the Thumb 

 showed only a blackened, blistering scar, 

 where had stood some of the finest pine 

 that had ever grown on this footstool. 



' ' We got back to town some way, and the 

 Old Man brought his wife back here and 

 buried her, in that little mound you see out 

 there. ' I don 't think she would be happy 

 anywhere else,' he said. The child was sent 

 abroad, and married one of those French 

 counts, when she grew up. I don't think 

 she is very happy, for the Old Man never 

 says much about her and looks mighty wor- 

 ried when I ask. He himself married long 

 afterward, as you know, a very fine wo- 

 man." 



"But de ol' man he -never forget dat 

 tint' when we burn up," again interrupted 

 Pierre. "He come two, three tim', some 

 tim', and he say Pierre how is de mare, 

 ami he stan ' by 1' petit' grave, and she 

 say come Pierre to me and live, but I no 

 do dat, nun, non, for when de spring come 

 1 must go catch me mus'rat. De mus'rat 

 is de fines' fish wot swim de lak'." 



fda%ing a HardWood Door. 



The fact that a hardwood door can be 

 built by gluing a coat of veneer to a foun- 

 dation of cheap, light wood and that the 

 finished product is equal in appearance and 

 better for practical use than the old-time 

 solid door, speaks eloquently of the ad- 

 vances made in the veneer industry. The 

 few remaining specimens of built-up colo- 

 nial furniture show how patiently and care- 

 fully the cabinet makers of that time 

 worked to secure something desirable in 

 veneer effects. Bui the process was too 

 slow and laborious to acquire general popu- 

 larity and was, moreover, so expensive that 

 solid woodwork was preferred. With the 

 introduction of the speedy and efficient 

 machinery of today it is possible to saw, 

 slice or rotary cut the log without the varia- 

 tion of a hairsbreadth in the thickness of 

 the veneer. The evolution has been neces- 

 sary. The great demand for high grade 

 furniture and doorwork, coupled with the 

 growing scarcity of material, makes it prac- 

 tically impossible to build solid articles out 

 of the better hardwoods unless at great 

 eost. At the same time the demand 

 for durability and attractive appearance 

 has been insistent. The result of these 

 conditions is the built-up hardwood door 

 which combines with a beautiful figure the 

 advantage of being more substantial, free 

 of warping tendencies, lighter and easier to 

 handle. Again, both sides can be veneered 

 differently, so that each surface matches the 

 di ration of the room which it faces. 



Coring and Gluing. 

 In building up a door much depends, of 

 course, on the filler, or, as it is known, the 



i oring, for this is the foundation, and on 

 its "freedom from swelling, twisting or 

 shrinking depends the stability of the 

 finished product. As a consequence rigorous 

 care is taken in drying lumber designed for 

 this purpose, and especial attention given 

 to extracting every bit of moisture from 

 it. The wood used for filler is low priced 

 lumber, mostly pine, sliced into strips about 

 one inch in thickness and the length of the 

 door, since experience has shown that cor- 

 ing in this form is the most satisfactory. 

 The strips are assembled on a form, care 

 being taken to have the outside pieces, one 

 for the moulding and the other for the hinges, 

 of the same kind of hardwood as that in 

 which the door is to be finished in order to 

 give a uniform appearance. They are then 

 glued together, put in the press, and left 

 to stand until the glue has perfectly set. 

 The gluing in door making is an expensive 

 and important part of the operation. 

 Rapidity of work and lasting quality de- 

 pend greatly on the mixing of the liquid 

 glue and the knowledge of its properties, 

 ami many of the large manufacturing plants 

 mix a combination of their own which they 

 find best suits their purposes. 



When the glue is firmly set, the made-up 

 coring is slashed in half, making the two 

 long outside pieces known as stiles, and 

 other coring is cut into the cross pieces of 

 the door or, as they are technically known, 

 rails. The stiles and rails are then smoothed 

 off on the planing machine in preparation 

 for the veneer, which is glued on by the 

 same process used in fastening together the 

 coring strips. The veneer and its founda- 



