106 THE PINE-TREE. OR 



under the weight of several tons of timber, were pressed down 

 to the thickness of a man's hand. He was still alive, and when 

 they called out to him, just before reaching the sled, he spoke up 

 as promptly as usual, " Here am I," as if nothing had been the 

 matter. These were the only and last words he ever uttered. A 

 "pry" was immediately set, which raised the dead-fall from his 

 crushed body, enabling them to extricate it from its dreadful po- 

 sition. Shortly after, his consciousness left him, and never more 

 returned. He could give no explanation ; but we inferred, from 

 the position of the forward oxen, that the load had forced the 

 team into a run, by which the tongue cattle, pressed by the lead- 

 ers, turning them round, which probably threw the teamster under 

 the runner, and the whole load stopped when about to poise over 

 his body. 



He was taken to the camp, where all was done that could be, 

 under the circumstances, to save him, but to no purpose. His 

 work was finished. He still lingered, in an apparently uncon- 

 scious state, until midnight, when his spirit, forsaking its bruised 

 and crushed tenement, ascended above the sighing pines, and en- 

 tered the eternal state. The only words he uttered were those 

 in reply to the calling of his name. As near as we could judge, 

 he had laid two hours in the position in which he was found. 

 It was astonishing to see how he had gnawed the rave* of the 

 sled. It was between three and four inches through. In his ag- 

 ony, he had bitten it nearly half off. To do this, he must have 

 pulled himself up with his hands, gnawed a while, then fallen 

 back again through exhaustion and in despair. He was taken 

 out to the nearest settlement, and buried. 



At a later period, we lost our teamster by an accident not alto- 

 gether dissimilar. It was at the winding up of our winter's 

 work in hauling. Late in the afternoon we had felled and pre- 

 pared our final tree, which was to finish the last of the numer- 

 * " Rave," the railing of the sled. 



