126 THE OLD MANS STORY. 



hoped it would be the means of worming out this 

 man's history, for I felt convinced it was no usual one. 

 After trying many expedients I got him on the 

 track I desired, and he told me his story. I commit 

 it to these pages, not only because it illustrates his 

 remarkable character, but because the incidents of 

 his history are such as were once common in those 

 regions which are situated on the verge of civilis- 

 ation : 



'I was born away down east, in Maine. My 

 home was not far from Bethel, Oxford County, in 

 those days a small place, for it had then scarcely 

 over a dozen houses all told ; but folks tell me now 

 that it's a prosperous big town. When I was a 

 boy you could not find a school in every township 

 as now, so I was reared without learning to read 

 or write. When I got big enough to use a hand- 

 spike and drive a yoke of cattle, the old man, my 

 father, took me along with him every winter, for he 

 always spent that period in the woods, engaged in 

 the lumber business. I could soon handle an axe 

 with the best of the gang, and cut as smooth a chip 

 as ever was knocked out of pine-log ; so I got men's 

 wages, and thought myself " no small punkins." 



' The first adventure I remember to have met 

 with was shooting a bear for, like most lads reared 

 in the woods, I was a plumb-centre shot. It was 

 in this way. I was out looking for moose, and they 

 were plenty then in those parts. The day before 

 I had tracked the biggest kind of one, but as it 



