14000 MILES 



taken you across, but we did not mention our ferryman. 

 We do not remember now just what he said, but we set 

 him down for a philosopher. All that ride and philos- 

 ophy for ten cents ! We thought it worth twenty-five at 

 least, but he said some grumbled at ten. 



Now we renewed our acquaintance with the Andro- 

 scoggin, which we followed so many miles on one jour- 

 ney farther north. We wondered where all the logs were, 

 and found out all about it from a boy who brought us 

 milk, and entertained us while we had our first and only 

 wayside camp at noon day. Our Sunday hostess had put 

 up luncheon for us, as we were not to pass through any 

 village on our way to Lewiston. Our boy friend took us 

 down to a little beach on the river, and showed us where 

 the river drivers had been for a week, but they were 

 then at work half a mile below. We had often 

 seen a river full of logs, and heard much about 

 the river drivers, when in Maine and northern New 

 Hampshire, but this was our first opportunity to see 

 them at work. They were just coming from their tents 

 after dinner, as we drove along. One of them tied Jerry 

 for us, and conducted us to a nice place on the rocks. 

 We watched them nearly an hour, and concluded it took 

 brains to untangle the snarls of logs. It was quite excit- 

 ing to see them jump from log to log with their spiked 

 boots, and when the last of a snarl was started, leap into 

 a boat and paddle off for another tangle. The river was 

 low, and it was slow work getting them over the rocks. 



The drive to Lewiston was over a sandy road. We 

 met two boys puffing along on their wheels, who asked 

 us if it was sandy all the way up. We were sorry we 



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