A Lumber Camp of To-day 



spent among the pines, each day repeating the events of the 

 first, and deepening its impressions. 



The nights in camp were full of new sights and sounds. 

 A rasping sound as of something gnawing off the very foundations 

 of the house was silenced by the gun of the householder. Next 

 morning we heard it was "nawthin' but a couple o' porkypines 

 that come around chawin' on the sills." The housewife bewailed 

 the invasion of her turnip patch by wild deer. A black bear had 

 recently contested the claims of berry pickers in one of the upland 

 spaces cleared of timber. 



The logs are piled in order down on the skidways by men 

 who scamper over them like ants, teasing them into parallel 

 position, fitting them into solid phalanx, with peavy and cant 

 hook — difficult and dangerous tools to the learner, but wonder- 

 fully effective when mastered. 



From early morning till two o'clock the gang is loading cars 

 from the skids. Three long logs rest on two trucks set far enough 

 apart to support the two ends of the load, which are solidly 

 chained to prevent any slipping. Short logs are fitted in pyra- 

 midal piles on regular cars. They usually bind each other, the 

 upper logs fitting into the troughs between the lower ones. If 

 the fit does not suffice, a chain binds them into a solid unit. 



A warning whistle after dinner gave notice that in an hour 

 the train started for the valley. We found the cars all full, and 

 I looked inquiringly into the engineer's little cubby. It had 

 scarcely room for himself and various boxes and bundles. "On 

 top of the logs?" It seemed incredible. But there were women 

 with berry baskets — and babies — perched on those wooden 

 pinnacles. There is no other way of getting down to the settle- 

 ment, not even a trail. 



It wasn't bad at all. We perched on a round log terrace and 

 leaned luxuriously back against another which formed the key- 

 stone of the arch of the load. Berry pickers gathered in, the 

 manager himself joined us, introducing the Catholic priest, who 

 had spent the day among his isolated parishioners, A jovial, if 

 scattered, company of passengers waved a farewell to the camp. 



The long logs went first, making the curves safely, though 

 their chains groaned. A man with a peavy rode erect upon them, 

 watching anxiously for trouble. It was a silly short car behind 

 that ran one wheel off the track over a boggy spot where the 



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