Lake Umbagog, Maine
Pine Point
1893.
Oct. 7.
  It rained heavily in the night and a little during the
forenoon. In the afternoon the sun came out but black clouds
drifted slowly overhead bringing occasional showers. The weath-
er continues remarkably warm for the season.
  As I was eating breakfast the men were just beginning work
on the western wing of the camp. Suddenly Charlie who stood
watching them gave a cry of horror, raised his hands to his face
and rushed past into the camp. The next moment Austin appeared
very pale and covered with blood, Jim and Will supporting him.
He had been holding a log while Will was chopping and the axe
glanced and cut deep into his wrist completely severing the
large cord which controls the thumb. We bandaged the wound as
best we could and Will rowed him to Lakeside (in an hour and
eight minutes) where he was at once driven to Andover. This
accident cast a deep gloom over our little party. Will returned
at noon.
[margin]One of 
my men
has a 
bad 
accident[/margin]
  I spent the forenoon in the camp writing. In the afternoon
I spotted and partially cleared a trail to the northern end of
Pine Point. The Black-backed Woodpecker was again at work on
his favorite spruce log and a Pileated Woodpecker was calling
not far off. The Partridge did not drum once to-day. Juncos
and Hermit Thrushes flitting about in the undergrowth. A Winter
Wren very tame and curious coming within five or six feet of me
[margin]Picoides are
Pileated W
Small woodland
birds[/margin]