May 24, 19a2.il 
FOREST AND STREAM 
408 
A Walk Down South. — XXX, 
In about an hour I espied the two rafts on the still 
water below Hood's Landing. 
"Howdy," was their greeting. "Got any whisky there?" 
"About quarter of a pint," I replied. Three days later, 
I was told that they thought I was a moonshiner selling 
whisky to raftsmen. I told them who I was, and they 
said it was Lewis Sharp's raft, from Sill, Union county, on 
the Clinch, going to Chattanooga. I could sec that I was 
a suspicious character to them, so I took out my camera 
and took some pictures. This pleased them. I asked if 
I could travel with them ; they looked at each other, and 
after a bit they said, "Yes." I took my grub box out of 
my boat and put it in with their supplies and became a 
member of the crew. For supper we. had coffee, ginger 
tea (ginger boiled in water and sugar), wheat bread, pork 
fried, corn bread, ginger cake, sorghum (sogrum, they 
called it) and crisp soda crackers bought at a riverside 
store. 
While we ate there was some argument as to whether 
they should run all night. They wanted to get to Chatta- 
nooga on Saturday if they could, but to do so would re- 
quire an all night run. After a while it was decided to 
tie up, and soon after sunset the raft was run into the 
right bank, The first tie broke a small tree off, but the • 
next one held up in the embrace of two half-hitches in 
spite of the slow, heavy momentum of the 300 two-foot 
logs. There were really two rafts, one of two strands, 
the other of one. They were tied side by side with 
hickory wythes. On the smaller raft there was a plain 
ilean-to camp of poplar weather boarding not planed, laid 
telapboard fashion. It would hold four men, though two 
•comprised the crew when they were on upper Clinch. The 
other "bunk" was peaked like a barn, a little over seven 
•feet long and as wide. It was five feet high. The box 
<was filled with hay and cotton quilts. The stern side 
•of the bunks faced fire pits, on the larger one of which a 
;fire was kept burning all the while, the smaller only at 
alight. The bunks were on the central part of the raft. 
The fire was fed with eight-foot logs and fence rails from 
drift. At dark a large pile was made over the glowing 
coals, and soon the scene was that of an open camp, with 
points of light reflected from afar off and near by; on 
the small river-side willows was a flare of red here and 
there. Talk ran briskly to stories. 
The oars at the stern, with twenty-five-foot handles, and 
the blades fifteen feet long by twenty inches or two feet 
wide, were swung up clear of the water, lest drift strike 
and break them. The oar lock sticks were tied with 
hickory wythes. The wythes were made out of hickory 
saplings an inch in diameter. Three feet from the butt the 
sapling was hammered with the head of an ax till it would 
bend to a right angle, then the twig end was tied 'round 
a raft binder and while one twisted the bent end round 
like a hand organ handle, the other spread the splitting 
fibers from the binder to the handle gradually, so that the 
pole was twisted into a rope. Three or fout of these 
wythes sufficed to hold the strands of the raft together. 
We slept five and three in the two "bunks" or shacks. 
Some of them complained of the cold, all of the smoke. 
The cold ones kept the fire going, I suppose, for I did not 
awaken completely during the night. In the morning 
with the first streak of dawn all hands went to work cast- 
ing off. By this time I had learned something about the 
sweeps. There was a knack in their use, as in the use of 
: all things. The "knack" was to start it strongly, shoving 
'with the legs from the binder and then, with the arms 
~Y-ed above the head, walk across the raft where the end 
■man carried the handle back very low, while the other 
"kept ahead clear of it. I had to learn to not try to help 
.carry the handle back, and to step lively back when the 
,end of tthe stroke was reached. There were six oafs, one 
at each end of each stand. 
While Sharp, the owner, a little old fellow with peaked 
■ voice, was getting breakfast, I manned a sweep alone. Of 
<course I was .awkward. It was hard to stoop on- the walk 
;back and carry the handle. Nevertheless, I noted that 
imere strength -kept my oar going as fast as any of the 
.others. 
"Ye-e!" called a man at the starboard stern oar, and 
rail stopped. He said "Ease" really, but it sounded like a 
. sharp "Ye-e!" This man was the "steersman" or raft 
.captain. 
Dyspepsia also appeared, because the cornmeal 
iflapj'adts and corn pone were not cooked enough. To 
:get the corn sufficiently cooked is a rarity anywhere in 
fhe land of cornmeal. It grew colder till dusk, but the 
impatient men on the raft overruled the steersman, who 
wanted to tie up for the night ; others merely long enough 
to get some wood. We were near the south bank when it 
was decided to get the wood. I started to the opposite 
side of the raft with my boat, hut was just quick enough 
and that was all, as the raft swung in on the bank. I shot 
out from between it and a small tree. The boat was 
grazed on both sides, but I went through unharmed, 
though scared. With a big pile of dry drift, crackling on 
the fire, and more lying handy by, we cut loose again. We 
ran till almost plumb dark, then the steersman said: 
"We've got to tie up, boys. It's too rough to-night." 
So we tied up, for the steersman is responsible, and 
therefore master of the raft. In the morning we were off 
again at dawn. After working the sweeps steadily for 
fifteen minutes or less, we were clear of the bank. One 
of the boys made flapjacks out of cornmeal, pork grease, 
water and salt, stirring them with his hands and taking 
out handsful to pat them down on the spider and cake 
pan. When one side was done he turned the cake out on 
his hand, then slipped the undone side on the bottom of 
the skillet to be cooked. The others toasted or fried 
pieces of pork, interrupted by the steersman at intervals, 
who would say: 
"Let's put 'er out a little," "We'd better throw up a 
little to the right," "We'll have to pull out a little now." 
Three of the men went to a riverside store after some 
sorghum. They brought back a gallon can, and all hands 
gathered round to eat it. I spread the stuff all over a 
chunk of corn bread. It ran down in streaks, and when 
I tried to stop it I got it on my cheeks, fingers ana 
clothes. But I made way with that chunk. I noticed that 
the mountaineers had no such trouble, so I watched them. 
They dipped into the bucket for a half-spoonful, wiped it 
down on a corner of the bread, then wound the long, sticky 
streams round the bread and bit off the sorghumed part 
at a mouthful, They didn't git sticky, and I didn't when 
I tried it that way. 
They were telling about a man up in Union county who 
had been getting something for his farm. "Do you 
know, boys," one said, "he could talk the meaningest, 
slightenest. doggondest of any man I ever hear, let him 
get a le-e-etle mad." 
In the course of the day I tried all but the steersman's 
oar. Each one had a different feel. On one the handle 
was too heavy, on another the pivot was too stiff, on a 
third the oarlock was so low that only a very short man 
could handle it comfortably. One had a great chunk of a 
log on the blade, and to make it balance. Each man had 
a favorite according to his size and strength. The steers- 
man, however, always took to the stern starboard oar. 
My rifle was fired by one or other of the raftsmen at 
ducks. Once we rounded a bend and discovered the 
reason of a curious flapping sound we had been hearing. 
It was a flock of sixty geese which tumbled over back- 
ward and doubled up on itself, the bills of the birds open- 
ing with scared amazement when we appeared. 
One of the sick ones, a son of Sharp, was pretty badly 
off. His father took what little whisky I had and mixed 
hot pork grease with it — this was "greased whisky," and, 
like "burnt whisky," a favorite remedy. 
A high wind raised the waves, and these began to 
break up a raft which had come down the middle of the 
river, overtaking us. Several of its logs were loosened, 
but our raft held. We ran to shore and tied up to let the 
squall go by. We improved the stop by getting large 
quantities of wood for the night. It had been decided to 
start out at midnight to make Chattanooga by the after- 
noon. The danger of night runnig is of "bowing," strik- 
ing the head of an island or bridge pier, which rafts do 
occasionally and "tear up." 
Up and down the river along the right bank were the 
flares of fires on other rafts tied up. Two or three were 
to lie seen coming down mid-stream, redder and brighter ; 
around the fires were dark figures, and reflection in yellow 
and red came dancing along the water clear and sharp, 
now broad on a boiling place, again wrinkled between the 
sticks, again long lines on- the backs of wide rolls where 
the river dipped, so small as to be otherwise imperceptible 
by night or day. 
A mile below was Hiwasse Bluffs, over which Stone- 
wall Jackson ran some hundreds of Indians in the days 
when he was a U. S. colonel in the service driving the 
Cherokees from their native land into the Indian Terri- 
tory, because the Hiwasse section was very desirable as 
farm land. "The river ran red for two days after the 
fight, on account of the Indians killed in it," the modern 
traditions on the rafts say. 
A large raft came looming along in the night. There 
were two big Jires on board it, and in every direction 
from these were pine knot torches carried by old white- 
bearded men and boys, while more active or stronger ones 
held the sweeps. Under the influence of this multitude 
cf fires the dark gray night grew black. At each end of 
the raft were five sweeps, and a man crouching at each 
handle. There were calls and roars at intervals, where- 
upon those black figures at the oars would go whirling 
up in the air and the creak of oars on the pins would be 
heard. Then, "Ease," and instantly the noise would stop, 
while the great raft came down the current like an acre 
of the dark mainland. 
"Say, theh, could you give me a check?" the steersman 
called to us. 
"No; I don't guess you can; we'd tear up." 
"Git ready, thar !" called the steersman to his crew. 
Then to us, "Youah raft straight?" ■ 
"Yas, seh. This yer lantern mahks the cohner." 
For a few seconds the big raft came on without a 
sound. 
"Ayant she a buster?" one of us said. 
"She shore is. Two double ; no, they're three deep. 
Three double ain't ye, boys?" in a loud voice. , 
"Five stands," came the reply. 
On the big raft one man picked up a big rope, another 
knocked the coals off his torch, a third and fourth hitched 
their trousers, and then all poised expectant, for they 
were going to land just below us. 
"Now then, Rauncher boys. Raunching's what she 
needs," yelled their steersman, and the ten men squatted 
at the sweeps, straightened up with a grunt and the raft 
quivered from end to end, as it came gliding toward us. 
They struck the lower logs of our raft, but knocked none 
of ours loose, though several of theirs rolled over. The 
next moment: 
"Tie 'er, boys ! Tie 'er ! Throw the rope 'round that 
tree boys ! Snub 'er ! Snub 'er — what the — try that tree 
there, boys !" 
The brush cracked as the raft ran in, one tree was 
pulled over with a crash. The rope creaked on the next 
one, the sounds died away, and then all the men on our 
raft sighed : 
"They're fast all right," we said. 
At midnight we cut loose to go on down the river 
again, wishing to make Chattanooga before dark. An 
"all-night raff that passed us early in the evening said 
we were the twenty-eighth raft they'd seen tied up that 
night. We saw several, their fires died to coals and quiet 
as we went down. 
It was dark, stumbkng work on the raft. Some of the 
logs were ice coated. The steersman leaned over the 
top of a bunk and peered into the night, his eyes squint- 
ing, and at his call the men ran spryly to their oars, I 
among them, livelier than by day. The owner who could 
not stand night runnig buried himself in the blankets. He 
feared we might go bowing up on something. 
Once we went over a snag; it went crunching aft on 
the underside, lifting log after log, while the men stepped 
up and down and watched to see if we were tearing up. I 
made some coffee, which was reviving. 
Many on board slipped in between the logs and got wet 
feet, and they told of one man who slipped in all over 
a "year before and died a fortnight later. It was cold, 
gloomy work, and the men were quiet for the most part. 
Daylight came only after a long while, and then with re- 
luctant, chilling sullenness. The day passed slowly away, 
too, cold, harsh and uncomfortable. At 3 o'clock we tied 
up to the bank just above the mouth of Chicamauga 
Creek, five or six miles from town. 
We stayed there that night. On the following morn- 
ing we packed up and Taylor and I went down the river 
with the. duffle in two boats, while the others went by 
land. We passed the battle-famous creek, and were soon 
at the wharf. I left my stuff at a house-boat and got my 
mail. The raftsmen wandered round town then for a 
while. They missed one train. The next one, though, 
they caught, and once more I was alone. 
I wanted to see the Suck, the Boiling Pot and the other 
bad places in the river where it breaks through the moun- 
tains below Chattanooga before risking them with my 
boat. After a night with George Thompson, a house-boat 
man, I went down to the steamer N. B. Forrest, then get- 
ting ready to go to Decatur, Alabama. The darky rousta- 
bouts were carrying in the cargo on their backs. I applied 
to the mate: 
"Can yolt give me a job for a round trip on the For- 
rest?" 
He looked at me. 
"What doing?" 
"Roustabout." 
"Don't you do it," he said, "none but mules and nig- 
gers can stand it. It's hell." 
Raymond S. Speaks. 
u 
Walking" 
Knoxville, Tenn. — Friend Spears should amend the 
title of his meandering, say to "A Walk (When I Can't 
Ride) Down South." But he is interesting, and doing 
good work. Lewis Hopkins. 
Galesburg, N. D. — Mr. Spears' walk (in a boat) is 
very interesting to me. I venture to suggest that if he 
would make a similar journey down the Red River of the 
North, which is twenty miles east of here, he might not 
meet so many gun fighters, but would find points of much 
interest as to Indian history. 
Come and stand on the piazza of my store some of these 
beautiful mornings and hear the prairie chickens boom. I 
tell you it sounds nice. J. P. W. 
The Original Sportsmen's Frontier 
Exhibit. 
Here follows one of the most unique bills ever rendered 
to civilized man. It was presented to the State of Minne- 
sota by Mr. Charles Hallock to cover the installation ex- 
penses of his Frontier Exhibit at the New Orleans 
Cotton Exposition in 1884-5 : 
New Orleans, La., Nov. If), 1884. 
To Samuel E. Adams, Treasurer State Board Collective Exhibits, 
New, Orleans Exposition: 
To — 3 paddles. 
1 birch wigwam complete. 1 cedar torch. 
1 Indian baby cradle. 1 ball pitch. 
4 sets squaw frocks and shawls. 1 bag seed rice._ 
6 lay figures. 1 bag parched rice. 
2 rush mats. 3 sets shaganappi dog harness 
1 birch maple sugar mokuk. 1 Red River cart. 
1 birch maple sugar mould. 1 red toque. 
2 mokuks killikinnik. 2 sets shaganappi ox harness. 
1 bundle red willow sticks. 1 pair snowshoes. 
1 old toboggan. 1 capote. 
1 leather cariole. 1 pair beaded flannel leggins. 
1 good canoe. 4 pair moccasins. 
1 old canoe. 1 felt hat. 
1 fish spear, 2 nor'west sashes. 
1 bear skin. 1 pair corduroys. 
4 dozen cat-tails. 2 store wigs. 
1 dry hide. 1 pair leather (buck) breeches. 
2 pitch pine torches. 1 bundle horsehair for 6 wigs. 
3 Eskimo (huskies) dogs at $15 each. 
Paid for killing dogs, . - 
Taxidermist work on same. 
32 large and small photos of scenery, and portraits. 
3 large maps of Minnesota and Manitoba sundry properties. 
Received payment, 
Charles Hallock. 
[Mokuk is a bark basket without handle. Moulds are bark 
cornucopias, which are filled with melted maple sugar while in- 
verted, and are carried by a buckskin thong, which is .passed 
through the point of the cornucopia before it is filled, the end 
being knotted so that it will not slip through. When hard, the 
sugar holds it immovably. Killikinnik is the inner bark of the 
red willow, which is mixed with tobacco for smoking. Shaganappi 
is untanned hide.] 
This exhibit was the primitive forerunner of the many 
better like shows which have been' presented at sports- 
men's expositions held in Boston, New York, Chicago 
and elsewhere during the past decade. 
It is an interesting fact, attesting Mr. Hallock's me- 
chanical ingenuity, versatility and general knowledge of 
backwoods craft and aboriginal belongings gathered during 
his forty years' previous wanderings, that he set up this 
entire exhibit quite unaided, carpenter work and all. He 
set up his tepees, costumed his lay figures, painted their 
faces and wigged their heads, made his imitation snow 
and water for winter and summer seasons, laid out his 
wild rice paddock, fitted up his camp, posed his groups, 
rigged his dog teams, etc. One group represented squaws 
in canoe beating out wild rice in situ; another two' In- 
dians in canoe spearing fish. There was a home camp 
with squaws and papoose in standing cradle ; a Canadian 
traveling cariole with fur-clad occupant and driver be- 
hind on snowshoes; a tepee with its furniture, fire and 
primitive cooking apparatus; a Red River cart from 
northwestern Minnesota, peculiar to the fur trade* half a 
century ago. Of the quality of this primitive exhibit, it 
may be remarked of the figures in the fishing canoe that 
they were so close, to life that they engaged the discussion 
of a Missisippi "cracker" and his wife, who finally settled 
the question by prodding the spearman with the point of 
a cotton umbrella to see if the figure was real. As a 
sequence to this episode, they afterward tested the living 
group of the dignified Gall, wife and son (who formed 
part of the Dakota exhibit) , in the same way, with a reck- 
lessness which would have cost them their hair had the 
contretemps occurred on their native prairie a few years 
sooner. " > 
Associated with Mr. Hallock's exhibit was a reproduc- 
tion of Minnehaha Falls in real water, about half-size, by 
Prof. N. H. Winchell, of the Minnesota University. The 
whole was viewed with great interest, and elicited a 
full meed of praise from the newspapers of the period. 
All communications intended for Forest and Stream should 
always be addressed to the Forest and Stream Publishing Co., New 
York, and not to any individual connected with the paper. 
