Auo. .9, 1905,1 FOREST AND STREAM. 147 
man who probes for a bullet to-day is a criminal, nothing 
less. I said combat the shock. Most persons when 
wounded by a projectile Avill experience more or less 
shock. Very often this is sufficient to cause death when 
the extent cf the injury would not do so. Shock per se 
is a condition of cerebral senemia and should be treated as 
such. The head should be lowered and the extremities 
stroked toward the heart. The patient who is suffering 
from surgical shock is bathed in perspiration, the head 
and extremities feel cold, the mind, while clear, is anxious 
and the face shows the mental process. The heart be- 
comes very irregular and may become so faint as to be 
‘scarcely perceptible at the wrist. These symptoms may 
be brought about by any injury, but they become more 
pronounced in gunshot accidents. The sufferer from 
surgical shock is a very ill person indeed, and will require 
all the cool coliected energies of his companions to save 
him. Place hi n with llte head lowered below the com- 
mon body level, put hot applications about the body; give 
him frequently repeated doses of hot brandy or some 
spirit and water. Inject into the forearm at least l-20 
gr. of strychnia. Carefully note the pulse and if the 
strychnia does not act in thirty minutes repeat. This will 
be about all that you can do in these cases except that 
you should not let the patient himself .know that you are 
alarmed for his condition. 
Burns are divided by surgical writers into three de- 
grees. We will be interested principally with that of the 
second degree, where there is a very decided blister. 
Should you burn yourself severely in camn, at once seek 
to exclude the air. There are many agents that will ac- 
complish this purpose. The one at our command is cor- 
rosive sublimate solution and plain gauze. At once make 
up a strong solution of the tablets and soak the gauze in 
it, applying several layers ; holding the whole on with a 
roller bandage. As soon as the blisters are well formed 
puncture them with a clean needle and allow the serum 
to escape. Dust the whole surface with campho-phenique 
powder and cover with gauze and bandage. As soon as 
the new skin forms beneath the blister you may remove 
the dead skin. 
One of the most distressing and painful accidents that 
can befall , the hunter is a splinter penetrating the flesh. 
This very often happens and it is exceedingly difficult to 
remove the offending substance without causing much 
pain. Here is about the only place that I can recall that 
I it will be necessary for you to use cocaine, and if your 
fortitude is equal to the occasion it will be far better 
that you do not use it even here. Pour out a few crystals 
s of cocaine in a teaspoon and fill the spoon with warm 
water. When the drug is dissolved draw the solution 
into your hypodermic syringe and inject about the im- 
bedded splinter. Make several injections and when the 
skin is fully numb cut down to the splinter and remove 
' with the sharp-pointed forceps. Let the wound bleed 
fully, as that removes the excess of the drug, and many 
persons are very susceptible to the action of cocaine and 
many distressing accidents have been occasioned by its 
use. This same procedure can apply to an imbedded 
fish-hook, except that in removing a hook you must never 
attempt to withdraw it but rather shove it on through, 
then cut off the barb and remove. 
Sprains and bruises where the skin is not broken may 
^ best be treated by cold applications and bandaging. Keep 
the injured member in cold water for at leasi six hours, 
then run a roller bandage tightly about it and rest. 
I realize that the treatment that I shall advocate for 
dislocations will not meet the approbation of my profes- 
sional brethren, but then it is the only method that can 
be successfully pursued in the tiniber^ — that is, main 
strength. The most common dislocation is that of the 
shoulder, and when present the only method that I can 
suggest is that you lay the patient down upon his back, 
place your heel in the hollow of his arm, grasp his wrist 
and pull. When you hear a decided snap you may feel 
. sure that the dislocated member is in place. 
I have purposely reserved the discussion of fractures 
i for the last from the reason that fractures constitute the 
hHe noir of surgeons, and from the better reason that I 
wanted to warn you to do as little as possible for this 
class of injuries which are, alas! of too common occur- 
i rence. In extreme instances it may be necessary for you 
I to attempt to make a permanent repair of a fractured 
I member. In the vast majority of cases all that you will 
' be expected to do is to prepare the sufferer so that he 
[ may be comfortably transported to skilled assistance. The 
I fracture of an arm will present comparatively little diffi- 
[ culty. So also will any of the common fractures that 
j do not interfere with locomotion. It is in such frac- 
f tures as those of the upper third of the thigh that make 
[ trouble for the woodsman. It would be folly for you to 
attempt a complete reduction (setting) of the bone. Far 
better that you never try to put the fractured bones back 
in place. Let your whole effort be directed toward mak- 
ing the patient as easy as possible. This advice will ap- 
ply to all fractures as well as those of the femur. 
Let me relate to you a little incident and from it you 
may derive the lesson that I intend to inculcate. A man 
had the misfortune to fracture his left thigh while work- 
ing in a mine some thirty miles from the nearest wagon 
road and sixty miles from the closest town. I was called 
to attend him, but the messenger failed to inform me as 
to the extent of the injury. In fact, he knew but very 
little about it. The man was hurt in the mine and that 
was all the information for my guidance. I hastily got 
together such surgical appliances as I deemed necessary 
and we set out. Upon arrival at the mine I found the 
patient as before described. It was very evident that the 
man could not get the care necessary to his recovery 
while there at the mine ; therefore it became a problem 
how to get him out without too much suffering. After 
some minutes of sober thought I hit upon the following 
plan, and as it worked successfully, you may' follow the 
same scheme if ever similarly situated: I went out and 
cut down a small white cedar tree (any loose barked 
tree will do as well) and removed a section of the bark 
long enough to envelop the entire leg from ankle to thigh. 
This I fitted to the leg, cutting holes for the joints and 
making the whole just a trifle smaller than the limb. 
Tearing up some old cotton-lined comforters I padded the 
improvised splint well and placed the injured member in 
it, running a broad bandage over the whole. You will 
at once recognize that I had the limb fixed beyond the 
possibility of motion. Then I went into the timber and 
felled a somewhat larger tree of cedar and removed a 
section of its bark about seven feet in length. I cut this 
bark in two, making a trough somewhat larger than the 
body of a man. Then I cut two fir poles twelve feet in 
length and placed them alongside the bark trough, lashing 
them firmly with ropes. Within the hollow trough 1 
placed several blankets and deposited my injured man in 
the bed. After lashing him firmly so that he would not 
roll, I swung the stretcher thus improvised between the 
pack saddles of two of the most reliable mules in the 
camp. Thus equipped we sat out in the gray twilight of 
dawn for the wagon road thirty-five miles distant. Up 
one mountainside and down another we journeyed all 
day, sometimes my patient was progressing on his head 
and again upon his feet, but when darkness gathered 
around us we arrived at the nearest ranch house, the 
beginning of the wagon road. I cannot say that the 
journey was made with the same degree of comfort that 
would be experienced in a Pullman coach, but it was very 
easy for him, and all that long, tiresome journey I never 
heard him utter a murmur of discontent. 
I believe that this will conclude the remarks that I have 
to make. I am fully cognizant of their weakness, yet I 
cannot H'elp thinking that they might, perhaps, assist some 
brother of the wild should he be in distress. Several 
years of experience as surgeon upon the uttermost fron- 
tier of the United States has rendered me qualified in 
some measure to speak to you of surgery upon the fron- 
tier. I shall be only too glad to answer any question 
addressed to nie by tlie family, always presuming that I 
am not infallible and as others of the human family, . 
liable to err. 
Floating Down the Mississippi. 
On a Rafting Towboat. 
When I quit the Medicine Man’s shanty boat, it 
seemed good, to be moving in the i6ft. blue skiff once 
more. I had felt all the riverman’s nervousness in an 
unwieldy craft, and some more of my own. A sunk 
cabin boat is no thing to be joyful over, and the waves 
slam up against the sides of one afloat in a way that 
jars the contents till they rattle. Nevertheless, a cabin 
boat has a roof, and even after a cyclone has ripped 
half the roof off, unskillful repairs are enough to pre- 
vent the roof from leaking very badly, and it must be 
a poor shelter indeed that is worse than no shelter at 
all on the big river. I thought as much when I rowed 
away down the mile of narrow Yazoo against the wind, 
and the south was ominous with clouds whose silver 
lining was not toward the earth. 
I found Dr. White on his boat, and he had a mast 
made for my boat. 
“You better try hit,” he said, “you’ll find it’s a great 
convenience if the wind’s right.” I put it in my skiff 
and sat down to watch the clouds. A tall, gray, oldish 
man was on the boat, and tied to the stern was his 
skiff. Dr. White introduced him as clerk John Elliott, 
of the steamer F. Weyerhaeuser, which was bringing 
down a great log raft. 
“There’s no rawhiding on that boat,” the doctor said, 
“the crew is all white.” 
It was an opportunity of seeing a log raft in motion 
which was not to be missed, and I waited the coming 
of the log raft, inviting _ myself to an interview with 
Capt. Reed. At last, miles up stream, we spied the 
steamer coming. There were two steamers, one was a± 
the head of the raft, and lashed broadside to the head 
of the raft. This steamer was the H. C. Brockman, and 
from its position is called the “bug” in common with 
other boats whose exclusive mission is to aid in steer- 
ing unwieldy tows. 
The rising river was flowing fast, and the big Weyer- 
haeuser was pushing end-on at the stern of the raft, 
so the tow approached rapidly. The clerk and I made 
our preparations for a sudden departure, and ran out 
to the tow at the Vicksburg bend. I went aboard and 
saw the captain. 
Captain Reed proved to be a tall, smooth-faced man, 
with hands of a size to get a comfortable grip on a 
4in. cable, eyes to see at night, and a long, rather wide, 
bony face. He smiled on the river rat tolerantly, and 
no less amiably on the newspaperman. I was welcome 
to stay with him and see the handling of one of the 
largest log rafts ever towed down the Mississippi. It 
was over 1,200 feet long, and about 216 feet wide, say 
five blocks long and one wide, or about six acres. It 
was from Hollybrook Landing and bound to the JeL 
ferson Sawmill Co. just above New Orleans. 
There were said to be 60,907 sticks in the raft, and 
over 2,000,000 feet. There seemed to be some uncer- 
tainty as to the exact amount, for the towing of rafts 
is done by the thousand feet, and Capt. Reed and the 
c...mpany’s. agent, W. H. MePike, were at variance in 
regard to the amount. In any event, it was a good 
big raft, and looked its size. It was the first thing 
human I had seen which compared to the wide expanse 
of the river below Cairo. Memphis bridge looked 
spidery, steamboats lost, cabin boats like flecks and row- 
boats mere spots. But the raft had a satisfying big- 
ness, as seen from the pilot house of the push-boat. 
The logs were all paralell with the course taken, save 
the outside ones. Long strands of logs were laid along 
each side of the main raft and looked like fringe. On 
the raft were many ropes, stretched lengthwise, and 
binding the strands of the raft into a single mass. The 
ropes were about a mile long, and radiated from the 
bow of the Weyerhaeuser to the utmost limits of the 
raft in spidery lines. At each end of the raft were 
poles standing on end, over whose tops ropes were 
passed from the bow and stern strands of logs. The crew 
called the poles “derricks” and said that the ropes over 
the tops of the poles kept the ends of the raft from 
diving. A further precaution against logs diving was 
the use of “saplings” six or eight inches through and 
fifty feet or so long. One end of a sapling was fixed 
under or fastened to the outside binder of one of the end 
strands, and the middle was held up by a log used as 
a fulcrum, the other end of the sapling being bent down 
to the logs. All the strands of logs, bridged over by 
these stiffeners, were fastened to it by ropes. Here 
and there in the middle of the raft were long saplings 
laid across strasads of logs. These saplings were 
fastened to binders and were neces.sary on account of 
logs attempting to sink in sections owing to accumula- 
tions of mud or becoming water-soaked. 
The logs were either spiked or chain-dogged to the 
binders. Two four-inch nails with a foot or more of 
chain linking them together comprise a chain-dog, and 
the chain over a binder holds the log to it, but allows 
“play” enough to prevent violent loosening strains. 
Spikes are less expensive at first cost, but opinion dif- 
fers as to the economy of chain-dogs. On the Holston 
River I saw rafts made with eye-spikes and bound to- 
gether with a single length of steel wire. I asked Cap- 
tain Reed why he didn’t do that way. 
“Because,” he answered, “the raft would tie itself into 
a hard knot should it ever bow in an eddy, or hit the 
bank. Sometimes rafts hit the bank. Then the thing 
happens those derricks were put in to prevent. The raft 
rolls up then like you’ve seen a nigger roll up a runner 
prpet in a hotel hallway. Fancy steel cables tangled 
in a mass of rafted logs!” 
The captain expressed the fervent wish that I should 
not see a log raft roll up that way, at least not on this 
trip. 
Rilot John Rollins was at the wheel most of the time, 
although Captain Reed occasionally held it for a while. 
The captain spent most of his time in the pilot house 
watching the river and the raft’s relations to it, with 
eyes more or less like searchlights. From the stern 
of the Weyerhaeuser a r.ope ran to each stern corner 
of the raft. In a straight reach, the Weyerhaeuser was 
kept going ahead, pushing the raft before it, but at 
bends the pretty raft work was done. To keep the 
mass from bowing up against a bank required a deal 
of calculation based on long experience with the Mis- 
sissippi’s perplexing currents in general and with the 
ones in the particular, reach at hand. Preparations for 
a bend were begun about 5 miles before the bend was 
reached. The bells in the engine room were kept jingl- 
ing, and the electric cable leading along the raft to the 
“bug” was talked over or signaled over at intervals, as 
the case demanded. The “bug” had one business to 
attend to, and that was to help hold the bow of the 
raft off the bank. The “bug” faced the starboard side 
of the raft, and when its wheel started the bow of the 
raft slowly moved to port or starboard until the logs 
lay in long curved lines. Meantime, the Weyerhaeuser 
would swing its stern to port or starboard by means of 
the two stern lines and hold back or go ahead, and thus 
the raft was moved across the current enough to keep 
clear of the bank, or to run into an eddy for a landing. 
The Weyerhaeuser was simply a great big rudder, the 
steam power but emphasizing the steering qualities. 
When it came time to land on the first afternoon, the 
eddy just above Ursina light was chosen. The pilot 
knew how long the raft was — within ten feet — and he 
knew how long the eddy was at that stage of the water 
within as many feet. The boats worked the huge raft 
into the eddy slowly, and the raft crew, under Captain 
Young, scattered along the starboard side of the raft 
half way to the bug. Evidently one of the most pictur- 
esque operations of rafting was at hand, the checking 
of 11,000 tons or so of cottonwood logs. 
At each starboard end of the raft was a leadsman, 
with a long pole, who reached for bottom with it, 
watched by the pilot, who had the leadsmen’s cries 
of “No bottom,” or whatever depth was found to go by. 
Part of a great cable, four inches in diameter, I be- 
lieve, and probably nearly a mile long was run across 
the raft to a big skiff and a pile three feet high coiled 
in the stern, ten men handling the squirming, snake- 
like line. The men worked quietly under raft Captain 
Young — “No raw-hiding or hell-whooping on this 
boat.” One man whistled a snatch of the song, “Let 
the Women Do the Work.” 
It was growing dusky, and the searchlight was turned 
on. By its light the captain and pilot scanned the wil- 
lows the whole length of the raft. The captain shouted, 
“Hold that pole on the bottom and see if she’s moving 
any” — this, when sighting with the searchlight on the 
willows, failed to show the motion. Finally the captain 
called out, “That’ll do with the sounding; run your line 
out.” A couple of lines were made fast, and the men 
came in. It seemed like picnic work. In the morning 
the ropes were hauled in by means of the capstan, the 
scene lighted by the searchlight, for it was before day. 
One bend was so short that the Brockman was turned 
around and headed bow toward the raft to push it back, 
while the Weyerhaeuser v/ent astern full speed in order 
to swing the raft around the bend, as a hammer-thrower 
swings the hammer by the handle. 
There were places in the raft where the logs were 
submerged over wide patches. At intervals members 
of the crew went out to scrape the mud off them with 
“brooms,” or wooden hoes. It was astonishing to me 
to see how much mud accumulated on the logs and 
submerged them. The specific gravity of the logs was 
so near that of the water that a thin film of mud on 
some of the sticks was sufficient to sink them, and ■ 
would have done so had not the other more buoyant 
losrs held them up by the binders. At that, half a raft 
would sink under the accumulation of mud if the logs 
were not swept with the hoes. But there was not much 
work for the crew to do in floating, and when’ fog 
drove us to the bank at intervals and held us there they 
entertained themselves at craps. MePike, the company’s 
agent, remarked of one successful player that “If Finley 
were to fall overboard, he would come up with a fish 
in his pocket.” 
Not all the landings were as easy as the first one. 
Several times fog drove the rafters to shore in eddies 
that would not have been chosen otherwise. Then the 
handy line was run ashore, and the skiff crew would take 
a turn around a couple of dozen willows as large as 
one’s arm. As the strain of the raft came on the line, 
the six turns around “niggerheads”_ would slip and the 
smoke would fly out of the turns in thin blue clouds. 
A man stood by the niggerhead throwing water on it, 
so that the fire, which accompanied the srnoke, wouldn’t 
burn the rope. 'On land the encircled willows crashed 
and were tied into sheaves by the drawing and tighten- 
ing of the ; ropes around them— and this though the 
raft seemed hardly to move. 
MePike said that towing the logs was rated at $1.50 
a thousand— about $3,000 for taking this one to the 
mill. As the buyer of the company, he watched the 
