Wit RURAL NEW-YORKER 
1459 
evidence of thanks in their stomach, and 
they had come with a supply of fresh 
food. As a peace offering to a superior 
race? Well, hardly. They were ready to 
trade what they had for tobacco and 
sugar. Each camp has its its little “van" 
or store where goods are sold to the men 
on credit, at rates that would make the 
ordinary middleman purple with envy. 
These Indians had brought three chick¬ 
ens, two rabbits, a partridge and a piece 
of venison. I have my doubts about the 
ownership of the chickens, and the laws 
regarding deer killing were at least on 
paper, but as anyone knows, Thanksgiv¬ 
ing is a time for a liberal construction of 
all laws. I shall not attempt to give 
Martin’s remarks in full when these In¬ 
dians came in and left the door wide open 
on his bread-making. There might have 
been a violent reaction if his hands and 
arms had not been well plastered with 
dough. Then he caught sight of the fresh 
meat. A cook lives to please his boarders. 
That is liis life, just as an exalted life to 
the poet means finding a goodly number 
of more or less insane people who like to 
read his rhymes. Martin knew it was 
Thanksgiving, and a little change from 
beans and potatoes would greatly improve 
the social atmosphere of our little com¬ 
munity. 
"Make a deal with ’em, Bert,’’ he sakl. 
“I see the makings of a good burgoo in 
that stuff.” 
They said I did well as an Indian 
trader. When I threw in a red handker¬ 
chief those Indians agreed to skin the rab¬ 
bits and dress the birds. I got those 
dishes out of the washboiler and wiped 
them clean. Then I scoured the inside of 
the boiler with wood ashes, and Martin 
was ready to start his burgoo. When the 
Indians saw what was in prospect they 
went out into the woods and pulled some 
herbs like cheekerberry and mint and 
brought them to us. 
“Make him smell good ! Bite tongue!” 
After watching Martin that day I think 
I could make quite an acceptable burgoo, 
if I were put to it. First, under direc¬ 
tion, I went out and shelled two ears of 
corn—bought for horse feed. Martin put 
this grain in warm water with a large 
handful of wood ashes and laid it away 
to “hull.” Then we cut the birds, the 
rabbits and the venison all into small 
pieces, poured in water and started cook¬ 
ing them. I peeled a peck of potatoes. 
In one corner of the potato cave we found 
a few quarts of onions. I never knew 
where they came from. They were badly 
sprouted, but we cut them up and drop¬ 
ped them in with the meat. A true 
burgoo should have carrots and turnips 
and parsnips, but Martin was an original 
chef, so we cracked several quarts of 
black walnuts and dropped the meats in 
with the onions and meat. Martin made 
a number of wads of dough which were to 
go in later as dumplings. A true burgoo 
ought to cook for a least eight hours. 
Then came Sam, up from the swamp, to 
say that we must bring a “snack” down 
to the men. They would knock off an 
hour earlier on account of Thanksgiving, 
and save the time coming and going from 
the shanty. So we decided to have the 
burgoo for supper. Martin took part of 
his dough and baked a great basketful of 
hot biscuits. I fried salt pork into crisp 
thick slices and saved the fat in a deep 
tin dish. As a special Thanksgiving fea¬ 
ture Martin mixed a batch of doughnut 
dough and I fried them in fat—it seemed 
a bushel at least. At a little before 12 
we were ready for our trip to the swamp. 
We carried the basket of food between 
us. I had the empty tin cups on a string 
around my neck, and Martin carried the 
big empty coffee pot. The men were in 
the swamp, trying to build a temporary 
dam across a little brook so as to back 
up the water and thus get the power need¬ 
ed to float the logs down. They dug a 
deep ditch across the swamp, cut cedar 
poles, put them side by side in the ditch 
and then banked the earth up against 
them. It was a hungry job, and Martin 
and I got a great reception. Sam had a 
big fire roaring. I filled the coffee pot at 
the spring, put in the coffee and set the 
pot in one corner of the fire. The coffee 
was boiling almost before we knew it. 
The men sat around on logs and stumps 
—a biscuit in one hand and a piece of 
pork in the other, tearing away at their 
food, with that touch of appetite which 
makes animals of us all. Close beside us 
two yoke of oxen chewed their dinner of 
hay as contentedly as the rest of us. 
They had much to be thankful for, be¬ 
cause if this new dam proved capable of 
holding the water, the power of the flood 
would carry the logs down to the river 
and save Buck and Bright many a weary 
strain against the yoke. I have looked 
in upon many a Thanksgiving feast, but 
I do not remember one where the food 
was more thoroughly enjoyed than the 
bread and pork and black coffee on that 
cold, cheerless day in the cedar swamp. 
There wasn’t a crumb left for us to carry 
back when Sam stood on a stump, waved 
his arms and shouted: 
“Hurrah, boys—hack to the job!” 
Somehow* even if Sam were to be elect¬ 
ed President, or a dignified bishop of some 
church. I should picture him as waving 
his arms and calling “Hurrah, boys!” 
That was his job in the world. H. w. c, 
(To be continued.) 
Reading maketh a full man, confer¬ 
ence a ready man, and writing an exact 
man.—Bacon. 
Waterproof Cloth Overshoe ^ 
A sheet of pure gum rubber between 
the wool fleece inner lining and cash- 
merette outer fabric makes ‘Watershed* 
every top. Always warm 
le. Converse extension 
White Tire Sole and 
‘Stubgard’ toe and heel 
make it next to impos¬ 
sible to snag or scuff up- 
Cuhmerette Upper 
Extra Sheet ( 
of Rubber 
j Friction 
. y* t Vamp 
t Fleece 
// Lining 
pers. Not quite as heavy 
an overshoe as the ‘Nebraska* 
shown below, but gives the A 
long, hard service you ex- M 
pect, and get, from all J&r 
Big “C” Line JW 
footwear. Jmr 
RUBBER 
"Something just as 
good” CAN’T be 
sold for any less! 
Don*t accept a substi¬ 
tute. Only the genuine 
has the Big ”C” on 
the White Tire Sole! 
Ask Your Dealer! 
Find out, also, about the other Big “C” leaders, 
the ‘Ruff Shod* boot and the ‘Warmfut’ gaiter 
and ‘Caboose’ work rubber combination. Rub¬ 
ber footwear for the women folks and youngsters, 
too. Made by Converse and there isn’t any better. 
If your dealer hasn’t the complete line he can 
quicklyget whatyouwant from our nearest office. 
Write for circular and give your dealer’s name. 
Converse Rubber Shoe Co. 
Boston Chicago New York 
Nebraska 9 
All Rubber Overshoe 
A sturdier, warmer overshoe for 
heavy work around the farm can’t be 
made! Extra warm wool lining and a 
gusset reinforced against chafing of 
buckles. Easy and light on the feet. 
Always comfortable. Heavy exten¬ 
sion sole and ‘Stubgard’ toe and 
heel. When the snow is deep wear 
‘Nebraska’ over our ‘Warmfut* 
cold-proof gaiter. Ask your dealer 
about this combination. 
Factory MALDEN, MASS. 
Philadelphia Syracuse 
Write for Book 
Today 
FARM WAGONS 
High or low wheels—steel or wood—wide 
or narrow tires. Steel or wood wheels to fit any 
running gear. Wagon parts of all kinds. Write 
today for free catalog illustrated in colors. 
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I . 
I Name. 
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Addreta-- 
When you •write advertisers mention The R. N.-Y. and you’ll get a 
quick reply and a “square deal.” See guarantee editorial page. 
Farm Co-operation 
is a protest against the monopoly 
and other oppressive methods of 
organized distributors and the 
capital stock companies. Can 
farmers afford to adopt the policies 
in their own organizations that 
they denounce in others ? 
RGrANIZUD 
OPERATION 
By 
JOHN J. DILLON 
T HIS SUBJECT is treated fully 
but concisely in the new book 
“Organized Co-operation.’’ Farmers 
must understand these questions if 
they are to direct their own organiza¬ 
tions, and no organization can be 
co-operative unless the members direct 
it themselves. 
The book will be sent 
post paid for $1.00 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
333 West 30th Street, New York 
