etc. I told him how I had traveled down from West Tennessee on 
the log raft, but omitted my steamboat experience for fear he would 
think I was a tough guy. The next thing he asked was to see my 
hands. When I showed them to him he bursted out in a hearty 
laugh. When he had sufficiently quieted down to speak, he said, 
“There is one thing sure, you have been at work or making your living 
picking blackberries.” This remark stung a little. He asked if I 
could run an engine. I told him I never had but knew I could do 
anything I set my mind to do. He told me with such confidence in 
myself I surely could run the engine. “Now, my boy,” he said, 
“here is the situation. I have a man running my engine who is too 
lazy to get up when he sits down. He never gets steam up ready for 
work before 9 o’clock and he is too darned lazy to keep it up during 
the day and I have to get rid of him. I can teach you all about it in 
two or three days and I will pay $50.00 a month and board.” It all 
sounded good to me, so I accepted and the next morning Mr. Earn- 
hart and I went to his sawmill. He stayed with me most of the day,, 
giving me lessons on how to fire, pump water, etc. 
The next morning I had steam up at 6 A. M. and Mr. Earnhart 
didn’t have to instruct me any more. There wasn’t much to learn 
to fire with slabs and keep up steam and perhaps pack a pump once 
in a great while. 
The next chapter will land me in Arkansas, my long-hoped-for 
Happy Hunting Ground. Thank the Lord. 
26 
