THE FORKS OF THE RIVER TOE 319 
shining crystals for ladies' necklaces and rings and 
brooches. 
Wild as parts of the Southern mountains yet re- 
main, it is seldom one can get any real sense of the 
perils of primitive life. The wolves are gone, the bears 
are almost gone, the larger rivers are being spanned 
by safe bridges, contests with lightning are only for 
those peculiarly favored of the gods, new methods of 
lumbering are retiring the old-time logging train; 
yet it is in the forest that we can get closest to the 
eternal conflict between nature and man carried on 
by the early settlers, in the forest where the great 
immobile trees resent, as it were, the power that lays 
them low. Even to be an onlooker at the conflict is 
exciting, as one discovered that day in the woods 
when one sat down to rest near the upper edge of a 
rough, newly made trough that extended down the 
mountain-side. As far as one could see, on all sides, 
stood large trees, oaks, tulips, and chestnuts. Shouts 
were heard in the distance and loud crashing sounds. 
Nearer came the noise, and then down the steep 
hollow of the trough a yoke of oxen moved slowly, 
very slowly into view. They were straining forward 
until they were almost on their knees. Foam hung 
from their mouths, their eyes bulged, the veins stood 
out like cords under their sides and on their legs. A 
long whiplash came suddenly, out of space appar- 
ently, and stung their panting flanks, a man's voice 
shouted commands, and the cattle strained yet 
harder down the slope. 
Behind them came a second yoke of oxenj fast- 
