CHAPTER VI
THE LUMBER CAMP
"The LeBlancs again!" exploded Garry. "I thought that we had seen thelast of that outfit. It seems that we are destined to run afoul of them.Fortunately this Baptiste does not know about us, unless he has runacross his brother lately. That does not seem likely, for Jean is safelybeyond the border still. There are few places where he is safe, for heis wanted in several different parts of the state. Still we must nottake anything for granted. We probably were seen by Baptiste when wewere instrumental in saving Howells from a bad beating or worse theother night."
"How are we going to find out where the rendezvous is tonight?" askedDick.
"It seems to me that the best thing to do is to keep watch of the redheaded cookee; that is, you two chaps do that, while I will watch forthe man that told him of the appointment. You boys haven't seen him, soyou cannot keep on his trail. You can take turns keeping in the vicinityof the cookee. If possible you might try and make acquaintance with him,although I doubt if you will go very far, since he seems to be a surlysort of a chap. Still, there's no harm in trying. When it comes time forthe meeting, I should say that it would be best only for me to followthem. I can understand what they are saying, and one of us could followunobserved, where three would be spotted in a minute. You chaps canplead to being tired after your hike and the work of building the shack,and that will give us a chance to get to the new shanty early, and so beunobserved."
At that moment they heard the sound of a tin pan being vigorously beatenwith a stick, and immediately Dick set up a shout:
"There's the dinner signal, or my ears and stomach fail me."
"For once I am ready to eat a good big meal. You are not the only onewith an appetite today, Dick," said Garry, and the three raced for thecookhouse.
As they neared the cook tent, they saw the lumberjacks piling towardsthe place to eat. They were a sizable group of men, brawny of arm andlarge of frame.
Most of them gave the boys a curious glance as they flocked into theshanty. The boys thought that they were to eat in the common diningroom, but found that they were to eat in a separate room that had beenpartitioned off from the large room. Here ate the manager, thetimekeeper and cashier, and when he was present, the timber scaler.
The food that was served them was the same as that given the men.Barrows explained this by saying that it kept the men in a better humorif they knew that the bosses were getting the same fare as they.
"Lumberjacks are just like so many children," Barrows said. "They arealways on the lookout for something to quarrel about, and are almost astemperamental as grand opera stars. Just now work is scarce, so theykeep better behaved; but in the winter time, when all the camps aregoing full blast, you have to be careful and treat them properly, elsethey will simply depart for some city where there is a woods agency andbe sent off to another camp. That is one of the evils of lumbering, theagencies. They often try to breed trouble in the camps so that the menwill quit. Then they pack them off to another logging tract and collecta commission from the camp owner for furnishing him with men. If thiswas winter I would think that was what was the trouble here."
Garry looked up in surprise. He had no idea that Barrows would admitthat everything was not as it should be at the camp.
He knew that the eyes of the manager were on him, nevertheless he feltthat an answer was expected of him, or rather a question.
"Why, is there anything the trouble at this camp? From what I've seen Ishould say that everyone was working busily and everything was lovely."
At this the manager brightened up considerably. It seemed to be thatthis was the kind of a remark that he was looking for, and he made hasteto answer:
"Oh, there is nothing radically wrong here, I only meant thatoccasionally there seemed to be a sort of dissatisfied air on the partof the men, but it may only be worry on my part."
Garry was certain that the entire conversation was brought about in amanner to delve into the feelings of the boys, and see how they regardedeverything. Garry did not believe that their mission was penetrated, butthought that the guilty conscience of the manager would make him see anenemy in every person he did not know.
The dinner was plain but good. It consisted of pea soup, potatoes, someroasted beef, and coffee. The fare at a lumber camp is anything butvaried. The aforementioned articles, roast pork, stew and beans, witheither white bread baked at the camp, or great slabs of johnny cake withmolasses in lieu of syrup was the general thing. Coffee was served atevery meal.
"For breakfast we have bacon and toast and coffee in our dining room,because the men have all eaten and started for work by the time we areready for breakfast," said Barrows. "Now we will go into the other room,and I will give you boys a general introduction to the men. That willsave you any annoyance when you go about the camp."
He led the way into the larger room, and stepping on a bench announced:
"Men, these three boys are going to camp here for awhile. This one,"pointing to Garry, "is the son of the owner. The other two are hisfriends. I wanted you to meet them so that you may do all you can tomake their visit here a good one."
Garry thought to himself, "Yes, you are also showing us to those in yourcrew so they will watch their step while we are around." A good many ofthe men just sized the boys up, a few hollered good-natured remarks atthem, while several pressed forward and shook the hands of the boys,remarking they had worked many years for Mr. Boone and were glad to meethis son and his friends.
The three chums took especial care to fix these men in their minds, forthe same thought came to them all,--that if trouble arose, it was likelythat these men would prove loyal friends in need. Barrows detailed someof the men to bring back the necessary lumber for the shanty, and thenthe men went back to their work for the afternoon.
Soon they heard a chugging sound and presently a tractor hove intosight, dragging a broad-wheeled cart on which was the lumber. Themanager came up, leading a couple of men with some heavy rolls of tarredpaper, and all was ready to build the shanty.
Sandy, the big Airedale, was gravely watching the boys when the men withthe tar paper arrived, and one of them seeing the dog, remarked:
"How would you chaps like to go coon hunting tonight, that is if yourpup will trail a coon?"
This was just what the boys did not want to do that night, so Garryhastily made the excuse that they were tired from their march and thework of throwing up the shanty, but said they would be glad to go thefollowing night.
This seemed all right to the men, who proceeded to make friends withSandy, that is as much as that sedate dog would let them, for anAiredale makes few friends outside of his own family circle.
The work of putting up the shanty was done in a short time since therewere so many workers, and the addition of two bunks made it complete.
Barrows volunteered the information that there was a spare table in theoffice, and a bench and a couple of chairs that could be taken from thedining room.
"Then all we have to do is to cut some balsam boughs for our bunks andwe will be as snug as bugs in a rug," announced Phil.
Phil and Dick were dispatched to get the boughs, while Garry talked ofinconsequential matters with Barrows until their return.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in wandering about the cutting. Itwas a revelation to the boys, the sight of the great timber falling inthe exact direction that it was wanted. The boys noted that the cut wasmade just as Howells had told them, and they wondered whether or not anyspikes would be encountered.
The felling of a tree is an interesting process. The swing begins on theside where the cutters do not want the tree to fall. Then when the sawis better than two-thirds of the way through the trees, the swampers oraxemen take their stand at either side of the tree, and make a cut atrifle under the line where the saw is coming through. This is done tocause the tree to fall on that side. The axemen work like clockwork,using a double bitted axe,--that is one that has two blades,--and makethe chips positively
fly, one drawing his axe away just in time to letthe other man make a blow. Just as the moment comes for the tree tofall, the cry of "tim-ber-r-r-r" is raised by one of the axemen and thisis the signal for all to be out of the way as the great tree falls witha crash that shakes the ground for many feet around.
Following the falling of the timber, the trimmers begin their work.Starting at the base end of the tree, one on each side, they walk up thesides of the fallen monarch of the forest, and trim the branches off asfar as they are able. Many of the branches on the under side of the treeare broken in the fall, others are only splintered and many of them arejust bent. A dozen men then seize their peavy sticks, as they are calledin Maine, or cant dogs in some other places where lumbering is done, androll the tree over. A peavy stick is a heavy pole about six feet long,with a sharp iron point at the end. About a foot from this point isattached a loose curved iron arm very much like one side of an ice-man'stongs. This swings back and forth from the handle. The men prod the ironpoint into the trunk of the tree, and then catch the swinging end of thehook into the trunk. This gives them almost a handle to the tree, andthe long pole furnishes them the necessary leverage. At a word from theman on the end, all give a mighty heave, and the tree is rolled over,when the remaining branches are lopped off.
The lumberjacks are experts in the use of the peavy stick, and it is apretty sight to see them load a great trunk onto a flat car to be drawnaway. The method is almost the same as that used in turning over atrunk,--only just half of the men fix their sticks. They give it half aturn and then hold it in position on the skids, while the other half geta grip and start turning. In this way, turn and turn about, they rollthe log right up the skids and onto the car.
In this instance the trunks were not hauled to the mill on a car; achain was attached instead, and then one of the baby tractors was usedto drag it over the ground to the mill. There were a half a dozen ofthese tractors at the camp. Three were constantly employed in draggingthe cut timber to the mill, while the other three were used to draw theflat cars to the railroad tracks, a half a dozen miles from the camp.
After watching the felling of several trees, the boys essayed trimming,and while they were by no means unskillful at it, caused many a laughamong the men because of the time they took. Whereas they often took twoor three strokes to take off a branch, the skilled woodsmen with oneswift, clean cut, lopped off a good thick branch.
The boys took their chaffing good naturedly and thereby won a lot ofregard from the jacks, many of whom were ready to sneer at "city chaps."
From the timbering they went to the sawmill. Here they found a busy whirof activity. Logs were rolled onto the carriage and sent down the plane,while the great circular saw bit its way through the length of the treelike a hot knife through a pat of butter.
The carriage then runs back to where it started, while a mechanicaldevice shoves the log sideways as many inches as is desired and thecarriage starts on its journey again. This is done until the log hasbeen "sliced into planks." These are then piled on one side, waiting forthe flat cars to be loaded and hauled away by the tractor.
This operation that has been described entails more labor than thewinter logging, for then the trees are simply cut and rolled to one sideof the river. This continues throughout the winter until the cutting hasbeen complete and then they wait for the ice to go out. As soon as theice breaks up, the logs are tumbled into the river and floated down thestream. For days they float down the river to the mills below, which arealways located on the river banks, and here they are ground up and madeinto pulp from which paper is later manufactured.
The logs are distinguished one from another when they reach theirjourney's end by branding, much as the horses that roam the feedingplaces in the West are known by their brand. Every lumberman has hismark, and a gash is made at one end of the log, and on this is made themark.
For example, Garry's father had his mark AB, which stood for hisinitials. In this instance it was not necessary to brand the lumber, forit all came from the same cutting and was transported directly to thesame destination.
After supper that night, the men gathered outside their bunkhouses,playing cards or simply leaning back against the wall and smoking. Oneof the French Canadian lumberjacks produced a mouth organ, and another abattered guitar, and those who spoke the French joined in an old"chanson" or song.
Soon one of the Americans, seizing on a lull in the conversation andsinging, struck up an old-time lumberjack song, and in a moment thewhole camp had joined in. The lumberjack songs are mostly about campevents, the fight for the river at the spring flood, some great battlethat took place between two rival lumber camps, for your true lumberjackis as ready to fight as to eat.
Where these songs come from, no one knows. They are as old as thelumbering industry in Maine, and generally are written with a chorus atthe end. One man sings the verse and then the camp joins in the chorusin a thundering tone. There is generally more noise than melody, atleast in the choruses, for a man that has a fair voice always sings theverse part. Some of these songs are of a seemingly endless duration, butthe lumberjacks never tire of singing them.
As the men sang the moon came up, and made a scene that was long to beremembered by the boys. In spite of their enjoying the evening, theykept a sharp eye on the movements of the red haired cookee, although hemade no move to disappear. The boys figured that he probably would notuntil the camp was asleep. Soon the men began to yawn, and turn into thebunkhouse, while the boys bade goodnight to the manager and repaired totheir own shack. They turned in, and as soon as all seemed quiet, Philstarted out, and walking in the shadows, made for the spot he had pickedthat afternoon as being a safe place to watch the exit from thebunkhouse.
Garry and Dick dropped off to sleep, and were only awakened some timelater by hearing Phil climb into his bunk. In a moment they were wideawake.
"What news," whispered Garry.
"Go on to sleep," advised Phil in a disappointed tone. "The LeBlancnever showed up, and I've lost three hours' sleep for nothing.Goodnight!"