THE PINE CREEK TRAGEDY
Love in a lumber camp is as full of romance as love in a king’s court; for wherever love sets up her throne the world must bow down and recognize the Queen of Hearts. Jack Cleveland had been Rhoda Carson’s accepted lover ever since she came to be cook’s assistant in the big camp run by Reuben Harris, and this was her second winter in the camp. They expected to get married when they went back to civilization in the spring.
In January Walter Jackson, of Maine, came to work on the job, and Rhoda was fairly hypnotized by his manly beauty and robust health. Before the first week was out Jack saw how things were going, but still hoped Rhoda would get over her infatuation and come back to her old love. But Rhoda quarreled with Jack deliberately and after due meditation. She even insinuated that she would be happier if he left the job.
Poor Jack was awfully broken up over the affair, and would have gone away with his broken heart, but he was foreman and couldn’t leave his employer until after the drive was out of the creek. For two months previous to the spring flood Rhoda did not speak to Jack, but spent a great many Sundays playing checkers with Walter in the big dining room, and her merry laughter went straight to poor Jack’s heart. He had given her up, but his love for her was greater than ever before.
The day the flood came, and they were starting the big jams of logs far up the creek, Rhoda stood on the high bank near the camp to watch the logs sluice through the narrow channel; for at this point the creek cut through a rise of ground, with banks of red clay on both sides rising as much as twelve feet above the water. It was very exciting to watch the great logs dart through this narrow channel and pitch over the falls 200 feet further down the stream.
While she watched, a great mass of logs came sweeping down the stream and jammed at the head of the narrow channel. Other logs piled up against the jam. Then the men came and boldly walked out on the tumbled jam and tried to pry it loose with their cant hooks. All at once the great jam started, and the men ran back over the logs to a low place in the bank and came ashore. No, not all the men came ashore, for Walter Jackson made a mis-step and fell with one leg pinned between two logs.
It was lucky for Walter that the jam stopped before reaching the falls, for he was unable to extricate himself, and would surely have gone over and lost his life. Even now he must have assistance before the jam started again, which was sure to occur, for the water was rising so fast behind the logs that it must surely break loose in a few minutes. The danger was so great that none of the men would venture on the jam again, and Walter was given up by those who stood helplessly on the bank and waited for the end.
At this moment Jack Cleveland came upon the scene and saw his rival lying helplessly out on the logs. Did a gleam of triumph flash through his heart? No one will ever know, for Rhoda came up to him and shouted in his ear: “Can you save him, Jack?” Ah, did he catch a gleam of the old time love in her blue eyes? And was it this that urged him on?
Taking a cant hook from one of the men, he leaped down upon the creaking and surging logs and carefully walked down to where Walter lay. With a strong pry on the log that pinned his rival fast, he parted the logs, then took hold of the prostrate man and lifted him to his feet. But his leg was injured so badly that Walter could not walk. Dropping his cant hook, Jack picked Walter up and staggered with his heavy load toward the bank. The men reached down and took Walter by the arms and were lifting him to safety when the great jam started. They saved Walter, but Jack was moving on with the logs!
Rhoda saw his danger and ran a few rods further down the stream, threw herself on the ground and reached far down to give Jack her hands. In his desperation he lay hold of them with a firm grasp and Rhoda braced herself for a mighty pull. But she was now too far over the bank to gain her poise again, and, with a scream that sounded above the roar of the water, she pitched down upon the head of her jilted lover, and together they went over the falls. He was holding her in his arms when they went over, and then the terrible jam of logs dashed down upon them, while the horrified men on the bank looked helplessly into each other’s eyes and groaned with mental pain.
In the village graveyard there are two stones standing side by side, where an old woodsman, now bent with age, visits every spring and places a bunch of flowers between the two. It is Walter Jackson. When he goes away the curious people go to the spot and read the card attached to the flowers: “Jack and Rhoda—They died for me. Even the gods could do no greater thing.”