The Pioneer Woodsman as He Is Related to Lumbering in the Northwest

by George Henry Warren

Having wound the strap carefully around my own body, and having made sure that the ends did not protrude, I bade my friends, including the hunter, good day, got into my canoe and pushed out into the lake. This proved to be the last time I ever saw the hunter, but it was not the last time that I ever thought of the incident.

In justice to the Indians as compared with white men, I am glad to be able to say, that, after mingling with them more or less for many years, and becoming sufficiently familiar with their language to be able to use it on all necessary occasions, I believe that the Indians are as honest and as honorable as the men with whom they mingle, who have not a copper skin.

Captain Martin was the last white man whom any one of our party saw for four months. Winter closed in on us before the beginning of November. The snow became very deep, so that it was absolutely necessary to perform all of our work on snowshoes. The winter of 1874 and 1875 is shown to have been the coldest winter in Minnesota, of which there is any record, beginning with 1819 up to, and including, 1913.

The party was mostly composed of men who had had years of experience on the frontier, and who were inured to hardship. With a few, however, the experience was entirely new, and, except that they were looked after by the more hardy, they might have perished. As it was, however, not one man became seriously ill at any time during this severe winter's campaign.

All of the principal men of the party wore light duck suits, made large enough to admit of wearing heavy flannel underwear beneath them. Either boot-packs or buckskin moccasins, inside of which were several pairs of woolen socks, composed the footwear. Boot-packs or larigans, as they are commonly called by the lumber-jack, are tanned in a manner that makes them very susceptible to heat, and the leather will shrivel quickly if near an open fire. It cost one of the party several pairs of boot-packs before he could learn to keep sufficiently far away from the open fire, on returning to camp from his work. It will be surmised by the reader that he was one of the inexperienced of the party.

Many incidents, amusing to others, happened during the winter to this same man. He had started on the trip in the summer months, with a supply of shoe blacking and paper collars. The crossing of one or two portages with his loaded pack sack on his back was sufficient to convince him that there was no need of carrying either shoe blacking or paper collars, and they were thrown out to reduce weight. Each man carried a hank or skein of thread, a paper of needles, and a supply of buttons. Soon after winter set in, this man, who might ordinarily be termed a tenderfoot, complained of lameness in one of his feet. As the weather became more severe, he added from time to time, another pair of socks to those he already had on, never removing any of previous service. This necessitated, not infrequently, his choosing a larger sized boot-pack. Before the campaign was over, although he was a man of low stature and light weight, his feet presented the appearance of being the largest in the party. Still he complained of lameness in the hollow of his foot, and no relief came until March, when the work was completed. Arriving once more back in civilization, he removed his much accumulated footwear. There, under this accumulation of socks, and against the hollow of his foot, was found his skein of thread, the absence of which, from its usual place, had necessitated his borrowing, whenever he had need of it, from some one of his companions. Before starting out on this campaign, he had been one of the tidiest of men about his personal appearance.

One evening in midwinter, when sitting around the camp fire, by reason of the pile of wood for the evening being largely composed of dry balsam, we were kept more or less busy, extinguishing sparks that are always thrown out from this kind of wood when burning. Sometimes one would light on the side of the tent near by, and unless immediately extinguished, would eat a large hole in the cloth. That evening, Fendall G. Winston and I were sitting side by side, when we saw a live spark more than a quarter of an inch in diameter light in the ear of our friend who sat a little way from, and in front of us. It did not go out immediately, neither did it disturb the tranquillity of the young man. Mr. Winston and I exchanged glances and smilingly watched the ember slowly die. The time to clean up had not yet arrived for at least one of the party.

The compassman's work that winter was rendered very laborious from the fact that his occupation made it necessary for him, from morning until night of every day, to break his own path through the untrodden snow, for it was he who was locating the line of the survey. I was all of the time running lines in the interior of the sections, following the work of the surveyors, and choosing desirable pine timber that was found within each section. I had no companion in this work, and thus was separated most of each day from other members of the party, but returned to the same camp at night.

In the morning, each man was furnished by the cook, with a cloth sack in which were placed one or two or more biscuits, containing within, slices of fried bacon and sometimes slices of corned beef, also, perhaps, a doughnut or two. This he tied to the belt of his jacket on his back and carried until the lunch hour. Ordinarily a small fire was then kindled, and the luncheon, which generally was frozen, thawed out and eaten. Under such mode of living, every one returned at night bringing an appetite of ample dimensions.