James Oliver Curwood, Disciple of the Wilds

by Hobart Donald Swiggett

Throughout the wanderings of the two comrades they managed to live off the land, as wanderers do. Often, being extremely fortunate, they would receive handouts consisting of fresh eggs, chicken, milk and vegetables which they consumed to their hearts’ content. But they were not without their periods of hard luck, too, for on occasions they had to run for dear life before the rage of farmers who did not particularly relish their trespassings. But all of this was to be expected, for they had chosen to live the life of adventurers and live it they did to their utter joy and sheer happiness.

It was about the middle of July that Jim and Bert decided to swing around and see as much territory as possible in the remaining time left them. Immediately they made for Ohio, into eastern Indiana, then back into Ohio and on down into Kentucky.

This being the first real trip that Jim Curwood had made thus far in his life, he felt an immense and almost inexpressible thrill when his cousin and he crossed the wide and swift Ohio river enroute to the state of Kentucky. He had never before been this far south and he enjoyed it so much that they spent several days in the “Blue Grass” state. They never remained in any other spot for more than half a day at a time.

They pedaled up long, winding trails and hills where on both sides of them were deep chasms and high cliffs, overlooking wide fertile valleys. They travelled over many miles of Kentucky’s roads and by-ways, thrilling to every mile, every stone, every stream. Unexpectedly, through the kindness of an unknown sportswoman, they were given an opportunity to ride on a large steamboat which had stopped at the docks of the Ohio river. So, with their bicycles safely on board, Jim and Bert stood along the rail with their hostess as the shrill whistles blew. For several days and nights they had three square meals daily in truly luxurious style and they slept like kings in soft and downy beds. The dream, real as it was, ended when the boat docked at Louisville, and the two boys disembarked to make their plans for pedalling back to their respective homes.

Schooldays soon arrived for Jim Curwood and into the long, wide halls of Central School he strode once more. This time he was not the meek and timid beginner as of old, but one who had the air of an adventurer about him. He had also grown a great deal during the summer, his skin was tanned. His natural coal-black, straight hair was almost bleached white by the hot summer sun.

Despite the fact that he was glad to be back in school, soon the urge for the great outdoors and what they had to offer began to beckon to him stronger than before. So, outside of school hours (and those days when he would miss school altogether), his time was divided between his river and his bedroom study.

Night after night Jim constantly heard his river rushing past his upstairs window on into the wilds. Soon he found that he could not withstand the urge longer ... nature was beckoning. So he wrote a long, heart-filled letter to his old pal Skinny, imploring him to come and join him, and together they would go on one grand and glorious adventure. Many anxious days he waited until those days had developed into weeks, and still no reply came from Skinny down in Ohio. This silence puzzled Jim greatly. Surely Skinny had received his letter or else it would have been returned to him long before now.

Jim waited three or four days more before giving up all hopes of hearing from Skinny.

One day, when the spring rains had stopped and the flowers had begun to burst open in a glorious outbreaking of wonderful springtime, Jim Curwood brought home all his books and announced that school was of such minor importance to him, as compared to the material he must gather for a story for the editor of Golden Days Magazine, that he must at once dismiss all thoughts of study and head into the Big Marsh. As far as Jim Curwood was concerned now school was so much water over the dam and something which had done him little or no good whatsoever.

The urge for adventure was much more stronger than the urge to attend school, despite the fact that he had returned to Owosso from Ohio principally to go to school. But he had pondered over the situation seriously for many weeks and his mind was made up. He was heading north and nothing was going to stop him. He wanted that country so feverishly and wanted to write about it so badly that he could not and would not suppress himself further.