Log Tavern in the Wilderness
It may not be uninteresting to take a peep into one of these log taverns. We see here, then, rude walls thrown up of round logs, notched together at the ends—a building about as high as a common one-story house, covered with shingles laid upon ribs only. These are so closely put together that common short shingles may be laid on them quite as well as if the roof were boarded—a plan frequently adopted in new country settlements, where boards are not to be obtained. This building is divided by a partition into two apartments, in one of which, perhaps in the corner, a huge fire-place is constructed of rude stones, to the height of six or seven feet, where a large wooden mantle-bar is thrown across, from which point, with small split sticks, straw, and clay, it is topped out in the fashion of a chimney. This is the cook, eating, sitting, bar, and often the card-playing room, where teamsters, in crowded numbers, enjoy all the luxuries which their circumstances will admit, one of which is a most excellent appetite. The other room is strictly appropriated to sleeping purposes, with births rudely constructed, in tiers one above the other (with a space between the feet and fire), similar to the accommodations on board a vessel, so that in a space seven by thirty feet sixty men may be accommodated with lodging. Such a number of men, crowded into an area of so scanty dimensions, might be supposed to suffer inconvenience from confined and impure air; but the ready access which the twinkling starlight and sparkling hoar-frost find to the apartment through the numerous unstopped crevices warrants a more agreeable conclusion.
Thus sociably, quietly, and snugly ensconced within that rude shelter, enveloped and surrounded with interminable forests, the hours of darkness are passed, while without, the piercing cold causes even the nestling trees to quake as the wings of the wild winter night labor with the furious snow-storm.
Sometimes a portion of the route lays across large lakes, where the bleak winds pierce, or the dense snow-storm thickens the atmosphere, and obliterates alike the path and the shore from sight. I have known teamsters, while crossing these icy regions, suddenly overtaken by snow-storms so dense as to circumscribe the compass of vision to thirty rods, and to be compelled to wander all day long upon those bleak fields before they were able to find the logging road which formed their egress from the lake.
Belated at other times, night overtakes them on the ice. In such cases, where it is not deemed prudent to proceed, they find access to the shore, where the thick evergreen forest trees afford some protection from the night winds. Here a fire is kindled, some coarse boughs plucked and thrown upon the snow, upon which a buffalo-skin is spread, and with a similar covering they repose, after snugly blanketing their horses. A biscuit of pilot-bread, with a "frizzled" slice of pork, constitute their repast—ten to one if it be not rinsed down with a draught of "fire-water" from the little canteen in the pea-jacket pocket. On some routes early fall trips are made with loads of camp supplies on wheels, over very rough roads, before the rivers and streams freeze. These are crossed upon a raft made of poles or logs capable of bearing a portion only of the load, which is carried over in parcels, according to the capacity or tonnage of the rude ferry-boat; sometimes swimming, and at others transporting the horses singly on the raft. In like manner we manage with our ox-teams, when we take an early start for the scene of our winter operations.
RIVER LIFE.
PART III.
CHAPTER I.