“Yes,” the other explained, “there’s been considerable hunting in the streams up here for mussels, or fresh water clams, that happened to have a pearl in the shell. While every hunter isn’t lucky enough to make a big find, still a man found one last summer near Moosehead Lake that sold for several hundred dollars.”
“And then there’s the shells; they say they’re worth something,” added Will, who apparently was posted on that subject at least.
“They sell those to factories where buttons and such things are made,” continued Frank. “If you’ve ever noticed the shell of a mussel, you’ve seen that the inside is mother-of-pearl and mighty fine.”
“Does that finish the list?” Jerry wanted to know.
“There are plenty of other things that bring in money to those who follow them up,” Frank told him; “but in every case it takes more or less hard work. Thousands of men are employed in logging during the winter. Then, ice is gathered in great quantities, to be shipped to Boston, and even to New York, when it’s warm weather. Protecting the game in the close season gives work to a good many men as wardens.”
“I never would have dreamed a single State could have so many ways of making a living in its woods,” murmured Will.
“Think of the hotel men,” Frank continued, “who live on the swarms of tourists and sportsmen. And the guides who get big pay for their work in season. There are the canoe-makers in Oldtown and other places; they seldom try to build the older style of birch-bark boats nowadays, even the Penobscot Indians preferring the smooth-sided canvas canoe, painted green, so the fish can hardly notice it above them in the water. There must be thousands of these boats built every year, and they find a ready market from Florida to the far West, and all over the country.”
“Well, you have certainly interested us by telling about these things,” declared Bluff. “Nobody but a fellow who had lived in Maine pretty much all his life would be apt to know so much about how people made their living up in these Big Woods.”
“I’ll have a heap more respect for the Maine pine woods after this,” admitted Jerry. “Up to now I kind of looked down on ’em, because there didn’t seem to be a great many whopping big trees, such as we see out our way in the forests. But, shucks! the more you travel the bigger your knowledge box grows.”
“That’s right,” added Bluff frankly.