"Mr. Higgins," began the spokesman, "We've dropped in today to tell you how we've enjoyed the preaching in our camp. The boys want me to make a spiel, but the saw is more in my line. You've treated us white, have given us more advice than we've digested, and never asked to see the color of our money. But this is no one-sided affair. The boys have all chipped in, and here's your stake for service rendered." As he closed he handed the minister a check for fifty-one dollars.
In all his work the missionary had not asked for financial assistance. The boys at first thought he was preaching for "what there was in it," but when he asked not for money, they realized that love and devotion was the impelling cause. "The lumberjack is no cheap skate," so they gladly gave in return.
Through the benevolence of the woodsmen, Mr. Higgins saw a new possibility. He was willing to give himself to the work, but it was necessary that living and incidental expenses should be met. How to finance the mission work was the question, but now he saw the boys would pay a large part of the attendant expenses if some one would organize the work. The barriers were being removed; the doors were opening. Only, ordination had yet to be received.
The work at Barnum was followed by his taking charge of a church in New Duluth, where the mill hands formed a large part of the population. Acquaintance with the men and their work led to an interest in him, and soon the church was on its feet. The same success that was seen at Barnum followed the New Duluth work, and after a short period of labor there, he was asked to take the Bemidji church. Here in the heart of the logging district the real work of his life began, for as never before he learned the ways of the lumberjack.
[CHAPTER III.]
IN THE HEART OF THE LOGGING DISTRICT.
In the spring of 1899, Frank E. Higgins began his work in Bemidji. The Home Missions Committee of Duluth Presbytery had invited him to assist the little group of Christians in the new town, where assistance was badly needed, for the place was in the heart of the logging district, and was infamous for its traffic in evil. The hosts of sin were well organized, but righteousness needed the encouragement of a strong man.
The Bemidji field was first opened to Christian work by Mr. S. A. Blair, the Sabbath School missionary of Duluth Presbytery, in 1896. In those days no railway reached the place, but the pine forest beckoned to the logging companies and the Mississippi river offered an outlet for the logs. Bemidji could only be reached by following the rough trails through the swamps and around the hills from Walker, Minnesota, thirty-five miles away. Most of the supplies were carried up the lakes and rivers and toted over the portages to the new village.
When Mr. Blair started on his thirty-five mile tramp to Bemidji, the Baptist denomination also decided to send a man to organize for them. But the rains descended and the floods came, until the poorly made roads were more impassable than ever. Not relishing the flooded condition, the immersionist gave up the task—for once water interfered with the Baptist growth. But Mr. Blair, prior to his conversion, had been a lumberjack, and none of these things moved him. Wading the depths and fording the streams, he at last arrived at the hamlet on Lake Bemidji, and organized the work. Later a church was partly built by Mr. Blair, and occasional services were held. It was to take charge of this field that Mr. Higgins turned his steps to the north. He had seen the conditions of the woodsmen in Barnum and other towns, yet he needed the Bemidji experience to show him their real poverty of soul, and their utter helplessness in the face of open, alluring vice. Here he saw them at their worst, given over to shame, encouraged in degradation. They were as sheep without a shepherd, a prey to every spoiler and evil designer.