“They are stopped by great booms, built of logs, and bolted and chained together very strong. These booms are rigged across the river, so that the floating logs cannot pass them. The great boom at Old Town, near Bangor, where our drive brought up, that year, had over a million of logs in it, when we got down there, seven weeks after we started from the forests. The logs lay upon one another about ten feet deep, and extended back for miles. They belonged to hundreds of different men and companies, but as each had its own mark, there was no difficulty in sorting them out. The boom is opened at set times, to let out a portion of the logs, and then the river below is all alive with men and boys, in small boats, who grapple the logs as they float down, and form them into rafts, or tow them to the various mills on the river. Very few of the logs escape, unless too many are let out from the boom at once, or the river is swollen by a freshet, in which case they sometimes float off to sea and are lost. But all hands seem to be going to bed, and I guess we had better follow their example.”
Upon this, the old logger stretched himself upon the bed of faded leaves; and Clinton, who for some time had been his only listener, was soon in the same position.
CHAPTER XVII.
A TALK IN THE WOODS.
Early the next morning, Mr. Davenport and Clinton decided to start for home, as there were indications of an approaching change in the weather, which might render the roads very uncomfortable, if it did not compel them to prolong their stay at the loggers’ camp longer than would be agreeable. After a breakfast of hot bread and molasses, fried pork, and tea, Fanny was harnessed, and bidding farewell to their forest friends, they jumped into the sleigh, and set their faces towards Brookdale. As they were riding along the solitary road, Mr. Davenport asked Clinton if he thought he should like to be a logger.
“I don’t know but I should,” he replied; “there are a good many things about the business I should like. It makes them strong and healthy, and I guess they have good times in the camps, and on the rivers. It is quite a romantic life, too, and they seem to meet with a good many curious adventures.”
“The novelty and romance of it soon wear off,” replied Mr. Davenport. “These gone, do you think you should like the business well enough to follow it up year after year?”
“Why, no, I suppose I should get tired of it, being away from home so much of the time,” said Clinton.
“The work is very hard, too,” suggested his father.
“Yes, sir.”
“And the pay is not very great, in proportion.”