Wolves--Log Riding.
Many experiences of meeting or seeing the more dangerous of the wild
animals have been related by men whose occupation as woodsmen has made
it necessary at times to go for days, unaccompanied into the woods, and
miles distant from any human habitation. Personal experience leads me to
believe that man is safe, nearly always, except when such animals are
suffering from hunger.
Early one spring, while the snow was yet deep in the woods, I was
scaling some trespass of timber that lay about three miles away from my
headquarters camp. In going to my work, mornings, I passed along a trail
near to which, in the deep snow, was the carcass of a horse which had
belonged to the owner of a near-by lumber camp. I noticed, one morning,
that it had been visited during the night by a pack of wolves that had
fed upon it and had gone away, using the trail for a short distance and
then leaving it, their tracks disappearing into the unbroken forest. The
following morning, having gotten an early start, on passing this same
place, I saw the wolves leaving their feeding place and disappearing by
the same route as the tracks indicated on the preceding morning. The
animals seemed to be as anxious to get out of my sight, as I was willing
to have them. Had it not been for their full stomachs, their actions,
likely, would have been different.
Returning, on a subsequent day just before nightfall, tired from a long
day's work, and, probably, because of the late hour, thinking of my near
by neighbors, the wolves, I committed an act that came near costing me
my life. The ice had gone out of the streams, and the spring drive of
logs was at its height. To reach camp by the usual way, it was necessary
to follow up the stream one mile and cross on a dam that had been
constructed by the lumbermen to hold back water to use in driving logs
out of this stream, which at this point was about two hundred and fifty
feet wide. The gates were open, and the water was running high within
the banks of the stream. Seeing, in the eddy close to the bank of the
river, a large log that would scale at least one thousand feet board
measure, I was seized with the idea that I could, with the assistance of
a pole, step onto that log, push it out from shore, and guide it across
the stream to the opposite shore. It was a log that had been skidded to
the bank of the river and rolled in. On such logs, the bark on the under
side is always removed to reduce the amount of friction produced by one
end of the log dragging, while it is being hauled to the water's edge.
The "log driver" belongs to a class of men that has produced many
heroes, and some of their exploits are among the most thrilling recorded
among the exigencies of a hazardous occupation. I never was of that
class, and was almost entirely without experience in trying to ride logs
in open water. I had pushed the log out into the stream some distance
and all was lovely, as every minute it was approaching nearer to the
opposite shore. Suddenly it entered the current of the river which
quickly revolved the log under my feet, bringing the peeled side
uppermost, at which instance I was dropped into the stream. The first
thing I did on rising to the surface, was to swim for my hat, which had
been pulled off as I sank under the water. Having secured it, I
commenced swimming for the opposite shore. My clothing was heavy and
grew more so as it became soaked with water, so that by the time I had
attained the further shore--in the meantime watching constantly to see
that no floating log bumped me, thereby rendering me unconscious--I was
nearly exhausted.
[Illustration: "My three companions and I ... had gone to survey and
estimate a tract of pine timber." (Page 150.)]
During these years from 1871 to 1874, the woods of Wisconsin were
thoroughly traveled over by land hunters, and nearly all of the
desirable timber was entered at the respective land offices, so that
there remained no further field for exploit. A new field was therefore
looked for, and this I found in Minnesota.