"Then came the woodman with his sturdy-team
Of broad-horned oxen, to complete the toil
Which axe and fire had left him, to redeem,
For culture's hand, the cold and root-bound soil."
The next morning, it being the day appointed for the "logging bee," the
Elwoods were again up betimes, to be prepared for the reception of the
expected visitants. On going out into the yard, while yet the coming sun
was only beginning to flush the eastern horizon, Mr. Elwood perceived,
early as it was, a man, whom he presumed, from the handspike and axe on his
shoulder, to be one of the company, entering the opening and leisurely
approaching, with an occasional glance backward along the road from the
settlements below. Not recognizing the man as an acquaintance, Elwood noted
his appearance closely as he was coming up. He was a rather young-looking
man, of a short, compactly built figure, with quick motions, and that
peculiar springy step which distinguishes men of active temperament and
hopeful, buoyant spirits; while the fox like cut of his features, the
lively gray eyes that beamed from them, and the evidently quick coming and
going thoughts that seemed to flash from his thin-moving nostrils and play
on his curling lips, served to indicate rapid perceptions, shrewdness, and
a kind and perhaps fun-loving disposition.
"Hillo, captain,--or captain of the house, as I suppose you must be," he
sang out cheerily, as with slackening step he approached Elwood; "did you
ever hear spoken of, a certain rough-and-ready talking sort of a chap they
call Jonas Codman?"
"I have heard of a Mr. Codman, and was told that he would probably be here
to-day," doubtfully replied Elwood.
"Well, I am he, such as he is, pushed forward as a sort of advanced
guard,--no, herald must be the book-word,--to tell you that you are taken.
Did you mistrust it?"
"No, not exactly."
"You _are_, nevertheless. But I'll tell you a story, which, if you can see
the moral, may give you some hints to show you how to turn the affair to
your advantage without suffering the least inconvenience yourself; and here
it is:
"There was once a curious sort of a fellow, whose land was so covered with
stones, which had rolled down from a mountain, that little or nothing could
grow among them; and the question was, how he should ever remove them.
Well, one day, when he was thinking on the matter, he found in the field an
old Black-Art book, on the cover of which he read, '_One chapter will bring
one, two chapters two, and so on; but set and keep them at work, lest a
worst thing befall_.' So, to see what would come of it, he read one
chapter; when a great, stout, dubious-looking devil made his appearance,
and asked what he should go about? 'Go to throwing these stones over the
mountain,' said the man. The devil went at it. But the man, seeing the poor
devil was having a hard job of it, read on till he had raised about a dozen
of the same kind of chaps, and set them all at work. And so smashingly did
they make the stones fly that, by sunset, the last were disappearing; and
the man was about to set them to pulling up the stumps on his newly-cleared
land. But they shook their heads at this, and, being pretty well tuckered
out, agreed to quit even, if he would, and go off without the usual pay in
such cases made and provided in devildom; when, he making no objections,
they, with another squint at the green gnarly stumps, cut and run; and all
the chapters he could read after that--for he began to like the fun of
having his land cleared at so cheap a rate--would never bring them back
again."
So saying, the speaker turned; and, without the explanation or addition of
a single word, retraced his steps and disappeared in the woods, leaving the
puzzled Elwood to construe the meaning of his story as he best could. Very
soon, however, sounds reached his ears which enabled him to form some
conjecture what the man intended by his odd announcement. The mingling
voices of ox-team drivers, with their loud and peculiarly modulated "_Haw
Buck! gee! and up there, ye lazy loons_!" were now heard resounding through
the woods, and evidently approaching along the road from the settlement.
And soon an array of eight sturdy pair of oxen, each bearing a bundle of
hay bound on the top of their yoke with a log chain, and each attended by a
driver, with a handspike on his shoulder, marching by their side, emerged
one after another from the woods, and came filing up the road towards the
spot where he stood. As the long column approached, Elwood, with a flutter
of the heart, recognized in the driver most in advance, the erect, stalwart
figure and the proud and haughty bearing of Gaut Gurley.
"Good-morning, good-morning, neighbor Elwood, as I have lately been pleased
to find you," exclaimed Gurley, with an air of careless assurance, as he
came within speaking distance. "We have come, as you see, to give you a
lift at your logging. So show us right into your slash, and let us go at
it, at once. We shall find time to talk afterwards."
Elwood, with some general remark expressive of his obligation to the whole
of the company at hand for their voluntary and unexpected kindness, led the
way to the burned slash, and went back to meet and salute the rest of the
company, as they severally came up. Having performed this ceremony with
those having the immediate charge of the oxen, till the whole had passed on
to their work, he turned to the rest of the company, whom, though before
unnoticed by him, he now found following immediately behind the teams.
These consisted of some half-dozen sturdy logmen, with their implements,
appointed to pair off with the drivers of the teams, so as to provide two
men to each yoke of oxen; the hunter, Phillips, with his brisk wife and
buxom daughter, bearing a basket of plates, knives, forks, spoons, and
extra frying-pans, to supply any deficiency Mrs. Elwood might find in
furnishing her tables or in cooking for so large a company; and lastly,
Comical Codman, as he was often called by the settlers, who, though the
first to come forward to meet Elwood, was now bringing up the rear.
"A merry morning to you," exclaimed the hunter, as the logmen turned off to
the slash; "a merry morning to you, neighbor Elwood. This looks some like
business to-day. You were not expecting us a very _great_ sight earlier
than this, I conclude," he added, with a jocular smile.
"Earlier? Why, it is hardly sunrise yet, and I am wholly at a loss to know
how men living at such distances could get here at this hour."
"Well, that is easily explained. They haven't had to travel so far this
morning as you imagine. They came on as far as my place last night, mostly,
and such as could be accommodated nestled with me in my house. The rest
camped out near by in the bush, which is just as well generally with us
woodsmen. But you, having no mistrust of this, as it seems, were taken, I
suppose, by surprise at our appearance so early."
"I should have been, wholly so, but for the coming ahead of this
gentleman," replied Elwood, pointing to Codman; "and then, I was rather at
loss to know what he intended by his queer way of announcing you."
"Very likely. He never does or says any thing like other folks. Jonas,"
continued the hunter, turning to the odd genius of whom he was speaking,
"you are a good trapper, but I fear you make a bad fore-runner."
"Well, I am all right now here in the rear, I suppose," replied the other,
with an oddly assumed air of abashment. "A man is generally good for one
thing or t'other. If I ain't a good forerunner, it then follows that I am a
good hind-runner."
"You see he must have his fol-de-rol, Mr. Elwood," said the hunter. "But,
for all that, he is a good fellow enough at the bottom, if you can ever
find it: ain't all that so, Jonas?"
"Sort of so and sort of not so; but a little more not than sorter, they may
say, perhaps. And I don't think, myself, there is much either at the top or
bottom to brag on," rejoined Codman, suddenly darting off to join his
companions in the slash; and now whistling a tune, as he went, and now
crowing like a cock, in notes and tones each of its kind so wondrous loud
and shrill that the whole valley of the lake seemed wakened by the strange
music.
The operations of the day having been thus auspicuously commenced in the
slash, Elwood, retaining the hunter with him at the house to advise and
assist in such arrangements and preparations for breakfast as might render
the meal most acceptable to the company, entered at once upon his duties as
host; and, it being found that neither the room nor tables in the house
were sufficient to seat all the company, it was decided, for the purpose of
avoiding every appearance of invidious distinction, to prepare temporary
tables and seat the whole of them, except the females, in the open air near
the house. Accordingly the hunter, who, from his experience as a woodman,
was ever ready at such contrivances, went to work; and, clearing and
levelling off a smooth place, driving into the ground three sets of short
stout crotches, laying cross-pieces in each, and then two new pine planks
longitudinally over the whole, he soon erected a neat and substantial
table, long enough to seat a score of guests. Seats on each side were then
supplied by a similar process; when Mrs. Elwood, who had watched the
operation with a housewife's interest, made her appearance with a roll of
fine white tablecloths, the relics of her better days, and covered the
whole with the snowy drapery, making a table which might vie in appearance
with those of the most fashionable restaurants of the cities. Upon this
table, plates, knives and forks, with all other of the usual
accompaniments, were speedily arranged by the quick-footed females; while
the sounds of boiling pots, and the hissing frying-pans spreading through
the house and around the yard the savory fumes of the cooking trout,
betokened the advanced progress of the culinary operations within, which
were now soon completed; when the fact was announced by Mr. Elwood by
several long and loud blasts on his "tin horn" to the expectant laborers in
the field, who, while the meal was being borne smoking on to the table,
chained their oxen to stumps and saplings about the field, parcelled out to
them the hay, and repaired to their morning banquet.
Banquet! A banquet among backwoodsmen? Yes; and why not? It is strange that
a thousand generations of epicures should have lived, gluttonized, and
passed away from the earth, without appearing to understand the chief
requisite for that class of animal enjoyments which they seem to make the
great end and aim of their lives,--without appearing to realize that it is
the appetite, not the quality of the food, that makes the feast; that there
can be no such thing as a feast, indeed, without a _real_ not factitious
appetite; and that there can be no real appetite without toil or some
prolonged and vigorous exercise. Nero ransacked his whole kingdom, and
expended millions for delicacies; and yet he never experienced, probably,
one-half the enjoyments of the palate that were experienced from the
coarsest fare by his poorest laboring subject. No, the men of ease and
idleness may have surfeits, the men of toil can only have banquets. And it
is doubtless a part of that nicely balanced system of compensations which
Providence applies to men, that the appetites of the industrious poor
should make good the deficiencies in the quality of their food, so that it
should always afford equal enjoyment in the consumption with that
experienced by the idle rich over their sumptuous tables.
The meal passed off pleasantly; and when finished, the gratified and chatty
workmen, with their numbers now increased by the addition of the two
Elwoods and the hunter, returned, with the eager alacrity of boys hurrying
to an appointed game of football, to their voluntary labors in the field,
in which they had already made surprising progress.
The business of the day was now resumed in earnest. The teamsters having
quickly scattered to their respective teams and brought them with a lively
step on to the ground, and having there each received their allotted quota
of log-rollers, to pile up the logs as fast as drawn, at once penetrated at
different points into the thickest parts of the blackened masses of timber
before them, awaiting their sturdy labors. Here the largest log in a given
space, and the one the most difficult to be removed, was usually selected
as the nucleus of the proposed pile. Then two logs of the next largest size
were drawn up on each side, and placed at a little distance in a line
parallel with the first, when the intermediate spaces were filled with
limbs, knots, and the smallest timber at hand; so that a fire, when the
process of burning the piles should be commenced, communicated at the
centre thus prepared, would spread through the whole, and not be likely to
go out till all the logs were consumed. When this foundation was laid, the
next nearest surrounding logs were drawn alongside and rolled up on skids,
by the logmen stationed there with their handspikes for the purpose. Then
generally commenced a keen strife between the teamster and the log-rollers,
to see which should first do their part and keep the others the most
closely employed. And the result was that in a very short time a large pile
of logs was completed, and a space of ten or fifteen square rods was
completely cleared around it. This done, an adjoining thicket of timber was
sought out, another pile started, and another space cleared off in the same
manner. And thus proceeded the work, with each team and its attendants, in
every part of the slash; while the same spirit of rivalry which had thus
began to be exhibited between the members of each gang soon took the form
of a competition between one gang and another, who were now everywhere seen
vieing with each other in the strife to do the most or to build up the
largest and greatest number of log-heaps in the shortest space of time. The
whole field, indeed, was thus soon made to exhibit the animated but
singular spectacle of men, engaged in a wholly voluntary labor, putting
forth all the unstinted applications of strength and displaying all the
alertness and zeal of men at work for a wager. But, among all the
participants in the labors of the day, no one manifested so much interest
in advancing the work, no one was so active and laborious, as Gaut Gurley.
Not only was he continually inciting and pressing up all others to the
labor, but was ever foremost in the heaviest work himself, generally
selecting the most difficult parts for himself, and often performing feats
of strength that scarcely any two men on the ground were able to perform.
Nor was the Herculean strength which he so often displayed before the eyes
of the astonished workmen, ever made useless, as is sometimes the case with
men of great physical powers, by any misapplication of his efforts. He
seemed perfectly to understand the business in which they were engaged;
and, while all wondered, though no one knew, where he had received his
training for such work, it was soon, by common consent, decided that he was
much the most efficient hand on the ground, many even going so far as to
declare that his equal was never before seen in that part of the country.
"You see that, don't you, captain?" said Codman, coming up close to Elwood,
and speaking in a half whisper, as he pointed to Gaut Gurley, who, having
noticed two of the stoutest of the hands vainly trying to roll up a large
log, rushed forward, and, bidding them stand aside, threw it up
single-handed without appearing to exert half his strength. "You see that,
don't you, captain?" he repeated, with an air of mingled wonder and
waggishness. "Now, what do you think of my story, and the great, stout,
black-looking devil that came, on reading the first chapter, and made the
big stones fly so?"
"I haven't thought much about it," carelessly replied Elwood, evidently
wishing not to appear to understand the allusion of the other. "But why do
you ask such a question?"
"Don't know myself, it's a fact; but I happened to be thinking of things.
But say, captain, you haven't been reading any chapters in any strange book
yourself, lately, have you?" said Codman, with a queer look.
"No, I guess not," replied Elwood, laughingly, though visibly annoyed by
the subject.
"No? Nor none of the family?" persisted the other, glancing towards Claud
Elwood, who was standing near by. "Well, I wish I knew what put that story
into my head, when I let it off this morning. It is de-ive-lish queer, at
any rate, considering." So saying, he walked off to his work, croaking like
a rooster at some questionable object.
Although none of the settlers present seemed disposed to attribute the
extraordinary physical powers, which Gaut Gurley had so unmistakably shown,
to any supernatural agency, as the trapper, Codman, whose other
singularities were not without a smart sprinkling of superstition, was
obviously inclining to do, yet those powers were especially calculated, as
may well be supposed of men of their class, to make a strong impression on
the minds of them all, and invest the possessor with an importance which,
in their eyes, he could in no other way obtain. Accordingly he soon came to
be looked upon as the lion of the day, and suddenly thus acquired, for the
time being, as he doubtless shrewdly calculated he could do in this way, a
consequence and influence of which no other man could boast, perhaps, in
the whole settlement.
Meanwhile the work of clearing off the logs was prosecuted with increasing
spirit and resolution. And so eagerly intent had all the hands become, in
pressing forward to its completion their self-imposed task, which all could
see was now fast drawing to a close, that they took no note of the flight
of time, and were consequently taken by surprise when the sound of the horn
summoned them to their midday meal.
"Why! it can't yet be noon," exclaimed one, glancing up at the sun.
"No" responded another. "Some of us here have been counting on seeing the
whole job nearly done by noon, but it will take three hours yet to do that.
No, the women must have made a mistake."
"Well, I don't know about that: let us see," said the hunter, turning his
back to the sun, and throwing out one foot as far as he could while keeping
his body perpendicular. "Now my clock, which, for noon on the 21st of June,
or longest day of summer, is the shadow of my head falling on half my foot,
and then passing off beyond it about half an inch each day for the rest of
the season, makes it, as _I_ should calculate the distance between my foot
and the shadow of my head, now evidently receding,--makes it, for this last
day of August, about a quarter past twelve."
"I am but little over half past eleven," said Codman, pulling out and
inspecting an old watch. "Phillips, may be, is thinking of that deer that
he has been promising himself and us for dinner; and, before I take his
calculation on shadows and distances, I should like to know how many inches
he allowed for the hurrying influence of his appetite."
"What nonsense, Comical! But what you mean by it is, I suppose, that I
can't tell the time?"
"Not within half an hour by the sun."
"Why, man, it is the sun that makes the time; and, as that body never gets
out of order or runs down, why not learn to read it, and depend directly
upon it for the hour of the day? If half the time men spend in bothering
over timepieces were devoted to studying the great clock of the heavens,
they need not depend on such uncertain contrivances as common clocks and
watches to know the time of day."
"But how in cloudy weather?"
"Tell the time of day by your feelings. Take note of the state of your
appetite and general feelings at the various hours of the day, when it is
fair and you know the time, and then apply the rule when you have no other
means of judging; and you may thus train yourself, so that you need not be
half an hour out of the way in your reckoning through the whole day."
"Well, supposing it is night?"
"Night is for sleep, and it is no consequence to know the time, except the
time waking. And, as to that, none need be in fault, if they had you
anywhere within two miles to crow for them."
"A regular hit! I own it a hit, Mr. Hunter. But here comes Mr. Elwood: we
will leave the question of the time of day to him."
"We have a correct noon-mark at the house, and the women are probably
right," replied Elwood. "At all events, men who have worked like lions, as
you all have this forenoon, must by this time need refreshment. So, let us
all drop work, and at once be off to dinner."
With such familiar jokes and converse, the light-hearted backwoodsmen threw
off their crocky frocks, and, after washing up at a runlet at hand, marched
off in chatty groups to the house, where they found awaiting their arrival
the well-spread board of their appreciating hostess, this time made more
tempting to their vigorous and healthy appetites by the addition, to the
fine trout of the morning, of the variously-cooked haunches of the hunter's
venison. And, having here done ample justice to their excellent meal, they
again hastened back to their labor in the field, unanimously declaring for
the good husbandman's rule, "Work first and play afterwards," and saying
they would have no rest nor recreation till they had seen the last log of
the slash disposed of. And with such animation did they resume their
labors, and with such vigor continue to apply themselves in carrying out
their resolution, and in hastening the hour of its fulfilment, that by the
middle of the afternoon their task was ended; and the gratified Mr. Elwood
had the satisfaction of seeing the formidable-looking slash of the morning
converted into a comparatively smooth field, requiring only the action of
the fire on the log heaps, with a few days' tending, to make it fit for the
seed and harrow.
"Come, boys," said the hunter to the company, now all within speaking
distance, except two or three who had somehow disappeared; "come, boys," he
repeated, after pausing to see the last log thrown up in its place, "let us
gather up here near the middle of the lot. Comical Codman and some others,
I have noticed, have been putting their heads together, and I kinder
surmise we may now soon expect some sort of christening ceremony of the
field we have walked through in such fine style to-day; and, if they make
out any thing worth the while, it may be well to give them a good cheer or
two, to wind off with."
While the men were taking their stand at the spot designated by the hunter,
Codman was seen mounting a conspicuous logheap at the southerly end of the
field; and two more men, at the same time, made their appearance on the
tops of different piles on opposite sides of the lot, and nearly abreast of
the place where the expectant company were collected and standing, silently
awaiting the commencement of the promised ceremony. Presently one of the
two last-named, with a preliminary flourish of his hand, slowly and loudly
began:
"Since we see the last logs fairly roll'd,
And log-heaps full fifty, all told,
We should deem it a shame
If so handsome and well-cleared a field,
Bidding fair for a hundred-fold yield,
Be afforded no name."
To this, the man standing on the opposite pile, in the same loud and
measured tone promptly responded:
"Then a name we will certainly give it,
If you'll listen, and all well receive it,
As justly you may:
We will call it the thing it will make,
We will name it the Pride of the Lake,
Or the Job of a Day."
Before the last words of this unique duet had died on the ear, Comical
Codman on his distant perch straightened up, and, triumphantly clapping his
sides like the boastful bird whose crowing he could so wonderfully imitate,
raised his shrill, loud, and long-drawn _kuk-kuk-ke-o-ho_ in a volume of
sound that thrilled through the forest and sent its repeating echoes from
hill to hill along the distant borders of the lake.
"There, the dog has got the start of us!" exclaimed the hunter, joining
the rest of the company in their surprise and laughter at the prompt
action of the trapper as well as at the striking character of his
performance,--"fairly the start of us; but let's follow him up close, boys.
So here goes for the new name!"
And the prolonged "hurra! hurra! hurra!" burst from the lips of the
strong-voiced woodmen in three tremendous cheers for the "_Pride of the
Lake and the Job of a Day_."
All the labors and performances of the field being now over, the company
gathered up their tools, and by common consent moved towards the house,
where, it was understood, an hour or so, before starting for their
respective homes, should be spent in rest, chatting with the women, or
other recreation, and a consultation also be held, among those interested,
for forming a company, fixing on the time, and making other arrangements
for the contemplated trapping and hunting expedition of the now
fast-approaching season.
As the company were proceeding along promiscuously towards the house, Gaut
Gurley, who had thus far through the day manifested no desire for any
particular conversation with Mr. Elwood, nor in any way deported himself so
as to lead others to infer a former acquaintance between them, now suddenly
fell in by his side; when, contriving to detain him till the rest had
passed on out of sight, he paused in his steps and said:
"Well, Elwood, I told you in the morning, you know, that we would do the
work first and the talking afterwards. The work has now been done, and I
hope to your satisfaction."
"Yes--O yes--entirely," replied Elwood, hesitating in his doubt about what
was to follow from the other, whose unexpected conduct and stand for his
benefit he hardly knew how to construe. "Yes, the neighbors have done me a
substantial favor, and you all deserve my hearty thanks."
"I was not fishing for thanks," returned Gaut, half-contemptuously, "but
wished a few words with you on private matters which concern only you and
myself. And, to come to the point at once, I would ascertain, in the first
place, if you know whether you and I are understood, in this settlement, to
be old acquaintances or new ones?"
"New ones, I suppose, of course, unless it be known to the contrary through
your means. _I_ have not said a word about it, nor have my family, I feel
confident," replied Elwood, demurely.
"Very well; our former acquaintance is then wholly unsuspected here. Let it
remain so. But have you ever hinted to any of the settlers what you may
have known or heard about me, or any former passages of my life, which
occurred when I used to operate in this section or elsewhere?"
"No, not one word."
"All is well, then. As you have kept and continue to keep my secrets, so
shall yours be kept. It is a dozen or fifteen years since I have been in
this section at all. It is filling up with new men. There are but two
persons now in the settlement that can ever have seen or known me. And they
will not disturb me."
"Then there _are_ two that _have_ known you? Who can they be?"
"One is Wenongonet, an old Indian chief, as he calls himself, still living
on one of the upper lakes, they say, but too old to ramble or attend to
anybody's business but his own. The other is Phillips, the hunter."
"Phillips! Phillips, did you say? Why, as much as he has been at our house,
he has never dropt a word from which one could infer that you were not a
perfect stranger to him."
"I did not suppose he had. Phillips is a peaceable, close-mouthed fellow;
pretends not to know any thing about anybody, when he thinks the parties
concerned would rather have him ignorant; keeps a secret by never letting
anybody know he has one; and never means to cross another man's path. I can
get along with _him_, too. And the only question now is whether _you_ and I
can live together in the same settlement."
"It will probably be your fault if we can't. I shall make war on no one."
"My fault! Why I _wish_ to be on good terms with you; and yet, Elwood, you
feel out of sorts with me, and, in spite of all I can do, seem disposed to
keep yourself aloof."
"If I do seem so, it may be because the past teaches me that the best way
to avoid quarrels is to avoid intimacies. You know how we last parted in
that gambling-room. I had no business to be there, I admit; but that was no
excuse for your treatment."
"Treatment! Why, Elwood, is it possible you have been under a
misapprehension about that, all this time?" responded Gaut, with that
peculiar wheedling manner which he so well knew how to assume when he
wished to carry his point with another. "My object then was to save the
money for you and me, so that we could divide it satisfactorily between
ourselves. I was angry enough at those other fellows, whom I saw getting
all your money in that way, I confess; and, in what I said, I was whipping
them over your shoulders. I thought you understood it."
"I didn't understand it in that way," replied Elwood, surprised and
evidently staggered at the bold and unexpected statement. "I didn't take
you so: could that be all you intended?"
"Certainly it was," resumed Gaut, in the same insinuating tone. "Had I
supposed it necessary, I should have seen you and explained it at the time.
But it is explained now; so let it go, and every thing go that has been
unpleasant between us; let us forget all, and henceforth be on good terms.
Our children, as you may have suspected, seem intent on being friends; and
why should not we be friends also? It will be a gratification to them, and
we can easily make it the means of benefiting each other. You know how much
I once did in helping you to property,--I can do so again, if we will but
understand each other. What say you, Elwood? Will you establish the treaty,
and give me your hand upon it?"
Elwood trembled as the other bent his fascinating gaze upon him, hesitated,
began to demur feebly; but, being artfully answered, soon yielded and
extended his hand, which Gaut seized and shook heartily; when at the
suggestion of the latter they separated and proceeded by different courses,
so that they might not be seen together, to join the company at the house,
whom they found, as they expected, in consultation about the proposed
trapping and hunting expedition to the upper lakes, the time of starting,
and the names and number of those volunteering to join the association,
only remaining to be fixed and ascertained. That time was finally fixed on
the 15th of September, and the company was formed to consist of the two
Elwoods, Phillips, Gurley, Codman, and such others as might thereafter wish
to join them. This being settled, they broke up and departed for their
respective homes.