SOMETHING ABOUT THE NORTHWEST LUMBER INDUSTRY
Anxious to do all he possibly could for them, Jefferson Wilbur had
provided Dale and Owen with seats in the observation car of the train,
so the young lumbermen had an excellent opportunity to gaze at the
scenery along the route as the overland express roared and shrieked its
way around rocky bends, over long bridges, and past immense stretches
of farming lands. The view was an ever-changing one, and they were
surprised when a porter came in and announced that lunch was ready in
the dining car.
"It's just as elegant as anything in the East," was Dale's comment,
while they were eating. "The Down-Easter who doesn't think so had
better come out and see."
They had just finished lunch, when they saw that the train was
approaching a bridge over a very broad river, that sparkled brightly in
the sunlight.
"The Mississippi!" cried Owen, and he was right, and soon they were
rumbling slowly over the Father of American Rivers. Up and down the
river were numerous steam and sail boats, and freight and lumber
lighters, showing that commerce was as active here as elsewhere.
As yet neither of the young lumbermen had put in a night on a regular
sleeping car, and they watched with curiosity, that evening, as the
porter built up the various berths, arranged the bedding, and placed
the heavy curtains in position. As they were used to sleeping together,
they had the porter leave out the upper berth, and used the lower only.
"This is as good as a hotel," was Owen's comment.
"Anyway, it beats the bunk up at the Hoover camp," answered Dale, with
a happy laugh.
"Don't mention that bunk again, Dale. I can smell the mustiness yet."
But, though the bed was soft, sleeping, with the rumble of the train
in their ears, was not so easy, and Dale lay awake for a good hour,
listening to the toot-toot of the locomotive, the grinding of car
wheels, and the sharp clack-clack as they sped over some intersecting
tracks. He wondered what he would do if there was a wreck, and how he
could save himself if the car rolled completely over, or if it took
fire from the dimly burning lights in the aisle. And then tired Nature
at last claimed her own, and lying back to back with Owen, he dropped
off and slept as soundly as anybody.
When the young lumbermen arose and went to the lavatory to wash up,
they found nobody stirring but the porter and an old ranchman, who was
sitting in the smoking section, puffing steadily at his corncob pipe.
"Couldn't sleep nohow," said the ranchman, between his puffs. "Aint
used to it, an' it's wuss nor trying to sleep in the saddle on a
broncho. Next time I travel, I'm going to stop off for my rest."
The train had stopped at Omaha late the evening before and was now
approaching Denver. By the time the other passengers were up and
dressed they ran into the outskirts of the city, and here another
dining car was hooked on to the train, the other having been left
behind the evening before. The train stopped for twenty minutes at
Denver, and the young lumbermen got off and stretched their legs by a
walk along the station platform.
"I'm sorry we can't stop and look this city over," remarked Owen. "Jack
Giles, the lumberman, was out here once, and he liked it very much.
Said the air was the finest he had ever breathed."
"The air certainly is pure," said Dale, taking in a deep breath.
Soon they were on the train again and rushing forward. The prairie
levels became less frequent and the train had often to climb the steep
grade of a mountain. The scenery became wilder and wilder, and the
young lumbermen could scarcely take their eyes from it. They were
offered books and newspapers to read, but declined both.
"We can read any time," said Owen. "But a fellow sees this seldom, if
ever. I'm going to take it in for all it's worth," and he did, hardly
taking time to eat his meals.
At Denver they were joined by an elderly man who told them, during
the course of a conversation, that he was in the employ of the United
States Government, being attached to the Bureau of Forestry. He became
much interested in the young lumbermen when he found that they were
from Maine, and asked numerous questions concerning the trees and
timber in that State.
"You are right," he said, in reply to a statement made by Dale. "The
lumber industry of our country is rapidly centering around Washington,
Oregon, and northern California. The output of Maine, Michigan, and
other timber sections will, of course, be considerable for years to
come, but that output is as nothing compared to what we can produce in
the Far West. According to the reports of our department, Washington,
Oregon, and California contain about one-third of all the timber
still standing in our country. Oregon, alone, to which you are bound,
contains more timber than all the New England States and New York, New
Jersey, and Pennsylvania combined."
"Have you ever estimated the total quantity of uncut timber--I mean,
with any exactness?" asked Owen. "Of course you had to do it in the
rough, to make comparisons."
"We have got fairly close to it, and the figures would astonish you.
For Washington, Oregon, and California, we calculate the uncut trees
will yield six hundred billion feet of lumber."
"Well! well!" cried Dale. "But it will take some cutting to get that
down."
"You are right, yet you will be surprised to see the inroads that have
been made at different points. Lumbering there, you must remember,
is advancing on a large scale, and a stick that would be thought of
fair size in Maine, is discarded in Oregon as too small. I know one
lumberman who won't cut a tree on his section that isn't at least
twenty inches in diameter."
"They'd better save some trees," said Owen. "If they don't, they'll
suffer one of these days, just as Maine is beginning to suffer."
"The government has already taken hold of the matter, and, in the
three States I have named, Uncle Sam has set aside over thirty-two
thousand square miles of forest lands which nobody can touch. These
parks, as they are called, are filled with pines, fir, hemlock,
redwood, and other trees."
"Are there many small lumbermen out there?" asked Dale.
"There used to be, years ago. A man would come out here, take up a
homestead claim, and perhaps buy up some additional claims near by, and
then start in to cut trees on his own account, getting them to market
as best he could, and taking whatever the wholesale lumber companies
cared to pay him. But all that is changed now. Business is done on a
big scale, and the companies have millions of dollars invested. One
company alone gets out half a million feet of logs every day."
"Such an amount would be worth a small fortune in Maine!" put in Owen.
"What a plant that must be!"
"It certainly is a fine plant, and has many miles of railroad tracks,
half a dozen locomotives, and ten times as many flat cars and trucks,
four movable sawmills, six or eight movable donkey engines, a six-foot
flume a mile long, from the top of one hill to the side of another, and
a large quantity of machinery of all kinds."
"And how many men are employed at such a place as that?"
"I don't know exactly, but I should say close on to four hundred. They
employ one man who does nothing but purchase provisions for the crowd,
and have eight or ten cooks and also a first-class doctor."
"If they have a railroad, I don't suppose they have much use for
horses," said Owen.
"The railroad runs through only a small part of the property, and to
get the logs to the road they use both the donkey engines and horses.
They build a skid road first, the same as you do in Maine, and then
hook the logs fast to each other, making a train of them. Sometimes
they use as high as twenty horses to move the log train. When they use
a donkey engine, they chain the engine fast to some trees, and then
hook the logs fast to a wire rope, that winds up on a big drum, moved
by the engine. When the logs get to the drum, the donkey engine and
drum are moved ahead, and then the logs are drawn up as before, and
this is kept up until the logs are drawn to the spot where they are
wanted."
"I suppose it is nothing but lumber in some towns," said Dale, after a
pause.
"The majority of the cities in the Northwest owe their prosperity to
the timber industry. In fact, some cities could not exist at all, were
it not for this traffic. Saw- and shingle-mills abound, and the output
of some of the shingle-making machines is truly astonishing. When I was
out here last fall, I inspected a shingle machine that turned out five
thousand first-class shingles an hour. One town in Washington turns
out nothing but shingles, and sends them by trainload and shipload
everywhere."
"I suppose we'll find a big difference in the work there from what it
was in the East," said Dale.
"Not so very much different outside of the fact that everything is done
on a large scale, as I said. The lumbermen of the United States are
about the same everywhere. To be sure you'll find plenty of foreigners
out in Oregon, especially Scandinavians, and also a fair portion of
French-Canadians. But the men are a whole-souled lot, and if you do
what is right by them, they will stick by you, no matter what happens.
Ten years ago I was a total stranger in the Northwest; now I have a
host of friends out there--real friends, who will help me down to their
last dollar, if I actually need it," concluded the man who had given
out so much valuable information.