“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 log-heap 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.