A Co-operative Proposition
It was rather later than they had anticipated when Hank and Joe arrived
at Sam Fennick's shack on the following day; for again a thaw had set
in--not the "silver thaw" so much prized in Canada, which they had
previously experienced, and which, by freezing the upper layer of snow
and, as it were, laying a sound crust upon it, had enabled them to make
good progress, but a thaw unaccompanied by change, or, to be exact, not
followed by a succeeding frost. They finished their journey,
therefore, through a snowy slush, sinking often above their knees,
while their moccasins and their feet were wringing wet and very cold.
Shouts greeted them.
"Why, if it ain't Joe!" came from Sam heartily, in his well-known
bellowing tones, while the ineradicable cockney accent was obviously
there; in fact, it was an accent of which Sam was proud. It was
something never likely to leave him however long he remained in Canada,
and however much he interlarded his conversation with Americanisms.
"Missus, it's Joe!" he shouted, turning his head over his shoulder.
Then he dashed forward, seized our hero's hand, and squeezed it till
the latter almost winced.
"Howdy?" he exclaimed, swinging on Hank. "Introduce us."
"Hank," said Joe shortly, "hunter and trapper, a friend of mine. Hank,
this is Sam Fennick; but----"
"In course I knows Sam," cried Hank, stretching out his wiry little
paw, but one, nevertheless, which could give a grip that would make a
strong man squirm. After all, outside the polite society of London and
other large cities, where very vigorous handshaking is not looked on
with favour, men often enough, the rough men of the plain, the prairie,
the backwoods farm, and of the forest, exchange greetings with an
earnestness there is no denying. Such men do not simper and dangle
nerveless fingers before a stranger. They stand facing squarely,
looking closely into the other's eyes, and when their hands meet, and
their fingers grip the other's, the firmness of the grip, its vigour,
its unflinching support of the return pressure somehow conveys
something of the character of one man to the other. Hank had treated
Joe in that way. To a man such as Hurley, whom he did not like, whom
he suspected to be a craven, Hank merely waved or nodded; for he had
his own views of what was proper, and they were far more exact and far
more straightforward than one would have imagined.
"What! You, Hank--me old pal!" shouted Sam, delighted beyond measure,
and almost hugging the little hunter. "You along o' Joe? How's that?
He been doing something fer you, same as he did fer us?"
Hank asked an abrupt question. "What?"
"Ain't he never let on about the fire aboard ship, the rumpus there
was, and how he led the volunteers?"
"Nary a word. Peter--Peter Strike, that is--did tell me a tale, but he
warn't too sure of it. The young cuss is that silent when it comes to
hisself. But he's been doing well. Sam, let's get these wet things
off us, and something hot inside, and then we'll gas. Gee! Ef that
ain't Mrs. Fennick! Howdy, maam? Here's Joe."
The good woman almost embraced our hero, for she felt like a mother to
him.
"Come right in and let us hear all about you and your doings," she
cried. "And Hank Mitchell too! I'm that glad to see you both, and Sam
has been waitin' these many days for you to arrive. He's got a scheme
for the winter."
The grinning master of the shack accompanied the visitors into the
interior of the shack, and there stood, first on one leg and then on
the other, while Joe and Hank looked keenly about them. It was to be
expected that a man of Sam's energy, a Canadian settler who liked
things to be right, should have erected a dwelling which should be
fitting for his wife. Besides, there was reason for even greater
magnificence.
"Guess you've been hard at work," said Hank, looking about him with
twinkling eyes that nothing escaped. "This here shack's meant to last."
"It's that and more," cried Mrs. Fennick, pride in her tones. "Sam has
built for a purpose. This shack's too big for what we want; he planned
to have an office."
"Eh?" asked Hank, turning on the grinning owner, who had flushed to the
roots of his hair for all the world as if he were a schoolboy. "What's
this?"
"Part of the scheme, lad," came the answer. "Jest you two get seated
and pull off those wet moccasins; then, when you've got dry socks to
your feet and has had a bite, I'll get to at it. It's a fine yarn;
I've dreamed of it this past five years."
No amount of persuasion would drag from Sam what his scheme was till
Joe and Hank had eaten, and the latter had lit up a pipe.
"You kin fire in at it, Sam," said Hank at length, in the crisp little
manner which was so distinctly his own. "I kinder gathered from this
here Joe that when you came along up here prospecting it warn't with
the idea of the ordinary farm. Maam, it's plain to see as my old
friend has nigh worked his fingers to the bone."
Once more the little hunter's eyes went round the large parlour in
which he and the others were seated, while Mrs. Fennick and her husband
followed his glances with frank pride staring from their own eyes. Nor
could Joe help but admire all that he saw; for he and Sam had been
parted but a matter of a few months, and in the course of that time the
latter had pitched upon a suitable holding for his farm, and had cut
the timber for his shack, besides erecting the house. As to the
latter, it was far bigger than the ordinary shack erected by the
settler. There was a parlour, a kitchen, and three bedrooms, while
attached at one side was a large office.
"Where we'll have the telephone afore you kin look round," declared
Sam. "It's jest like this. Me and a mate or two agreed to go along
together into New Ontario and pitch upon a spot that was likely to open
up. Wall, we took the line the branch railway was following, though
there's not one save those in the know behind the scenes, who kin say
exactly where it'll run. Still, me and the others prospected a heap
till we came along here. What with the difficulties of rocks to the
south, and big, straggling elevations, it was clear as the rails must
follow the valley, and there warn't more'n one for 'em to take. So we
prospected along it till we came here. You jist come outside the door
and you'll see what I'm after."
He led the way to the door of the shack and pointed to the north across
a narrow stretch of country bounded on either hand by elevated land,
and seamed along a straggling line running a little to one side of its
centre by a thin strip of blue which, here and there, was entirely
covered with snow. As for the landscape itself, it was difficult to
tell its aspect exactly, in spite of the thaw, for snow lay deeply in
most parts.
"Wall?" asked Hank curtly, looking about him and taking in every
feature. "It's the top end of the valley, I kin see that. Rails
running north kin easily pass out, seeing that the two ridges on either
side don't run together. But they can't cut off to right or left. Ef
the rails comes along this way, why, in course they passes right
through this location."
"Along by the river," said Sam quickly. "Hank, it's an easy rise all
the way. The river ain't got no current to speak of, which tells the
tale easily. As to the rails coming along into the valley down south,
why, that is almost certain, as sure as one can take it. Anyway, me
and my mates agreed that it was more than likely, and so we arranged to
take up holdings here. There's four of us already, Claude and Jim and
Joe makes seven, and come spring-time there's nigh twenty more married
men to join us."
"Wall?" asked Hank, not as yet clear as to what was Sam's meaning.
"Where's the difference between this and other settlements? You takes
up land, and the rails come along. Good! Up goes the value of the
land, as it aer sartin to do. You get a reward for foresight; after
that, where's the difference?"
Sam had evidently sought for the question, for he rubbed his hands
together eagerly and gripped Hank's sleeve.
"Jest here," he declared with enthusiasm. "Instead of some twenty of
us starting to work our sections separately, and going mighty slow in
consequence, we're forming a corporation. Each man who takes land will
pool money with the corporation. With that money we buy implements,
horses, cattle, everything that's needed. We divide our numbers into
parties, and come the spring one of 'em sets to work to build the
shacks, another does the ploughing, while a third'll get to at the
irrigation channels."
"Ah!" gasped Hank. "This aer new."
"Sam worked the scheme out all alone," declared Mrs. Fennick, with
energy, causing her lord and master to blush again.
"It sounds just splendid," cried Hank. "Wall? What more? I kin see
that there's an advantage in working ground on the corporation system.
If you've got the timber cut already, it stands to reason that ten men
working on a shack can put it up more'n ten times quicker than one man
all alone. If there's twenty shacks wanted, ten men can put 'em up
heaps faster than twenty fellers working on their own. And irrigation
too! That sounds fine; it's doing well elsewhere."
Hank spoke but the truth there. A far-seeing Dominion Government and
an all-powerful railway company have already seamed portions of Canada
with canals and ditches with which water is borne to lands hitherto
useless. Their forethought has converted, and is fast converting,
barren soil into country which in parts already bears smiling crops and
happy homesteads. As for the corporate system, if the Dominion
Government has not attempted that--and one must admit that it is a
question more for individual settlers--it has at least other worthy
schemes. A would-be settler can now sail for the Dominion, to find
there a quarter section prepared for his coming, with the shack built,
the well dug, and some forty acres broken and seeded. For this he pays
a reasonably small sum down, and the rest by small instalments. Think
of the huge advantage of such a system. In place of finding naked
soil, and having first to build a shelter and then break the land, a
settler finds a home in readiness and crops already sprouting. Then
consider Sam Fennick's proposition.
"It aer bound to go with a bang," declared Hank, pushing his skin cap
to the back of his head and scratching his forehead. "It aer jest
tremendous."
"It'll work, I think," agreed Sam, with the natural modesty of the
inventor of such a daring scheme. "Anyway, we've got the party
together, and there'll be money in abundance. Each man will own his
own taking, and ef others come along and settle nigh us, why, we're
prepared to hire ourselves out ef there's a call and we've the time.
As for implements, me and a few of them has talked it over, and come
the spring there'll be two steam agricultural motors up here, in which
we kin burn wood. They'll each do ploughing at three to four acres a
day, and will draw the reapers and binders when it comes to harvesting.
There won't be no need to wait for a threshing gang, 'cos the tractors
will drive the machine we shall buy. They kin do wood sawing too, and
a hundred other things, besides hauling the stuff to market."
"Ah!" gasped Hank, for this was a proposition which rather took his
breath away by its novelty and its possibilities. "But----"
"Yes?" asked Sam, bracing himself, as if to face any awkward questions
the little hunter might fire off at him.
"There's the winter," said Hank. "Your corporation comes to an end
when the snow comes; you ain't thought of that."
But Sam had; he wagged a knowing finger, while Mrs. Fennick giggled.
Indeed, it must be admitted that this cockney settler, who had come
from London and done so well in the Dominion, had proved himself more
than astute. Perhaps he had thought the whole matter out during some
past winter in Canada. In any case, he had been wonderfully close
where his scheme was concerned, for never once had he more than hinted
at it to Joe. However, the question of work in the winter had not
escaped him.
"You listen here," he said, shaking Hank as if he were a dog. "Come
wintertime east of the rockies things mostly closes down in Canada;
even in the towns there ain't too much work. There's men wandering to
and fro searching for jobs, whereas, most times and in most places,
when there's spring and summer, there's more jobs than men."
"Guess that aer so," agreed Hank, sucking hard at his pipe.
"But there's work in Canada that starts in the fall, and only then--eh?"
"Lumberin'," suggested Hank.
"Lumbering it aer," cried Sam, drawling the words. "Up there beyond
the break through which the railway'll pass, ef we've any luck, there's
land that's heavily timbered. Wall, it's part of the scheme. You kin
get a timber concession from Government by paying so much on the logs
you cut, and me and my mates has taken up a tidy piece of timber
country. There's a lake twenty miles and more north into which we can
slide the logs, and there's another jest at the head of the valley.
Way south there's a quickish fall, with water in plenty, and ef all
goes well, and we kin make enough dollars, why, we'll start a mill
there and saw our timber. The rails'll be close by then, and will take
'em on to market."
"My," cried Hank, "you've been moving!"
"We're only beginning," said Sam. "But we starts out for a lumber camp
soon as the frost comes, and there we'll work till springtime. You
axed what we was going to do in the winter. There's the answer."
It must be confessed that Sam Fennick's scheme was ambitious to the
last degree. But then, if one analyses it, one can see the
possibilities that Hank saw, for co-operative working is often enough
wonderfully successful where the single individual fails. Again, in a
country where labour is scarce, and profits often lessened because of
the lack of labour at critical periods; where, in fact, a man who may
have broken and sown his land with the greatest industry may see his
crops rot in spite of his energy, simply and solely because of the lack
of help to harvest them; there, in a case such as that, the
co-operation of his fellows would be all in all to him. Indeed, with
pooled labour, and a certain sum pooled by all the settlers with which
to buy implements, it stands to reason that work could be done more
cheaply, more expeditiously, and always at the proper season.
"It aer a grand proposition," declared Hank, when he had thoroughly
considered the matter. "I kin see a big saving in more than one way,
and one of 'em's this. Suppose there's twenty settlers in the combine.
Wall, now, with ten ploughs and ten harrows and seeders you've tools to
break the land. Supposing there warn't a combine; each man has his own
tools. They ain't all in use together, so some of 'em's lying idle.
That's gain number one, and don't you try to contradict me. And so
you're goin' lumberin'?"
"We are that," assented Sam; "and seems to me you and Joe had better
come along with us. You could put in a month or more, and then go
along on prospecting."
It took our hero and his hunter companion but a little while to accept
the invitation, the more so as Joe was already more or less one of the
corporation Sam was forming.
"There's dollars in the scheme right through," Hank said, as they sat
round the stove that evening. "Ef you'll have me as one of the band,
I'll apply for my two hundred acres right off, paying for 'em, for I
ain't able to take up more free land. Joe's in the same fix. But he
aer got the dollars to pay. We'll come north with you and do a little
lumbering. Afterwards he and I kin move on farther, for I've a
proposition of my own to look into."
"But----" began Joe, who had been a listener for the most part up till
now.
"Huh! He's agoin' to criticize the scheme and pour cold water on it,"
grinned Hank, swinging round on our hero. "Tell you, Sam, this here
youngster aer had his eyes opened wide sense he came out, and he's
turnin' into a business farmer. Wall, what are it?"
"This lumbering," began Joe diffidently, colouring at so much attention
being attracted to him.
"Just you give 'em what you think and don't be afraid," cried Mrs.
Fennick encouragingly. "The lad that could organize volunteers aboard
ship has a right to speak. Sam, likely as not he'll show you and Hank
that you've made a big error somewheres. Now, Joe."
"I was merely asking about the lumbering," said Joe. "I always
gathered that lumberers were men who were more or less trained. They
go out in gangs, don't they?"
"And so'll we," interrupted Sam, with eagerness. "But there ain't so
many chaps out here that hasn't had a turn with the gangs some time.
I've done a season; p'raps Hank has too."
"You bet," came from that individual. "I've done most things 'way out
here, from gold diggin' to farming pure and simple. Huntin' aer my
proper trade, but I ain't too proud to do anything. Even when I'm my
own master I ain't above takin' on a job for someone else ef I've the
time, and the money's good enough."
"Then there's two of us has done the work before," declared Sam.
"Eight or nine of the boys I've fixed it with to join our corporation
are already up in the woods, where we'll join 'em. They've a shack
built this three months, and no doubt they've started in felling."
It appeared, indeed, as if the thoughtful Sam had made very complete
arrangements, and there was little doubt but that Hank, as an old and
experienced colonial, was delighted.
"It aer a fine proposition," he repeated for perhaps the twentieth
time. "When other folks is buried in the snow, and only finding work
with feeding the cattle and sichlike, we'll be cutting timber that'll
bring dollars in the summer, and be back on our holdings time enough to
plough and sow and make ready for harvest. Autumn will see us
threshing, and by the time the grain is hauled down to the railway
there'll be frosts. Then out we go again. Gee, Sam, this fair tickles
me!"
A week later the little band of lumbermen was collected together, while
Tom Egan, a sturdy settler some fifty years of age, had arrived from
his own little shack across the valley and had taken up his residence
at Sam's dwelling, where it was arranged that Mrs. Fennick should stay
with Egan's wife and children.
"Yer see," explained Sam, "a lumber camp ain't no sorter place for a
woman. It's rough living all the while. Men are packed together as
close as sardines, and even then it's mighty cold. So the missus stays
here with the Egans while we move on."
They slung their traps over their shoulders, and with snowshoes on
their feet set out towards the north. The thaw of the past week had by
now given way to severe frosts, while there had been a heavy fall of
snow. However, none but a confirmed grumbler could have found fault
with the conditions, for a bright sun flooded the landscape, shimmering
on hillocks of snow, throwing long blue shadows athwart the hollows,
and causing the millions of particles of ice to flash and scintillate.
There was a dry, exhilarating crispness about the atmosphere that was
typically Canadian, a bracing coldness that made the little band step
out briskly, Hank at their head, Sam following; then Joe, and Jim and
Claude, the two young friends he had made aboard the steamer, marching
side by side. Dick Parsons, a lanky, bearded colonial, brought up the
rear, a veritable grenadier in proportions.
They formed a merry party in their lean-to that night, and went on
their journey on the following morning with undiminished vigour. Late
the following day the crisp ring of axes coming to their ears through
the tree trunks of the forest they had plunged into some hours before
told them that the lumber camp was within easy distance. Shouts
greeted them as they trailed into a narrow clearing, at the back of
which stood a low-built shack half-buried in snow, and with its roof
supporting a vast mass of that material. Smoke issued gently from a
centrally-placed chimney, while the door was wide open. Hearty indeed
was the greeting, then the hut swallowed the whole party.
"You've jest come along in time for tea," cried one of the lumbermen, a
bearded giant even taller than Parsons. "Sit ye down right there and
we'll give you a meal that'll show you how we've been living. Bill,
you fish out that bear's meat you've a-stewing, while we others get the
tea on the table."
The table, let us explain, was a mere apology for that article as
civilized individuals understand the term, for your lumberman has no
time to devote to the niceties of furniture construction. Joe indeed
found himself marvelling at the crudeness of their work and yet at its
obvious utility; for split stakes had been driven into the ground down
the centre of the shack, and cross pieces nailed on top. More long
split logs secured to these formed the top of a table some two feet
wide. As for benches, they were fashioned in the same manner along
either side, and were by now fully occupied. A huge enamelled-ware
teapot was passing from hand to hand, while Bill, the cook to this
expedition, was standing at one end of the table dealing out helpings
of a savoury bear-meat stew that tickled the nostrils of everyone.
"What about sleeping?" asked Joe presently, when the meal was finished
and the lumber gang had gathered round the open fire placed at one end
of the table. "Is there another room?"
"Another!" exclaimed Harvey Bent, the chief of the party. "Young man,
there ain't time fer buildin' luxuries when you're lumberin', and
what's more, guess there ain't warmth enough. Time we turns in
to-night there'll be jest about room fer the lot of us, and no more.
The closer we are the warmer, and 'way out here, when the thermometer's
down below zero, that means something to men who has to work."
Joe and his friends found that the sleeping accommodation was quaint in
the extreme. Along one side of the shack a sloping platform had been
built of the usual split logs, and piles of blankets lay upon it.
Going to bed was a simple proceeding in this lumber camp; for men
merely slipped off their boots and hats and wrapped themselves in a
blanket. Then they lay down side by side, packed closely together, so
closely, in fact, that to turn was an impossibility. But Joe and his
young friends, who were novices like himself, discovered very soon that
these old lumbermen were not without consideration. They allowed for
the possibility of a change of position, and that very night, some time
in the small hours, a hoarse command awakened them.
"Heave!" they heard, and promptly, more asleep than awake, the band of
men rolled over on to the other side and once more settled into snores
and slumber.
"It's a sight that'll do your eyes good," declared Hank, early on the
following morning, when the gang had eaten. "You watch these fellers
cutting down their timber. It ain't likely that you'll be wanted fer
much to-day, and so we'll take a look at 'em and then see their mates.
All of the gang ain't fellers. It stands to reason that someone's got
to deal with the timber when it's down, and has to haul it out of the
way to where the water kin deal with it. We're high up here, for we
was climbing most of yesterday, and this here shack aer located jest at
the top of a steep slope cutting sheer down to the lake that Sam
mentioned. You come along with me; when we've had a look round we kin
tackle a job with the others."
Donning their snowshoes and taking their rifles with them--for it was
already agreed that Hank should hunt for the gang and procure them
fresh meat--he and Joe went sliding off along the hillside, and
presently, reaching a spot where the lumberman's axe had cleared the
trees, were able to get a clear view of their surroundings. Down below
them, two or more hundred feet perhaps, was a vast expanse of white,
unbroken for the most part, though here and there there was a
dark-coloured elevation denoting an island, the huge expanse being the
frozen and snow-covered surface of the lake. Beyond there was forest,
patched with snow, silent and forbidding. As for the steep slope at
that part, it was scored with a hundred and more tracks.
"Where the logs slide down to the lake," said Hank. "Now we'll go
along and see 'em at it. My, these trees are mighty big, and will saw
into fine logs! Ef that railway comes up this way, as Sam believes,
timber'll be wanted, and the work that's being done here will bring its
own reward. Ah! there's axes! Jest you come and see how a Canadian
lumberman tackles a forest giant, and can throw the tree jest wherever
he wants."
Joe marvelled, indeed, at the skill and the energy of the lumbermen.
Hearty, healthy fellows one and all, they went at their work as if they
loved it. Cutting niches with their axes high up the stem of a giant,
they drove wooden stakes into the crevices thus prepared, and soon had
a platform built on this somewhat insecure foundation. Then came the
ring of axes swiftly falling, a hoarse cry of warning, twice repeated,
followed by a reverberating roar as the giant succumbed to human
forces, crashing to the ground with a thud which shook the
surroundings. Joe stood by as one of the biggest of the trees tumbled,
and watched the lumbermen shredding the branches from the fallen
timber. The naked trunk was then levered with crowbars, and with a
final jerk was sent skidding and sliding down the hillside, to come to
a halt at the bottom, perhaps on the frozen surface of the lake, or at
any rate within a few feet of it.
"There's a couple of men working down there with a hoss," explained
Hank. "They hitches on to the logs that don't reach the lake and drag
'em into position. Look away down. There's a hull crowd of timber
waitin' for the end of winter."
"And then?" asked Joe, for he was ignorant for the most part of the
work of lumbermen.
"Why, the ice breaks up," said Hank, "the logs gets carried into the
lake, and the 'drivers' takes 'em in hand. A mighty hard and dangerous
job theirs is, too. They has to be at it night and day, wet and fine.
Each of 'em has a long pole with a spike at the end, and their
particular work aer to send the logs down. Sometimes the stream
carries 'em all right. Sometimes they gets hung up in corners and
eddies, and the driver has to set 'em afloat agin. Then, down at the
bottom of a lake same as this it ain't so seldom that logs and ice'll
form a jam. One of the logs gets across the outlet, stuck up on a rock
or two. Others piles up behind, with blocks of ice maybe, till there's
ten foot high of logs and stuff, with a mass of water and ice and logs
'way behind. That aer a ticklish job to tackle, and many a driver has
been killed or drowned. But they ain't never afraid, and there ain't
much that they can't do. I've seed 'em hopping from floating log to
log and steering a single trunk downstream, as ef they was aboard a
canoe and not on top of a thing that'd roll over with the ordinary
feller. Now, we'll make right off out of hearing of the camp. Bill
war telling me this morning that when that bear's meat aer done, there
ain't nothing left but pork."
It was with the keenness of a schoolboy that Joe threw himself into the
work at the lumber camp. That very evening he was told off with the
hauling gang, and for a month and more assisted in dragging the felled
timber to the edge of the lake; and never once did he find the hours
drag or the work too heavy. As for the evenings, they were a delight
to all; for your lumberman's camp is a veritable club. There, with the
door shut and a hot fire burning, the men made a circle once their meal
was finished. Pipes were filled, and clouds of smoke obscured the
surroundings, dimming the rays from the single oil lantern hanging
overhead. And what yarns those colonials could tell! Rugged, honest
fellows, they spoke in a simple manly manner which was captivating.
The boaster was not to be found amongst them; their tales were of deeds
which had actually occurred, while the truth of their statements was
apparent. As for chaff, they were never done with it. Harmless jokes
and horse-play made the evenings jovial and merry. It was thus that
our hero passed a portion of his first Canadian winter, revelling in
the brisk atmosphere and in his work, boon companion to every member of
the lumber gang. Then he and Hank bade farewell to their comrades and,
shouldering their packs, set out for the north, for a country hardly
ever explored, where danger and difficulty awaited them.