THE GUM HUNTER.
"That chap seems to be making himself right at home in our camp, doesn't
he, Garry," remarked Phil.
"So he does, but that is the way of many of the old timers in the woods.
They consider it all right to make use of anyone's camp so long as they
take nothing and do no harm, and leave some sign that they have been
there, provided the owners do not return before he leaves. He's a
picturesque-looking old fellow, isn't he? Looks something like our old
Hermit friend. Let's go and see who he is," concluded Garry.
They made their way to the lean-to, for they had stopped when they saw
the new occupant of the camp.
"Howdy, stranger," hailed Garry.
"Howdy, boys," he returned. "This your camp here?"
"Yes, we just threw it up yesterday. Are you from round these parts?"
asked Garry.
"Callate that's just what I am. Name's Dudley, George Washington Dudley,
generally called 'Dud' for short by my friends."
Garry then proceeded to tell his name and those of his companions. The
old man left off his cooking long enough to shake hands, and then
resumed his turning of the bacon.
"Got hungry and didn't want to start a new fire somewhere, and so used
your place here. Wasn't expecting to be gone so long today, and didn't
bring anything with me. Just helped myself. Will make it all right next
time I come this way. What you boys doing up here? 'Spose you're from
the city, but you don't look as though you were exact strangers to the
woods. Sensible looking clothes you've got on, too."
"We're figuring on camping here for a time, and looking the country
over. What's your business?" asked Garry, with the true Yankee
inquisitiveness.
"Oh, I do several things. Just now I'm a gum hunter."
"A what?" chimed in Phil.
"Gum hunter," responded the old man briefly, as though that settled the
question.
"I am afraid we don't know just what a gum hunter is," confessed Garry,
speaking for his chums as well as himself.
"No, I 'spose you don't. Can't expect city boys to know a great deal
anyway. Well, a gum hunter is just what it sounds like. I go through the
woods getting spruce gum for the drug stores. Make a good living that
way part of a year. Get a lot of druggists all way from Portland to
Boston who won't buy spruce gum from anyone but me. They know I send 'em
only the best. Understand what a gum hunter is now?"
"Thank you, yes," said Garry. "But you said you did other things. Mind
telling us what they are? We are not inquisitive, only this is something
new to us."
"Sure I don't mind. Sometimes I pick yarbs. There's a powerful lot of
them in the woods, like sassafras root and checkerberry and things like
that. I sell these to the same druggists that buy my gum. Then sometimes
I guide parties. In the wintertime I trap. And sometimes in the spring,
I work on the log drive on the river. There's lots of things a man can
do to make a living in these woods, if he only knows enough. And it
beats working in a store or something all hollow. You're never sick, and
mainly you are your own boss, without anyone to tell you when to work
and what to work at," concluded the old gum hunter.
For the benefit of our readers who may not be acquainted with Yankee
dialect, yarbs is the native's way of saying herbs.
The boys were much interested in the old man's various occupations. They
had no idea that a man could do so many different and profitable things
in the wilds of the great forests.
"What you boys aim to do while you are camping?" inquired the newcomer,
as he ate his late lunch. "You won't find a powerful lot of shooting as
there ain't much now that the law is off. Course you can get some good
fishing if you follow that brook that is fed by the spring you get your
water from for about three miles. There's a place there where a couple
of old trees lay across the brook, blown down in some big storm, I
expect, and there are some noble trout there. If I had had time today,
I'd have gone down there and caught a couple for my meal, instead of
taking your bacon."
"You were perfectly welcome to it, and anytime you are around here drop
right in and help yourself. You'll always find a plenty," said Garry
cordially.
"That's the right spirit to show in the woods, young feller," and the
gum hunter slouched off to the spring to draw some water to wash the
dishes after his meal. He came back with the water, and pouring a small
quantity of it in the greasy frying pan, put it on the coals. The dish
and his knife and fork, he scrubbed first with a handful of earth, and
in a short time they were clean of the grease of the bacon. All that
needed to be done was to rinse them out. By this time the water in the
frying pan had come to a boil, and pouring it out, the pan was found to
be nearly free of the grease. An application of earth, and a rinse, and
that job was done.
Then filling an old pipe, he stretched out near the fire, and began to
ply the boys with questions,--where they had come from, why they came so
far from home to go camping, and countless other shrewd interrogations.
For some reason he seemed to think it peculiar that they had come so far
when there were plenty of forests nearer home where they could have
established a camp.
Garry took it on himself to answer most of these questions, and in turn
asked many of the old man.
Finally Garry looked straight at the old fellow, and asked quietly:
"Ever hear of any smuggling going on in these parts?"
"That's a funny question for a young fellow like you to be asking. You
fellows haven't come up here to join some smugglers' band, that is,
supposing there were any up here? Sure you boys haven't been reading
woolly tales of smugglers on the border, or something, have ye?" he
asked suspiciously.
Garry and the others laughed at the implication. Garry, although not so
old in years, had several times proved himself to be a shrewd judge of
character, and he had already made up his mind that the old gum hunter
was a staunch and sturdy and patriotic citizen of the State. However, he
decided to let a little time elapse before further questioning of the
woodsman, or imparting any confidences to him.
"Where did your guide go after he fixed you up here?" asked the gum
hunter, after a short silence.
"We didn't have any guide," answered Dick.
"You fellows mean to tell me that you picked this site and pitched camp
yourselves?" demanded Dudley.
"Just exactly that," responded Garry.
"Well, it's mighty good job. Who taught you to make a double lean-to in
that fashion?"
"Why, we've made rather a study of woodcraft, and this is not our first
experience in the woods," answered Garry. Then thinking of a way in
which he could let the old timer know that they were not merely
adventurous, inquisitive boys, he decided to reveal to George Washington
Dudley the fact that they were members of the Forest Ranger Service,
but to keep a secret the fact that they were also on Customs duty.
On hearing this, the old man looked at them with considerably different
aspect.
Garry explained to him, as it had been decided at Augusta to give them a
good excuse for being in the woods, that they were covering that part of
the country with a view to establishing a 'phone service for the Ranger
System, that section being unprotected in that manner. As a matter of
fact, the border line was but poorly guarded, as the meagre
appropriation by the Legislature did not allow every foot of the country
to be taken care of in the manner that it should.
This announcement by Garry increased the respect of the old man for
them.
"Yes, sir, boys," he said, "that's one of the biggest things that's been
done in this State for many a long year. I tell you, I've lived in these
woods all my life, and that's more than sixty years, and I love these
great trees. They all seem like so many friends to me. Of course I know
that they must be sacrificed for the good of mankind, but it makes me
sad when I think of the way the paper mill people have gone through mile
after mile of timber land, cutting it clean of every tree. Course they
should take only the big trees, that have grown old like men, and have
almost outlived their good on earth. But to cut down young trees, it's
just like killing young boys. To the paper mill people it only means
just so much more pulp. Then the fires that are so often caused by
careless campers and hunters. Yes, sir, it's sure a crime, and it's a
fine thing for boys as young as you to know about these things and help
fight the evils. But there's one thing that's been a puzzling me. What
did you ask about smugglers for?"
"Why, it was partly curiosity, and partly because we heard that there
was considerable smuggling in this part of the country, it being so near
to the Canadian border line," said Garry cautiously. Then, carefully
choosing his words, he went on:
"And if we did find evidence of any, we being in a branch of the State
service, it would be our duty as good American citizens to run it down
as far as possible and bring the smugglers to justice. Don't you think
it would?" he concluded, looking sharply at old Dud.
"Yes sir," shot out the old gum hunter emphatically, and somewhat to the
surprise of Garry, who had put the question merely to see what side the
old timer would take. "I believe in upholding the laws of the land. I
came from a family that has done that always. My Daddy fought in the
Mexican War, and he was killed in Shiloh during the Civil War. I didn't
tell 'em just the truth about my age in the Spanish War, and so I was in
that myself; but they knew I was stretching the truth a little when I
tried to get in the big scrap in 1917. Ain't never one of our family
done anything but uphold the law the way she was written on the books.
"Now as for this smuggling that you speak of, it does happen and it
happens right in this region. There's a regular nest of 'em right in
Hobart. Now mind I ain't saying anything, but if a person was to keep
watch of certain fellows that always of an evening went through the back
door at the end of the restaurant, he might some time know just who
those fellows were. One thing, though, there ain't much help to be got
from any of the townspeople when it comes to that practice. Lots of
border people can't see the justice in paying duty on stuff that comes
from a country that's as near them as Canada is. They don't seem to look
on it as a foreign country at all. Guess it's because they are too
familiar with it. And that's that. So now, boys, I'll bid ye a goodbye
and trot along. I don't just know what you boys are up to, but I'll lay
that it's all right, and I've just got this to say: Anytime you get into
a bad hole, or need some help in the worst kind of way, remember and get
to George W. Dudley, or old Dud the gum hunter. Everyone hereabouts
knows who I am and where I can be found in a short time."
So saying, the old man shouldered his long rifle and went his way.
"Boys," said Garry elatedly, "the trail begins here!"