Forest Life and Forest Trees: comprising winter camp-life among the loggers, and wild-wood adventure.: with Descriptions of lumbering operations on the various; rivers of Maine and New BrunswickSpringer, John S.
History
Forest Life and Forest Trees: comprising winter camp-life among the loggers, and wild-wood adventure.: with Descriptions of lumbering operations on the various; rivers of Maine and New Brunswick
Springer, John S.
Lumbering -- Maine; Maine -- Description and travel; New Brunswick -- Description and travel; Trees
"Supposing that I had found the object of my hazardous search, I
dismounted, and, flinging the bridle from my horse's head, left him to
shift for himself, and hastened to enter; but, to my amazement, it
proved an old, deserted, and solitary camp. Here, however, I resolved
to worry out the remainder of the night. The wind chopping round to
the northwest, it ceased raining and grew very cold, so that before
daylight the rain drops froze upon the bushes; and, beginning to be
very chilly, I found that exercise was necessary to keep me warm. The
darkness was yet so great that I could see nothing; and, for fear of
thrusting my head against the roof, I threw myself down and crawled
about on my hands and knees, until, wearied with my exertions, I felt
the need of repose. I then dug a hole down in the old boughs, which
had been used by the former occupants as a bed, crawled into it, and
covered myself entirely under the rubbish, except my face. For a few
moments I thought I should be able to sleep, but my hopes were
speedily dissipated. I had not lain long before I was covered with
myriads of fleas. Springing from my restless couch, I shook and
brushed them from my clothes; and as all hopes of rest were dismissed,
I continued to exercise myself as well as I could until the grizzly
rays of early morning dispelled the darkness which had so long held me
a prisoner. As soon as it became sufficiently light, I set out, in my
stockings, in pursuit of the camp, which I had failed to find the
night previous. Proceeding up river about two miles, I came at once
upon the camp. It was Sabbath morning; the inmates were indulging
themselves in a late nap, and, notwithstanding my urgent
circumstances, I resolved to wait a little, and give them a gentle
surprise. You may be assured that my wretched appearance fully
qualified me for the occasion. My feet were still partially covered
with the ragged remnants of my stockings; my clothes were considerably
torn and thoroughly wet, and the shives of the old bough bed were
sticking into them nearly as thickly as a fleece of porcupine quills;
my hat, rendered soft by the thorough drenching it had received,
settled down over my head and ears; the black dye from the hat had run
down in little lines all over my face, leaving their dry channels
distinctly defined; my long and tangled hair, together with my
haggard, care-worn countenance, rendered me altogether an object
which, under any circumstances, was calculated to inspire terror.
Stepping up to the camp, I gave a sudden, loud rap, without any
further demonstration, which awoke the crew. As they naturally
supposed themselves far away from any human beings, a knock at their
door thus early, and on a Sabbath morning, the more surprised them,
and awakened their curiosity. 'Who or what the d--l can that be?' I
overheard some one within say. Presently a man, who, by-the-way, knew
me perfectly well, came to the door, and, with some caution, opened
it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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