Adventure stories; Puget Sound Region (Wash.) -- Juvenile fiction; Ranch life -- Juvenile fiction; Young men -- Juvenile fiction
"No," replied Harry. "For one thing, it's quite a long way to the
nearest mill and we'd have to build a skidway for a mile or two down to
the water. Besides, in a general way, it's only the redwood and red
cedar that the mills have much use for."
Then he gave Frank a handspike that lay close by, and between them they
prized up one end of a log so that he could slip a chain sling under it.
The other end of the chain was attached to the yoke of the oxen, and
when he called them the big white and red beasts hauled the log away
until he stopped them and went back for another. Frank did not find much
difficulty in this, but it was different when they had drawn six or
seven of the logs together and laid them side by side. Harry said that
the next lot must go on top of the others, and Frank was wondering how
they were to get them there, when his companion laid two or three stout
skids some distance apart against the first of the row. These, it was
evident, would serve as short, slanting bridges, but Frank was still not
clear as to how the next log could be propelled up them.
When Harry brought it up he slipped the chain along toward its middle,
though it cost the boys an effort to prize the mass up with their
handspikes, after which he made one end of the chain fast on the
opposite side of the row, around which he led the oxen. The other end he
hooked to their yoke, so that it now led doubled across the row and
around the trunk they wished to raise. He said that when the chain was
pulled the log would roll up it. He next shouted to the oxen, who
plodded forward straining at the yoke, while he and Frank slipped their
handspikes under opposite ends of the log.
"Heave!" he cried. "Send her up!"
Frank did his utmost, with the perspiration dripping from him and the
veins on his forehead swelling, but the ponderous mass rolled very
slowly up the skids, and several times he fancied it would drag the oxen
backward and slide down on him. Indeed, for about half a minute it hung
stationary, though Harry, who dared not draw out his handspike, shouted
frantic encouragement to the straining beasts. Then it moved another
inch or two, and one released skid shot up as though fired out of a gun
when the log rolled upon the first of the preceding ones. They worked it
well across them, and then freeing the chain went back for another,
though Frank's arms felt as if they had been almost pulled out of their
sockets.
"You want somebody to keep the oxen up to it as well as two to heave,
when the logs are as big as these," said his companion. "Still, some of
the small ranchers do the whole thing alone."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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