University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.

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,” contined 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:

To this, the man standing on the opposite pile, in the same loud
and measured tone promptly responded:

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.