CHAPTER VI.

Camp Life.--Winter Evenings.--An Evening in Camp.--Characters.-- Card-playing.--A Song.--Collision with wild Beasts.--The unknown Animal in a Dilemma.--"Indian Devil."--The Aborigines' Terror.-- A shocking Encounter.--The Discovery and Pursuit.--The Bear as an Antagonist.--Their thieving Propensities.--A thrilling Scene in the Night.--A desperate Encounter with three Bears.

The winter evenings of camp life are too much abridged in length to allow a long season either for repose or amusement, in consequence of the lateness of the hour in which the men leave work, and the various matters which regularly claim attention. By the time supper is over and the nightly camp-fire built, sleep early invites the laborer to the enjoyment of its soothing influences. And oh! how sweet is that repose! The incumbents of downy beds, nestled within the folds of gorgeous drapery, might earnestly but vainly court it.

Could you take a peep into our snug camp some evening, you might see one of our number, seated perhaps on a stool in the corner, with a huge jack-knife in his hand, up to his knees in whittlings, while he is endeavoring to give shape and proportions to the stick he is cutting to supply the place of a broken ax-handle. The teamster might be seen driving a heated "staple," with jingling ring, into a new yoke, which is to supply the place of one "Old Turk" split while attempting, with his mate and associates, to remove an immense pine log from its bed during the day; and as he strikes the heated iron into the perforated timber, the curling smoke, in two little spiral columns, rises gradually and gracefully, spreading as they ascend, until his head is enveloped in a dense cloud.

There sits another fellow staring into vacuity, while between his lips, profusely covered with a heavy beard, the growth of a quarter of a year, sticks a stub-stemmed pipe. Opening and shutting those ample lips, volumes of smoke roll out, like discharges from the side of a moss-grown battery, the very _beau ideal_ of all that is exquisite in "tobaccoing." Bestride the deacon seat, a little removed, sits the cook, with a large pan between his knees, with shirt-sleeves furled, and in the dough to his elbows, kneading a batch of bread to bake for breakfast. The sweat rolls from his half-covered forehead, and, unable to relieve his hands, he applies now one elbow, then the other, to dry up the mizzle from his moistened brow. Yonder, at the further end of the camp, in close proximity to the fire, sits a lean, lank little man, with thin lips, ample forehead, and eyes no larger than a rifle bullet, piercing as the sun, poring over the dingy pages of an old weekly, perhaps for the tenth time. Songs, cards, or stories possess but little attraction for him. Intellectually inclined, but miserably provided for, still the old newspaper is a more congenial companion for him.

Behind the deacon seat, lounging upon the boughy bed, you may see half a dozen sturdy fellows--the bone and sinew of the crew--telling "yarns," or giving expression to the buoyancy of their feelings in a song, while the whole interior of the camp is lighted with a blazing hard-wood fire, which casts upward its rays through the capacious smoke-hole, gilding the overhanging branches of the neighboring trees. All within indicates health, content, and cheerfulness.

Card-playing is often resorted to as an evening pastime. If not provided with candles or lamps, the lovers of this recreation are careful to select a store of pitchy knots, whose brilliant combustion relieves them from all the inconvenience of darkness. This is, however, a bewitching amusement, and often proves detrimental to the peace and rest of the whole crew, and injurious also to the interests of employers.

The last winter I spent in the logging swamp, there were several packs of cards brought into the encampment by men in my division. I had resolved not to allow card-playing in my camp; but how to accomplish my purpose without inviting other unpleasant results was something to be thought of, as that man makes to himself an uncomfortable birth who incurs the ill will of his comrades in any way, especially in the exercise of authority not strictly related to the business for which they are employed, and by an infringement upon what they esteem their private and personal rights. Pointing out a pack of cards, while in camp one afternoon, to the owner of the same, at a moment when he was in a decidedly favorable mood for my purpose, "Come, Hobbs," said I, "burn them!" at the same time accompanying the request with the best reason I could offer to induce compliance. Taking them down, and thoughtfully shuffling them over for a minute, "Well," said he, "they are foolish things, aint they?" Of course I acquiesced. "Here goes!" said he, taking the poker and stirring open the hot bed of live coals, and in they went. The work of extirpation being commenced, he rifled the knapsacks of others belonging to the crew of their packs of cards, and threw them into the fire also, pronouncing deliberately, "High, low, Jack, and the game!" I really expected a fuss when the matter should come to the knowledge of the others. They submitted, however, to their bereavement like philosophers. It passed off without any muss being kicked up, though the agent was a little menaced for the liberties he had taken in the matter; but he enjoyed the sympathies of the instigator.

Loggers, unlike most classes of men, are under the necessity of manufacturing their own songs.[11] The mariner, the patriot, the soldier, and the lover have engaged the attention of gifted bards in giving rhyme and measure to their feelings; yet they are not without poetical sentiment. The following is inserted as a specimen of log swamp literature, composed by one of the loggers:

[11] I should make one exception; J. G. Whittier has lifted his gifted pen for them.

THE LOGGER'S BOAST.

"Come, all ye sons of freedom throughout the State of Maine, Come, all ye gallant lumbermen, and listen to my strain; On the banks of the Penobscot, where the rapid waters flow, O! we'll range the wild woods over, and a lumbering will go; And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering will go, O! we'll range the wild woods over while a lumbering we go.

When the white frost gilds the valleys, the cold congeals the flood; When many men have naught to do to earn their families bread; When the swollen streams are frozen, and the hills are clad with snow, O! we'll range the wild woods over, and a lumbering we will go; And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering, &c.

When you pass through the dense city, and pity all you meet, To hear their teeth chattering as they hurry down the street; In the red frost-proof flannel we're incased from top to toe, While we range the wild woods over, and a lumbering we go; And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering, &c.

You may boast of your gay parties, your pleasures, and your plays, And pity us poor lumbermen while dashing in your sleighs; We want no better pastime than to chase the buck and doe; O! we'll range the wild woods over, and a lumbering we will go; And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering, &c.

The music of our burnished ax shall make the woods resound, And many a lofty ancient Pine will tumble to the ground; At night, ho! round our good camp-fire we will sing while rude winds blow: O! we'll range the wild woods over while a lumbering we go; And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering, &c.

When winter's snows are melted, and the ice-bound streams are free, We'll run our logs to market, then haste our friends to see; How kindly true hearts welcome us, our wives and children too, We will spend with these the summer, and once more a lumbering go; And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering we will go, We will spend with these the summer, and once more a lumbering go.

And when upon the long-hid soil the white Pines disappear, We will cut the other forest trees, and sow whereon we clear; Our grain shall wave o'er valleys rich, our herds bedot the hills, When our feet no more are hurried on to tend the driving mills; Then no more a lumbering go, so no more a lumbering go, When our feet no more are hurried on to tend the driving mills.

'When our youthful days are ended,' we will cease from winter toils, And each one through the summer warm will till the virgin soil; 'We've enough to eat,' to drink, to wear, content through life to go, Then we'll tell our wild adventures o'er, and no more a lumbering go; And no more a lumbering go, so no more a lumbering go, O! we'll tell our wild adventures o'er, and no more a lumbering go."

Our winter quarters and employments not unfrequently bring us into collision with wild animals of a formidable character. Of these the "Indian devil," or a species of the catamount, is chief. We often track animals of whom we have never gained sight.

Passing along one day in pursuit of timber, my attention was arrested by a track of uncommon size and appearance. It was round, and about the size of a hat crown, and penetrated the snow where it would bear me. I noticed where the creature stepped over a large fallen tree about two feet and a half high. A light snow several inches deep covered the log, which he did not even brush with his belly as he passed over it. From the nature of the track, I knew he did not jump. His legs could not have been less than three feet in length. After this discovery, I made my way to where the rest of the crew were at work with right good will. A similar track, of probably this same animal, has been seen by many different persons and parties, at places quite remote from each other, for several winters; but no one, that I am aware of, is satisfied that he has yet been seen, unless, indeed, by two or three lads while on the shore of the Grand Lake, who were fishing out of holes cut in the ice near the shore. About half a mile from them a long point made out into the lake, running parallel with the shore, which formed the boundary of a deep cove. The ice had become quite weak; still, it bore them with safety. While busily engaged with their fishing-tackle, their attention was suddenly arrested by a loud, splashing noise, as though some one was struggling in the water; and, on looking for the cause, they saw a large animal endeavoring to make the main land, crossing directly from the point toward them. He continued to break in every few rods, when he would spring out again with the agility of a cat. After getting out, he would stand and look round, then venture forward, and break through as before. The description they gave of his appearance was that he looked just like an immense cat; appeared to be about four feet high, and five or six feet long, thick-set about the head and shoulders, resembling somewhat in this particular the bull-dog. His general color was quite like that of a mouse, or, to use the boys' own words, "bluish," with light breast and belly. His tail was very long, reaching down quite to the ice, and curled up at the end; this he moved about just as a cat moves its tail. Waiting but a moment to gain this general view, they made for home with all possible dispatch, about one mile distant. Several men, with guns and axes, immediately started for the lake, but nothing further was seen of him. The manner in which the ice was broken fully confirmed the statement made by the boys respecting the size of this unknown creature.

There is an animal in the deep recesses of our forests, evidently belonging to the feline race, which, on account of its ferocity, is significantly called "_Indian Devil_"--in the Indian language, "the Lunk Soos;" a terror to the Indians, and the only animal in New England of which they stand in dread. You may speak of the moose, the bear, and the wolf even, and the red man is ready for the chase and the encounter. But name the object of his dread, and he will significantly shake his head, while he exclaims, "_He all one debil!_"

An individual by the name of Smith met with the following adventure in an encounter with one of these animals on the Arromucto, while on his way to join a crew engaged in timber-making in the woods.

He had nearly reached the place of encampment, when he came suddenly upon one of these ferocious animals. There was no chance for retreat, neither had he time for reflection on the best method of defense or escape. As he had no arms or other weapons of defense, the first impulse, in this truly fearful position, unfortunately, perhaps, was to spring into a small tree near by; but he had scarcely ascended his length when the desperate creature, probably rendered still more fierce by the promptings of hunger, sprang upon and seized him by the heel. Smith, however, after having his foot badly bitten, disengaged it from the shoe, which was firmly clinched in the creature's teeth, and let him drop. The moment he was disengaged, Smith sprang for a more secure position, and the animal at the same time leaped to another large tree, about ten feet distant, up which he ascended to an elevation equal to that of his victim, from which he threw himself upon him, firmly fixing his teeth in the calf of his leg. Hanging suspended thus until the flesh, insufficient to sustain the weight, gave way, he dropped again to the ground, carrying a portion of flesh in his mouth. Having greedily devoured this morsel, he bounded again up the opposite tree, and from thence upon Smith, in this manner renewing his attacks, and tearing away the flesh in mouthfuls from his legs. During this agonizing operation, Smith contrived to cut a limb from the tree, to which he managed to bind his jack-knife, with which he could now assail his enemy at every leap. He succeeded thus in wounding him so badly that at length his attacks were discontinued, and he finally disappeared in the dense forest.

During the encounter, Smith had exerted his voice to the utmost to alarm the crew, who, he hoped, might be within hail. He was heard, and in a short time several of the crew reached the place, but not in time to save him from the dreadful encounter. The sight was truly appalling. His garments were not only rent from him, but the flesh literally torn from his legs, exposing even the bone and sinews. It was with the greatest difficulty he made the descent of the tree. Exhausted through loss of blood, and overcome by fright and exertion, he sunk upon the ground and immediately fainted; but the application of snow restored him to consciousness. Preparing a litter from poles and boughs, they conveyed him to the camp, washed and dressed his wounds as well as circumstances would allow, and, as soon as possible, removed him to the settlement, where medical aid was secured. After a protracted period of confinement, he gradually recovered from his wounds, though still carrying terrible scars, and sustaining irreparable injury. Such desperate encounters are, however, of rare occurrence, though collisions less sanguinary are not unfrequent.

On one occasion, we tracked one of those animals where we had the day before been at work. From appearances, he seemed to have something unusual attached to one of his fore feet, which we judged to be a common steel trap. Returning to the camp for the gun and a lunch, two men started in pursuit. They followed him three days before overtaking him. In one place on the route they measured a bound of fifteen feet, which he made to take a rabbit, which he caught and devoured, leaving only small portions of the hide and fur of his victim. From the course traveled, it was evident that he was aware of his pursuers, whom he unquestionably desired to avoid. On the third day they came in sight of him for the first time. No longer retreating before his pursuers, he now turned upon them. Aware that they could have but one shot, it being impossible to reload before he would be upon them, they suffered him to approach very near, to make their aim more certain. The forest echoed with the report of the discharge; the shot took effect, and a furious scuffle followed. The snow flew, while the enraged and furious growl and gnashing teeth mingled with the clattering trap, and the echo of the powerful blows inflicted upon his head with the shivered breach of the gun, under which he yielded his life to his superior pursuers.

But there is no animal among us with whom encounters are so frequent as the common black bear. Their superior strength, the skill with which they ward off blows, and even wrench an instrument from the hand of an assailant, and their tenacity of life, render them really a formidable antagonist. We have sometimes been diverted, as well as severely annoyed, by their thievish tricks. In one instance we were followed several days by one of them on our passage up river, who seemed equally bent on mischief and plunder. The first of our acquaintance with him occurred while encamped at the mouth of a small stream, whose channel we were improving by the removal of large rocks which obstructed log-driving. Our camp was merely temporary, so that all our goods were exposed. While we were asleep during the night, he came upon our premises, and selected from the baggage a bundle containing all the winter clothing of one of the men--boots, shaving tools, &c.

His curiosity was too great to allow of a far removal of the pack without an examination of its contents; and never did deputy inspector or constable perform a more thorough search. Duties on the package were inadmissible; the goods were esteemed contraband, and were accordingly confiscated. The wearing apparel was torn into shreds. There was a pair of stout cow-hide boots, of which he tried the flavor; they were chewed up and spoiled. The razor did not escape his inquisitiveness. Whether he attempted to shave we say not, but he tested its palatableness by chewing up the handle.

From this position we removed a few miles further up stream, where we were to construct a dam, the object of which was to flow the lake, to obtain a good head of water for spring driving. This job being somewhat lengthy, we erected a more permanent camp for our convenience. A few evenings after our settlement at this point, while all hands were in camp, we heard some one moving about on the roof, where a ten-gallon keg of molasses was deposited. At first it was supposed to be a trick by some one of the crew; but, on looking round, there was no one missing.

Suspecting with more certainty the character of our visitor, we seized a fire-brand or two, and sallied forth like a disturbed garrison of ants, when we discovered that we were minus a keg of molasses. Following in the direction of the retreating thief, we found the keg but a few rods distant, setting on one end, with the other torn out. He evidently had intended a feast, but, intimidated by the fire-brands and the hallooing, he had retreated precipitately into his native haunts; but only, as it would seem, to plan another theft. About two hours afterward, when all was still, a noise was again heard in the door-yard, similar to that of a hog rooting among the chips, where the cook had thrown his potato parings. Peering through the crack of the camp door, sure enough, there was Bruin again, apparently as much at home as a house-dog.

We had a gun, but improvidently had left our ammunition at another place of deposit, about a hundred rods distant. Resolved upon chastising him for his insolence in the event of another visit, the lantern was lighted, and the ammunition soon brought to camp.

The gun was now charged with powder and two bullets. We waited some time for his return, first removing a strip from the camp door for a port-hole. Hearing nothing of him, all hands turned in again. About twelve o'clock at night he made us his third visit in the door-yard, as before, and directly in front of the camp, offering a most inviting shot. Creeping softly to the door, and passing the muzzle of the gun through the prepared aperture, our eye glanced along the barrel, thence to a dark object not thirty feet distant. A gentle but nervous pressure upon the trigger, a flash, a sheet of fire, and the very woods shook with the reverberating report, which sent Bruin away upon a plunging gallop. The copious effusion of warm blood which spirted on the chips was evidence that the leaden messenger had faithfully done its duty. A portion of his lights were shot away, and dropped to the ground, which convinced us that he was mortally wounded, and that it would not be possible for him to run far. Seizing as many fire-brands as could be procured, with axes, and the gun reloaded, all hands dashed into the forest after him, half-naked, just as they had risen from the bed, leaping, yelling, and swinging their fire-brands like so many wild spirits from the regions of fire.

Guided in the pursuit by the cracking of rotten limbs and the rustling of leaves as he heavily plunged on, we pursued him through a dense swamp. From the increased distinctness with which we heard his step, it was evident we were gaining upon him. Soon we heard his labored breathing. Just before we overtook him, he merged from the swamp, and with much exertion ascended a slight elevation, covered with a fine growth of canoe Birch, where, from exhaustion and loss of blood, he lay down, and suffered us to surround him. The inflammable bark of the Birch was instantly ignited all round us, presenting a brilliant and wild illumination, which lent its influence to a most unbounded enthusiasm, while our war-dance was performed around the captured and slain marauder. Taken altogether, the scene presented one of the most lively collections of material for the pencil that we have ever contemplated. There were uncommon brilliancy, life, and animation in the group. After dispatching, we strung him up and dressed him on the spot, taking only one quarter of his carcass, with the hide, back to camp.

A portion of this was served up next morning for breakfast; but while the sinewy, human-like appearance of the fore leg might have whetted the appetite of a cannibal, a contrary influence was exerted on ours.

More sanguinary was the following encounter, which took place in the vicinity of Tara-height, on the Madawaska River: "A trap had been set by one of the men, named Jacob Harrison, who, being out in search of a yoke of oxen on the evening in question, saw a young bear fast in the trap, and three others close at hand in a very angry mood, a fact which rendered it necessary for him to make tracks immediately. On arriving at the farm, he gave the alarm, and, seizing an old dragoon saber, he was followed to the scene of action by Mr. James Burke, armed with a gun, and the other man with an ax.

"They proceeded direct to the trap, supplied with a rope, intending to take the young bear alive. It being a short time after dark, objects could not be distinctly seen; but, on approaching close to the scene of action, a crashing among the leaves and dry branches, with sundry other indications, warned them of the proximity of the old animals. When within a few steps of the spot, a dark mass was seen on the ground--a growl was heard--and the confined beast made a furious leap on Jacob, who was in advance, catching him by the legs. The infuriated animal inflicted a severe wound on his knee, upon which he drew his sword, and defended himself with great coolness.

"Upon receiving several wounds from the saber, the cub commenced to growl and cry in a frightful and peculiar manner, when the old she-bear, attracted to the spot, rushed on the adventurous Harrison, and attacked him from behind with great ferocity. Jacob turned upon the new foe, and wielded his trusty weapon with such energy and success, that in a short time he deprived her of one of her fore paws by a lucky stroke, and completely disabled her eventually by a desperate cut across the neck, which divided the tendons and severed the spinal vertebræ. Having completed his conquest (in achieving which he found the sword a better weapon than the ax, the animal being unable to knock it from his hand, every attempt to do so being followed by a wound), he had ample time to dispatch the imprisoned cub at leisure.

"During the time this stirring and dangerous scene we have related was enacting, war was going on in equally bloody and vigorous style at a short distance. Mr. Burke, having discharged his gun at the other old bear, only slightly wounded him; the enraged Bruin sprang at him with a furious howl. He was met with a blow from the butt-end of the fowling-piece. At the first stroke the stock flew in pieces, and the next the heavy barrel was hurled a distance of twenty feet among the underwood by a side blow from the dexterous paw of the bear. Mr. Burke then retreated a few feet and placed his back against a large Hemlock, followed the while closely by the bear, but, being acquainted with the nature of the animal and his mode of attack, he drew a large hunting-knife from his belt, and, placing his arms by his side, coolly awaited the onset.

"The maddened brute approached, growling and gnashing his teeth, and with a savage spring encircled the body of the hunter and the tree in his iron gripe. The next moment the flashing blade of the _couteau chasse_ tore his abdomen, and his smoking entrails rolled upon the ground. At this exciting crisis of the struggle, the other man, accompanied by the dog, came up in time to witness the triumphal close of the conflict.

"Two old bears and a cub were the fruits of this dangerous adventure--all extremely fat--the largest of which, it is computed, would weigh upward of two hundred and fifty pounds. We have seldom heard of a more dangerous encounter with bears, and we are happy to say that Mr. Burke received no injury; and Mr. Jacob Harrison, although torn severely, and having three ribs broken, recovered under the care of an Indian doctor of the Algonquin tribe."