A Summer Outing and What Came of It

A Summer Outing and What Came of it A Story for boys, with some Observations Which May be of Interest to Men By Hon. Anthony W . Ivins

Chapter II "Forests were ever the cradles of men; Manhood is born of a kinship with trees. 0, do you wonder that stalwarts return Yearly to hark to the listening oaks? 'Tis for the brave days of old that they yearn: These are the splendors the hunter invokes."

It was the first week in September. In the Southland, at this season of the year, nature is at her best. Just a tinge of autumn in the leaves, the flowers passing from perfection of bloom to seed, the gathering of nature's harvest. Preparations for the outing were completed, and Frank Anderson and George Reasoner were ready to start into the mountains. The outfit consisted of the usual personal effects, food, clothing, etc.; two folding cots, with warm blankets, for it will be cold in the sierra, a smiall tent of ten-ounce duck, two 30-30 Winchester rifles, a shot gun, plenty of ammunition, split bamboo fishing rods, automatic reels, silk lines, leaders, and a large assortment of artificial flies; hobbles and bells for the horses, chains for the dogs, pick, shovel and ax; cooking utensils, dishes, and an assortment of books. All of this was loaded on a white top to which a medium span of horses was hitched, while a third horse, with a saddle on, was tied behind, and an extra saddle was lashed on the pack, to be used on one of the team horses, when the two men wished to ride together. Three dogs watched every movement while preparations for the start were being made: Fleete, a liver and white Pointer, eager, alert, her finely chiseled head and symmetrical body, the product of generations of careful breeding, showed great animation; Trailer, a spotted hound, with grave face and half closed eyes, appeared to pay little attention to his surroundings, but a close observer would note that nothing escaped him, it was dignity and not indifference which restrained him. The third dog was entirely different from his companions: they were both spotted, he was brown with regular white markings

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on his neck and breast; their hair was short and smooth, his long and shaggy; their heads were long with massive jaws, and square nose, his broad betweeen the ears and pointed at the nose; their ears were long and broad, his erect, with the ends slightly pendant. He was Laddie, the Scotch collie. Intelligent, alert, docile, but courageous and watchful, the soul of devotion and honor, he would never assume that which is not his own nor fail you in an emergency. The first five miles of the journey, across a comparatively level plain, was devoid of interest. The mountain, as Frank had said, was just a blue mass of rocks and earth. As they drew nearer its aspect gradually changed; new forms appeared, the smooth outline became rugged, and what in the distance appeared to have been small bushes gradually developed into forests of pine and cedar. The face of the mountain was rough, with no place where ascent appeared to be possible, but the road suddenly turned into a canyon, entirely invisible from the distance, and the long climb toward the summit began. Up, up they went, the road winding along the canyon side, here crossing a narrow culvert over a ravine, there cut through solid rock around a perpendicular cliff, with barely room for the wagon to pass, and again through the back-bone of an obtrusive ridge, but always up, up. At intervals the road had been widened making it possible for two wagons to pass. On one of these, George turned out and stopped. As he did so a team came round a bend above them and slowly down the road. Three span of horses were attached to two wagons on which four thousand feet of lumber was piled. The driver, a mere boy, sat upon the front load, which was the larger, carefully manipulating both the lines and brake, as the wagons rocked and swayed over the dangerous road. A cheery "hello" greeted the friends as the wagon3 rattled on down the canyon, two single teams, with lighter loads, following after. "I would not have thought it possible," said Frank, "for loaded teams to pass over these roads either up or down, but those boys appeared to be quite at home." "Yes, they are mountain boys," replied his companion, "accustomed to the dangers and hardships of frontier life, they do not know what fear is, you will become better acquainted with them before we return." "How magnificent!" Exclaimed Frank. They were nearing the summit and the sides of the mountain were covered with giant pines. On the South, perpendicular cliffs shot their pinnacles heavenward, great boulders were scattered over the mountain side, in the shade of which beds of vari-colored flowers blended with the eternal green of the trees, among the leaves

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of which a tint of yellow was beginning to show, harbinger of the autumn frost which was soon to come. After reaching the summit, the descent to the West was gradual. They had proceeded but a short distance when the sound of a steam whistle roused Frank from his reverie. "What is it?" he asked. "I did not expect to find a steam engine in this remote region." "It is at the saw mill which supplies the settlers in the valleys below with lumber," replied his companion. As they neared the mill, a four-horse team came out from a side canyon, drawing a wagon unlike any that Frank had ever before seen. The wheels were low and massive, and there were no standards on the heavy bolsters, but notwithstanding this fact, a tremendous log rode steadily on them, the driver sitting on its top. "How did they manage to get that log on the wagon?" exclaimed Frank. "It must weigh tons." "It does," said George, "and was loaded by the man who drives the team, you will see him unload it when we reach the mill. He is a logger by occupation, and handles these mammoth trees with as much ease as the teamster who furnishes you your coal does his scoop and chutes. The logs, after being cut, are sawed into the desired lengths, the logger drives his team to where they lie, on the mountain side, adjusts skids to his wagon, which is called a logging truck, attaches a chain, which has been wound around the log, to the reach, and to the other end of the chain hitches his team; as the horses pull, the log is rolled slowly up the skids onto the truck, where it is held in place by blocks placed on the bolsters. In this way a single man will load the largest log in the forest." The mill was in full operation. On the sloping side of the hill a great pile of logs was constantly being added to by teams which came with loads, and after having deposited them, moved slowly back up the slopes and canyons for others. A single man, with a cant-hook, moved the huge tree trunks to the carriage, they were quickly placed in position, the sawyer stood at his post, the ratchet tender moved the ratchet to the desired width and thickness, with a bewildering whir-r-r-r- the saw passed through the log, the off bearers rolled away the planks and boards as they fell upon the truck, and what a few moments before had been but an unwieldy tree trunk was ready to go into the habitation of man, the frame of a ship, or to support the bands of steel which bear the commerce of nations. It was all new to Frank; he had never before been in a lumbering camp, and was intensely interested in what he saw. The whistle blew, the mill stopped, the logging teams were fed grain and turned out to graze until morning, and the men

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gathered for the evening meal, of which the visitors were invited to partake. They were a stalwart lot, those men of the woods; rough in appearance and garb, but companionable, modest and sensitive, unobtrusive, but surprisingly well informed when engaged in conversation, obviously men to whom the world and its affairs were not strangers. The beds had been made up for the night, the moon shone brightly, the rare atmosphere was laden with that peculiar aroma of balsam and pine which pervades the saw mill. Frank Anderson was to pass his first night on a camp-bed in the Sierra. "It has been a delightful day," he said. "The canyon, the the trees, the flowers, but more than all the boy on that cliffs, load of lumber, and these men here at the mill, they have all impressed me deeply. Do you know, before I left home I had thought of the people who live away from the great centers of trade and commerce as of very little consequence. The great cities had been my world; their captains of industry, my ideal. I am astonished that these men discuss with intelligence, not only the things which belong to their own environment, but with a perfect understanding, the commerce, politics, and religion of the world. My ideals are already beginning to be shattered." "They are all worthy of our admiration, provided each is true to the trust reposed in him," replied George. "Governments must exist for the protection of society. There must be legislators to frame the laws, and capable men to execute them. Great financiers are necessary to transact the world's business, but you must not overlook the fact that these men of the mountains and plains, these men who toil, who take the rough elements as they are found in nature and convert them into that — which man requires, these men from the workshops, the mills, and the farms, have in them the elements for the making of legislators, executors of the law, and financiers. They do the world's work, they fight the world's battles; so long as we have them with us we are safe. Is it not possible that it was the backwoods which gave Lincoln the character that made him the greatest man of his time? The struggles of early life which gave us Garfield? Life on the farm which laid the foundation for the conquests of Grant? and the part he took in the winning of the West which made Roosevelt loved and trusted by the American people? Goldsmith was right when he said: "Princes or kings may flourish or may fade, A breath may make them, as a breath hath made, But a bold peasantry, a country's pride. If once destroyed can never bj supplied."

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The dogs barked, the belated cows came lowing home to their calves, the fires gradually died out, the sound of human voices ceased, the camp was asleep; and as he slept, Frank Anderson dreamed of other pine clad hills, of lowing herds and bleating flocks, of peculiar ships, on whose decks were crowded ranks of fair-haired, bearded men with the lust of conquest in their hearts. Unconsciously, environment had awakened within him the spirit of the past. The voice of his ancestors was calling, there was something within him which responded to the call; he had been born to a new life. (To be Continued)

Trailer

Time Time is a most valuable asset. We cannot afford to kill it. Each has a mission to perform that no one else can fill, with just enough time alloted to complete it. Our Maker will hold us accountable for this precious allotment of time. John the Revelator says that we will all stand before God and be judged according to our works. How will I feel, when my time comes to stand up and face my Maker and be told, "Make an accounting of your time"? I cannot deceive anyone, my record is there. If my life be one of selfish, personal aggrandizement and seeking pleasure in self indulgences, what a terrible regret I would have. How desirous would I be to have the rocks from the mountains bury me up so I could not face my Maker. But I cannot get away. If I get a good place, it will depend upon what / give to the world and not what I get out of the world. The life of President Joseph F. Smith was a model of service devoted to his Maker and to his brother. We can also make our lives sublime by doing good works daily. Joseph S. Peery