The morning times., 1896-07-26
A Feat of
Gallant
| Daring.
BY PHILIP MIGHELs.


In the depths of the redwood forest Of
California, " here the huge trees lowered UP
giganticaly, harsh and modern noise
came echoing from afar. Then louder and
nearer IL became until presently snortlng
and putting locomotive, diminutivc In size,
seemed TO issue directly from behind u
monster tree, on curved and winding
track. Behind Il a ira in of fiat ca RS crawled,
reminding one OF a great, many iointed
worm. Two blasts, shriil and startling,
came from the small whistle then, and the
rumbling stranger slowed down and halt
ed, the cars being stopped beside Il rough
and dusty platform made of logs.
Three or four men who had been IaZily
lying or sitting on the cars, now arose,
and, ilinging their great hooked levers to
the platform, made ready the cars for
their loads, and lay down again to wait
all but one. The one wasn't 4 man ut all
He was young Franklin Powers. "A tail,
wiry lad, who stepped about actively as
If in search of something upon which To try
the bulging sinews of his arms and legs.
Up simultaneously ravine he went, whistl-
ing an answer to a mountain quail. This
place was SCARED with evidences of mans
advent. for bushes and trees had been
cleared away to form n wide path, and n
deep-cut groove, or runway, was worn in
the soil.
THE DULL TEAM.
From away up above u series of sounds
came down through the trees. Faint they
were at first, but growing rapidly clearer
and louder. Then, amid fearful dust, u
clankDs Of chains, believing low and
painful and the wild shouting OF a man, "a
queer procession came suddenly into view.
Procession? No. hardly that either. II
a Qf hills. vokph in nHirl
hitched to a long, heavy chain, and urag-
ging train of giant logs from the
ridges above to the platform beside the
railroad. Fifteen yoke there were c. t he
great straining beasts in hne, their heads
thrown wildly forward, their shoulders
thrust stoutly against the yokes, their
flanks reeking with perspiration. their
muscles swelling big upon their legs, and
their tongues lolling forth from red and
dripping mouths. Beside them ran a man
or rather lie bounded along-a fierce, red
eyed Mexican, six feet in height. rod in
hand, she'd in heavy boots, clad in rough
pantalooDs and Il half-open red shirt
breheaded and shouting like demon.
'Hol! Hohi Gee! sacra. Hem up,'' he
he bawied, dancing nd tea ring along from,
one end of the bull team To the other and
back, lashing and prodding with his fear
compelling roads. Till the hulls beloved
lift iudti Dtlitilu Cfcdkeu anu IutIl-
bled. and the whole wood echoed with
the din OF it.
1t all seemed a wild, purposeless tdmult,
in its clouds of dust; yet the bulls well
knew their part and were glad indeed to
strain and haul in redoubed effort to jerk
the sliding logs at last athwa II the loading
place. alongside the waiting cars.
This sight was ever of interest to Frank
lin. and he watched the weary bulls go
off, spiritless and with dropping heads,
every day always with a feeling of pity
A sTINGY UNCLE.
However, little time he had now for
anything but work; he therefore picked
up lis lever hook and helped TO roll the
mighty logs on the cars and chain them
down. No easy task WAS this, for the
lever handle was large, the logs were
not always round and the lifting at
times was exceedingly heavy. His hands
had spread and hardened till he looked
dismayed upon them, but nothing could
he do about it. Ever and ever the mill
down below required the timber for its
hungry saws, making it necessary for
the train crew to fetch ut least four
loads daily from the rugged mountain
above. And whole armies of log-cutters
and woodsmen were encamped far back
III tue VlTRln IOTeStS TO leii thS inOudTtiiS
and saw them up to furnish the logs.
Young Franklin had, indeed. been very
thankful to ge! IL chance to work at any
thing; for his fathers death had left his
mother and him in desperate straiglits.
Not knowing what else to do he had ap-
piled to his uncle, John Powers, for work
ana this position had been the result.
Its a little bit stingy and mean of
Uncle john he had said to his mother.
but I'll take IL and prove that l am
worthy of something better in the MILL
He had proved it: he knew. he had: but
his uncle was dry, sbrewd man. who
rarely hurried in advancing anyone in
his employ. Sothere the young fellow was,
laboring daily in the silent redwoods
and living in "A cottage near the mill with
his mother
When at last the logs We're loaded and
firmly chained and blocked upon the cars
and the miniature locomotive had witched
down and coupled to the other end OF the
train, sharp whistle sounded and the
whole thing rolled slowly away
A beautiful route the railroad went,
some eleven miles in length, and it ter
minated on high embankment above the
mill pond. This placid sheet OF water,
on the edge OF which stood the mill, was
OF considerable extent and depth, and was
more than hal! ~fiiled with floating logs
that buddled together like sheep in a
fold. From the embankment wbereop the
cars We're finally stopped steep, wide
chute had been built, that ran out
over the water. 1t was creased along its
whole lengtb-perhaps so feet-and down
it the logs were sent to the water Young
Franklin and the other men with their
levers rolled the huge pieces of trees
into it from the cars, and down they shot,
end first, at a fearful velocity, diving
in the pond amid shower of spray and
spiashings, to leap again above the sur
face q hundred feet away.
4 splendid sight it was and quite ex-
citing, but there were few to enjoy it. The
men had grown accustomed to it, and were
too busy moving the cars back and forth,
in unloading, to notice such trifling dis
plays.
LITTLE ERIC.
On this particular day the train with the
second morning load had halted above
the mill pond Just as the whistle blew for
noon. The locomotive engineer banked
his fires and the men put on their Coats
TO depart their several ways To get some
thing to cat.
Franklin was among the very first ones
back. As lie jumped along from car to
car the mill engine started again and the
whistle blew the 1890 blast. Across the
mirroring water came the song of the sa ws,
hhC tnC cuN~iHS vi 6iube oeeS, liz sAhOkc
from the refuse fire curled about Ian
guidly, and calm and contentment seemed
to live in the air.
Afar off, ON the other side of the mill,
a queer little something bobbed about on
the logs ia the Pond, clambering from one
TO the next, and scampering thither and
yon in evident glee. No one sa W the little
climber, not soul, and yet he was none
else than the six-year-old, curly pated
little Eric, who called John Powers papa"
Initiating the mill man who climbed from