The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1897-05-28
TUG-OF-WAR WITH QUlCKSAND.
A Fisherman's Long Pull That Kept Him
Up Until Help Came.
(From the Philadelphia Times. J

southeast of Bellefonte, had an experience
last week that he is likely to remember
to his dying day. Trimble is a woods
man, about 60 years of age, though yet
rugged and possessed of considerable vi
tality and strength, and lives with his
wife in one of the loneliest spots in the
mountains, probably three miles to the
east of the pike leading from Bellefonte
to Lewistown. His nearest neighbor
lives five miles away.
The Seven Mountains are peculiar
range, their very name being. suggestive
of the [fact that it is simply suggestion
of seven mountains all in one. Spark
ling mountain streams have their source
and flow all through this system of
mountains, and these streams are well
stocked with trout of the original noun
tain variety. At times disciples of 1zaak
Walton from the neighboring towns make
pilgrimages to the mountain streams in
quest of the speckled beauties, but be-
cause of the peculiar topography of the
mountains, in which it is very easy
matter to get lost, strangers seldom ven
ture far beyond civilization. For this rea
son, the denser streams furnish the better
fishing, and it was to one of these, To-
Gated in the vicinity of the Bear Mead
ows, that old man Trimble last week
betook himself. Recent rains having
swollen the stream, the water was high
and swift, and the trout were somewhat
chary. in biting, SO that when the evening
shades began to fall Trimble's basket was
not yet filed.
Having tramped some ten miles or
more, he determined not to go home wit
out his basket full, and, to this end,
concluded to stay over night. He had
provisions enough to last him, and as
TO camping out in the open that was an
oft-repeated occurrence for him, and
thought little of. Just about shutdown
the trout began to feed, and Trimble had
better luck. In fact, the trout were biting
so strong that the old man forgot every
thing but the pleasure of landing the fish.
Irimble was then fishing in Trout Run,
which at that place flowed through low,
mucky bottom, pretty well covered with
underbrush. In order to be able to cast
his line better, Trimble plunged into the
place, varied in width from ten to fifteen
feet, and proceeded to catch trout with
the delight of boy
He travelled down stream perhaps a
quarter of mile, when he came to an old
log living across stream. On this he
not get another bite. His basket was
almost full, and the old man was specu-
lating on trip home by starlight But
he must have a few more trout. He
jumped from the log into the bed of the
stream and almost lost his senses with the
suddenness with which he seemed to drop
through the bottom. To give the story
in the mans own words: ''That was
what 1 thought when l lit. 1t just
seemed as if broke through a piecrust,
81, Nj, ~, 10 Il
a great big pie. At first L wasn't a bit
scared, but when I tried to pull my legs
out, and the more tried the tighter they
got and deeper they went into the bottom
of the creek, [ sort O. lost my nerve and
for the first time began to realize that 1
was stuck fast in a bed of quicksand. 1
had often heard tell of such places being
in that locality, but never before had
struck one, although l had fished that
stream for years.
BE that as it may however there
was, stuck faster and tighter than if driv-
Z en- in with big sledge hammer. 1
screamed with all my might three or four
times, and then realized the uselessness of
calling for help, as there possibly wasn't
soul within ten miles at that time in
the evening. And all the time l was sink
ing, very slow, but just as sure, and the
more l tried to get loose the faster sank
/ unslung my basket of trout and threw
it on the bank along with my rod. Then
having nothing to do, began to count
how long would have to live, or how
long it would be until the ever-moving
sand would completely draw me under
providing help in some shape or other did
not arrive. I can tell you what, the
time passed slowly. had no means of
knowing the time, but it must have been
nearly midnight, and 1 was all tired out
had been sucked down by the sand I'M
til [ was in the water up to my waist.
Il was still within reach of the old log,
and to keep from going any deeper took
al hard hold J., Of it; This to a certain
of the sand, but the position was very
uncomfortable one. The strain on my
nerves was something awful, but it was
nothing to the feelings from the action
of the sand on my legs. 1t just seemed
as if they were fast in some kind of
crushing machine, which was first tor
menting me as much as possible before
smashing them completely. It was a
slnothering sensation, and sharp pains
crept up my backbone clear to the top of
my head, at times giving such twinge
that felt as if my head was bursting.
Such continual suffering made me weak
very fast, and, when the first streaks of
dawn showed through the woods, I
thought sure I would have to give up.
II was awful faint, but I had thrown
away what grub had when 1 slung my
fish on the bank, and SO had to go hun.
CRY. This added to my misery heap
It is hard to tell all did think and how
I felt, but I do remember that 1 thought
if the sand would only Ebe quick about
/ would let go the log and have IL over
with, but the knowledge that it would be
hours before it pulled me under far enough
to drown me made me more anxious
to keep from going deeper, and grabbed
the log the tighter In this way kept
from. sinking to any noticeable extent, |
but the strain on my arms was terrible |
I felt as if they were being pulled from
the shoulder sockets. In fact they both
at times seemed paralyzed with pain,
but held on like grim death. How t |
ever got through that day can't tell, but
l know 1 would not live to go through |
another experience if there was any way
Of getting out of it by taking my own
life
SIT was about the middle of the af-
ternoon when heard voices not far away
| screamed with all my might, which at
that time was hardly louder than a sick |
chil0'S cry. hI1t If wac 10u6 opo1nb 70 |