The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1898-06-16
DOWN A LOG sLUIcE
THRILLING MIDNIGHT RIDE IN A
MAINE CANOE

THRILLING MIDNIGHT RIDE IN A
MAINE CANOE
Prom Carry Pond to MoOschead
Lake at Lightning Speed, With
John Peters Has n Ride Which
He VIII Never Forget.
From the Lewiston (Me.) Journal.
Anybody who has passed over the
Northwest Carry within five years re-
members the elevated sluiceway that
follows that rocky trail on the north
a large, V-shaped trough lifted well
above the powders and first growth, al
first glance resembling much q ram
shackle tramway.
One evening in the spring following the
fall that this sluiceway was built. John
Peters. woodsman. trapper and guide,
sat in the doorway of his cabin at
Sears high landing, on the Upper West
Branch smoking his cob pipe. John
did not look happy, and, in truth, he
was not happy. He was making a
skins slowed beneath his bunk, and the
amount of good American money he
figured they would be worth TO him
landed in Bangor, did not tend to les
sen the wrinkles that furrowed his
brow. For that amount represented a
winters and a falls work; from it he
would have to pay for the supplies
he had purchased on tick the October
before and upon it he would have to
-,
Not only he, but wife and three small
children over in the ST. John valley.
John wasn't much on figuring, but he
was good enough to see that both ends
were not going to meet or anywhere
near it. And the problem confronting
him was
Deeper Than He Could Solve.
AS he sat there in the gathering twi-
light, growing each moment more and
more respondent, a letter came for him
which read:
NEW YORK, April IS, 1S9-.-Mr. John
Peters-Dear Sir: Shall be at Kineo on the
morning boat, April "a, and want to start
INTO the woods at once. 1 do not care
wnere we 60, but want to get away from
everything for three months. Shall expect
you to have everything ready for the trip
when arrive so there need be no delay
Very truly yours
ne signature was tnat or New
York gentleman whom John had guild
worth not cent less than $500.
Catching up the letter, John re-
turned to the cabin with a lighter
step than he had known for months.
There was the date, the a.
Thursday. Thursday? Why, that was
today. Surely it was Thursday, April
oath. There could be no mistake. On
the table lay a piece of last SUNDAYS
paper he had brought down from the
farm and across the top was printed:
Boston, Mass, Sunday, April 90 189-."
And so he was too late
But perhaps it is not too late 1t is never
too late! The 24th? That's only today! Per-
came on the evening boat and has not yet
secured guide! Perhaps if l see him the
first thing III e, in the morning he will take me,
% Feverishly Johr Peters spoke these SEN
tcnces as he threw together into a meal
bag. the things he wanted and hurried down
to the river.
To shoulder and lug a canoe weighing a
hundred pounds over fairly smooth road
is a task for any man; to lug it over a
trail like the Northwest Carry in the spring
foundering in mud above the knees and the
next climbing over a mass of rocks and
windfalls is too much to demand of man.
if to read on the indistinct wall of the forest
a way out of his troubles
Then, as out of the darkness, there
flashed upon him the thought, if the log
floats unchalenged through the sluice why
not a canoe? He had never thought Of that
before. Pulling himself out of the mire, he
made his way to the-nearest crosspiece and
climbed up and looked into the trough. 1t
was full of water. How swiftly it ran, car
rying his arm to Its length as he thrust his
hand into the current. 1t was deep, too. and
wide. 1t was desperate chance and his
ony hope.
Placing his canoe in the trough, he was off
on his strange, wild ride through the dark
forest OF Moosehead lake. Slowly at first.
but, gaining speed,
The Canoe Moved Silently
along. Not motion rocked the craft. Not
the slightest jar as she swept around curves
and down inclines. The waters gurgled be-
tween the sides of the canoe and the trough
and now and then tiny swell Tapped mu-
sically against the hollow stern. Faster and
faster moved the canoe swiftly and more
swiftly flashed by the trees and openings,
now and then a familiar landmark telling
that the journey was quarter. half two
thirds over. Grasping the thwart in both
hands, John raised himself to a sitting
posture and locked about him. Darkness
darkness, everywhere. He could make out
nothing above below. or about him. He was
in a deep pocket a quarter of a mile from
the lake, judging from the dense growth and
his strange ride would soon be at an end
Even as he thought this a slight rocking OF
the canoe told of the sharp curve in the
sluceWay from the portage proper, soft
light stole in ION him and ahead he saw an
opening in the forest and beyond the lake
Swiftly as the canoe had been running thus
far it's speed was now increased perceptibly
for the last dozen rods of the sluiceway is
at decided angle. Like an arrow the light
craft shot down the smooth incline; trees
came into view ard flashed by with a rapid.
ity that defied the eye; larger grew the OPEN
ing Of the lake terminus of the sluice The
narrow channel OF rushing water, a band OF
silver in the moonlight, no longer merged
into the surface of old Moosehead. There
was plainly seen now, 100 yards away, the
wild leap into the lake. John Peters saw it
too, but only too late.
Bracing himself against the rear seat, he
of the trough in an effort to check the speed
of the canoe.
1t Was a Vain Ebert.
Torn by splinters and bleeding. his hands
were hurled back. He tried it again, and
again was repulsed, while with ever-in-
creasing speed the canoe approached the
fatal plunge. Thoroughly frightened, Peters
stood partly up, and Selling the paddle
strove desperately to save himself by fore
sluice. But the poliAed cedar slipped easily
over the--slime surface Of the boards and
served only to cause the canoe to rock in a
His only chance was now to jump, and
without stopping to figure the costs of q
leap from the swift moving canoe to the
rough ground ten feet below, he laid down
the paddle. Again too late! Even as he
seized the stern and prepared to swing into
space. the bow dipped in the final plunge
There was but one thing to do and John
did it. He threw, himself Nat in the bottom
of the canoe, grasped the thwarts, and. with
closed eyes, awaited the worst He never
knew just when he left the sluice or when
he struck the lake. He remembers sliding
along the bottom of the canoe as it pitched
and violent rocking in the swell immediate
ly following the landing in the lake n deIrqe