The Bemidji pioneer., 1901-08-22
BackWOOds
Sketches
And There Are others.
BY Al M. GREELEY.
ssssass3ss.s;sssa3se3ss..s;

And There Are Others.
sat in front Of my shack, on the
banks Of the Big Fork river. The
shades Of night had fallen, and 1.-The
forest aronnd stood solid wall Of
gloom. All nature seemed oppressed
with the solemn stiffness Of the hour.
Nature was still and yet not silent.
The rustling Of the leaves were like
the stealthy footsteps Of evil spirits,
and the low lap, lap, lap Of the pass
/ ing stream was like the stirring Of
dead leaves in country graveyard
AT other times the stars, coming out
one by one and peeking down through
| the topmost branches Of the trees,
would have soothed the beholder. But
in the hush of d lonely mood there
was something devilish in them. They
seemed like the eyes Of spies In ad-
vance Of an army Of skulking demons
drawing closely around an unsns-
pecting foe. Truly to q sensitive
soul there can be nothing so awfnlly
oppressive as the thought of being
alone ii q mighty forest, elbow to
|elbow with sullen nature, but miles
from human sympathy.
Suddenly a louder tone comes up
from the river. Like sudden breeze
springing up across q parched prairie,
Iit brings a great relief. It is the even
sounds Of paddles. / go to the waters
edge and see a white man and an In
dian coming up stream ID a canoe.
They keep close to the bank where the,
current is the weakest. For the first
time II can in some degree realize the
feelings of Livingstone in the wilds of
Africa when discovered by Stanley.
They see me, and the white man
springs ashore. His voice was like
operate music when he briskly said
My name is Skillig. have a.
homestead d couple Of miles further
up; never saw it before, but I've had
house built and I've come TO i've
I've bid a last good bye to city life;
no more of it Tor me. I've quit its
noise and dust and strife, where every
man is the slave of other smiling cut
throats. Ill live no more where free
dom and sunshine is shut out and
wickelness and sham is fenced in. /
hunger for taste OF nature again; I
thirst for the cool springs Of the coun-.
try; / pine for the quiet shades Of the.
boWing forests. No; I cannot stay
longer. I'm dying TO reach home. =
A week later a man in a boat drift
past my door. His clothes are torn,
his face in blotches and sunburned, \
but his voice is doubleday Skillig's.
I asked him to stop q while.
No; II CAM lose a minute. I am
suffocating for breath of civiliza-
ton. Gotenough Of the woods I'm
dead weary. Stood It longs Il could;
but now I'm gay as a rat out Of a
trap. Mosquitoes SO thick they put
my fires out. And bite they bite
right through the soles Of my boots.
Fleas have eaten me lame. Frogs
yelling day and night they ne spoilt
my hearing. And wolves could you
ever sleep when they were bowling the
night into pieces? Sun blistered mel
all day and rain soaks in on me all
night. 4 stood all this till some assas-
sin came along and stole my tobacco.
That settled it. Fellow came along
hunting for a claim. My place has
got 400, 900 feet Of pine on it, and I've.
lone $500 worth OF improvements: but.
I've traded him my rights, and I'm off
or good. What did I get. for my
1lace2 The loan Of his boat to get
ne down the river. Good bye: glad
@ leave you.