The weekly examiner., 1901-08-24

freedom of the sea. The sides of the mountains are covered with timber, and through the timber, winding in and out of canyons, shooting around projecting rocks, down steep grades, wind the timber fumes that are used to carry the logs and lumber cut high up in the mountains.
 The mountain woodman's life is lonesome one. As rule he works by himself through the day. At night he may have the company of few companions, but all through the week he sees nothing of life except that which is offered blythe solitude of the mountain. When Saturday night comes he wishes for the, to him, more congenia1 sights of the town that lies almost at the very base of the mountains. There is life there.
 It twill be a long walk back to to 77sfrss tifrss lumber camp again, but that will not come until Sunday On Saturday night his only thought is to get to the town. The safest way is to fol- low the winding trail afoot. The quickest way is down the timber Hume through which is rushing a torrent of water. It is only the ten derfoot in the lumber camp who walks, the old-timer always chooses the Hume.
 A rough wooden box boat is con- structed. It's square sides fit closely to the sides of the Hume. eEach boat carries two or three men, and in these, one boat following closely upon another, the daring navigators start for their Mecca of fun.
 The town may be five, ten or fifteen miles away. Going down it matters but little to the daring men who ride the lumber fumes. The difference to them is estimated solely by the differ ence of twice many minutes, for it is but common thing for these rough boats to travel mile in two minutes down the fumes.
 The tenderfoot when he makes his first descent of the mountain in this way vows that it shall also be his last. He sees certain destruction at every curve, and as his rough craft strikes the side of the Hume he ex- poets the whole structure to give way beneath him.
 But it does not. The boat starts from the camp with a comparative slow and easy motion. It gathers with every second of time. Behind it the angry waters are boil ing and foaming in effort to get past. They carry the craft through deep canyons where the Hume hangs to the side of perpendicular cliff; over deep ravines where it ct IC hso1 S, crlx fv-o Ia trestle; around sharp curves, where the boat strikes with such force against the sides of the Hume as to almost wreck it. Now it shoots down a steep decline; now it runs for a space along ground that is almost level, but the rush of waters coming from behind permits the pace to slacken but little.
 Should the first boat in the line meet with an accident at place where the Hume runs high above the ground, death would almost cer- tainly be the fate of every pleas lumber Jack, for there is no stopping until the end of the line Is reached. There are way stations, to be sure, cabins where the care takers of the Hume reside, but the boat never stops at them.
 But the always possible accident | seldom happens. At the end of the line the boat is abandoned. It's use- is over; it has served it's pur- pose; it cannot, carry the lumber Jack back to his mountain home | again when his day of pleasure is over in town. The upward climb must be made along the winding trail on foot.
 WRIGHT A. PATTERSON.