The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1908-09-11


Comfort reigned around the little
campfire that evening; pipes were
smoked and tea brewed, material ac-
compartments to ;-ehat and cheer.
Then some one~ asked. a question;
Just what, is immaterial; only the
answer matters.
Boys" said PufT1e seriously, II
thought that last winter I was all
out of it. Close call, you ask?' Well
pretty close, I had started out from
Revelstroke with the usual outfit, a
twenty-five foot Peterboro loaded
down to about the six hundred
pound, limit with all my traps. i
went away up Canoe River and had
been having pretty good luck, when,
boys, 1 played the fool. 1 got in a
hurry. l took oyerlong hikes and
ate cold grub to save, time. We fell
lows don't dare do that. No man in
the winter woods can stand cold
grub; he must cook we'll and take
his rest. Then it doesn't matter if
he has to wade creeks and sleep wet
and live wet days at time; he can
resist 1t, he's got the fuel in him.
We have rule that when we get in a
hurry, we must camp a whole day
and think it over. When / found
myself going, 1 did camp and think
it over, but I guess 1 was bit late
about it. l dug Oregon grape and
princess pine and boiled them down
for blood tonic and was lucky enough
to find some foxglove for my heart,
which had begun to kick too hard
when climbed. Then hurt my foot
before the roots had put me in shape,
and when 1 found toe black one
morning l knew I must pull down
river I cached my stuff and started.
I had to hurry then.
All day I snowshoed, biting hard
on bit of pine to forget the pain.
Nights I'd find hollow cedar log,
cut holes in it about ten feet apart
for draft, kindle a fire at the end and
lie down on the log. When the fire
had burned up to the draft hole at
my foot l moved UP another hole.
When l couldn't find a log I'd dig a
pit down in the snow, kindle a brush
fire in it and sleep at the edge of
the ashes. l reached Smith Creek
was black. Boys-may l live to for
get it fell in crossing that creek;
fell in over head and ears in ice wat
er, and nothing between me and Rev.
elstoke to help me. If ] stopped, be-
sides the certainty of freezing,
knew my hurt would never let me
start again, and l didn't think l could
keep going. l felt was gone, but
resolved I'd die hard and play the
game through. Off / hiked on the
raquettes; awful going it was, the
pain killing me by inches and every
rag on me frozen solid. Night came;
I kept on like a madman, for | dared
not stop second. If l drowsed an
instant / was dead. l reached Whites
cabin; all nature urged me to go in
for rest. / had reason enough to
know it would be my last rest, so /
hit the trail steady with an awful
limp, l prayed Kelly might be in
his cabin, but it was cold and shut.
When l reached Mosquito Landing
] was dying. but the thought of only
six miles more kept me going. When
l had been hiking steady for over
forty-two hours l fell into my own
door and things swan and went
dark. 1t was three months even to
crutches. The sawbones all said I'd
die,. but didn't fool 'em? Going out
again next winter? Sure. I've got
to, go back for that cache. A man
must live, you know.--B. w. Mitch
ell, in the Outing Magazine.