The log cabin Democrat. [volume] (Conway, Ark.) 1901-1982, 1908-05-14
Working Out
a Poll Tax

Gullies had been worn in the sides and
center of the highway, and long ruts
formed where the clay had dropped
down, had been carried away by the
rain, leaving smooth, spout-like open
ings. The dirt had been washed
away, also, from rocks and boulders
that protruded like fangs from the
soil. Bridges had lost some Of their
timbers, and planks on them had been
loosened by the heavy and constant
traffic of "thrashers, "clover-hullers"
and teams hauling grain to market. On
some hills 1t was almost suicidal to
try to drive down them. 1t was bad
enough going up, but to go down was
simply dry "coasting" over ruts and
boulders, with either runaway or an
upset long before you got to the bot
tom. The road boss" of our district
began to bestir himself.
II reckon you'd rather pay your poll
tax than work her out?' he inquired
of me one morning, almost apologize
ing at the idea of my deliberately
going out on the road instead of pay
ing the comparatively small amount
necessary.
why, no." was my answer I'll
work it out" AS was neither blessed
nor burdened with horse this meant
that l would have to work twice as
long as l would had l been possessed
of a team.
well, the boys will be ready at
eight tomorrow morning" said the
BOSS" land we start in on Suicide
Hill" l reckon it'll take us two days
to fix that and the bridge across the
creek there, and then we can take her
easy on the bottom road. Two days
will pay your tax all right, and you'll
be right in 1t up to your neck on the
HILL" he added, with grin. Better
fetch an ak; we'll have everything
else"
Now, I was not entirely certain as
to just what this poll tax meant, nor
that was due to either pay it or work
1t out, but 1t was an opportunity for
new experiences and chance to get
acquainted with the neighbors, so l
hung over the grindstone that day and
got my ak down to fine edge for the
next day. Cecile put me up hearty
hill ready to begin work for the day.
This particular slope was jagged with
boulders, scanned and SCARED with
deep cuts and gullies, and looked like
several blasts of dynamite had been
touched off under it. A tougher patch
of hillside never lay out of doors. No
one could go down it without getting
seasick, on account Of the constant
Slowing" from side to side, and as for
ascending it, the incline was so steep
that a squirrel would almost fall of
backwards.
was directed to clasp pickax and
start digging ditch on the north side
of the hill and on down towards the
bottom. This required digging in a
1t was hard work. Progress was nee
essarily slow, but foot by foot l wore
down the shale and rock until began
to see the outlines Of a serviceable
| ditch appearing along the north line Of
the highway. Meanwhile some Of the
men clamped huge chains to the
largest boulders and hauled them
down and dumped them in the creek.
Others plowed a deep ditch along the
south border of the road, where there
was layer of gritty soil. Still others
took "scrapers" and dragged dirt,
| sand and shale up and over the road
and packed 1t into the ruts and hol-
lows.
Horses and mules were hitched to
the "scrapers," which were merely
iron scoops of large size, which had
wooden handles at each side. These
handles were held by the driver of the
"scraper" and as he elevated the
handles the "scraper" slid into the
soil and took up a load of dirt. 1t
looked easy, and it was easy If you
knew how, but when you got into
heavy clay. or tough ground. or rocks,
you were apt to find 1t pretty rough
shedding.
After I had worked couple Of
hours with the pickax the boss" came
and relieved me, leaving in my charge
a team Of salmOn-colored mules and
q "scraper," with instructions to go
over the top of the hill and cut into
the hillside there and bring down a
few "scraper-loads" on to the top and
shoulder Of the hill and spread them
out there. l had brought along a pair
Of buckskin gloves that morning.
l took the mules and drove over the
hill, "hawed" my team around, took
hold Of the handles of the "scraper"
and set the edge into bank of pretty
stiff clay, just beyond which was a
ditch of shale and mud Giving the
mules the signal, we lunged forward.
Now, my buckskin glove on the right
hand had slipped over the handle Of
the "scraper" without my noticing it,
and the handle had gone into the
space where the glove buttoned. AS
we went ahead the "scraper" began to
turn, on account of the toughness of
the bank, and when | started to let go
SO as not to go up into the air the