Episode 2

Now Radway happened to be in his way a peculiar character.He was acutely sensitive to the human side of those with whom he had dealings.In fact, he was more inclined to take their point of view than to hold his own.For that reason, the subtler disputes were likely to go against him.His desire to avoid coming into direct collision of opinion with the other man, veiled whatever of justice might reside in his own contention.Consequently it was difficult for him to combat sophistry or a plausible appearance of right.Daly was perfectly aware of Radway's peculiarities, and so proceeded to drive a sharp bargain with him.

Customarily a jobber is paid a certain proportion of the agreed price as each stage of the work is completed--so much when the timber is cut; so much when it is skidded, or piled; so much when it is stacked at the river, or banked; so much when the "drive"down the waters of the river is finished.Daly objected to this method of procedure.

"You see, Radway," he explained, "it is our last season in the country.When this lot is in, we want to pull up stakes, so we can't take any chances on not getting that timber in.If you don't finish your Job, it keeps us here another season.There can be no doubt, therefore, that you finish your job.In other words, we can't take any chances.If you start the thing, you've got to carry it 'way through.""I think I can, Mr.Daly," the jobber assured him.

"For that reason," went on Daly, "we object to paying you as the work progresses.We've got to have a guarantee that you don't quit on us, and that those logs will be driven down the branch as far as the river in time to catch our drive.Therefore I'm going to make you a good price per thousand, but payable only when the logs are delivered to our rivermen."Radway, with his usual mental attitude of one anxious to justify the other man, ended by seeing only his employer's argument.He did not perceive that the latter's proposition introduced into the transaction a gambling element.It became possible for Morrison &Daly to get a certain amount of work, short of absolute completion, done for nothing.

"How much does the timber estimate?" he inquired finally.

"About five millions."

"I'd need a camp of forty or fifty men then.I don't see how I can run such a camp without borrowing.""You have some money, haven't you?"

"Yes; a little.But I have a family, too.""That's all right.Now look here." Daly drew towards him a sheet of paper and began to set down figures showing how the financing could be done.Finally it was agreed.Radway was permitted to draw on the Company's warehouse for what provisions he would need.Daly let him feel it as a concession.

All this was in August.Radway, who was a good practical woodsman, set about the job immediately.He gathered a crew, established his camp, and began at once to cut roads through the country he had already blazed on his former trip.

Those of us who have ever paused to watch a group of farmers working out their road taxes, must have gathered a formidable impression of road-clearing.And the few of us who, besides, have experienced the adventure of a drive over the same highway after the tax has been pronounced liquidated, must have indulged in varied reflections as to the inadequacy of the result.

Radway's task was not merely to level out and ballast the six feet of a road-bed already constructed, but to cut a way for five miles through the unbroken wilderness.The way had moreover to be not less than twenty-five feet wide, needed to be absolutely level and free from any kind of obstructions, and required in the swamps liberal ballasting with poles, called corduroys.To one who will take the trouble to recall the variety of woods, thickets, and jungles that go to make up a wooded country--especially in the creek bottoms where a logging road finds often its levelest way--and the piles of windfalls, vines, bushes, and scrubs that choke the thickets with a discouraging and inextricable tangle, the clearing of five miles to street width will look like an almost hopeless undertaking.Not only must the growth be removed, but the roots must be cut out, and the inequalities of the ground levelled or filled up.Reflect further that Radway had but a brief time at his disposal,--but a few months at most,--and you will then be in a position to gauge the first difficulties of those the American pioneer expects to encounter as a matter of course.The cutting of the road was a mere incident in the battle with the wilderness.

The jobber, of course, pushed his roads as rapidly as possible, but was greatly handicapped by lack of men.Winter set in early and surprised him with several of the smaller branches yet to finish.

The main line, however, was done.

At intervals squares were cut out alongside.In them two long timbers, or skids, were laid andiron-wise for the reception of the piles of logs which would be dragged from the fallen trees.They were called skidways.Then finally the season's cut began.

The men who were to fell the trees, Radway distributed along one boundary of a "forty." They were instructed to move forward across the forty in a straight line, felling every pine tree over eight inches in diameter.While the "saw-gangs," three in number, prepared to fell the first trees, other men, called "swampers,"were busy cutting and clearing of roots narrow little trails down through the forest from the pine to the skidway at the edge of the logging road.The trails were perhaps three feet wide, and marvels of smoothness, although no attempt was made to level mere inequalities of the ground.They were called travoy roads (French "travois").

Down them the logs would be dragged and hauled, either by means of heavy steel tongs or a short sledge on which one end of the timber would be chained.

Meantime the sawyers were busy.Each pair of men selected a tree, the first they encountered over the blazed line of their "forty."After determining in which direction it was to fall, they set to work to chop a deep gash in that side of the trunk.