<br><p><b>Title</b>: Canadian forest industries 1908<br><b>Identifier</b>: canadianforest1908donm (<a class="external text" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=Special%3ASearch&amp;profile=default&amp;fulltext=Search&amp;search=insource%3A%2Fcanadianforest1908donm%2F">find matches</a>)<br><b>Year</b>: <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?tags=bookyear1908">1908</a> (<a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?tags=bookdecade1900">1900s</a>)<br><b>Authors</b>: <br><b>Subjects</b>: <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?tags=booksubjectLumbering">Lumbering</a>; <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?tags=booksubjectForests_and_forestry">Forests and forestry</a>; <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?tags=booksubjectForest_products">Forest products</a>; <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?tags=booksubjectWood_pulp_industry">Wood-pulp industry</a>; <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?tags=booksubjectWood_using_industries">Wood-using industries</a><br><b>Publisher</b>: <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?tags=bookpublisherDon_Mills_Ont_Southam_Business_Publications">Don Mills, Ont. : Southam Business Publications</a><br><b>Contributing Library</b>: <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?tags=bookcontributorFisher_University_of_Toronto">Fisher - University of Toronto</a><br><b>Digitizing Sponsor</b>: <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?tags=booksponsorUniversity_of_Toronto">University of Toronto</a><br><br><b>View Book Page</b>: <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://archive.org/stream/canadianforest1908donm/#page/n1006/mode/1up">Book Viewer</a><br><b>About This Book</b>: <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://archive.org/details/canadianforest1908donm">Catalog Entry</a><br><b>View All Images</b>: <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?tags=bookidcanadianforest1908donm">All Images From Book</a><br>
Click here to <a rel="nofollow" class="external text" href="https://archive.org/stream/canadianforest1908donm/#page/n1006/mode/1up"><b>view book online</b></a> to see this illustration in context in a browseable online version of this book.<br><br><b>Text Appearing Before Image: </b><br><i>CANADA LUMBERMAN AND WOODWORKER 2 I growths behind the men's shanty, ready to be brought in and hung that night with hidden mysteries of the sealed bunk. Rough Andy chuckled at the vision of chat gorgeous Christmas tree covered with candles, tinsel and presents. He pictured the rapture of the "Kid" when he grasped the real gun, new snowshoes, moccasins, tin soldiers, toboggan, drum and the whole outfit they had bought. "Gawd!" he said, "won't theh Kid go wild, heh'? Jest think, when that spruce gits its togs on." "He will git rumptious. fer sure," Kennedy agreed. "When he puts theh club to his big drum we can't hear us'selves think." "'An' when he winds his fingers in that woolly bear," Andy went on, "that'll catch him, to hear it squeal. What d'ye call 'emâRedely bears ?" "Sartin not!" Reddy answered with a sniffâ"they calls 'em Teddy bears; but we'd better hide this here tree, else theh Kid'll git it 'fore we do. What?" "Set it straight up in theh snow, like 'twas growin' thar," Rough Andy suggestedâthat's it. Boss his-self would think it growed. Come tm. now, leave 'er thar till night." Evening found the shanty in a bustle. The tree had been towed m'and set in a big block where a hole was augured out. Its limbs were hung with sandles, tinsel and tissue-paper. The lumbermen busied themselves tying on the presents with stout cord. Black Regan was posted at the window to watch that the boy did not burst in on them from the other shanty. The door was barred and in case he or his father came they would put out the light and crawl into their bunks, pretending to be asleep. The work they were engaged in was a joy to these rough men. How different a picture this, to the too frequent staging of a lumber camp as a place for nothing but gambling, drinking and brawling! They were men of a rude and ready type, but men with hearts, hearts so deep that they took delight in tying trinkets on a spruce shoot for a youngster's hands to grasp. Lanky Pete, in spite of protestations, was chosen to act the part of Santa Claus. In order to make sure that there would be no mis- take, a rehearsal was decided upon. Pete got into a big fur coat. A white false beard which Old Davy brought was stuck on his chin, to- gether with a red, furry cap on his head. Altogether he made a toler- ably original Santa. "Gawd!" Rough Andy cried at sight of him, "you'll do. Why theh Kid'll think it's Sandy Claws fer sure." "He ll be fer pullin' yer spinnage, Pete," Kennedy laughed; "ye'11 have to watch he don'tâ" "Hist!" interrupted Regan from the window, "dâd, if here ain't theh Kidâno, it's theh Boss." "Hâ1!" said Rough Andy in a thunderous whisper, "douse theh light, ye fools!" Quick as thought, the shanty darkened. Only the flickering brands dotted and dashed the opposite wall in the Morse code. Someone pounded on the door. "Lie still," commanded Pete, while he himself crawled softly to a chink in the big frame jamb. The pounding continued. "Holloa!" yelled a voice which they in- stantly recognized as belonging to MacDonald's half-breed. "Now, what theh devil does he want?" Rough Andy growled. "Holla!" called the man again, siill pounding. Lanky Pete made a tremendous rolling and grunting as if just awakened. Then he stood up and stamped his feet. Next he opened the door and leaned his body through. "Rene, dân you," he said, "what d'ye mean by pounding on a man's door when he's asleep, heh?" "Le garcon," cried Bene, excitedly, "ees he here, dans le shantee ?" "Theh Boy," Pete shouted, "no, he's not here. What's theh mat- ter? Damn it, man, speak!" "Monsieurâle rollwayâgarcon gone," the half-breed stammered in- coherently. "Hellâwhat !" roared Rough Andy, jumping to the doorâ"theh boy's lost?" "Oui, le garcon gone!" Rene cried. MacDonald had gone just before dark to mark out a place for a new rollway, leaving the boy in charge of Rene. In some manner the child had unfastened the bar of the door while Rene was putting away some pans in the kitchen part of the shanty. At any rate, he had disap- peared, and, although they hunted the outhouses, no trace of him could be found. Furious oaths burst from Rough Andy, and he grabbed his snow- shoes. Ten yards from the cabin he began to go round in an ever-widen- ing circle. Like a sleuth-hound he went, swiftly and silently, eyes fixed upon the crusted snow. Round and round he sped till the sixth circle brought him full upon a tiny trail a hundred yards from the house. Then Rough Andy gave tongue. "Hâ1, boys, here!" he bellowed. "Follow an' be damned to ye. Go as ye never went!" Suiting his own actions to the command, Andy shot through the firs and vanished, the rest running at top speed upon the well-defined track he had left. The moon was risen. A keen frost set everything rigid in the vast forest. In Rough Andy's heart a thousand misgivings stirred. One thing he dreaded to hear, and that was the yelp of gray, slinking forms amongst the tall timber. From moment to moment he listened for it, and when it did not come he pushed on with renewed vigor. The trail wound through level growths blazed for stripping, and forged toward the river. Evidently the boy had seen which way his father went to mork a place for the rollway, and, upofi giving Rene the slip, had followed in that direction. Some distance from the river's bank the track turned, dipped into a ravine, and edged out along a rocky bluff. Rough Andy followed hard. The reac hof evergreens stood thicker, and his path was greatly impeded. He could not hear the others coming, so far had he out-footed them. The crust became thinner where heavy boughs shut out the frost, although the boyish feet had skimmed the top witli scarcely an indentation. Fantastic figures were silhouetted on the snow under clear, cold moonlight. Three fresh moose-tracks crossed the trail in front of him, but Andy had no time to see which lay uppermost. On he swung, sweating over every inch of his body. Beyond the bluff the</i><br><b>Text Appearing After Image: </b><br><i>"His Pace Did Not Seem to Him Fast Enough by Half." footsteps led through level timber once more. Here the lumberman paused for a minute's breath. Suddenly the tense air split with a sound which sent an icy pain across his forehead where hot sweat streamed hut an instant before, the long-dreaded, hoped-against soundââ "Burp-p-p! Yee-eâou-r-r!" came a sort of barking yelp with an afternote like a quick echo. "Gawd!âtimber wolves!" Rough Andy gasped, "an' arter his track. Pore dern little cuss! Oh, Hell!âwhar's my speed?" With a string of self-denouncing curses for inability to speed faster, Andy surged through the timber. In the North Country no lumberman was so-swift on snowshoes as Rough Andy, yet in this strait his pace did not seem to him fast enough by half. Only those who came behind when they reached this point, knew the speed he put forth. The amaz- ing gaps between the strides, the swirl of spurned crust lying on either hand, and scarred, broken branches told the story. Almost as fast as a ski-runner Andy bored through the timber. "Burp-p-p! Yee-eâou-r-r!" sounded the weird, soul-chilling call. Rough Andy stopped, pulled the big Colt from his belt. Bang! Bang! followed. It was a flimsy hope of scaring the brutes, who seemed but four or five hundred yards away and full on the child's path. Still the yelps came back, and grinding out fresh curses he slipped in two new cartridges. Away through the sapplings he surged. The, trail</i><br><br><b>Note About Images</b><br></p>
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