The Singing Pines

By Cash Cash

Profile of the Singing Pines

This is a fictional story of the removal of white pine logs in the Parry Sound District during the years after World War I. It tells of life in the rugged, primitive logging camps of this early time and of the hardships the loggers dealt with to remove these mighty trees. There are many trials and difficulties that the people become involved with during the removal of the pine. The story deals with accidental death, seduction, natural and man-made tragedies. It has murder, sickness, and changes made to the district as the towns and villages grew and prospered during the 1920s. It focuses on Fran Killworthy, a young widow who struggles to have her son, Abner, grow into manhood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 30, 2009
• ISBN: 9781462835164

Cash Cash

Cash was born Reginald Alexander and raised in Cleveland, Ohio but lived most of his life in Atlanta, Georgia. He decided to start writing fiction while incarcerated at a state prison in Georgia. His style is gritty, raw, and real. Even from the depths of confinement he has an imagination that's in overdrive. His debut novel Trust No Man was released under the Wahida Clark Presents imprint in 2009, and the Trust No Man trilogy went on to reach hood classic status. It remains one of the most respected street novels in the industry. Since making his debut with WCP, Cash has since formed his own publishing company Lock Down Publications. Under LDP the author's star has shined brighter than ever with critically acclaimed novels such as A Dirty South Love, Shorty Got A Thug, Trust No Bitch 1&2, and Thugs Cry 1&2. Cash is presently in his 22nd year of incarceration but he remains strong and he strives to teach through the power of his pen.

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Copyright © 2009 by Cash.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

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without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

PROFILE OF THE SINGING PINES

THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1

Fran’s Seduction

CHAPTER 2

The Singing Pines

CHAPTER 3

Hard Lessons

CHAPTER 4

Painful Lessons

CHAPTER 5

New Direction

CHAPTER 6

The Storm

CHAPTER 7

The Party

CHAPTER 8

Fran’s Decision

CHAPTER 9

Dangerous Threat

CHAPTER 10

Recovery and School

CHAPTER 11

The Meeting

CHAPTER 12

Bonding

CHAPTER 13

Changes

CHAPTER 14

A Marked Improvement

CHAPTER 15

Fran’s New Home

CHAPTER 16

Thirty-Dollar Rapids

CHAPTER 17

Removal of Evil

CHAPTER 18

Fran’s Visit Home

CHAPTER 19

A Changed Agnes

CHAPTER 20

Jim’s Demise

CHAPTER 21

Key River

CHAPTER 22

The Death of Agnes

CHAPTER 23

Arrival of Annie Elsie Trumbull

CHAPTER 24

Cole Lake Pine

CHAPTER 25

Disaster Strikes

CHAPTER 26

Winter 1921

CHAPTER 27

Le’Blanc Reunion

CHAPTER 28

Killarney Country

CHAPTER 29

A Haven Resort Owners

CHAPTER 30

Summer and Fall 1921

CHAPTER 31

Key River, 1921-22

CHAPTER 32

Hector’s Quest

CHAPTER 33

Summer 1923

CHAPTER 34

Hector’s Party

CHAPTER 35

Seeking Justice

CHAPTER 36

Bird Lake

CHAPTER 37

Disaster

CHAPTER 38

Painful Retribution

CHAPTER 39

Then There Were Three

CHAPTER 40

Lessons Learned

CHAPTER 41

Grundy Cut

CHAPTER 42

A New Way

CHAPTER 43

A Long Uphill Battle

CHAPTER 44

Growing Years

CHAPTER 45

Hard Scrabble

CHAPTER 46

Depression Years

CHAPTER 47

Pain, Agony, and Depression

CHAPTER 48

Agony, Pain, and Confusion

CHAPTER 49

Decision Time

CHAPTER 50

Cliff’s Despair

CHAPTER 51

Fran’s Mourning

CHAPTER 52

The Depression Ends

CHAPTER 53

The War

CHAPTER 54

Ben’s Surgery

CHAPTER 55

Safely Home

CHAPTER 56

The Pines Still Sing

I dedicate this book to Gail Iles who was the extra right hand that was always there in my time of need. Support, encouragement and computer skills were given when I was lost in a sea of grey; and to my good friend Jack Bernier, for leading me to an old logging camp in the wilds of Quebec. The history of the old building site screamed at me with the yesteryears that needed to be told.

PROFILE OF THE SINGING PINES

This is a fictional story of the removal of white pine logs in the Parry Sound District during the years after World War I. It tells of life in the rugged, primitive logging camps of this early time and of the hardships the loggers dealt with to remove these mighty trees. There are many trials and difficulties that the people become involved with during the removal of the pine. The story deals with accidental death, seduction, natural and man-made tragedies. It has murder, sickness, and changes made to the district as the towns and villages grew and prospered during the 1920s. It focuses on Fran Killworthy, a young widow who struggles to have her son, Abner, grow into manhood.

THE AUTHOR

Don Money writes his first book after retiring from Ontario Corrections. He spent five of his working years at a correctional camp for juveniles in the early 1970s. He traveled the area extensively by canoe and foot while teaching survival skills to the kids. He grew to love the country he was traveling through.

During his travels, he came to a few deserted logging camps around the district. These old camps left Don with feelings of wonderment of the history that was under his feet. It screamed a story that he needed to write. Of course, family and earning a living shoved this into the back of his mind.

Now at seventy-one years of age, Don found another logging campsite in the northern woods of Quebec. It was a cleared area of open field about seventy-five feet across by two hundred feet deep. Looking around, he saw the old foundation walls of the buildings. The old cookstove was still there. Bottles, old boots, and cans were also found. The place of logging history became the catalyst for this book.

Don writes under the pen name of Cash.

CHAPTER 1

Fran’s Seduction

Abner was sleeping soundly in the loft above the kitchen when pounding on the door of the log cabin woke him. He heard his mother rise from a cot below him. The woman lit the lamp on the table before opening the slab pine door. Framed in the door was a six-foot man with long black hair showing under his toque. He had blue eyes and large shoulders. It was Mr. Trumbull, the camp boss.

Trumbull saw a young half-breed woman, about five-feet seven inches tall, with long black hair, brown eyes, and a slim build with ample breasts. The light from the lamp on the table shone through her thin nightwear. She might have been standing naked for the entire world to see.

The camp boss asked if he could come in. Mrs. Killworthy, he said as he entered the tiny cabin, there has been an accident. A widow maker has killed Amos. It crushed his head earlier today. He informed the grieving widow that her husband’s personals and pay would be forthcoming. If she wanted, he would make arrangements to have his body brought to her, or he would bury him at the logging camp.

He told the widow, Amos had $2.10 coming to him for wages owed. There had been more, but Amos had purchased socks, gloves, boots, and a shirt from the camp store, and the debt was outstanding. If you wish, I could attempt to sell the clothing to other loggers but would not gain much in the sale. Think about what you want to do, Mrs. Killworthy, I will return in two days to see what you have decided.

Francis began to sob, broke out into a wailing cry, and collapsed onto the cabin floor. Trumbull exited quickly through the cabin door as he made his way through the cold December night.

Abner, a slight built boy with fair hair and the white skin of his father, but brown eyes of his mother, quickly scrambled down the ladder. He lay on the floor beside his mother and wrapped her in his nine-year-old arms. Together they grieved the loss of Amos, husband and father to them. He was their only means of income and had been a good man of even temper, and neither of the two had ever seen him angry. They stayed on the floor crying and sobbing until the sun came up and started shining through the oil-covered paper that covered the only window. The filtered sun shone on Fran’s face. She stopped crying, stood up, and reached down to pull Abner to his feet.

Amos is gone, we grieve no more. Our thoughts now must be on our own survival and life without your father. Your childhood is over from this moment on. You are now a man. There is no work for a woman here. I will arrange with Mr. Trumbull for you to go to the bush to take the empty spot that your father’s death has caused. Now dry your tears. Grown men do not cry. Go and bring me some ice and I will get a meal started.

She bent and picked up some dry pine cuttings and put them into the potbellied stove with the embers that were still smouldering from last night. The fire caught quickly as Fran adjusted the draught on the stove. As the flames licked hungrily at the pine, she added hardwood. As she stood and watched the flame, thoughts in her head started to deal with her family’s future and how she would make sure Trumbull would take Abner to the bush. Closing the lid of the stove, she reached for the oatmeal; this was their only food. Abner came in with the ice, and she placed it in the pot. While waiting for the ice to melt, she thought about her plan to snare Trumbull. Smiling, she thought, I will make enough porridge to do our supper tonight. She added more ice, put in a pinch of salt, and began her day.

As promised, Clifford Trumbull returned in two days’ time. Fran had sent her young son to the river to cut ice blocks. He was told not to come back until dark to fill the sleigh. Abner had gathered the saw, axe, and tongs, placed them on the sleigh, and started to the river to cut enough ice that would supply his mother with water for a long time.

Trumbull was invited into the small cabin and offered a cup of tea.

Fran said, I have been thinking about what I should do now that Amos is no longer with us. Amos’s body should be buried under the pine stump that took his life. Amos’s personals should be given to Abner. I want you to take my son to the woods to take my husband’s place.

Big Clifford Trumbull said, A young boy of nine years could not do the work of a man. A qualified logger is on his way right now to the camp to fill Amos’s spot.

The tea, which was ready for drinking, was poured into the only cup owned by Fran. She slid it across the rough tabletop. The cup hit a seam on the table boards and splashed onto the Bull’s hand. With a loud curse, the burly man sprang to his feet, bumping the table as he rose. The cup spilled and crashed to the stone floor where Fran’s only cup lay in pieces. The young girl broke out sobbing, fell to the floor, and began to cry loudly. The Bull reached down and lifted the girl to her feet. He apologized for destroying the cup. Clifford drew her close to attempt to comfort her. The long sobs continued, and the burley man started to wipe away the tears that were now being soaked into his shirt. He brushed back the long black hair that was becoming wet from the tears. Fran continued to embrace herself against his chest.

The big man began kissing her tears away from her cheek.

Fran turned her head up and to the side, and their lips gently brushed. The small kiss that appeared to be an accident overwhelmed the man. He pulled her in, sought and found her lips, and kissed her long and hard. To his surprise, Fran responded to his embrace and returned his kiss with strong desire. Clifford began to fondle her breasts, and soon she was answering his fondling with touches of her own. They began tugging at each other’s clothing. The Bull quickly picked up Fran off her feet and placed her on the cot. She began to remove her smock. He took his boots off, removed his clothing, and dropped onto the cot, covering the young woman. He had a large erection, which he attempted to guide to Fran’s most private area. To his surprise and delight, she reached down and guided the erect organ into her. After several quick violent thrusts, the man exploded into her. He collapsed upon her while she continued to move her hips under him, and soon Cliff was erect again. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and once more, the young widow guided him into her. Their lovemaking continued until they both climaxed together. The man sat on the side of the cot, overjoyed with what had just taken place.

Fran rolled onto her front and began to sob loudly!

She said to Cliff while sobbing, "You took advantage of me. My husband is not cold in his grave and you are here forcing me to do your wishes. Wait till the people of Ardbeg hear that you raped Amos’s wife.

First you kill my husband, and then you refuse to hire my son. Then you come to my cabin and take advantage of me. You, Clifford Trumbull, the outstanding man in this small community, have forced his way on a young grieving widow.

Cliff stood over the girl as she ranted He pulled on his trousers and reached down, turning the young nude girl over. He raised her to a sitting position and replied, "Fran, I see where this is going. While it’s true I have lusted for you ever since you and Amos came to Ardbeg. I would never have attempted anything with you while your husband was alive.

I am married to a cold, sexless woman who is a shrew of a person. When I attempt to have sex with Agnes, she says, What, again! We just did that two weeks ago, and it was horrible for me. But if you must do it, help yourself and please hurry, and don’t leave me with child. I hate children.

"Francis, you were not raped or seduced. We came together as lovers should, willing and with desire. Our love was enjoyed by us both. I know you are using this to force me to take Abner and make a man of him, now that he no longer has a father in his life. I still don’t have a job for your son, but I will find something for him at the camp. He can be an extra cook’s helper. I already have a young French lad who does the job quite well. He and Abner can share the job.

"Fran, I have traveled the world and been in two wars, and I am not a fool. I know I have quickly fallen in love with you. From this moment on, I consider you to be my wife, not my mistress or whore. Until our lives change and I can place a ring on your finger and stand before God and man and declare that you are Mrs. Trumbull, this must remain our secret.

I will take your son, and under my watchful eye, he will learn and grow to be a logger. Now, Mrs. Trumbull, I see you’re ready to make love to your man once more. Standing, the Bull removed his trousers, and Fran reached out, helping him to join once more.

As they made love throughout the afternoon, Fran told Cliff, I met Amos at the river’s edge some ten years ago at Byng Inlet. I am the daughter of a Frenchman and an Indian woman who has eight daughters of whom I am the second oldest. I am considered a burden on the family, just another mouth to feed. My older sister Louise has been traded to an Indian trapper for a bottle of whiskey. She had been pulled to the trapper’s canoe and roughly placed inside by her father.

The trapper said, Your daughter is going to the French River country. Passing a paddle to Louise, he told her to paddle and off went her sister, never to be seen again.

She told him how she had met Amos on the banks of the Magnetawan River. He was a deckhand on a lake boat that was unloading coal at Byng Inlet. Amos had jumped ship and was heading on foot upriver to escape the job he hated and feared. The storms on the Great Lakes were more than he could handle, and seasickness had never left him. Amos told Fran that he was sixteen years of age and had thought of joining the army.

Fran and Amos talked for a while, telling each other about their lives and their dreams. Fran did not have dreams of her future; she knew what was in store for her. The next bottle of whiskey would seal her fate, and she would paddle off into the unknown. Fran started to cry about her station in life and what lay before her. Amos, not used to seeing girls cry, placed his arms about her shoulders, trying to comfort her. Fran warmed to the young man’s embrace and soon they were kissing; shortly after, they entered into intercourse. This was the first time for both of them.

Amos said, Fran, come with me.

She replied, Yes, Amos, I would rather have some choice about with whom I leave. I will be sold for whiskey. From the basket, they consumed the berries, which Fran had picked. They stood holding hands, and they started upriver to whatever awaited them. Amos never married Fran, but they both knew they were a couple. Within nine months of being together, along came Abner. They had worked at several places over the last ten years. They were in Dunchurch when they heard perhaps Amos could go to work in Ardbeg as loggers were needed there. They set out on foot on the trail known as the Bunny Trail, and two days of hiking uphill and down dale brought them into Ardbeg. Trumbull had told Amos, If you need work bad enough to walk the miles to Ardbeg on a whim, you’re the kind of man that has a place in my crew.

Soon the sun started to set and Fran told her new man, Abner will be home soon. Perhaps you should go and come see him tomorrow. Fran dressed and embraced her new lover with a contented smile on her face. Her plan had worked better than she could have hoped. It did not hurt that this second man in her life proved to be a good lover, something that was lacking in Amos. This Bull could bring her to places she had never known existed. With thoughts of contentment and satisfaction, she began to make her son his supper of oatmeal. Just after the meal, Mr. Trumbull knocked on the door saying he wished to talk to Abner.

Cliff said, I have a job for you, Abe, at the logging camp as a cook’s helper. I will be passing on your father’s clothing to help outfit you. You will be paid twenty cents a day and be expected to put in a twelve-hour day.

Fran told Abner to thank Mr. Trumbull for his kind offer, which he did.

She then said, Abner, I need to talk to Mr. Trumbull about what will take place with your father’s remains. Go to bed and rest after your hard day at the river.

The boy went to the sleeping loft, and he could hear the adults talking quietly. The Bull stood and put on his coat, saying, I will be leaving in two days at 5:00 AM. Have the boy ready to go.

Abner turned to yell a thank you but remained mute as he saw Fran embrace the large man in the door.

He heard the man say, I will be back in a week with new cups, a bag of beans, and another treat for you. Through sleep-laden eyes, the boy lay down, puzzled about what had just taken place. Soon he was asleep.

CHAPTER 2

The Singing Pines

At 5:00 a.m., December 29, 1919, as promised, Trumbull arrived at the cabin with a small sleigh pulled by two matching Shetland ponies. The boy left with a few belongings, mounted the sleigh, and before the boy could be seated, the ponies broke into a mile-eating canter. Both males turned and waved at the woman who stood alone in the door of the cabin. A smile was on the young woman’s face as she muttered to herself, Well, Abner, we both have a new life ahead of us. As she turned, shutting the door, she broke out in song, singing a love song that her father had taught her. A smile broke out on her face as she realized that was the first time she had sung in nine years. Even after the birth of her son, she had not sung to the baby.

Her young son was seated beside Cliff, who started to talk to the boy.

He said, "Abner, I have only one rule, and that is I am never wrong. When told to do something by me, you must obey without question. You will give me a hard day’s work for a day’s pay. If at the end of the day I ask for more, you will respond with a smile and say, ‘Yes, Mr. Trumbull.’

I will teach you all there is to know of this work called logging. Before you’re a man of sixteen years, there will not be a job that you do not know. However, if you prove to be lazy and shiftless, you will be cast out to return to your mother in shame with just the clothes on your back.

Raising his voice loudly, he looked into the boys eyes saying, Abner Killworthy, do you understand what you have just been told? If not, I will stop the horses and you can slink back to your mother. What is your choice, lad, manhood or a camp brat?

Abner looked the Bull squarely in the eyes saying, Mr. Trumbull, I wish to grow into a man, one that you, my mother, and if he was alive to see it, my father would be proud of. I will someday wear your boots, sir. The word ‘shame’ will never be used between us, Mr. Trumbull.

Cliff felt pride as he brushed the tear that was forming in his eye, saying, The damn wind always brings my eyes to tears. The pair made good time across the frozen trail, and both were lost in thought. Suddenly the Bull shouted loudly, ABNER, JUMP! The lad threw himself from the sleigh and landed hard on his back on the ice-covered trail.

The Bull stopped the team, yelling at the lad, Get on the sleigh. I do not have all day to watch you rest on your back.

As he pulled himself onto the sleigh, the Bull reached out a gloved hand and helped pull the youngster into the sleigh. The boy seated himself as he heard the Bull say, Well done, Abner. that was a test to see if you could follow orders. Well done! You passed.

He explained, The most important part of logging was the horses. A large barn was constructed for them, then the cookhouse and cooks’ quarters. When these were done, the bunkhouse was built to house the men. Then the bookkepper’s office and quarters were done. It was always large enough to house the sick or injured. Finally, were the quarters and office for the boss. A small icehouse was added to keep the supplies fresh during a thaw and to keep out varmints. It was here that the dead were kept until they were buried after the spring thaw.

He explained, "The loggers work twelve-hour days, six days a week with Sundays off to rest the horses and men. However, Abner, you will work seven days a week, twelve or more hours a day. You will help keep the wood boxes full, fetch ice for the melting pot, and keep hot water on hand for the cook. Dishes will be your chore after the two meals of the day. You will also tend fires at night and keep the cookhouse clean.

You’re lucky at the present time, there is a lad to teach you the job. Ben will soon be moved to be a trail maker.

The Bull said, Abner, a man who cannot read would not be able to fill my boots. I think you should consider learning to read and write and learn your sums. I will ask the bookkeeper to spend a bit of time with you.

Cliff continued to describe the camp. Mr. Oscar Abernathy, my bookkeeper, is a very valuable well learned employee If you need supplies or outfitting, Mr. Abernathy travels monthly to Parry Sound for supplies. These items will be placed on a bill to be paid off at the end of the season. It is important that you get along with the cook, as in the camp, the cook rules and has almost enough power to question me. My advice is save your money. Save toward your future.

The Bull then asked, Do you have questions?

Abner replied, Yes, sir, the other cook’s helper, is he close to my age? Does he speak English? Is there a chance we could be friends?

Cliff replied, He is an Indian boy that speaks some English but mostly French. He may be a year or so older than you. He is well trained in bush lore and can read animal sign as good as anyone I have ever seen. He is an easygoing lad who can play the squeezebox. On Sundays he plays for the gang. When joined by Oscar, who plays the fiddle, the camp bounces to jigs and reels, which the loggers dance to. I am sure he will welcome you and become your friend. Just remember though, Abner, you’re here to work and not play.

The sleigh continued down the narrow trail. Abner said, Sir, what’s that sound I hear?

The Bull replied, That’s the sound of the pines singing. They are whispering a welcome to you, lad. The western winds blow through the boughs and sing to the loggers. If a logger cannot hear the trees’ message, he is doomed to failure in the woods.

He stopped the sleigh and stepped down, walked around the sleigh, and, stepping back into the sleigh, said, It’s your turn to earn your money. Slide over and drive the team.

Yes, sir, answered Abe. Under the watchful eye of the Bull, the team started forward at a walking pace.

In the early afternoon, they entered the camp. The cook, his helper, and Mr. Abernathy came out to greet the Bull. They were surprised that there was a new lad with him.

The Bull introduced him to Oscar. This is Mr. Abernathy, and he is the bookkeeper here in camp. Abe saw a man about five feet, six inches tall. The man had red hair and freckles. He was of slim build and had a pleasant smile.

Next he was introduced to Hank Gardner, the cook. This is your boss, Trumbull said Once more the lad looked up. He saw a tall, thin man with a narrow face and a balding head. He had a large Adam’s apple in his throat and scowled at Abe.

The boss said, Abner, this is Ben. He is doing your job now and will teach you.

Abe smiled at the dark-skinned lad. The Indian boy had large shoulders and a big chest; he had long hair that was tied into two braids.

The few contents of the sleigh were unloaded and carried to their respective places. Abe saw his belongings carried to the side of Ben’s bed in the cookhouse.

The Bull said to Ben, This lad is your replacement. You have three days to teach him his job, then you will learn to be a trail cutter.

Abe saw a look pass between Hank and Ben. The look was a scowl on the face of Hank and one of relief on Ben’s. The Bull said, Right, holidays are over. Everyone back to work.

CHAPTER 3

Hard Lessons

Ben took Abner to the cookhouse, saying, You can cut the carrots today. The vegetables are to prevent scurvy from entering the camp and as an added treat to the usual meal of beans and salted pork.

The lads cut the carrots into six-inch chunks into a large kettle. Bad spots were removed, salt was added to the water, and they were placed onto the large stove with a huge oven. Ben told him that the stove takes huge amounts of wood and was never allowed to go out. The ashes had to be hauled twice a week. He told Abe that at first, his new job would be very hard, but soon he would find a routine that would allow him to do his job in steps that make it easier.

The boys worked through the day. Ben had just enough English that he could make it clear to Abe what was expected of him, what work needed doing first, and how one job led to another. Ben explained that while you are being paid for twelve hours, it is really a fourteen-hour day. You have to have the morning coffee ready for the men and the water on the stove boiling for the cook.

Abner had an instant liking for his young teacher; he was amazed how much the lad looked like his mother but figured this is how all Indians look.

When out of earshot of Hank, Ben told him to be very careful of the cook. Hank is an evil man. He will demand that you do all the hard work. If he takes a liking to you, he will expect you to do evil things for him.

Abe was unsure what Ben was trying to tell him, so he let it pass without comment. He knew he would have to work very hard to please Hank. Ben let it be known that he hated the cook and was very happy to be leaving the cookhouse. The boys worked together until after dark and waited for all fifty men to consume their meal. The boys then ate the leftover carrots, beans, and salted pork. Then they set out to do the dishes piled on the floor beside a large galvanized tub.

A few of the men lingered in the cookhouse talking of the day’s events and problems they had. Most, however, retired to the bunkhouse.

Soon the Bull came in. How are things going, Hank?

The cook complained, Two boys can’t do what one hardworking lad can do. He said in Abe’s presence, I don’t think the new lad is worth his salt. I want to keep Ben, send this other boy to the woods.

Ben allowed a huge groan to escape from him that only Abe heard.

The Bull and Hank were locked in a battle of wills, each expecting the other to give way. The camp boss approached Hank and, nose to nose, declared, Abe stays until he proves the job belongs to someone else. Give the lad a chance, work him hard. He will stand the strain.

Disgruntled, Hank turned, glanced at Ben, and mouthed something that Abe did not understand but appeared to be See you later. After the dishes were done, they put water on the stove to heat through the night. Ben showed Abe how to bank the fire. He put in a large piece of wood, sprinkled wood ash on top, and set the dampers on the stove.

Ben said, Okay, it’s time to check the horses. Ben explained, The teamsters look after their own teams, but the cook’s helper is to check through the barn before he goes to bed. While in the barn, Ben said, One last night of that old bastard and I am free of him. Please, Abe, be very careful of Hank. He does not like you and will bring you harm.

The boys retired to Ben’s bed. Though crowded, they both appeared to be asleep. After a while, Abe heard Ben stir and watched as the boy left the bed and entered the cook’s room, closing the door behind him. Puzzled, Abe once more fell to sleep. The next morning, Ben shook Abe awake at 4:30 AM. We have overslept. Come on, we have much to do. The boys climbed into their clothes. Ben went to the stove, put in fresh pine and balsam cuttings, opened the draughts, and the fire jumped to life. Soon the hot stove had the warm water starting to move in the huge kettles that were heating. While the water heated, Ben went to the barn to fork hay to the horses. As he was leaving, he instructed Abe to get the coffee on and salt the porridge water when it reached a full boil. He told Abe to call the cook when the coffee boiled.

Abe put out plates and spoons at the large table; he placed molasses at several spots along the table. He placed the enamel mugs on the stove so the men could pour their coffee as they entered the cookhouse. When the coffee started to bubble, he went to Hank’s quarters and knocked softly on the door, saying, Cookie, we are ready for you.

Hank snarled at the lad, saying, I don’t need you to tell me how to do my work. I will be there when I am ready. Where is Ben?

Abe said, He is in the barn.

Hank snarled from behind the door, Get back to work, you lazy turd

Startled, Abe returned to the cooking area looking for things to do. Hank came out with a snarl, saying, Why haven’t you started the oatmeal? Don’t you know anything? Must I do all the work? Get out of my way, turd, and find something useful to do. Ben came through the door. He called to the cook, saying, We had fresh snow through the night, about half a foot. He went to the washbasin and washed his hands.

The cook said to Ben, Next time, you let the kid go to the barn. You stay here where you belong.

Ben said, But, Cookie, I won’t be here tomorrow. Abe is a quick learner. I should be able to join the trail crew tomorrow.

Hank turned, saying, Well, we will see about that, won’t we? The teamsters started to move into the cookshack, ready for coffee and the morning meal. The cook turned his attention to the stove, knowing breakfast was late this morning. He told the teamsters, The boys overslept and I had to get by with a cold stove. If you have any complaints, you should take them to the Bull. Just as he said that, Cliff entered the shack; the men became very interested in the coffeepot, and not one complaint was heard. As the teamsters were being fed, the rest of the crew started to enter the cookshack; as the teamsters left the table to start their day, the loggers took their place. In twenty minutes, every crewmember had been fed. The boys continued working, with Ben showing Abe what he needed to be doing and when. Hank was in a miserable mood and kept them both busy with needless work. During the early afternoon, when most of the work was done, he set them both to work scrubbing old pots that should have been thrown away. He demanded that they fill the wood boxes to overflowing, claiming that this new lad would not work out, so they better put up enough wood to