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THE YOUNG WOODSMAN

OR

Life in the Forests of Canada

BY J. MACDONALD OXLEY

Author of "Diamond Rock; or, On the Right Track," &c. &c.

1895




CONTENTS.


     I. THE CALL TO WORK

    II. THE CHOICE OF AN OCCUPATION

   III. OFF TO THE WOODS

    IV. THE BUILDING OF THE SHANTY

     V. STANDING FIRE

    VI. LIFE IN THE LUMBER CAMP

   VII. A THRILLING EXPERIENCE

  VIII. IN THE NICK OF TIME

    IX. OUT OF CLOUDS, SUNSHINE

     X. A HUNTING-TRIP

    XI. THE GREAT SPRING DRIVE

   XII. HOME AGAIN




THE YOUNG WOODSMAN.




CHAPTER I.

THE CALL TO WORK.


"I'm afraid there'll be no more school for you now, Frank darling. Will
you mind having to go to work?"

"Mind it! Why, no, mother; not the least bit. I'm quite old enough, ain't
I?"

"I suppose you are, dear; though I would like to have you stay at your
lessons for one more year anyway. What kind of work would you like best?"

"That's not a hard question to answer, mother. I want to be what father
was."

The mother's face grew pale at this reply, and for some few moments she
made no response.

       *       *       *       *       *

The march of civilization on a great continent means loss as well as
gain. The opening up of the country for settlement, the increase and
spread of population, the making of the wilderness to blossom as the
rose, compel the gradual retreat and disappearance of interesting
features that can never be replaced. The buffalo, the beaver, and the elk
have gone; the bear, the Indian, and the forest in which they are both
most at home, are fast following.

Along the northern border of settlement in Canada there are flourishing
villages and thriving hamlets to-day where but a few years ago the
verdurous billows of the primeval forest rolled in unbroken grandeur. The
history of any one of these villages is the history of all. An open space
beside the bank of a stream or the margin of a lake presented itself to
the keen eye of the woodranger traversing the trackless waste of forest
as a fine site for a lumber camp. In course of time the lumber camp grew
into a depot from which other camps, set still farther back in the depths
of the "limits," are supplied. Then the depot develops into a settlement
surrounded by farms; the settlement gathers itself into a village with
shops, schools, churches, and hotels; and so the process of growth goes
on, the forest ever retreating as the dwellings of men multiply.

It was in a village with just such a history, and bearing the name of
Calumet, occupying a commanding situation on a vigorous tributary of the
Ottawa River--the Grand River, as the dwellers beside its banks are fond
of calling it--that Frank Kingston first made the discovery of his own
existence and of the world around him. He at once proceeded to make
himself master of the situation, and so long as he confined his efforts
to the limits of his own home he met with an encouraging degree of
success; for he was an only child, and, his father's occupation requiring
him to be away from home a large part of the year, his mother could
hardly be severely blamed if she permitted her boy to have a good deal of
his own way.

In the result, however, he was not spoiled. He came of sturdy, sensible
stock, and had inherited some of the best qualities from both sides of
the house. To his mother he owed his fair curly hair, his deep blue,
honest eyes, his impulsive and tender heart; to his father, his strong
symmetrical figure, his quick brain, and his eager ambition. He was a
good-looking, if not strikingly handsome, boy, and carried himself in an
alert, active way that made a good impression on one at the start. He had
a quick temper that would flash out hot