It harked back to pioneer days when men were men. Nielsen said he had
lived among Mexican boys who sawed logs for nineteen cents apiece and
earned seven dollars a day. Copple said three minutes was good time to
saw a four-foot log in two pieces. So much for physical condition! As
for firewood, for which our crosscut saw was intended, pitch pine and
yellow pine and spruce were all odorous and inflammable woods, but they
did not make good firewood. Dead aspen was good; dead oak the best. It
burned to red hot coals with little smoke. As for camp-fires, any kind
of dry wood pleased, smoke or no smoke. In fact I loved the smell and
color of wood-smoke, in spite of the fact that it made my eyes smart.
By October first, which was the opening day of the hunting season, I had
labored at various exercises until I felt fit to pack a rifle through
the woods. R.C. and I went out alone on foot. Not by any means was the
day auspicious. The sun tried to show through a steely haze, making only
a pale shift of sunshine. And the air was rather chilly. Enthusiasm,
however, knew no deterrents. We walked a mile down Beaver Dam Canyon,
then climbed the western slope. As long as the sun shone I knew the
country fairly well, or rather my direction. We slipped along through
the silent woods, satisfied with everything. Presently the sun broke
through the clouds, and shone fitfully, making intervals of shadow, and
others of golden-green verdure.
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