in settling up some business affairs, mr. allen had come into possession of a tract of two thousand acres of swamp land lying toward the western side of the bed of the ancient sea. at the time of which i write there were vast tracts of such supposedly valueless land owned by the state, and which could be purchased for ten dollars per “forty,” twenty-five cents per acre. timber scouts had ranged over it, and selecting the forties upon which there were sand knolls covered with a goodly amount of pine timber, the land would be purchased by their employers, the lumber companies, to be cut over at their convenience.
the low-lying prairies, flooded in the spring season, and the lower marshes covered with water much of the year, were thought to be not worth the twenty-five cents per acre asked by the state. in later years, by a system of drainage, and through scientific farming, much of this land became highly productive and valuable.
in some of the deeper marshes, where there had been an abundance of water for several years, cranberry vines had covered the surface of the moss and yielded astonishing crops of mottled green and red berries. this was the character of much of the land
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of which mr. allen found himself possessed. a granite rock rising with nearly perpendicular sides over three hundred feet above the level surface of the country, gave the name of north bluff marsh to the locality, as distinguished from the country about a similar bluff some ten miles to the south.
after considerable persuasion on the part of the boys, mr. allen had leased this cranberry marsh to rob and ed, and their chum dauphin. the boys already had a good start on the fund they were gathering for a planned year in college, and if they should be successful in getting the berries from the north bluff to market, it would bring them nearer to the desired goal.
while the cranberry, as it is picked from the vine, is as firm and meaty as a little apple, it bruises easily in handling, and so requires great care in getting to market. the boys had purposed using two-bushel grain sacks for the transportation of the crop, but mr. allen wisely persuaded them to make a preliminary trip to lisbon and secure light ash barrels to take with them to the marsh and so prevent much loss from bruised and damaged berries.
on the twentieth of august the boys had their outfits assembled: two yokes of oxen hitched to two broad-tired wagons, upon which were long racks each containing thirty empty barrels. with these they carried a tent, cooking utensils, supplies of bacon, flour, brown sugar, matches, axes, guns, and ammunition, sacks to carry the berries from the marsh to dry land, and not
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least in importance, three cranberry rakes. of these latter uncle sam thompson had made one for each of the boys. a slab of ash was taken and fingers about ten inches long sawn and whittled down smooth in one end. sides and back were put to this, with a handle on top and back. with these “rakes” the boys would literally scoop up the berries from the vines.
the trip of fifty miles to the marsh was, in itself, a great undertaking. there were no roads; logs and tree roots had to be chopped out of the way, and overhanging limbs cleared from before the stacks of barrels. more serious were the occasional deep bogs encountered, through which the oxen, though accustomed to wallowing in mud, were unable to pull the wagons. over these the boys were obliged to build a “corduroy,” sometimes for several rods. to one accustomed to a boulevard or even a macadam pike, the corduroy would seem an impossibility as a means of travel, but pioneers are frequently required to accomplish the seemingly impossible. small trees are felled and cut into lengths suitable to the width of the wagon, and these placed side by side until the way across has been covered. when the marsh is unusually deep and soft, a second layer of smaller logs is placed upon the first. it is not a good road, nor easy to ride over, but it can be crossed, and that is the main thing.
not alone were the bad roads, or lack of roads, a cause of distress to the boys and their teams; mosquitoes in clouds attacked them day and night. frequently they were compelled to make “smudges” of
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fire covered with green grass, so that in the smoke they might be able to eat their meals in some sort of comfort. at night the oxen were likewise protected from the attacks of the pestiferous insects. much annoyance and no little suffering were caused by a spotted fly, called from its markings, the “deer fly,” which persistently crawled up into their hair and under their clothing, its bite always drawing blood.
the boys averaged not quite five miles a day on the trip, and it was the last day of august before the camping place at the foot of north bluff was reached.
the first day of their arrival was spent in arranging camp; putting up the tent, digging the shallow well in the sand at the marsh’s edge, and building moss-lined pole-pens in which to store the berries as they should be picked. cranberry harvest and the arrival of frost are usually too close together to allow any time to be taken away from the one occupation of picking. so the boys would sort over and clean the berries and then barrel them after the frosts had come.
the bog was a wonder to the allen boys. around the edge, for perhaps ten rods out into the marsh, were growing tamarack trees, from little switches a dozen feet high that could be easily pulled up by hand, to older ones six inches in diameter, and thirty feet in height. further out, beyond the line of tamaracks, the bog looked much like a prairie covered with moss, with here and there a sandy mound upon which blackberry vines, huckleberry bushes, and a few scattering pine trees were growing.
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when they had walked out into the marsh several rods over shoe-top deep in the moss, dauphin called out, “stand still a minute, boys, i want to show you something,” and he began to spring up and down in rhythmic motion. in a few moments, at first slightly, then in increasing motion the trees began to sway and bend, and the surface of the bog, for many rods around, could be seen in regular, wave-like motion, trees and all rising and falling, bending and rolling as if on the bosom of a rolling sea.
“it is like this,” said dauphin in answer to the boys’ astonished questioning, “this marsh is really a lake over which the moss has grown until it is now completely covered. here, near the edge where it started in to grow and spread over the water, the old moss falling down each year has been succeeded by the new growing up, and so for ages, until there is now quite a solid covering at the surface, enough even to support the trees, but, as you see, it is only after all a floating cover to a lake. not all over is the moss so thick as here, and there are places dangerous to try to walk over. one might easily drop through. then—”
“don’t, dauph,” exclaimed ed; “i don’t want to think of anything so horrible.”
“you had best pick your steps, then,” replied dauphin; “if you attempt to cross the bog, or you may find something worse than hearing about it.”
“how far is it to the bottom?” asked rob.
“we can soon see,” replied dauphin. cutting down a slender dead tamarack he thrust it down
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through the moss until it rested upon the solid sand.
“twelve feet!” exclaimed the boys as the pole was drawn up and measured. further out from the edge they took a measurement of sixteen feet from the mossy surface to the bottom.
there was a fine crop of cranberries on the vines, and the boys were busy from early morning until late at night with their rakes. the unaccustomed stooping all day was back-breaking work, and it was not at all pleasant to stand in cold water wet to the knees, but the two-bushel sack of berries each boy was able to carry to camp every half day made the labor endurable.
as the best patches near the camp were soon raked over, the boys would take turns searching for new places. on one of these excursions rob had an adventure which came near to a tragedy for him, but which led to happy termination. in a cove of perhaps an acre, jutting up into one of the pine islands, lying nearly a mile out into the bog, rob found a patch of beautiful “bell” berries, and over near the edge it appeared as though the vines had been recently disturbed. closely scanning the land nearby he at length discovered a mound of freshly-pulled moss over which pine boughs had been carelessly strewn, as if in attempt to hide something. his curiosity was of course aroused, and digging away the moss he came upon several sacks filled with berries. evidently somebody had been there at work. he determined to carry one of the sacks of berries to camp with him, and then get
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the boys and hunt for the trespassers. instead of returning in the way he came, rob struck out straight across the bog, his mind full of excited imaginings about his find. suddenly he found himself dropping, and like a flash he realized that he had come upon a thin place in the bog, and was falling through to the cold, dark depths of the lake beneath. instinctively he had thrown himself forward, with arms out-stretched, his hands clutching the moss. this stayed him for a moment, but the heavy sack of berries was upon him, forcing his head and shoulders down into the moss. he could feel himself sinking; the water seemed to be rising about his face. he thought of how the boys would miss him, of their fruitless search, for the moss would soon close over him leaving no mark to show where he had gone down. then the thought came that he must not die; that he might work backward from under the sack and get free. it was a desperate struggle, and before he succeeded his face was under water, and his strength nearly exhausted for lack of breath. but at last he was free, and throwing his arms up over the sack he raised his head, regained his breath, and rested. slowly he pulled his body up, and using the sinking sack for a foothold, he threw himself sprawling upon the track over which he had come. he crawled in the moss for several yards before he dared to rise to his feet and resume his journey to the camp.
“i should like to see that lake drained,” said dauphin, as rob told of his narrow escape. “think of the
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different kinds of animals that have probably left their bones on the sands of that lake bottom in the ages past.”
“well, i’m glad that your future scientist will not have the pleasure of classifying my bones, anyway,” replied rob.
next day the boys found the trespassers to be a band of winnebago indians, and they were able to make satisfactory arrangements whereby the indians stayed and helped them harvest the crop of berries, which the boys finally got safely to market.
