[Illustration: The midday luncheon is welcomed by the automobile tourists. (Page 180.)]
In the summer of 1899, some special work was required north of Grand Rapids, Minnesota. Accompanied by my son, Frank Merton, and a cook named Fred Easthagen, I left Grand Rapids on a buckboard drawn by two horses and driven by Dan Gunn, the popular proprietor of the Pokegama Hotel. Our route was over a new road where stumps and pitch holes were plentiful. The team of horses was said to have been raised on the western plains, and objected strenuously to being driven over this stump road. One of the horses balked frequently, and, when not standing still, insisted on running. The passengers, except Easthagen, became tired of this uneven mode of travel, and preferred to walk, being able to cover the ground equally as fast as the team. Easthagen, however, sat tight through it all; he having come from the far West, refused to walk when there was a team to pull him.
Our camp was made in a fine grove of pig-iron Norway, near to which dwelt Mr. and Mrs. Sandy Owens, settlers upon government land. From this camp we were able to prosecute our work for a long period of time. The late summer and autumn were very dry. Both wolves and deer abounded in this vicinity, and not far away ranged many moose. Large lumbering camps were about ten miles away. Oxen had been turned loose for the summer, to pasture in the woods and cut-over lands. Passing, one day, a root house built into the side of a hill, we pushed open the door, and in there found the remains of an ox. The animal had probably entered the root house to get away from the flies, and, the door having closed behind him, he had no means of escape, so that the poor beast had perished of hunger and thirst. The ground was dry, and all the brush, and twigs, and leaves lying thereon, had become brittle and crackled under the feet of every walking creature. This interfered much with the ability of the wolves to surprise the deer, rabbits, or other animals on which they are accustomed to feed, so that they were hungry. On this account they had become emboldened, so much so, that they would, at nightfall or toward evening, venture near enough to show themselves.