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The one with the Devils Club went to town to have the finger treated, and the doctor took it off above the third joint. The others decided to meander the lake before going back on the line again. They hired Chesney and Kestner to help. Worked thirty days making the meander, then gave it up as a bad job and left.

The next summer an engineer by the name of Finch, with three men, made the survey. Starting from the beach, he reached the lake on an afternoon, made the meander in one-and-a-half days, and was one-and-a-half miles on his way toward the Queets at night.

Book learning you must have, but experience gets the job done.

In the summer of 1891, I frequently went up Falls Creek hunting. About a quarter mile above the falls there was a point where I nearly always found fresh deer tracks. I mentioned it to Father one day, and he suggested trying a salt-lick, such as had been used in Pennsylvania.

So, one morning he sharpened a stake, bored a hole in the tip, and we started up the creek. We noticed Mrs. Chesney watching us pretty closely, but as she asked no questions, we made no explanations. We drove our stake, filled the hole with salt, then took a turn through the woods for about two hours before going home.

About a week thereafter, a prospector arrived from the Harbor and made his headquarters in Chesney's homestead. He would frequently come down and visit with the Chesneys. One day, about six weeks after he came, he was talking to Chesney and turned to us and said, "I found your stake." Father made some noncommittal reply, as we were both puzzled to know what he meant. He left the next day. Finally it came to us that he had found our salt lick.

Mrs. Chesney, who hailed from the mining country, had supposed we were staking a mineral claim. She had sent word to some of the business men in Hoquiam, and they had hired this man to come in and find the location. We often wondered what he thought when he found it "salted". He was the only victim we caught, as the deer refused our offering of salt.


Those who blazed the western trails
Always held up their chin
Cussed and brayed, just stuck and stayed
And did not go with the wind.

Orte Higley