"He wanted her to go across with him, but she was afraid and would not. So, he got in alone. It ran down to the middle of the river easily, then he started it back by pulling on a rope. Originally the basket or cage had been equipped with end-doors, but either they had gotten out of commission or else he just didn't close them. He stood in the cage with his back to her working hard to pull himself along.
She thought she could give him a hand. She was strong, and when she gave a big jerk she pulled him right out of the basket. Fortunately, he still held onto the rope. The Humptulips was high from a freset. He landed with his head and shoulders above the river, but his legs were dangling in twenty feet of water.
His bride became hysterical. I was crossing the river with my canoe loaded down with freight to within two inches of the water. I was afraid of swamping. I went as close as I could and yelled to him to hang on and I'd unload some freight and come back for him.
I went on up the slough a few hundred yards where I wanted to unload. It took me about half an hour. I could see he was still hanging on. He would use one foot and then the other to relieve his hand. Then he started to pull hard on the rope and finally pulled the cage against the bank. Just before I got there, he climbed up the rope and into the cage.
The first road bridge was built about 1904 and was located near where the present new one stands." (1957)
In 1890, following a term of school in the Lindsay home, a building was erected about midway between the lower end of the Prairie and the Brittain place. The lumber was cut at Walker's mill at Axford and hauled to the site.
Mr. Harland was the first teacher. His pupils were Lona Kirpatrick, Ethel and Charles Lindsay, four Sargents, three Boyds from Axford and three Brittain boys.
The next teacher, William Melchlor, wrote in 1944:
"I well remember my first trip to Humptulips - ten miles by rowboat and the rest of the distance with rubber hip boots. I will jot down some of the highlights of my sojourn there in 1892-93:
Sometime in the late winter months we were aroused by the cry of "Snow" Well, it was snow - 36 to 29 inches deep on the Prairie, all accumulated in the night. My landlord, Mr. Evans, mail and freight carrier, had been up early and tried to have the roads open. But, horses could not walk in the deep heavy snow. The next thing was the making of skis. Everybody worked at them, and by noon quite a few pedestrians were moving about. School was out of the question, as all roads were blocked. When sessions resumed several days later, all the pupils had skis.