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Updated: May 25, 2025
Colonel Peavy and Judge Brown came down together, and Ridings and Deering were there also, seated comfortably under the awning, in mild discussion with Robie, who had taken the side of free trade, to be contrary, as Deering said. "No, sir; I take that side for it's right." There was something sincere in his reply, and Ridings stared. "How long since?" "About a week."
His regular work was heavy enough, splitting all the wood for the camp, carrying water and packing lunch to the men, but his hazers sent him on all kinds of wild goose errands to all parts of the works, looking for a "left-handed peavy" or a "bundle of cross-hauls."
They belonged to the Democracy because the Democrats were in the minority, and considered it wrong to belong to a majority, anyhow. Of this sort were men like Colonel Peavy and old Judd Colwell. The Colonel had been nominated for treasurer and Colwell for sheriff on the Democratic ticket year after year, and each year the leaders of the party had prophesied decided gains, but they did not come.
Then, addressing the crowd in a general sort of way, he speculated: "Curious how a man, a plain American citizen like Colonel Peavy, wins a place in the innermost affections of a whole people." "That's so!" murmured the rest. "He can't grow bald without deep sympathy from his fellow-citizens. It amounts to a public calamity." The old Colonel glared in speechless wrath.
"If we win, gentlemen of this convention," he said, turning, "we must put at the head of this movement a man who is absolutely incorruptible a man who can command the granger vote, the temperance vote, the young man's vote, and the Independent vote. That man" "Mr. Chairman," snarled Colonel Peavy, rising with impressive dignity and drawing his coat around him with ominous deliberation.
He seemed to know just where to bend his efforts. Two, then three, logs, disentangled from the mass, floated away. Finally, all moved slowly forward. The riverman intent on his work, was swept from view. "After he gets them to running free, he'll come ashore," said Welton, in answer to Bob's query. "Oh, just paddle ashore with his peavy. Then he'll come back up the trail.
He once threw a peavy handle into the Mississippi at St. Louis and standing on it, poled up to Brainerd, Minnesota. Paul was a "white water bucko" and rode water so rough it would tear an ordinary man in two to drink out of the river. Johnny Inkslinger was Paul's headquarters clerk. He invented bookkeeping about the time Paul invented logging.
The village life abounds with jokers, Shiftless, conscienceless and shrewd. Colonel Peavy had just begun the rubber with Squire Gordon, of Cerro Gordo County. They were seated in Robie's grocery, behind the rusty old cannon stove, the checkerboard spread out on their knees.
"Holiday, hell!" snorted the younger man. "We ought to be down to Bull's Dam before now " "And Bull's Dam is half-way to Redding," mocked a reptilian and red-headed giant on the log, "and Redding is the happy childhood home of " The young man leaped to his feet and seized from a pile of tools a peavy a dangerous weapon, like a heavy cant-hook, but armed at the end with a sharp steel shoe.
He was standing bolt upright and at ease on a log so small that the water lapped over its top. From this distance Bob could but just make it out. The man leaned carelessly on his peavy. Across the vista he floated, graceful and motionless, on his way from the driving camp to the mill. Bob gave a whistle of admiration, and walked on. "I wish some of our oarsmen could see that," he said to himself.
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