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Updated: June 28, 2025
Then there's the sportsman traffic, which could be built up indefinitely if there were suitable transportation conveniences here. Say, Jerrard, do you know there's a fine place for a six-mile narrow-gage railroad right there on Poquette Carry? You and I didn't come down here looking up railroad possibilities, but really this thing strikes me favorably.
It was pointed out that a dangerous precedent would be established; that forest fires would be sure to originate from the locomotive's sparks, and that the Poquette woods were the center of the great West Branch timber growth. The counsel for the incorporators said that his clients realized this danger, and anticipated that this objection, a potent one, would be made.
"That Poquette Carry road hasn't been touched by shovel or pick for more than three years, and I don't believe that Col. Gid Ward and his crowd ever intend to hire another day's work on it. Colonel Gid says every operator and sport from Clew to Erie goes across there, and if there's any ro'd-repairin' all hands ought to turn to an' help on the expense."
He had willingly assumed it, for he was as proud of his reputation for savage obstinacy as other men are of popular credit for more noble attributes. Col. Gideon Ward had confidently boasted to his associates that he would prevent the building of the Poquette railroad. He would rather lose half his fortune than confess to them that he had been beaten by a youth.
It was hardly credible, either, that a man with as extensive property interests as Colonel Ward possessed would dare to destroy wantonly the goods of a railroad company in the strong position of the Poquette road. However, Parker resolved to make a survey at once, in order to put the swampers at work chopping trees and clearing the right of way.
"Colonel Ward," broke in Parker, mildly yet firmly, "if that line of talk is what you are proposing to me I think I'd better tell you at the start that you'll have to take the question of whether the road must or must not be built to my employers. I have no right to enter upon any such discussion. Nothing will be gained. They have sent me to Poquette to build the road.
The attached sleds, loaded with the rails and spikes and other material, followed like a line of huge, frightened beavers seeking their hole. "There," ejaculated Connick, wiping the sweat from his brow, "when that hole freezes up the Poquette Carry Railro'd will be canned for a time, anyway. Now three cheers for Colonel Gid Ward!" The cheers were howled vociferously.
He daubed the white face of the city man with an evil-smelling compound of tar and oil. Jerrard's mind was rapidly freeing itself from transportation worries. Then came the long paddle across Spinnaker Lake, with only the unfamiliar insecurity of a canoe beneath him, and after that the six-mile Poquette carry. By this time Jerrard had forgotten the P. K. & R. entirely.
There have been railroads that "began somewhere and ended in a sheep pasture." The Poquette Carry Road, known to the legislature of its state as "The Rainy-Day Railroad," is even more indifferently located, for it twists for six miles, from water to water, through as tangled and lonely a wilderness as ever owl hooted in.
"We work for Gid Ward, He owns the Poquette land, don't he? He said he didn't want any railro'd there. He told us to come down an' dump the thing. We come down, of course it's been dumped. You can fix that with him. But you're a good little fighter, my man. He didn't tell the truth about you." The young man groaned. The ethics of the woods were growing more opaque to his understanding.
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