In all parts of northern Minnesota are found the logging camps. The distances traversed by the missionaries in reaching these outposts demand determined purpose, strength of body and love for humanity. The lumberjacks that are in a camp this winter are scattered all through the north with the opening of the next logging season, for there is little to tie a man to one employer in preference to another, and those who received the services of the mission workers one year are ever ready to claim them in their new place of labor. The result of this scattering is that requests come to Mr. Higgins from all parts of the lumber district, asking for the services of the missionaries. The demand is greater than the possibilities of the exchequer and many who ask meet with disappointment. A mission worker is placed over a group of camps, Rev. Frank E. Higgins is superintendent of the camp work and tries to reach every camp in which any of his workers are laboring. He is constantly on the go, "a sort of walking boss for the Sky Route Co." The scattered flock is loved by the shepherd and he will brave any danger to serve the people he has chosen to reach. Minnesota's winters are severe. It seldom thaws after November and the thermometer often registers thirty degrees below zero, not seldom reaching a much lower mark. If a strong wind is blowing when the temperature is low the cold penetrates even the warmest furs and pierces the wayfarer with its keen arctic shafts. During the first three years of Mr. Higgins' work he found that while a man could do much, a man and two dogs could do more. He secured two large St. Bernard dogs and by means of his dog team made the long journey between the camps. The idea of using a dog team is a very practical one. It furnished an easy means of locomotion, the task of stabling was not difficult and the cost of food nothing. When the run was to be made between points on the railway the dogs and sled could easily be placed in the baggage car and be ready for the drive to the camp as soon as the train stopped. In all new work prejudice must be met, and in this respect the mission to the camps was no exception. Some thought it a new species of graft, others desired to be left to the old ways and many had a prejudice due to another form of religion. It is not often The dogs were good travelers. Over the rough forest trails they would drag their sled at the rate of six or eight miles an hour and be none the worse for thirty or forty miles. During the night the howling of the timber wolves awakened the missionary and in the dark circle around him he could see the fireballs of their eyes, while their voices were distinct and near. Arising, the missionary Early the next morning the minister was on his way and soon arrived at the village of Little Forks, where he conducted the first religious service ever held in that place. On another occasion, when passing from one distant camp to another, Mr. Higgins was overtaken by a severe snowstorm and in a few minutes all sense of direction was lost in the raging blizzard. The dog team wandered from the beaten path into the muskeg and in the swamp they were compelled to spend most of the day. Toward evening the worst of the blizzard had passed and he was able to complete his long and weary journey. After supper Mr. Higgins went to the barn to feed his dog team, but to his astonishment the dogs refused all food. He had driven them hard and long, so when they refused to eat he naturally thought it was due to overwork and reproached himself for being thoughtless of his friends. Later he went to them again, but they would not "Is them blank dogs yours?" asked the angry man. "They are," said the missionary, wondering if the man was going to add to the reproach by telling him that the dogs were dead. "Then pay for the pork that the brutes chewed up while you were at supper last night. The hungry cannibals swiped half a hog and ate it. I ain't got nothin' but eggs and salt meat to give the boarders today." While the enraged hotel keeper was narrating his tale of woe a load of anxiety passed from the preacher's mind and before, the proprietor had finished he found his auditor laughing with hearty spirit. Mr. Higgins paid for the meal of the "hungry cannibals," but he remarked in telling it: "I did not object, for it was the only time I was ever asked to pay their board, and I Snow storms come up suddenly, and when the wind whirls the sheet of fallen flakes, all points of the compass are soon lost even to the well tried woodsman. The description of a blizzard may form an interesting page in fiction, but the experience adds to gray hairs and unending memory. In January, 1906, Rev. Frank Higgins was crossing Red Lake, when the snow began to fall. The uninterrupted wind, as it swept down the long stretch of ice, caught the loose snow and filled the air with its choking mass. The wooded shore was soon hidden by the veiling snow and all sense of direction had disappeared. Down the twenty miles of the lake the crystal clouds swept with increasing volume. Night was coming on, and yet the darkness could scarcely add to the helplessness of the wanderers. To the Father, who ruleth the rain of summer and the snow of winter, the missionary raised his prayer for help, and what man could not do was done by the leading of the ever-helpful God. He who guideth On the shore not a human habitation was to be seen, neither did the minister know the direction to the nearest village. For several hours he wandered in the unbroken forest, and near the low hour of midnight he came to the miserable shack of an Indian squaw. His scanty knowledge of the Indian tongue came into happy use and the lonely inhabitant granted him permission to sleep on the floor until morning came and the blizzard had spent itself. When the Camp Mission first began to distribute literature, it caused a change in the means of transportation, for there were heavy boxes of old magazines to carry to the camps and horses were needed to haul the loads. Mr. Higgins had noticed that there was little to amuse the men of the camps and nothing helpful for their leisure hours. He therefore wrote to the churches in the state asking them to collect old magazines and ship them to him for distribution. The churches responded and soon he and his helpers were distributing literature to about one hundred camps. From five to On going into a camp which he was visiting for the first time, Mr. Higgins held his service and afterwards distributed his magazines. Immediately there was a rush for the reading matter and then for the wannigan to buy lanterns by which to read. In a few minutes the clerk had sold every lantern he had in stock and could have disposed of several more, had they been on hand. "What are you doing?" asked the cranky clerk when the Sky Pilot entered the office a little later. "Are you trying to turn the bunkshack into a night school? I've sold every lantern in the place and the Jacks are crying like fiends for more." "Lumberjacks improving their minds?" sarcastically replied "the guy that splashes ink." "This neck of the woods will have a university extension course next, if this thing keeps up." "You surely don't object to the boys reading?" asked the minister. "Not at all," said the clerk sulkily, "but you might have remembered that a clerk has lots of time to read and have left a few of your mind-improvers for his use also." The clerk received his share of the reading matter before the Pilot left the camp. Often when a box of magazines is brought into the camp the men who have gone to their bunks will arise and greedily come forward to receive their share in the distribution. These magazines are passed from one to another until they are read and reread, or worn out from much handling. Of the lonely lives cheered by them, God only could give the number. In a warehouse in Akeley, Minnesota, a bundle of magazines addressed to Rev. "The Rev. Frank E. Higgins. Say, penpusher, who is this for? Is it for our Frank Higgins, the Sky Pilot?" "That's the man," replied the clerk. "The Rev. Frank E. Higgins," read again the driver, "some mistake here, penpusher, the Sky Pilot's no reverend, he's a Christian. That man's no reverend, he's a Christian." Shouldering the bundle he carried it to the sleigh, still mumbling, "He's no reverend, he's a Christian." Pertaining to the use of the title "Sky Pilot," a little story is told. A minister who was going through the camps investigating the work of the mission referred to the various workers as "Sky Pilot Davis," "Sky Pilot Date," and others. He had heard the term used in reference to Mr. Higgins and naturally assumed that it "What the devil does he mean by Sky Piloting around that way? You'd think the woods were full of Sky Pilots, while we all know there's only one, that's Higgins." The tendency of the lumberjack is to give the title to Mr. Higgins alone, although it is occasionally given to the others, but seldom by the old time lumberjacks. Higgins alone is the Sky Pilot to them. Among the rigid Catholics there is naturally a prejudice against Protestant work, but it seems that the work must be done by Protestants or left undone. A priest could hardly do the work. It would be difficult to go through the forms and ceremonies of Catholicism in the camps. Forms and ceremonies are not successful when interruptions are common and likely to occur at any time. But Mike Sullivan was no bigot. He could appreciate the idea that all men were striving to please God and hoping to reach the same Heaven. "This idea of having many churches don't bother me any more," he said. "I Now the work has proved itself, it is much better understood and more highly appreciated by men of all religious persuasions. Many of the Catholics are deeply interested in the progress of the work, for they know that it does not strive to make Protestants of them, but that its end and aim is to lead the lumberjacks to a better life through the simple presentation of Jesus Christ. The One night at Stewart's camp, out from Blackduck, Minnesota, the meeting was in full swing when two teamsters entered the bunkhouse and took their seats by the fire. It was after eight o'clock, and they had just returned from Blackduck where they had been with their loads. On returning to the camp they learned that the Sky Pilot was holding service and came in supperless to enjoy the meeting. Few of our towns people would forego the pleasures of the table, after the appetite had been sharpened by hours of labor in the keen air of winter, in order to attend a religious service. Such a desire for the gospel on the part of the men fills the missionary with a desire to impart the truth. It is an inspiration to preach to an eager audience. The toil of the missionary increases with each day. Exposure robs the body of its vitality, the severe temperature and the strong breath of the wind diminish the powers of the men who must endure them, be they ever so strong. Gathering his remaining strength, he struggled to his feet and pressed slowly towards the goal. At last he entered the uncut timber where the strength of the blast was broken by the trees. On through the untrodden snow he tramped, bent with weariness, worn and pained, pressing on in spite of illness until the smoke of the cookshed showed itself above the hollow in which the buildings were located. There the lumberjacks found him and assisted him to the shelter of the camp, where they tenderly worked to warm and comfort the man who had so often stood between them and death. Everything that they could do for the missionary was gladly done, but they were limited by isolation and the minister was very sick. After supper the men in the bunkhouse discussed the situation: "The Sky Pilot's a pretty sick man," said the bull cook, "and we ought to do something to help the poor devil." This was rough but affectionate. "Whiskey's a good thing for one that's ailin'," suggested one. Various remedies were suggested but they were not to be found. The men were discouraged in their helplessness. "We ought to do something for him," said a Christian sawyer, "we can't give him any medicine for we haven't it, but I'll tell you boys, we can pray for the man that is always praying for us." The men were silent for a moment, then a driver said, "I guess it's the only thing we can do, but we've never logged much on that land. You start the deal, Johnson, for you're onto that game more than the rest of the push. You say it aloud, Johnson, and we'll sort of keep you company." Reverently the men stood with bowed heads while the Christian lumberjack led in a rude prayer, and silently the men, who prayed not for themselves, joined in the petition for the man who "was always praying for them." That night when the missionary heard of the praying lumberjacks he thanked God Whiskey, the Wheel and Women are the Three Fates of the woodsmen. If the lumberjacks could be separated from these the chances for lifting them to a higher level would be increased. Whiskey is the worst of them and leads to the others. For self protection the proprietors and contractors of the camps are compelled to watch that no liquor enters; with its introduction trouble begins and a reduced output of logs is the result. Yet in spite of the care exercised by respectable foremen, it makes its way into the camp, being carried by the tote-teams, the bootlegger, and the men when returning from the neighboring towns. Men with strong appetites generally find a way to satisfy their desires. The camp may be miles from civilization, but the curse of Olympic gods and depraved men makes its way into the inaccessible places. Where a camp is near a village alcohol is easy to obtain, and Sunday, being a day of rest, is likely to be a day of carousing and shame. There were several camps near Island Later in the day the missionary was in the village of Island Lake and while talking to a friend, the lumberjack he had ejected from the camp came staggering up. The campman was accompanied by a score of his mates who were also under the influence of liquor. "Are you the blank preacher that fired me out of the camp?" asked the man of the sudden exit. There was passion in his tone and he was evidently anxious for a row. "I am the man," replied the brawny preacher, drawing himself up and advancing toward the lumberjack, "what have you to say against it?" The drunken man looked at the minister as steadily as his unsteady legs would allow him, and suddenly changed his mind about the intended row. Turning to the other lumberjacks, Mr. Higgins said: "Boys, did you ever know Higgins to do you a bad turn? Can you show me where I have not tried to help you? Yet for the sport of the thing you try to get this poor, drunken fellow to cause trouble, just for a moment's laughter. Is that a proper return?" The men made no answer, but shame rested on many a winter beaten cheek. That night in a nearby camp almost every man of them came to the preacher after the meeting. "Forget it, Pilot," said the spokesman, "We're ashamed of the way we came at you, but you know it wasn't us, it was Whiskey. That's your only enemy in these woods. Say you'll forget it and shake." "Thanks, boys, I have already. Give me your hands." "I recently left Deer River on the Itasca Logging Railroad for Fourtown, and experienced the worst trip it was ever my lot to take. The car was crowded with lumberjacks, few of whom were sober. The woodsmen had over twenty quarts of Deer River squirrel whiskey, and in a short time things were moving at a terrific rate. You may call it a tempest in a teapot, but never have I seen anything like the affair; no human tongue could describe the sight. The Irish, the Swedes and the Glengarry Scotch were filled with whiskey, and every man was out for blood, and blood they had,—an abundance of it. An old time lumberjack said that in all his days in the woods he has yet to see the equal of the scene. "When matters got to this pace I had to content myself with taking a hand only when it seemed that permanent injury would be done to the participants. One old man, very much under the influence of liquor, had his face battered beyond recognition. I pulled off the chastiser, but did not succeed in releasing the old man before one of his eyes had been closed and the mouth and face were covered with blood. No sooner had the champion of this affair been separated from the old man than another lumberjack was at the bully and the bully was taking the same medicine he had so liberally given to the old fellow. This second scrap placed another patient on my hands. "When we came to the different camps and the men began to get off the train, I had to literally drag them through the snow away from the track, so they would not be "I hope I shall never see such a condition again. Was it not Paul who said, 'I have fought with beasts at Ephesus.' I had a like experience on that logging train. A sober woodsman who saw the fight of the drunken lumberjacks said, 'Pilot, why do you continue to work among such men?' and I made answer, 'Because my Master died to save such.' This is to me a sufficient answer. The conditions need changing, and the only thing that will bring about a change is the Gospel." In the sleigh of the Sky Pilot antiseptic bandages and a few medicines are carried. Through them he is able to relieve the wounded and assist the sick. His sleigh is often converted into an ambulance and men who have met with accidents are carried to the nearest hospital for treatment. If the accident is severe he visits the wounded to give cheer and hope. There, in the hospital, the men have time to think of eternal things, and the comfort of Christ is often the stimulus of the recovering and the solace of the dying. "Tell the boys that in this hour Jesus Christ brought his strong salvation to me," said a dying man. "Ask them to trust him." When the missionary goes back to the camp with such a message from the dead the interest is profound. Coming from one of themselves it seems more real than if it were the message of the preacher. When the testimony comes from their own mates they are more receptive to the gentle Gospel of the Cross. Often in death a lumberjack, by his message to the foresters, has accomplished more than in his years of life. While speaking of this itinerating work we must add a paragraph concerning the homesteaders. In this forest region is much land that is open to settlement. The little cabins |