it, and run it into pigs of about 70 pounds each.  He said he had a job for me if I could do it.  The furnace was propelled by water and they had a small buzz saw for cutting four-foot wood into blocks about a foot long.  These blocks they wanted split up in pieces about an inch square to mix in with charcoal in smelting ore.  He said he would board me with the other men, and give me a dollar and a quarter a cord for splitting the wood.  I felt awfully poor, and a stranger, and this was a beginning for me at any rate, so I went to work with a will and never lost a minute of daylight till I had split up all the wood and filled his woodhouse completely up.  The board was very coarse—­bacon, potatoes, and bread—­a man cook, and bread mixed up with salt and water.  The old log house where we lodged was well infested with troublesome insects which worked nights at any rate, whether they rested days or not, and the beds had a mild odor of pole cat.  The house was long, low and without windows.  In one end was a fireplace, and there were two tiers of bunks on each side, supplied with straw only.  In the space between the bunks was a stationary table, with stools for seats.  I was the only American who boarded there and I could not well become very familiar with the boarders.

The country was rolling, and there were many beautiful brooks and clear springs of water, with fertile soil.  The Cornish miners were in the majority and governed the locality politically.  My health was excellent, and so long as I had my gun and ammunition I could kill game enough to live on, for prairie chickens and deer could be easily killed, and meat alone would sustain life, so I had no special fears of starvation.  I was now paid off, and went back to see my companion, Mr. Henry.  I did not hear of any more work, so I concluded I would start back toward my old home in Michigan, and shouldered my bundle and gun, turning my face eastward for a long tramp across the prairie.  I knew I had a long tramp before me, but I thought best to head that way, for my capital was only ten dollars, and I might be compelled to walk the whole distance.  I walked till about noon and then sat down in the shade of a tree to rest for this was June and pretty warm.  I was now alone in a big territory, thinly settled, and thought of my father’s home, the well set table, all happy and well fed at any rate, and here was my venture, a sort of forlorn hope.  Prospects were surely very gloomy for me here away out west in Wisconsin Territory, without a relative, friend or acquaintance to call upon, and very small means to travel two hundred and fifty miles of lonely road—­perhaps all the way on foot.  There were no laborers required, hardly any money in sight, and no chance for business.  I knew it would be a safe course to proceed toward home, for I had no fear of starving, the weather was warm and I could easily walk home long before winter should come again.  Still the outlook was not very pleasing to one in my circumstances.