33:
THE SUNDAY OREGONIAN, PORTLAND, JUNE 24, 1906.
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SCATTERED
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THE
stream, fasten the rope attached to i4 to
a pole or the limb of a convenient tree,
and leave the net alone. If there are any
fish In the stream they will heed the meat
bait, and when you pull up after allowing
the bait to rest from flva to ten minutes
you will And it literally covered with,
struggling, crawling, snapping crawfish
of all sizes. Swing the net to the bank
and pick each fish up, taking cars to grasp,
it just back of the fore pincers, and toss .
It into a receptacle at hand for that pur
pose. As eoon as the net is cleared, toss
It back In the stream and await further
developments.
Of our party, Walter had -the distinction
of making the first catch, which Is one
of the points usually striven for among
excursionists on an occasion of this kind.
Ed succeeded In gathering the largest
haul of the day by netting 32 in one haul.
Walter also had the distinction of catch
ing the largest number during the day,
but as he had the assistance of Mabel le
during the most of the afternoon, or after
the dory was discovered and he had ap
propriated the same, together withvthe
young lady, and they patrolled the stream
much farther than could be reached by
the rest of us, who had to confine our
selves to leaping from log to log and set
ting the nets in such spots as could be
reached in this manner, this was not ta
be wondered at. In the course of
our operations KYed and I succeeded in
getting an involuntary ducking apiece by
treading on insecure footing which gave
way at inopportune moments and precipi
tated us into the creek. Aside from get-
ting a trifle wet. we were none the worss
for our experience. At 'any rate, our ex
periences 4n the bathing line furnished
considerable amusement for the girls, andt
we took the chaffing of the men folk hj
good-naturedly em it was given. As M
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mlnfei OttiiCiiMl"-'5 ' " w 3; -. - - . I where the best fish are obtainable, and ! day morning, took the 7:50 A. M. car on f - ' .1 ZJgZk
JTJl 'J i ' -'Cr"" ' gradually work down to the Willamette the Estacada line and debarked at the -S5SJr
BY WILLIAM J. FJSTRAIN.
THE crawfishing season is one in full
blast. Last Sunday probably marked
the inaugural procession of excur
sionists to the rocky-bedded woodland
streams adjacent to the metropolis where
the festive crustacean has his haunt In
the deep recesses of the swiftly running
water, and where the many fugitives
from the heat and brain-torturing bustle
of the busy city life hie themselves of a
Sunday with the idea of luring the craw
tinh from his native element. There are
but few members of our city's population
who are familiar with the delights attend
ant on an outing to any of the near-by
streams on the day of rest, and while
there, indulging the opportunity for delv
ing into the mysteries of the hidden
depths of the brook where the crawfish
hides his slimy shell well out of sight
under the bouldrs at the bottom of the
stream.
The crawfish of Oregon has gained con
siderable prominence as a delicacy in re
cent years, principally for the reason that
this specimen of the water animal is
caught only In our own streams. True
they arc said to inhabit some streams in
far-off Louisiana, but the writer is in
formed that the specimens caught in that
locality are of an extremely small va
riety and never attain the size and delect
able tendencies of the local product.
The history of the crawfish as a table
delicacy in Portland dates back only a
few years, for along about 1SS9 there was
witnessed the first introduction of the
creature as an edible. Up to that time
scarcely any attention was paid to them.
for most people looked upon them as un
lit for table use, but as they had served
as a portion of many a sumptuous repast
in Germany and Bohemia for many years,
it was not long before former residents of
the Fatherland seized upon the delicacy
and began its popularization.
So rapidly has been the progress of the
crawfish into popular favor that where 15
years ago one lone fisherman supplied the
local market with ease, it now requires a
little army of fishermen engaged the en
tire year round to gather enough of the
crustaceans to supply the local demand
as well as the large number of orders re
ceived from Eastern cities. During the
Lewis and Clark Exposition the crawfish
trade had a big boom, for Eastern visit
ors were immediately struck with me fla
vor and delicacy of the new variety of
fish, which so appealed to them that they
have standing orders with a local firm to
supply their caterers in their Eastern
homes with this product of the Oregon
streams.
Crawfishing from a commercial stand
point is carried on the entire year, and,
commencing about the first of June, the
fishermen start on the Yamhill River.
where the best fish are obtainable, and
gradually work down to the Willamette
and continue along this stream, working
the smaller tributaries until they strike
the Columbia, which is also productive of
vast numbers. The specimens caught In
the Yamhill are rated as the best, for in
this stream they attain the largest growth
and the meat is considered excellent. The
stream that produces the greatest quan
tity of these tish is the Tualatin, for here
it is that crawfishing is indulged in all
the year round, while the other streams
are fished only at certain periods.
During the months of September, Octo
ber and November the spawning season
only the male fish are caught for market
purposes, the females being returned to
the stream to propagate the next season's
harvest. Withal the commercial side of
the crawfishing is worthy of some con
sideration; from 15.000 to 20.000 dozen are
consumed here during the season, and It
can be readily understood that the busi
ness possesses some magnitude.
Now to get down to the pleasure side of
the crawfish.
Along about the first of June many per
sons familiar with the delights aceom-.
jpanying an excursion to the various
streams in our vicinity get out their nets
and prepare for the regular Sunday trip to
Johnson's Creek, Clackamas River, the
Columbia Slough or to some other favor
ite camping spot, where they try their luck
at luring the feetive denizens of the brook
from their haunts, & be later cooked to
order for the benefit of hungry appetites
made keener by the exertions required in
the effort to bag the fish.
Our party, which left the city lat Sun-
day morning, took the 7:50 A. M. car on
the Estacada line and debarked at the
little station called Sycamore. Why it
was named Sycamore none of the natives
in the locality were able to inform us,
although it is eatd that once upon a time,
long before any of the present settlers
landed there, a pioneer Is said to have
planted a eycamore tree near the spot
now occupied by the station.
The party included eight persons, and
as we, with one exception, had all been
out before, we were thoroughly experi
enced as to the requirements of the Jour
ney. After alighting from the cars, we hav
ing been in transit about an hour, we
picked up our bundles and started for the
scene of conquest.
The dreamy atmosphere of the pine
woods and the healthful, balmy air of the
country seemed to instil new life into
each individual, with .the result that we
were all permeated with an overflow of
animal spirits, causing each one to start
off on the jaunt of several thousand yards
to the stream like wild coyotes over the
prairie. Over fences we went, the girls
climbing the barbed-wire enclosures with
as much ease and grace as did the men
folks, although it probably would have ap
peared less dignified than would have been
approved by some of the dignified stay-at-home
city folk. Over hills and down
dales, through tangled underbrush, now
and then following a beaten cow path,
but more often striking through the un
traveled paths to the Nature adorned,
wildly grand spot we had chosen for our
excursion,- we went, and after about 30
minutes' walking we came to our old camp
ing ground of the season before. This spot
IRK
seemed made to order, for a more Ideal
place for a picnic could hardly have been
found. Surrounded on all sides by a dense
copse of maple, with underbrush composed
principally of wild cherry trees in full
bloom, which added to the beauty of the
wild, and -with the swiftly moving creek
which was swelled almost double Its reg
ular size by the recent heavy rains, flow
ing at our feet, we set down the bundles
and commenced baiting the nets.
Bait Is an essential feature of a craw
fishing excursion. When you contemplate
a journey of the kind,. see to it that you
have a supply. The best morsel to tempt
the crawfish is a good-eized chunk of
raw meat; not too old, but with just
enough of an odor to allow your nasal
.sensitiveness to become slightly offended
by close proximity to the cuticle. Have
your meat chopped into pound chunks,
and these attached to the middle of the
net with strong cords to hold it in plae,
as some of the larger fish could easily
carry it off were it not tied. Next in line
is the selecting of a favorable spot where
in to toss the net. Iyook along the banks
of the stream for a dark recess which has
indications of a rocky, bed. When such a
spot is found, drop the net into the
belle said: "It all came out la the wasti
anyway."
When we arrived home preparations
were Immediately Inaugurated for th
cooking or our catch. Sue and Maybcllo
gathered together an assortment of car
rots, onions, turnips, lettuce loaves and
bay leaves, which were placed in a large
boiler with a gallon or so of water, and,
after being plentifully sprinkled with pre
pared rock salt, cayenne pepper, other
strong spices and a pinch of garlic, tbil
was allowed to boil for two hours. While
this mess was boiling the work of clean
ing the fish was taken up. Crawfish
must be cleaned before being cooked, for
otherwise they are apt to prove poisonous;
also it is essential that no dead fish be
cooked. The cleaning of a crawfish ta a
simple affair, for all that is necessary is
the disintegrating of the center of the
three tail fins. When this fin is dertachedi
a long black strip will come with it
and the fish is ready for cooking. By
the time we had the fish cleaned the
"t-oup" In which they were to be boiled
was ready. The vegetables were care
fully strained from this, and white
wine poured in, after which the fish
were thrown into the boiling fluid and
allowed to cook from eight to ten minutes,
when they were ready for the table.
Sounds in the Dark That Are Feared by Miners
"Tommy Knockers," the Dreaded Underground Ghosts; Mysterious Hammer and Drill That Mystify.
BUTTB. Mont., June Iff. (Special Cor
respondence of The Sunday Oregon
ian.) Among all the superstitions
that haunt the souls of men there are
none more firmly established than those
which develop among the men who toil
In the dampness and darkness of the mine.
And of all superstitions there are none
more weird than those of the "graveyard"
shift. The "graveyard" shift is in the
dead of night usually between 11 P. M,
and 3 A. M., and It is then that the "tommy-knockers"
are most often heard.
Nearly all of the big mines of the West
are in operation constantly during the 24
hours of every day and the seven days
of every week. A great mining plant does
not shut down on the Fourth of July or
even at Christmas. The men are driving
the drill, the "shots" are being fired, the
broken ore shoveled into cars and carried
out through shaft of tunnel, and the big
mills are grinding, pounding and roaring
for 365 days in the year. The miner who
works steadily has no variation in his
life. He is as far away from the world
as the sailor at sea and the conditions are
far more propitious for the birth and
growth of superstitions.
The miner works always in total dark
ness. Kc he of the day or night shift, it
m always night in the mine. And much
of the time the man who drills in the
breast of the tunnel, or "drift," la en
tirely alone he and his flickering little
candle In the dark. If he is working in
a wet mine. t6 the tune of the hammer
as he strikes the drill, he hears the ac
companiment of dripping water drip,
drip, drip, incessantly. He stops to mop
his face and light his pipe. Then as he
sits resting and puffing for a few min
utes, he looks into the black tunnel be
hind him. The dripping never ceases,
and the man begins to wonder and to
dream. Surely this is fertile soil for Im
agination'. He reflects npon the uncertainty of hu
man life. Not long ago, perhaps, a man
was killed in this mine. He was a driller,
too. and alone in the breast of the tunnel,
when suddenly throughout the mine an
explosion was heard. A puff of wind
blew out his candle, the air was thick
with powder smoke and the dust of rock,
and his body was torn and bruised so
that it no longer had human form.
"A Missed Hole."
"A missed hole," said the foreman, and
"missed holes" have killed many drillers
in the mines. In working in a breast of
rock, in driving a tunnel or "drift," the
driller, if the rock is hard, puts in five
or six holes, fills each with powder, sets
the-fuses, touches a light to them, and
then steps back into the tunnel a safe
distance until the powder has exploded.
Sometimes one or more of the shots is
not discharged; the fuse for some reason
burns up close to the cap that Is to ex
plode the powder and then goes' out.
That one of the five or six shots in a
breast of rock has not exploded may not
be observed by those who are listening.
The "shift" changes and another
driller, unconscious of the presence of the
"missed hole," goes to work in the tun
nel. Perhaps, as he hammers merrily
away, driving the hard steel into the
rock, the end of his drill strikes the cap
of the load that did not go off. Then
there is an explosion, a cloud of smoke
and dust in the darkness, a poor, muti
lated dead body. . . . ;
Following the Strange Noise.
The solitary driller In the graveyard
shift, sitting to rest a minute and
smoking, . turns over in his mind the
tragedies that add danger and mystery
to mining. In the dead of night, the
thought that his turn may come next is
not comforting or exhilarating to the
solitary man.
Suddenly, in the never-ceasJng drip, drip,
drip of-the water, he hears some sound
the regular ring of a hammer not far
from him. He is puzzled, for he knows
that he alone, in that part of the mine.
Never doubting the accuracy of his un
derstanding, he takes his candle from the
rock nd tramps through "the tunnel
toward the sound of the drilling. He stops
to listen. It seems above and he climbs
up into a "raise," where ore has been
taken down from above the tunneL Hold
ing his candle up, he searches the dark
ness with straining eyes. '
But there is no light of., another driller.
The sound of the hammer seems to be a
little further away, r The miner descend
from the "raise", and , tramps again
through the tunnel,- his , feet, splashing
through the mud anil water. The myste
rious sound deceives and eludes him.
The drilling ceases. The miner stops
in surprise. He is alone, 500 feet below
ground, except for this unknown compan
ion. Ther& is a moment of silence, in--tensifled,
It seems, by the drip, drip, drip
of the water and the utter darkness.
The Tramp or Phantom Feet.1.
Not far ahead the miner suddenly hears
a new sound.' Someone is -walking rap
idly through the tunnel with a regular
tread, splashing in the mud and water.
The miner, his candle at his side, quickly
follows. He almost runs in' his haste to
find his companion... But the tramp and
splash of the unknown feet are always
Just ahead of him. He stops and' shouts:
"Hey! Who are you, there?"
No answer comes, and he calls again
and again. Still he hears in the darkness
the tread and splash of the phantom feet.
All at once a strong man is filled with
fear. He begins to tremble and grow
cold, and then In the panic of dread he
turns and files, stumbling and plunging
through the tunnel to the shaft.
Here is the empty cage for lifting ore.
It is at the foot of the shaft which it fits
exactly, and when the miner pulls the
wire, which rings "a signal bell at the
top, and springs into the cage, ha is raised
in a few seconds through the darkness to
the free air 600 feet above. The en
gineer at the hoisting machinery wonders
what has happened. The miner tells him
his experience, and both men sit silent
In a vague fear. They realize then that
the "tommy knocker," the ghost of the
mine has been heard again.
- , Ghosts of the Slain.
Miners .don't laugh about the 'tomniy
knockers." I have known men of intel
ligence, who have long since . ceased to
work "underground," solemnly aver that
the "tommy knockers" invariably visit
"the mine where a man has been killed.
The spirit comes back to the old haunts
of the body. ' Sometimes it drills, some
times it runs-a phantom car, sometimes
it only wanders aimlessly through the
workings 'of the mine. - Sometimes it is
seen, but usually only heard.
'To-the' miner who works alone- in the
darkness there axe many sounds that may
be exaggerated .by Imagination. . Some
times a timber that prevents the caving
jn of ,the sides of a tunnel grows rotten
and breaks. antTthe sound 'rings resonant
ly throughout the hollow underground
passageways. In some mines there are
curious echoes, caused by the formation
of the rock, and some loose earth in the
wall of an empty chamber where ore has
been taken out falls with a clatter that
is heard far away. To the miner whose
imagination has been stimulated by his
solitude and the darkness these noises
may be full of suggestion. The most
natural is of the only sounds with which
he is familiar" in the mine a footfall or
a driller's hammer.
The Voice of the Invisible.
And the mine has mysterious voices,
too. . A veteran miner tells of a strange
warning which came to him once, and a
narrow escape from death. He was work
ing in a mine In Montana in. charge of
the pumps which w.ere kept constantly
going to keep the mine from fining with
water. When each crew, or "shift" of
men finished work he would regularly
make an inspection of the five pumps
which were in operation.
The ore was lifted from this mine. on an
inclined shaft. The cars, which run on
wheels up such a shau, are called
"skips,'' and it was .the breaking of a
"skip" which came near being fatal that
night. The pump inspector had visited
four- of the pumps and was about to
start down the shaft to tbe fifth, which
was 500 feet below ground, when, as he
tells me, he telt a peculiar feeling of fear
and a voice directly ; over his shoulder
said to him: . .- -; . . ' '
"Dori't you go down that shaft - to
night!" The miner stopped." He seemed almost
to feel the breath of the voice against
his cheek. Then he told himself that he
wasf oollsh -to heed any Imaginings like
this, and he went down to the pump.
When he reached the 600-foot level he be
gan at once his inspection of the machin
ery.' Back in the tunnel, which extended
away in the darkness, the water stood,
nearly filling the passage, over a man's
bead in depth.
A hundred feet above an ore car filled
with tons of rock was emptied into a
"skip," which was started up the inclined
shaft toward the surface. A moment
later the man working at the pump heard
a crashing, a terrific rattling sound. He
realized at once that the "skip" had
broken, and that the tons of rock were
tumbling toward him down the shaft.
Instinctively be flattened himself against
the wall and the rocks came like an aval-
-anche. Most of it he escaped, but heavy
pieces struck his shoulders, causing pain
ful bruises; But that was not the worst.
Soon the air was filled with hissing
steam. The load of ore in its fall had
broken a steampipe above, and the In
spector knew that In a few minutes more
he would be smothered. The Steam was
blinding. It was hot and stifling In his
nostrils and his lungs. But he had littl
time to think. Only one course was open.
He plunged into the icy water of the tun
nel and 6wam out into the darkness.
Then the break in the steam pipe was
discovered by those above. An engineer
turned a valve and stopped the hot va
por's flow. The inspector, seeing that the
cloud of steam had diminished, swam
back to the shaft and rang a signal bell.
A car was lowered, and he rode to the
surface, weak with his bruises. And no A
he does not doubt the voice that spow:
to him over his shoulder and said, "Don't
go down the shaft tonight!"
These mines where the "tommy knock
ers'" are, hnve usually been the scenes
of violent deaths. The records of such
mines are talked over by tbe miners as
they gather at lunch time far under the
ground to eat tlje contents of their dinner
buckets, or as two or three of them as
semble somewhere in the workings for a
few minutes to loaf and smoke their pipes
when the boss Is out of sight. But in
spite of its dangers, the isolation which
it often entails, the arduous labor which
it necessitates, and the fatal ailments
which it breeds, no calling is so fascinat
ing to its followers as is mining. Men
who have become crippled and bent and
old in their labor gladly take up their
buckets, climb on to the cage and Rre
droped underground: and there, like somo
burrowing animal, they are at home and
happy.