Eau Claire High School - Kodak Yearbook (Eau Claire, WI)

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Aim, f Y 4 G 9 he Reedls Landing, at the mouth of the Chippewa. , . ' 45 EQZ 3fWf-Hs iza vff' ' 4 I N . 1 I W X

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fl P f N Wf S ,r N y LN' U x ' , 1 +L: , MII, I f I-' 5 1 Q 0 m. u n The Flood of 1884. Taken on the East Side. Q ,

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A STORY OF TRANSPORTATION S The last rays of the setting sun slowly sank behind the tree dotted hills of the Chip- pewa Valley one day late in September, an old man, Charles john Gilroy, appeared in the doorway of his crude hut. His weather beaten countenance betokened the fact that it had been exposed to countless winds. From beneath shaggy brows, watery blue eyes stared mildly at the universe. Homespun, ill fitting clothes adorned his person, and he looked just what he was-an old fur trader. He came from Canada to this little settlement called jim Falls in order to live with his small grandson Clikewise bearing the appelation Charles john Gil- royj whose parents were dead, Playing about nearby was this little boy, a freckled-faced, red headed youngster of seven summers. On seeing his grandsire he called out, i'Won't you tell me some stories now ? Perhaps there is time for a few before we go to bed, came the reply. What do you want ? Tell me about how you First came here, the boy answered quickly, about you and father- oh, everything. After settling himself comfortably, the old man gave a long satisfied look at his surroundings, hills, trees, trees, and more trees, with only a few cottages visible in the distance. He then be- gan his oft repeated tale. I was an adventurous youth and couldn't be satisfied at my home in Toronto, Canada, until I tried my luck at fur trading in the Lake Superior region. Here I met and married your grand- mother-she of part Ojibway blood. A few years later I established a fur trading station of my own, and did very good businessg but five years in this wilderness, bargaining with Indians, proved to be enough. ln 1830 we returned to Canada. Later your father came back to get work in a lumber camp, leaving his young wife in a sawmill settlement while he was away. ':Yes, but tell me about my mother. You can imagine how a young bride, a young girl brought up among best society, felt mak- ing her home in this poor lumbering vicinity, inhabited by crude, uneducated lumbermenf' Do I look like my mother? queried the boy. You, child, the answer came back slowly, are the picture of your father, but you have your mother's eyes. The speaker gazed into the small upturned face before him, and could see again the wistful look of the lad's mother the first time she came to that uninhabited country. She was tall and slender, he went on, very graceful, and had abundant smooth black hair and clear gray eyes that seemed to read every thought in your mind. Strong, alive and full of the joy of life. Ah! she was an unusual woman. At first she mistrusted those lumbermen-they were repulsive to her, but she adapted herself to the surroundings and came to be a general fav- orite among them. With her cheerful winning ways she made this old wilderness a magic garden, but ah! that treacherous Indian . . . mumbled the old man furiously. A long understanding silence ensued. Charles knew that next would come the story of his mother's tragic death. Betty one day was standing nearthe edge of a stream near the house with you in her arms. You were about ten months old. Softly she sang, slowl swaying her Iithe body to and fro with the breeze that playfully tossed your baby curls about. Irlow she cherished your ringlets of gold, for her hair was as black as night. After you were asleep she sat down and gazed contentedly about her and finally went to sleep to be rudely awakened by a rough hand placed on her shoulder in no gentle manner. To her astonishment a strange Indian stood before her in all the glaring fierceness of war paint. By gruff sounds and by motions of his hands he made known that he demanded you, Charlie, to be given to him. She refused, and the Indian made signs that in another moon, he would come back and scalp them all. She did not tell anyone about it at first, thinking that he wouldn't return, as the other Indians seemed friendly. Ah, sonny, I can't bear to go into the details of her heroic death. He returned, but your mother was the only victim.