k of the wilderness.
The men's voices lent themselves well to the weird minor strains of the
chanteys. These times--when the men sang, and the night-wind rose and
died in the hemlock tops--were Thorpe's worst moments. His soul, tired
with the day's iron struggle, fell to brooding. Strange thoughts came to
him, strange visions. He wanted something he knew not what; he longed,
and thrilled, and aspired to a greater glory than that of brave deeds, a
softer comfort than his old foster mother, the wilderness, could bestow.

The men were singing in a mighty chorus, swaying their heads in unison,
and bringing out with a roar the emphatic words of the crude ditties
written by some genius from their own ranks.

"Come all ye sons of freedom throughout old Michigan,
Come all ye gallant lumbermen, list to a shanty man.
On the banks of the Muskegon, where the rapid waters flow,
OH!--we'll range the wild woods o'er while a-lumbering we go."

Here was the bold unabashed front of the pioneer, here was absolute
certainty in the superiority of his calling,--absolute scorn of all
others. Thorpe passed his hand across his brow. The same spirit was once
fully and freely his.

"The music of our burnished ax shall make the woods resound,
And many a lofty ancient pine will tumble to the ground.
At night around our shanty fire we'll sing while rude winds blow,
OH!--we'll range the wild woods o'er while a-lumbering we go!"

That was what he was here for. Things were going right. It would be
pitiful to fail merely on account of this idiotic lassitude, this
unmanly weakness, this boyish impatience and desire for play. He a
woodsman! He a fellow with these big strong men!

A single voice, clear and high, struck into a quick measure:

"I am a jolly shanty boy,
As you will soon discover;
To all the dodges I am fly,
A hustling pine-woods rover.
A peavey-hook it is my pride,
An ax I well can handle.
To fell a tree or punch a bull,
Get rattling Danny Randall."

And then with a rattle and crash the whole Fighting Forty shrieked out
the chorus:

"Bung yer eye! bung yer eye!"

Active, alert, prepared for any emergency that might arise; hearty,
ready for everything, from punching bulls to felling trees--that was
something like! Thorpe despised himself. The song went on.

"I love a girl in Saginaw,
She lives with her mother.
I defy all Michigan
To find