1904_10_NormalRecord.016 |
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THE NORMAL RECORD. the news. Kindly be "mum" about it. "Novice" is the signature I shall sign. It is with great pleasure that I read of the coming football season. I sincerely hope success shall be yours. I also hope that I can be of some assistance to the team and the school during my absence. I dream of the good days gone by; of the many happy hours spent at the good, old school; and the pleasures mine when I see success coming to my old comrades. Some day I'll wander back again, just to be sorry I could not have come sooner. Mr. Editor, give the fallows a helping word tor me and kindly think of me yourself. Yours sincerely, "NOVICE." BATTLING WITH THE FLAMES. We had just finished moving one of the logging engines, commonly known as the "donkey," from the Little Summit to Lomo, a distance of four miles. A little before noon of the second day, we had the powerful little machine in place for hoisting logs up a chute that leads from the donkey used in pulling the logs from the woods. Two trails of logs were brought in and then it was noon. On our way down from the summit, we had kept a close watch for sparks that were likely to set fire to the dry leaves, and now, as we had taken the precaution of having a watchman during our absence, we felt safe in going a few hundred yards away to dinner. I had just finished my repast and was leisurely walking about to settle it, as the saying goes. Suddenly a shout caught my attention; "Fire!" "Fire!" was the call. I realized the situation in a minute and knew exactly what had happened. The engine had thrown sparks which we did not detect, because they had not ignited before we left. The whole little town of Lomo was in confusion in short order. The fire was raging and it was only a faw hundred yards north of camp, and situated within the limits of Lomo. There was a favorable wind for the advancing flaces. Men, women and children darted here and there vainly endeavoring to secure some of their belongings and escape to the east to get out of reach of the rapidly advancing flames. This would not save the camp, nor the hundreds of dollars worth of logging implements, and perchance the life of some person too ex cited and nervous to know which way to retreat. A few men still lingered near the dining room of the hotel, and were gazing anxiously at the volumes of black smoke as they rolled up against the western sky. "To the horses!" I shouted. "We can go down the road, thence to the engines, get the shovels and axes and back-fire between the camp and the fire." Not a man hesitated. Each of us hastily took a work horse from the stables. In a moment we were charging down the road at full speed. It was like an akward troop of cavalry charging the bulwarks of a flaming fortress of a fortified regiment of infantry, for such was the order as we, some fifteen or twenty, urged the harnessed horses along toward the roaring flames. The rattling chains and shouting men might well have been compared with the clanging swords and blood-thirsty yell of cavalrymen, as they charged fearlessly into the front of a deadly firing line. Our situation was almost as terrible. The raging flames had covered the hillside from the chute, where the donkey stood, to the county road on the north. The red streaks of fire leaped across the road and made our progress dangerous and almost impossible. It was no time to stop. Plunge through we must. My "trusty old charger" had had experience in other forest fires and did not hesitate to take the lead on this occasion. He sprang down the road, through the searing flames at a break-neck pace. The rest followed. We covered the short distance on the road without a breath. To breathe would have been disastrous because of the suffocating effects of the heat and smoke. The chute is at the bottom of the canyon, about two hundred yards south of the road, and as we were on the west side of the fire, it was our purpose to reach the chute, get the shovels and axes, skirt the south side by way of the tow-path along the chute, and make a broad path on the east side, over which the fire could not pass. The desired position was reached with some difficulty, as the fire had already traveled about half a mile. We had to run the whole distance close to the scorching flames. Had it not been that the wind was now in our favor, this route would have been impassable. The fire was on our left and a high precipice was on our right. We were now between the camp and the fire, working hard along an old logging trail that the logs had dug while being pulled in. The
Object Description
Title | The Normal Record. October 1904 |
Original Date | 1904-10 |
Description | The Record. Published by the Associated Students of Chico State College. |
Creator | Chico State College |
Location of Original | Archives |
Call Number | LD723 C57 |
Digital Collection | The Record: Chico State Yearbook Collection |
Digital Repository | Meriam Library, California State University, Chico. |
Description-Abstract | The Record served as both a student magazine and a commencement program for Chico Normal School. In the year 1904 it was published every month - except the Summer months. |
Date Digital | 2013 |
Language | eng |
Rights | For information on the use of the images in this collection contact the Special Collections Department at 530.898-6342 or email: specialcollections@csuchico.edu |
Format | image/tiff |
Filename | index.cpd |
Description
Title | 1904_10_NormalRecord.016 |
Original Date | 1904-10 |
OCR- Transcript | THE NORMAL RECORD. the news. Kindly be "mum" about it. "Novice" is the signature I shall sign. It is with great pleasure that I read of the coming football season. I sincerely hope success shall be yours. I also hope that I can be of some assistance to the team and the school during my absence. I dream of the good days gone by; of the many happy hours spent at the good, old school; and the pleasures mine when I see success coming to my old comrades. Some day I'll wander back again, just to be sorry I could not have come sooner. Mr. Editor, give the fallows a helping word tor me and kindly think of me yourself. Yours sincerely, "NOVICE." BATTLING WITH THE FLAMES. We had just finished moving one of the logging engines, commonly known as the "donkey," from the Little Summit to Lomo, a distance of four miles. A little before noon of the second day, we had the powerful little machine in place for hoisting logs up a chute that leads from the donkey used in pulling the logs from the woods. Two trails of logs were brought in and then it was noon. On our way down from the summit, we had kept a close watch for sparks that were likely to set fire to the dry leaves, and now, as we had taken the precaution of having a watchman during our absence, we felt safe in going a few hundred yards away to dinner. I had just finished my repast and was leisurely walking about to settle it, as the saying goes. Suddenly a shout caught my attention; "Fire!" "Fire!" was the call. I realized the situation in a minute and knew exactly what had happened. The engine had thrown sparks which we did not detect, because they had not ignited before we left. The whole little town of Lomo was in confusion in short order. The fire was raging and it was only a faw hundred yards north of camp, and situated within the limits of Lomo. There was a favorable wind for the advancing flaces. Men, women and children darted here and there vainly endeavoring to secure some of their belongings and escape to the east to get out of reach of the rapidly advancing flames. This would not save the camp, nor the hundreds of dollars worth of logging implements, and perchance the life of some person too ex cited and nervous to know which way to retreat. A few men still lingered near the dining room of the hotel, and were gazing anxiously at the volumes of black smoke as they rolled up against the western sky. "To the horses!" I shouted. "We can go down the road, thence to the engines, get the shovels and axes and back-fire between the camp and the fire." Not a man hesitated. Each of us hastily took a work horse from the stables. In a moment we were charging down the road at full speed. It was like an akward troop of cavalry charging the bulwarks of a flaming fortress of a fortified regiment of infantry, for such was the order as we, some fifteen or twenty, urged the harnessed horses along toward the roaring flames. The rattling chains and shouting men might well have been compared with the clanging swords and blood-thirsty yell of cavalrymen, as they charged fearlessly into the front of a deadly firing line. Our situation was almost as terrible. The raging flames had covered the hillside from the chute, where the donkey stood, to the county road on the north. The red streaks of fire leaped across the road and made our progress dangerous and almost impossible. It was no time to stop. Plunge through we must. My "trusty old charger" had had experience in other forest fires and did not hesitate to take the lead on this occasion. He sprang down the road, through the searing flames at a break-neck pace. The rest followed. We covered the short distance on the road without a breath. To breathe would have been disastrous because of the suffocating effects of the heat and smoke. The chute is at the bottom of the canyon, about two hundred yards south of the road, and as we were on the west side of the fire, it was our purpose to reach the chute, get the shovels and axes, skirt the south side by way of the tow-path along the chute, and make a broad path on the east side, over which the fire could not pass. The desired position was reached with some difficulty, as the fire had already traveled about half a mile. We had to run the whole distance close to the scorching flames. Had it not been that the wind was now in our favor, this route would have been impassable. The fire was on our left and a high precipice was on our right. We were now between the camp and the fire, working hard along an old logging trail that the logs had dug while being pulled in. The |