Chapter 9 cont. A PIONEER CABIN My readers may wish to know how the pioneer homes or cabins were built.  They were of logs cut about sixteen feet in length and of almost even size, then hauled to the number of eight or ten, to a side of the space where the building was to stand.  Then the neighbors came to the "house raising," as it was called; four good choppers, with axes, would each take a corner where a log was rolled up, would cut a notch to fit the "saddle" previously cut, then two men would fit the saddle and notch together, continuing this until the walls were high enough; then put the next log in three feet, then another end log, running each in three feet until the ends were topped off; this leaves it ready to cover with clapboards, which are four feet long and made by cutting down a large straight grained tree, sawing in four-foot lengths, then split these logs into "bolts," take the heart out, then with a "frow" and mallet drive them into boards a half inch thick and ten inches wide, laying them on the cross logs above described, breaking joints until a course is laid; over these lay a small log or pole to hold the boars firmly down; continuing this until the roof is completed.  These roofs were fairly good for turning rain, but many a time when sleeping in the loft, as the upper floor was called, we would feel the snow blowing between the boards of the roof.  We boys would cover our heads and sleep soundly, but in the morning our beds would be covered with snow.  The stairs were pins of wood driven into the logs which we ascended through a hole cut in the floor.  Talk of hardships - we did not consider them so; it was real fun for the youngsters. The doors were made of clapboards fastened to a frame with wooded pins.  The hinges were made of wood, the latch and fixtures of wood, a strong buckskin string was fastened to the latch, then passed up through a hole in the door, to open which one pulled the string, which was seldom done; hence the saying "the latch string is always out to you."  Genuine hospitality was the order of the day.  The windows were made by cutting out half of two logs, and putting in small sticks which were covered with oiled paper; this was before glass could be obtained, which was not until as late as 1834 - and about the same time we were able to procure nails, both brought from St. Louis, the nearest shipping point of any importance.  The inside finish of these houses was called "chinking and daubing."  The chinking was done by driving cordwood sticks in the spaces left by the round of the logs; the daubing was made of clay, wet to proper consistency and put on as nearly like plaster now is as the rough surface would permit.  This combination made a house warm in winter and cool in summer.  To beautify we whitewashed inside and outside with a pipe clay, such as Indians used to make their pipes; this added greatly to the neatness and beauty of the building.  The chimney was an opening of about eight feet wide on one side of the log house, walled part way with stone and mud, then topped out with split sticks like laths, only thicker; these were laid up with mud and thoroughly plastered inside with the mud, using the hands, thus preventing the danger of fire inside.  A hearth was laid with stone, if possible, if not, it was filled in with clay well pounded down.  All cooking was done in these "fireplaces."  The floor was made by hewing one side of small straight grained logs six to eight feet long, hewed with a broad ax as smooth as possible, straight with ax and chalk line, then laid down; this made a very solid floor.  No cellars were used.  In the place of these we used "root houses," which were made by digging into the side of a bank, covering with poles, then with coarse slough grass, then dirt on top of that, when it was ready for use.  We had no matches this early, but later were able to buy Lucifer matches.  We started fires with a flint and steel, holding a piece of "punk," a tough kind of rotten wood, or else we rubbed tow (refuse flax) thoroughly with gun power, then primed a flint lock musket and got a flash of powder in the pan, which would ignite the powder and tow, which put to dry hay, would soon be a flame.  At night we carefully arranged the fire to keep until morning, by raking together and covering with ashes.  It was not uncommon to go half a mile to a neighbor's to "borrow fire." After establishing a ferry at Buffalo, Captain Clark laid out a road to Dubuque, seventy-four miles due north from Buffalo; also to Monmouth, forty miles due south.  He had a man, named John Shook, take a claim on the Wapsie, and sent Wallace and Solomon Pence to establish a ferry on the Maquoketa river.  Shook built a little log cabin in the fall of 1834, then came home for supplies, leaving his traps, flour and tobacco in the cabin.  After cold weather set in he took his winter supplies and the writer, an energetic, twelve year old boy, went with him, taking two horses and two dogs with our packs.  We reached what is now Allen's Grove at night; the creek was frozen over so smooth that the barefooted horses could not cross the ice, so we turned them loose to go back home.  I had to arrange for camping while Shook sat down and fell asleep.  I found a large red oak tree that had fallen north and south; with the bark taken from the tree, after raking away the snow I soon made a fire on the west side, so the smoke and heat would blow over the log; and then cut the limbs from the little trees that had leaves on to make our beds.  Next I broiled some meat over the fire and peeled a large onion, then waked Shook to eat supper.  He had but one chew of tobacco (a very much used article in those days), which he took from his mouth, turned his hat upside down and placed the quid upon it while eating.  We spread our blankets and I, having one dog at my feet and one at my side, slept nicely in spite of the cold and snow.  The next morning we started to make the four miles remaining to the cabin.  Shook was anxious for his tabacco.  When we reached there the door was open and his first words were:  "The Indians have been here and I fear my tabacco is gone," and so it was, as well as the flour, traps and all; but the tobacco was the greatest loss to him.  Like any boy, I was glad when he decided that we must go back home; we traped about six miles, and camped for the night, again eating fat broiled meat and frozen onion for supper.  The next day we took the fourteen miles throught the snow, over the open prairie, for eleven miles without a horse, until we struck the river.  Sometimes Shook would sit down and go quickly and soundly to sleep.  I would arouse him, making him believe he had slept a long time.  As we reached a place where we could see the river timber, when not blinded by snow, I began to be frightened, knowing people often perished in snow storms.  Soon we came to a ravine running toward the timber and I proposed to follow it.  Shook consented; it struck other and larger ravines until it became a branch, then a creek, then the river at the upper end of where Montpelier now is situated.  We found there a cabin which John Richie had closed while he went to be married to Frances Pace.  In the cabin he had left an earthen jar of honey, and as we had eaten nothing for twelve hours, and only broiled pork and frozen onion within forty-eight hours, the thought of that honey was very tempting.  I climbed up and opened the clapboard roof, went down inside and with a splinter from the logs took out the honey, which was candied, or hardened, and pushed it through the openings between the logs to Shook, but of course not forgetting myself.  We continued until we had eaten all that was safe for us, or in fact, too much for our own good.  We then turned up the river for our home, five miles distant, and the only house between there and Dubuque.  You may rest assured that my boyish, adventurous spirit was satisfied by that time by that hard, lonely, bitter tramp through unbroken blinding snow.  Shortly afterward father sent Shook alone with an outfit for his winter support.  It proved a very severe, cold winter; ice on the Mississippi being twenty-four inches thick.  One night about four weeks later the door opened and in walked Shook.  All were glad to see him, and father asked if he were not frozen; he answered, "No."  After eating supper and chatting awhile he showed signs of pain in his feet; people were too hardy for small complainings in those days, and like the Indians, would scorn them; but we could see he was suffering.  Upon trying to remove his boots we found them frozen to his feet, so they had to be cut off.  The toes on one foot were as hard as ice; in, it was a very bad case.  All possible was done by poulticing and such simple remedies as we possessed to relieve him, but without success.  I took a sleigh and drove him up to Fort Armstrong to see Dr. Emerson, who was stationed there, but the doctor had gone to St. Louis, so we had to bring Shook back home.  We prepared a room in one of the claim cabins, where he lay on his back on the floor for weeks.  I went out and hunted for the swelling buds of the linwood tree to use for poultices, which brought the left foot out all right, but the flesh of the toes on the right foot dropped off, leaving the bone exposed.  There was no doctor nearer than Galena, Illinois, 107 miles distant (even that was doubtful).  My father had a man working for him, named Smith Mounts, who told Snook he could take off the blackened ends of the toes.  It was arranged for him to do so.  Mount sharpened a carpenter's chisel, and we moved Shook so that the foot would be at the end of a smooth log that formed the fireplace, Shook lying on his back on the floor while we held the foot steady to the timber.  Mounts with his sharp chisel and mallet would adjust the chisel, then hit it a strong blow, when the toe would fly off.  Poor Shook groaned, but put his foot up again, another blow, another toe off; comtinuing until in due time all were removed.  Shook recovered except for a halt in his walk.  This, we believe, was the first surgical operation in Scott county, if not in the state - crude, unscientific, without anesthetics, but effective. The Doctor Emerson, mentioned in the above, was the owner of Dred Scott, a slave whom the doctor brought to Fort Armstrong as a servant, and whom the writer often saw there.  This negro brought about the famous "Dred Scott Decision," in the Supreme court of the United States, by Roger B. Taney, who was chief justice.  Said decision was the starting point of the Civil war, many years later. Debbie Clough G-erischer G-erischer Family Web Site http://gerischer.rootsweb.com/ Assistant CC, Iowa Gen Web, Scott County http://www.celticcousins.net/scott/ List Manager for: IASCOTT-L * G-erischer-L * D-encker-L Fitzpatirck-L * V-lerebome-L * Huntington-L * Otis-L * Algar-L EIGS-L * Pickens-L * McNab-L * Patris-L - Rankin-L