The valley was a beehive of activity during the summer months. Crooked Creek was known as the best bass stream in Western Pennsylvania. People came from as far as Latrobe, Jeanette, Leechburg and Apollo to camp or stay at homes in the valley. It was like a summer resort and gave lots of entertainment for the country boys and girls. I can remember as high as forty in one camp from Apollo. Our home was always full and I wonder where we all slept. There was good swimming and boating as South Bend had a dam that backed the water up for two miles. A millrace brought the water to the flourmill. It was quite a letdown when fall came and the vacationers left for their homes. The boys that came to our house for the summer were sons of merchants my father sold to in Pittsburgh. They were always wanting to develop their muscles and get tough. Once they asked a neighbor if they could cut down some dead trees and he gave them permission. They worked like beavers, chopping energetically, and before they were through they had their hands so sore and blistered they could hardly use them, but they said that was what was needed to make them tough. They wanted to ride horses, so we gave them the horses without any saddles and told them they had to develop gristles to be a good rider. They ended up so sore they couldn't sit down. But every fall I went home with them for a week, and they gave a country kid the works. But those were happy days. No one had much money, but money doesn't make for happiness. One of the things we looked forward to was the washing of sheep in the spring. A pen was built by the bridge and the farmers would drive their flocks there to wash them before clipping. The boys were always on hand to help and the farmer was glad to oblige. We led the sheep into the creek and washed the wool. Sometimes the sheep went under and sometimes the boy, with much laughter from the farmer. Picture driving a herd of cattle, sheep or hogs along the road today, but that was the only way to get them to market in those days. Many a trip I took with Mr. Townsend with cattle or hogs, driving them twenty-five of thirty miles. They kept ponies, and two of us rode the ponies and Mr. Townsend drove the buggy with our lunch. When dinner time came, he would find a grove and then we would all enjoy a good lunch. Mr. Thomas was a drover and passed our house many times with droves of sheep, hogs or cattle. A well-trained dog did the herding and he sat in the buggy giving orders to the dog.