Paul Bunyan was the logging industry; not, to be sure, as it is found in Forest Service Reports or in profit and loss statements, but rather as it burned in the bones of the true North Woods lumberjack. To understand the significance of the Bunyan stories one must know something of the men who first told them.
istrict, there the ancient land still stands,
And the pile of broken ridges is Dakota's famed Bad Lands.
THE YEAR OF THE GREAT HOT WINTER
This is probably a true Western story.
I was punching a half breed roader down on Shoalwater Bay The year the nights came together, some called it the great dark day.
We hit the deck at sunrise but the sun never rose at all, So we sat by the light of the lantern waiting the breakfast call.
'Twas an event to call forth stories of wonderful times in the Past, And I listened to marvelous stories till the Bull Cook's turn came at last.
"I was just a lad," he started, "When I worked in Paul Bunyan's camps, Darkness was nothing in those days for we had volcanoes for lamps.
"One year we were logging Missouri, before Bunyan came to the coast, And had just finished building the Ozarks to serve as a snubbing post.
"We were working down an ice chute almost across the state, When the weather turned suddenly wa
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