One night the crew of river drivers, of which Mack was a member, camped near an old grave, and in the night the men were startled by a muffled voice which seemed to come from the old mound."Here, dig this earth off my chest," croaked the voice. "I can't stand it; I'm smothering!
"HARK FROM THE TOMBS"
There hair rose straight up from the scalps of the river men, and goose pimples sprouted on their arms and legs."Get me out of here!" resumed the muffled voice, "I'm damn' tired of being covered up. Let me breathe!" The woodsmen waited to hear no more. Scrambling out of their tents they fled into the tall timber, and refused to return until the reassuring light of dawn came into the eastern sky.On another occasion a group of woodsmen, which included Mack, were passing a deserted camp when voices in dispute were heard coming from the ramshackle buildings.Three or four men seemed to be arguing in there. "You're a liar!" shouted one voice, and "You're an- other" retorted a second voice. "I'll kill both of you!" growled another savagely. Believing that a tragedy of some sort was imminent, the woodmen approached the camp cautiously and looked into the window. There was no one there."Cripes!" whooped one of the woodsmen, "the place is haunted!" and with these words he legged it down the trail. His companions lost no time in following him.On still another occasion when a woodsman drove his axe into the butt of a big spruce, a weird voice seemed to call from the tree, "Don't cut me down, mister, I never did anything to you." Dropping his axe the woodsman fled back to camp as it the very devil himself were clutching at his mackinaw. After leaving Mrs. Finch I called on John F. Giberson, 72, and he spun for me some thrilling sagas of the old lumbering days. He was born in Aroostook Junction, October 28, 1866, the son of Frederick Giberson, a farmer, lumberman, and tow boatman on the St. John River."Before the arrival of the rail- roads," he said, "my father for several summer seasons was a helmsman on tow boats on the St. John. These boats were towed along by a pair of horses on the shore much after the manner of canal boats, and carried supplies from Fredericton to different points along the river. I traveled on these tow boats like I was a School boy. LONG HIKE TO SCHOOL"I attended school in Aroostook Falls, and it was three miles from father's house to the school. A stiff walk in the winter time, but it put strength into my legs. My first job away from home was on the farm of Dan Hopkins at Aroostook Junction at 50 cents a day. I drove a team, picked up potatoes, and did other work on the farm. I tackled my first job in the woods when I went to work for my brother, Whitfield Giberson, near Limestone. I hauled lumber to the St. John River, where it was rafted to Fredericton. Some of the larger rafts contained 25,000 feet of logs. I worked for my brother until I attained the age of ne 16, when I started lumbering on theAroostook river. When I was 19, I was put in charge of a drive down the Aroostook River to the St. John, and thence to the boom at Frederic- er ton. This drive was about 100 miles in extent, and it required 50 days to accomplish it. I had 60 men in my e crew. We used teams of horses to twitch the logs from the islands and bars in the Aroostook River. There were three miles of bad rips below Aroostook Falls, and on the St. John River there were a number of dangerous
rips. One of my men, Red Ballard, was drowned on this first drive of mine. He was rammed in the back by a big log, and carried d down stream and drowned. We recovered his body later in a jam. Further down stream. In my 45 years in the woods my biggest drive was 8,000,000 feet of logs down the Aroostook to St. John
"I spent three years driving on the Kettle River in Minnesota.
"The logs there were bigger than those in Maine and more difficult to handle. While I was there I saw a man killed when a big log rolled from a sled, and crushed him to the ground. After returning east I logged for seven years on the Tobique river, and then I came to Patten and cut logs for five years for the Eastern Manufacturing company in Bangor. I retired from the woods 14 years ago, and now I have the contract to carry the mail from the railroad station to Patten's post office.
"My hobby is playing solitaire, and as I play, I do a lot of thinking about our problems today. It strikes me that the federal government is ruining the independence of our farmers by lending them too much money. Many of these farmers can never hope to pay back this money, and sooner or later they will lose their farms. I can remember when the farmers of Aroostook were the most independent in this country. They raised their own beef, pork, mutton, eggs, and flour, and owned the best work and driving horses in New England. Now many of them are head over heels in debt with no way of getting out."
There were 14 children in Mr. Giberson's family, seven boys and seven girls, and the only survivors are himself and a brother, Winthrop Giberson of Spokane, Wash. He married Amy Ludwig, who died 14 years ago. There are three children, Mrs. Effie Sloat and Mrs. Verna Field of Portland, and Norman Giberson of Plaster Rock, N. B. There are nine grandchildren and four great-grandchildren.