CHAPTER X.

A FEAT OF STRENGTH AND A CHALLENGE.


What the club is to the city man, and the general store or
postoffice to the citizens of the country village, the mill is to
the native of the backwoods.

Made to saw the little rough lumber he needs in his primitive
building, or to grind his corn into the rough meal, that is his
staff of life, the mill does more for the settler than this; it
brings together the scattered population, it is the news center,
the heart of the social life, and the hub of the industrial wheel.

On grinding day, the Ozark mountaineer goes to mill on horse-back,
his grist in a sack behind the saddle, or, indeed, taking place of
the saddle itself. The rule is, first come, first served. So,
while waiting his turn, or waiting for a neighbor who will ride in
the same direction, the woodsman has time to contribute his share
to the gossip of the country side, or to take part in the
discussions that are of more or less vital interest. When the talk
runs slow, there are games; pitching horse shoes, borrowed from
the blacksmith shop--there is always a blacksmith shop near by;
running or jumping contests, or wrestling or shooting matches.

Fall Creek Mill, owned and operated by Mr. Matthews and his son,
was located on Fall Creek in a deep, narrow valley, about a mile
from their home.