il through Wayzata
and Long Lake, known as the Watertown road.

We built an elm shack, a log house with the logs standing up so the
Indians couldn't climb over them, and stripped bark off elm trees for a
roof. The mosquitoes were terrible bad--and deer flies too. The men had
to wear mosquito bar over their hats down to their waists when at work.

Mrs. Martha French lived on the Bestor place on Crystal Bay, the Burdon
claim. She and Mr. French had come the fall before in '54. We had a
short cut through the woods, a path about a mile long. They were our
nearest neighbors. They came over to our house one Sunday. The men were
going to Minneapolis on business, to see about their land and Mr.
Maxwell was to start, Tuesday. Mrs. French said "Why can't us women go
too, on a pleasure trip? I've been here pretty near two years and Mrs.
Maxwell has been here over a year. I think it's about time we went on a
pleasure trip."

Mr. French was a slow talking man and he drawled, "Well, you can go, but
it won't be much of a pleasure trip."

"I don't see why it wouldn't. You jest want to discourage us," Mrs.
French said and he said, "Oh, no-o! I don't want to discourage you."

I didn't want to go very bad. I had a kid five months old and the
mosquitoes were so bad. It was June and awfully hot. But Mrs. French
hadn't any children and insisted that we ought to go for a pleasure
trip. So I fixed up on Tuesday night and went over and stayed all night
so we could get an early start. My husband went on ahead and we were to
meet him Wednesday noon in Minneapolis, or St. Anthony.

Mr. French lined up old Bob and Jerry, their team of oxen and we got
started about sunrise. A mile from the house we came to a terrible steep
hill. We got up it all right and just as we started down Mrs. French
said, "Old Bob hasn't any tail, but Jerry has a lovely tail. He'll keep
the mosquitoes off all right."

Just then Jerry switched his tail around a young sapling and it came
off. It was wet with dew and it lapped tight, and we were going down
hill so fast something had to give way. It was the tail! Well we had an
awful time with that tail. There was only a stump left, less than a foot
long, and the ox like to bled to death. Mrs. French was afraid the
wolves would get Jerry's tail and kept worrying, and when we had gone
about a mile she made Mr. French go back and get it.

We started on again and went about a mile and a half till we came to
Tepee hill wher