The late Deacon John S. Haskell often related for the amusement of his friends the following story. Illustrating different phases of hardships incident to life in the wilderness, it may appropriately be retold. The subject of the story was not one of those human cranks of twisted intellect, and perverted sensibilities. R was a crank of a different type. In the year 1799 the proprietors of township number four in the fifth range of townships north of the Waldo Patent, now Dexter, employed Samuel Elkins of Cornville, Maine, to build a saw-mill in that township. A site for the mill was selected near the outlet of the beautiful lake whose waters have since turned the wheels that have wade Dexter one of the largest and most prosperous villages in the State. The mill irons had been sent to the site of the prospective mill for use when needed. Mr. Elkins had built a camp for the accommodation of his workmen and made other preparations to prosecute the work of building the mill, but before much progress had been made he died and the work was suspended.

Early in the year 1801, Moses Hodsdon of Levant, now Kenduskeag, had built a mill at that place which had been used only a short time when the mill crank was broken and the work was suspended. Several families were expected in the coming spring who were depending upon lumber for the construction of their cabins. A mill crank to replace the broken one could be obtained only by sending to Massachusetts. The Penobscot River being closed to navigation by ice there was no way of getting the indispensable crank before the river should be clear of ice. Mr. Hodsdon was in a dilemma.

At this juncture an old hunter by the name of Snow, who frequented the new settlements in this section, appeared, and was apprised of Mr. Hodsdon's misfortune. He could help him out.

There was he said at the Elkins place in "number four" a full set of irons not in use. Mr. Elkins, who had been depended on to build the mill at that place, had died and the irons would lie unused for months. With his large hand sled made to haul big game on, he could, with help of his big sons, haul the crank belonging to the set over the hard crust of the deer) snows to the point where it was needed. Mr. Hodsdon could get and use it, and attend to the incidental matter of borrowing later.

Yielding to the logic of necessity, Mr. Hodsdon acted on the cranky suggestions of the old hunter and made a bargain with him which resulted a few days later in put- ting his saw-mill in running condition. He was now able to furnish lumber to enable settlers to build the cabins necessary to shelter their families.

In the meantime he had written to the executor of the Elkins estate and had been informed when the crank would be wanted at the Elkins place. In the autumn of 180, we find Mr. Hodsdon, who seems to have been a sort of tutelary guardian of the settlements of this section, under contract to build a saw-mill in township number three, now Garland. The irons for this mill had been shipped to Bangor in the autumn of 1801 and hauled to the township in February, 180. The team that hauled these irons to number three, hauled the borrowed crank so far on its return to the Elkins place in number four.

In the autumn of 1802, Mr. Hodsdon commenced building the mill in number three with a crew embracing several men who had been making beginnings earlier in the season. Among the latter were John S. Haskell and Isaac Wheeler, Esq. The time stipulated for the return of the borrowed crank which was lying passively near the mill site in number three had arrived. Mr. Hodsdon was now confronted with the question of "ways and means." There was no available team to haul it to the place from which the old hunter had taken it. If there had been a team at hand there was not the semblance of a road, not even a spotted line to indicate the way. No one of Mr. Hodsdon's crew had ever visited number five. No one of the crew knew what rugged hills or impassable swamps might be encountered on the way to the objective point.

There was, however, one large powerful horse at hand. Tradition says he was owned by a Mr. Stevens of Blaisdelltown (Exeter), but there was neither harness nor vehicle. The old proverb that "necessity is the mother of invention" was illustrated anew. Mr. Moses, the master carpenter, made a wooden frame large enough for the crank to rest on, which could be securely fastened to the back and shoulders of the horse. It was now necessary to have a line spotted from the west line of number three to the mill site in number four to guide the men who were charged with the return of the crank. Just at the right time another old hunter appeared. His name was Peter Brawn. He claimed to have hunted and trapped game over the whole region and he could indicate the easiest route to the mill site in number four with certainty.

Peter was shrewd and plausible. Like many men of the present time, he believed that places of trust are instituted for the benefit of those who fill them. He was often employed to indicate the most feasible route of travel between two places separated by miles of forest, whose inhabitants desired to be brought into neighborly relations. Peter's ruling passion was hunting, and his work of a more public character was made to contribute to the capture of game. If the game he sought burrowed in the highlands, the route he indicated for travel would sometimes lead over the highest hills. If he was trapping animals whose congenial haunts were along the borders of bogs, swamps and ponds, the unfortunates who followed his lines were very liable to be led through mud and water. But, of this trait of the plausible Peter, the party hiring him was ignorant. He was therefore employed to make a safe and easy route to the mill site in number four, with strict injunctions to avoid hills and especially muddy places. All the necessary preparations to start the crank anew on its rounds having been completed, John S. Haskell and Gideon Haskell, both stalwart and resolute men, were detailed to return the crank to the place where its wanderings began. The horse, which was to be an important factor in this important service, was placed in position to receive the load. the saddle was carefully adjusted, the wooden frame was placed upon the horse and securely fastened, the crank was put upon the frame and the expedition was ready to move.

It was a cloudy and dark September morning and the atmospheric conditions were such as to inspire the heart with a sort of indefinable dread. Prudence dictated delay, but the Haskells were accustomed to exposure and hardship and could bid defiance to wind and rain. They took no compass, but what need of a compass when the confident Peter would make the way so plain that they could not miss it! They started from the site of the present village grist-mill, and moving cautiously north to the corner near the site of the present Congregational meeting house, they turned their faces towards the west and followed the line of the present county road leading to Dexter to a point nearly a mile beyond the west line of township number three. Here the line of the hunter, making an angle towards the south, led them down sharp declivity to the margin of an impassable bog where it terminated. The most careful inspection failed to indicate a continuation of the line. The unwelcome conviction was forced upon the Haskells that the plausible Peter had proved false.

And now a series of performances commenced that were not down on the program. The horse that had patiently born his heavy load thus far was relieved of his burden and fed upon coarse grass that grew on the border of the bog. The Haskells were now alive to the gravity of the situation. They were in a dense, and to them, an unknown forest without compass to guide them and the sun was still obscure by threatening clouds. The larger part of the day was still before them, which they spent in eager search for some track or trail that would suggest the way out, but in vain. After fruitless wanderings, continued until nightfall, they found themselves at the edge of an opening now known as the Batchelder Hill in Dexter, but were ignorant of the fact. They hallooed loud and long, hoping to hear an answering voice, but there was no response.

To add to their discomfort it began to rain and having done all they could do until the light of the morrow should encourage fresh efforts, they camped for the night. After a brief time spent in recounting the events of the day and invoking imprecations upon the head of "old Brawn," they fell asleep and slept until the dawn of a new morning. It was still raining.

Hastily eating the small remnant of food with which they had supplied themselves, they promptly renewed their efforts to extricate themselves from the uncertainties by which they were environed. After a brief search they found the tracks of a horse, but they were so completely bewildered that they followed the trail they had struck in a direction opposite from that intended, passing the site of the present residence of Artemas Barton, and a small cabin that had just been built by William Mitchell for use the following spring. Following the trail a little farther they reached an opening near the site of the residence of Horace Jennings, now owned by Seth Bessey, then known as the Severance opening. Being now convinced that they were traveling in the wrong direction they were about to retrace their steps when, unfortunately, both men recalled a rumor that a line plainly marked for the route of a future road had been run from New Ohio (Corinth) to the mill site in number four. Eagerly seizing this rumor they started in a southerly direction in search for this mythical line. In imagination they could see it stretching in either direction and leading to a place of safety whichever way it was followed. The search was continued until night but the line which they saw so clearly early in the day had vanished. They were now on the margin of an almost impenetrable swamp in the present town of Corinna.

Retracing their steps to drier land, they prepared themselves for another night in the forest with nothing to compensate them for their day's wandering save hunger, weariness and uncertainty. The morning of the third day opened with the same dreary aspect as had those of the two preceding days. The usual welcome breakfast was omitted on account of the absence of the materials which enter into that meal.

After a brief and earnest consultation, the men decided to return to the Severance opening and follow the trail they left there in the opposite direction from what they had done the preceding day. This movement led them to the Batchelder opening where they had camped at the end of the first days wanderings. A mile additional travel brought them to a small opening hemmed in by hills on the east and west.

Through the center of the opening a stream passed quite rapidly. In a corner of the opening, well sheltered by the forest, there was a small cabin from whose chimney the smoke curled gracefully to the open space above the tops of the tall trees. To their great joy they had at last found the mill site in township number four. Their joy was intensified by finding that the little cabin was occupied by a man and woman whose names were Small---Ebenezer Small and wife, the memory of whose names is still cherished by the loyal citizens of Dexter with affectionate regard, and who are honored as having been the first settlers of this enterprising town.

Mr. and Mrs. Small were greatly surprised by the sudden appearance of the weather-beaten strangers, and with a woman's intuition the latter instantly comprehended their most pressing immediate requirements, and n the shortest possible time placed before them a delicious dish of pounded corn, boiled in milk.

The town of Dexter has long been noted for its hospitality and elaborate entertainments, but her citizens will regard it as no disparagement should it be said that no entertainment within its limits has ever been proffered by more hospitable hands, or accepted with a keener sense of appreciative gratitude than on this occasion. Dinner finished, the first thought was for the hungry horse three miles away by the margin of the miry bog. He must be found and fed. The remaining hours of the day afforded but scant time for this service, but Mr. Small being acquainted with the section of the township between the mill site and the bog, conducted the men to the spot where the horse was tied.

The hungry animal greeted the coming of the men with expressions of satisfaction that seemed almost human. Not being in condition to bear his load to its destination, they untied him and started on their return to the cabin in the opening, but darkness soon enveloped them and seriously impeded their progress. As they were groping slowly and doubtfully along the resonant tones of the old tin horn reached their ears. It is safe to assume that no music of orchestra or hand ever gave greater delight. Anticipating the difficulty they would encounter in traveling through the dense forest after nightfall, Mrs. Small scaled the heights of the hill east of the present village and guided the approaching party along by vigorous blasts from the old tin horn.

On the morning of the fourth day, having been recuperated by a night's rest and an abundant breakfast, accompanied by Mr. Small the Haskells returned to the spot where the faithless hunter had left them to their wanderings. The (rank was quickly replaced and with a man to lead the horse and one on each side to steady the crank, the y reached the mill site about midday. There was no throng of people to welcome the arrival of the historic crank, but it is easy to believe that the heroic Mrs. Small regarded it with lively interest. In her loneliness she had yearned for the society of sympathetic friends and neighbors. To her, the rough, rusty, angular and unattractive mass of iron that had cost so much toil and hardship, was prophetic of the time when her rude, bark-covered log-cabin would give place to the dwelling of convenience and attractive exterior. It was prophetic of other homes smiling from the hillsides-of the schoolhouse filled with hippy children who were in training for intelligent citizenship, and the church where devout worshipers gladly assembled on each returning Sabbath. Mrs. Small lived to see the fulfillment of her dreams.

The borrowed crank having been returned to the mill site in township number four, the Haskells, neither of whom claimed relationship to the other, resumed their work on the saw-mill in number three. They had been absent four days in getting the crank back to its destination, a distance of less than seven miles. But the hardships they had encountered (lid not shield them from the jokes and pleasantries of their fellow-workmen. Our future deacon, John S. Haskell, received them with his accustomed good natured retorts and laughed with the rest. He was, moreover, a man of great physical strength and it would not have been safe to push the spirit of raillery to the verge of insult.

With Gideon Haskell the case was different. He believed that the hardships of the late expedition entitled him to be regarded as a man of heroic qualities. He was inclined to put on airs and assumed to be the hero of the expedition. His fellow-workmen did not allow any incident, serious or comic, out of which fun and frolic could be evolved, to pass unimproved. Less than a quarter of a century had passed since the country had been wrested from kingly rule, and kingly titles were used when purposes of burlesque were to be subserved. Our hero was dubbed king, and was addressed as King Gideon until the close of the season's work in the township.