ALFRED COOK, in speaking of the early days, says: "I was born in Lloydtown, Canada, and when four years of age came to Fond du Lac County, Wis., with my parents, William and Jane (McGarvin) Cook. From there they moved to Calumet County and engaged in farming. I stayed on the farm until I was 9 years old. My mother was lost on the 'Lady Elgin' and my father died when I was 11 years of age. I worked on farms and in 1870 came to Black River Falls. There I met Mr. McGilvary and came with him to Unity and helped to build 'the mill for D. J. Spaulding. We cut out way through the timber from Loyal to what is now known as Spencer. We had four four-horse teams and carried all supplies for the camp. We erected the mill and cut the timber to cover it. From that time they logged and sawed for twenty years. After the mill got running I went to work setting the carriage, and was thus employed for three years. I was deputy sheriff on the line for seventeen or eighteen years, and during that time many tough men were in the woods, and I chased them from one camp to another before I got them."

Of Mr. Cook's early experiences, the Marathon County Register of Jan. 30, 1914, says:

"In the winter of 1870 Cook, with forty-five others, was engaged in denuding the virgin forests of their. White pine, he signing on as
a driver of a four-ox team. In those days it required a man of considerable vocabulary to drive a single-ox team, and only artists were selected to draw a good stick over four of the ornery beasts, who, when excited, could put a blush of shame upon any mule team for pure cussedness.

As we said, Cook was driving a four-ox team, making two trips daily for logs and four trips to the shanties for grub. It was on the last log trip for the day that he saw his first buck, a great big fellow with lordly antlers, who contested the right of way with his team and threw a scare into him that made his hand tremble and his knees knock, but he was game and put up a bluff. Throwing up his arms and making the welkin ring with a lusty shout, he startled Mr. Buck, who gave a mighty leap, landing in the deep snow about four feet from the road, and at the same time the oxen bolted down the road toward the landing. As the second team went past, Cook grasped the trusty bow of the neck yoke and with terrific speed kept pace with the frightened animals until the heavy load brought them to a standstill about twenty rods past the buck.  When Cook got in he took his team immediately to the barn and had Isaac Drake put them up for him, borrowed Drake's Zulu shotgun and started after the buck. He found him a few rods from where he jumped from the road, threw the gun to his shoulder, but before pulling the trigger glanced along his backward path to see that his get-away was unobstructed, and finding everything all right, pulled the trigger, and, 'boys,' says he, 'I believe I was on my way before the gun went off. Continuing, be said: 'When I returned the boys asked me if I killed the deer and were somewhat surprised when I said I had. The next morning being Sunday, Mr. Rud, an old experienced woodsman, offered to go out and find the Buck and at the place where I stood he pointed to my tracks and said, 'Deacon, who made those ' 'Well, I answered, 'I guess those are mine.'  'Well, says he, 'I guess you were going some.' He went over where the deer had stood and found that I had wounded him. He followed the trail for a few rods and found the deer alive, but wounded, and bringing his rifle to a position, shot him, while I, with the old Zulu, loaded to the muzzle with buck shot, thought if one shot would be a good thing, two would be better, threw the gun to position and pulled the trigger. Now I am honest in my conviction when I say that I don't believe that I touched the buck.
 

We returned to the shanties to find that the boys had organized during our absence, choosing a captain, drivers and burden bearers, and asked to be allowed to go and bring in the game. Well, you can imagine- the sport that forty-five men would have on an expedition of that kind. Before going after the deer I had sold it to John Sterling, an early storekeeper here, for 13.50, so the men delivered it to John's store.

"It was then that Jim Denny, who had been elected captain, says to me: 'It was a pretty hard job to bring that buck out, Deacon, so you had better treat the boys to a case of Plantation Bitters.' 'Why sure,' says I, 'Here, John, give the boys a case of Plantation Bitters,' which pleased the boys and they seemed to enjoy themselves immensely but they were soon gone, and Denny informed me that 'there hadn't been quite enough to go around,' and he thought it would be a good thing to just give them another case. 'Well, sure,' says I, and ordered John to set out another case, which soon went to join the first. I noticed on the way back to the shanties that the boys acted rather jovial they were boxing, scuffling and singing. I thought nothing of that then but I am now convinced that Plantation Bitters was but another name for 'Squirrel Snaps.' All day Monday the thought that I would have eight or ten dollars left from the purchase price of the deer cheered me on, and when evening came I went up to Qterling's store, and patiently waited until all the men had left. Then I approached Mr. Sterling and asked him if we couldn't settle the deer business. 'Why sure,' says John, 'how much do you suppose you have coming from that deer ' 'Why, six or eight dollars,' says I. 'Why, Deacon, you owe me $1.50. Those two cases of bitters you had were 15.00, and I charged you, just what they cost me.' You can just imagine my feelings when I saw those six or eight cart wheels passing by me, but I was game and stood for the experience. It was a long time before the joke about the bitters leaked out, but years after Denny, who had acted as captain, related the whole story at a smoker, after lodge one evening, and it was months before the boys quit asking me the price of Plantation bitters."