This man, whose name was Joe
Monfaron, was the bully of the Ottawa raftsmen. He was about six feet
six inches high, and proportionally broad and deep; and I remember how
people would turn round to look after him, as he came pounding along
Notre Dame street, in Montreal, in his red shirt and tan-colored
shupac boots, all dripping wet, after mooring an acre or two of
raft, and now bent for his ashore haunts in the Ste. Marie suburb, to
indemnify himself with bacchanalian and other consolations for long-
endured hardship. Among other feats of strength attributed to him, I
remember the following, which has an old, familiar taste, but was
related to me as a fact:
"There was a fighting stevedore or timber-tower, I forget which, at
Quebec, who had never seen Joe Monfaron, as the latter seldom came
farther down the river than Montreal. This fighting character,
however, made a custom of laughing to scorn all the rumors that came
down on rafts, every now and then, about terrible chastisements
inflicted by Joe upon several hostile persons at once. He, the
fighting timber-tower, hadn't found his match yet about the lumber
coves at Quebec, and he only wanted to see Joe Monfaron once, when he
would settle the question as to the championship of rafts, on sight.
One day a giant in a red shirt stood suddenly before him, saying -
"'You're Dick Dempsey, eh?'
"'That's me.' replied the timber-tower, 'and who are you?'
"'Joe Monfaron.
