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Updated: May 25, 2025
Here his practised eye, with the aid of a perilous axe-stroke here and there, strokes which might possibly bring the whole looming mass down upon him in a moment, presently located the timbers which held the structure firm, "the key-logs," as the men call them. These he marked with his axe. Then, returning to the shore, he called for two volunteers to dare the task of cutting these key-logs away.
As yet their efforts had made but slight impression on the bulk of the jam, but some time, with patience, they would reach the key-logs. Then the tangle would melt like sugar in the freshet, and these imperturbable workers would have to escape suddenly over the plunging logs to shore. My eye ranged over the men, and finally rested on Dickey Darrell.
"There she goes!" he roared, and turning, slid hastily from the top and leaped into the waiting bateau. "Let 'er go!" he shouted. Fallon and Stromberg leaped forward and simultaneously their peaveys bit into the smaller of the two key-logs. Both big men heaved and strained, once, twice, thrice, and the log turned slowly, allowing the end of the other to pass.
Suddenly, while the two key-logs were not yet half cut through, the trained eye of the Boss detected a settling near the top of the jam. His yell of warning tore through the clamour of the waters. At the instant came a vast grumbling, like underground thunder, not loud apparently, yet dulling all other sounds.
Then he had watched the black-bearded river-drivers with their pike-poles and their levers loose the key-logs of the bunch, and the tumbling citizens of the woods and streams toss away down the current to the wider waters below. He was only a lad of fourteen, and the girl was only eight, but she Junia was as spry and graceful a being as ever woke the echoes of a forest.
"It'll be a great sight when that jam pulls," said I. "You bet," he replied, "but she's a teaser. Even old Tim Shearer would have a picnic to make out just where the key-logs are. We've started her three times, but she's plugged tight every trip. Likely to pull almost any time." We discussed various topics. Finally I ventured: "I see your old friend Darrell is rear boss."
Then he had watched the black-bearded river-drivers with their pike-poles and their levers loose the key-logs of the bunch, and the tumbling citizens of the woods and streams toss away down the current to the wider waters below. He was only a lad of fourteen, and the girl was only eight, but she Junia was as spry and graceful a being as ever woke the echoes of a forest.
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