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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Why, we hain't sorted out more'n a million feet of his logs," cried Rollway Charlie. "He hain't SEEN no logs yet!" They turned with new enthusiasm to the work of shunting "H" logs into the channel. In ten minutes, however, the stableman picked his way out over the booms with a message for Orde. "Mr. Heinzman's ashore, and wants to see you," said he. Orde and Jim Denning exchanged glances.
At the end of the rollway the log collided with other logs and stopped with the impact of one bowling ball against another. The men knew that being caught between the two meant death or crippling for life. Nevertheless they escaped from the narrowing interval at the latest possible moment, for it is easier to keep a log rolling than to start it.
"There, damn you!" said Rollway Charley, jerking the millman to his feet. "How do YOU like too much water? hey?" The unexpected comedy changed the party's mood. It was no longer a question of killing. A number broke into the store, and shortly emerged, bearing pails of kerosene with which they deluged the slabs on the windward side of the mill. The flames caught the structure instantly.
All night they piled fuel upon the fire, and in the morning their efforts were rewarded by a pile of ashes that would easily be mistaken for the ruins of the bird's-eye rollway. With the passing of the long, hot days of summer, Bill Carmody regained his strength, and yet he lingered in the camp of the Lacombies.
In his daily excursions to the bird's-eye rollway he never took the same route twice, but skulked, peering fearfully about in the underbrush, avoiding even the game trails. And always he détoured widely the place where he had seen the greener disappear beneath the muddy, log-ridden waters. And so it was that upon this particular morning Creed sat close against the pyramid of logs waiting.
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