rest, running into the shanty, brought out saws and
handspikes. In the meanwhile a huge log crashed upon the one held
fast, and there was no need to tell any of the men that those which
followed would rapidly pile up into an inextricable confusion of
interlocked timber. There was only one thing to be done, and that was
to cut away the first log, which would hold them back, as soon as
possible.

The men set to work, two or three of them running recklessly along the
rounded top of the slippery trunk, which rolled a little as it
hammered upon the rock. Mattawa, with a big crosscut saw, crouched on
the half-submerged pile of stone, and a comrade, who seized its
opposite handle, held himself somehow on the second trunk by his
knees. It was difficult to understand how they could work at all, but
they were accustomed to toiling under embarrassing conditions. The saw
had hardly bitten through the bark when another log drove grinding
against the rest, and Mattawa's companion, who let the handle go, fell
forward on his face. He was up again in a moment, and after that stuck
fast while log after log drove smashing upon the growing mass.
Sometimes the one he clung to rose up under him, and sometimes it sank
until he crouched in the water while another great butt crept up upon
it, and it seemed that he must be crushed between them. Still, the saw
rasped steadily through the heaving, grinding timber. It was perilous
work, but it was clear to all of them that it had to be done.

In the meanwhile Nasmyth and Gordon stood knee-deep amidst the white
foam of the rapid. The water was icy cold, and it was with difficulty
they kept their feet, while every now and then a shower of spray that
leapt out from among the timber fell upon them. The logs were already
two deep at that spot, and one great top ground steadily forward over
the others as its pressed-down butt was driven on by those behind.
One could almost have fancied it was bent on escaping from the
horrible confusion of piled-up trunks that moved on one another under
the impact of the flood. More were sweeping on, and crash after crash
rang through the hoarse clamour of the fall.

Nasmyth felt very feeble as he whirled the heavy axe about his head,
for that mass of timber was impressively big. He had torn off his
deer-hide jacket, and his soaked blue shirt gaped open to his waist at
every heave of his shoulders. He stood in icy water, but the
perspiration dripped from him as he sw