spikes out of a
chaos of fallen trunks. The Bush, a wall of sombre green, spangled
here and there with frost, and impressively still, closed in about the
little gap they had made. Not a sound came out of the shadowy avenues
between the tremendous colonnades of towering trunks, and the topmost
sprays of the cedars and Douglas firs cut motionless against the blue
high above. There was no wind, and the men's breath went straight up,
a thin white vapour, into the biting air. Still, they were warm and
comparatively well fed, which was a good deal to be thankful for, and
three of them toiled contentedly, with now and then a glance at their
companion, who realized at length that he was beaten. In fact, it was
only by calling up all the resolution that was in him that this fourth
man, Derrick Nasmyth, had held himself to his task since early
morning, for there is no occupation which demands from man more
muscular effort and physical courage than logging, as it is generally
carried on in the forest of Western Canada.

Nasmyth was a tall man, apparently under thirty, and leanly muscular,
as were his companions, for those who swing the axe from dawn to dusk
in that wilderness seldom put on flesh. His bronzed face was also
lean, and a trifle worn. Considering his occupation, it was, perhaps,
too finely chiselled, and there was a certain elusive suggestion of
refinement in it. He had clear blue eyes, and the hair beneath his
battered fur cap was brown. For the rest, he wore a black leather
jacket with several rents in it, ragged duck trousers, and long boots.
His companions were the usual Bush choppers--simple, strong-armed men
of kindly nature--and Nasmyth was quite aware that they had undertaken
most of his share in the work during the last few hours.

"Another heave!" said one of the woodsmen. "Hit her hard, boys, and
away she goes!"

They strained sinewy backs and splendid arms. The great log rolled a
trifle farther, canted, as one of them slipped a handspike under the
butt of it, and landed on the skids, which were laid like railway
sleepers down the slope of a steep declivity. The snow was ground down
and rammed back about the skids, and the worn-out hollow gleamed a
faint blue-grey in the shadow of the firs. The men made another
strenuous effort as the log started, but in another moment it rushed
away, and, like a toboggan, sped downwards through the forest to the
river-ice below. The skids screamed beneath it, the snow fl