he old man feelingly. "I've tried all kinds
o' labor. Some of 'em don't suit my liver, some disagrees with my
stomach, and the rest of 'em has vibrations; so here I set, high an'
dry on the banks of life, you might say, like a stranded log."

As this well-known simile fell upon the ear, there was a general stir in
the group, for Turrible Wiley, when rhetorical, sometimes grew tearful,
and this was a mood not to be encouraged.

"All right, boss," called Ike Billings, winking to the boys; "we'll be
there in a jiffy!" for the luncheon hour had flown, and the work of the
afternoon was waiting for them. "You make a chalk-mark where you left
off, Mr. Wiley, an' we'll hear the rest to-morrer; only don't you forgit
nothin'! Remember't was the Kennebec you was talkin' about."

"I will, indeed," responded the old man. "As I was sayin' when
interrupted, I may be a stranded log, but I'm proud that the mark o' the
Gard'ner Lumber Comp'ny is on me, so't when I git to my journey's end
they'll know where I belong and send me back to the Kennebec. Before I'm
sawed up I'd like to forgit this triflin' brook in the sight of a
good-sized river, an' rest my eyes on some full-grown logs, 'stead o'
these little damn pipestems you boys are playin' with!"

THE GAME OF JACKSTRAWS

There was a roar of laughter at the old man's boast, but in a moment all
was activity. The men ran hither and thither like ants, gathering their
tools. There were some old-fashioned pick-poles, straight, heavy levers
without any "dog," and there were modern pick-poles and peaveys, for
every river has its favorite equipment in these things. There was no
dynamite in those days to make the stubborn jams yield, and the dog-warp
was in general use. Horses or oxen, sometimes a line of men, stood on
the river-bank. A long rope was attached by means of a steel spike to
one log after another, and it was dragged from the tangled mass.
Sometimes, after unloading the top logs, those at the bottom would rise
and make the task easier; sometimes the work would go on for hours with
no perceptible progress, and Mr. Wiley would have opportunity to tell
the bystanders of a "turrible jam" on the Kennebec that had cost the
Lumber Company ten thousand dollars to break.

There would be great arguments on shore, among the villagers as well as
among the experts, as to the particular log which might be a key to the
position. The boss would study the problem from various standpoints,