that jam
that I've be'n watchin' for a week. It's a cur'ous one, to begin with;
an' then it has a mark on it that you can reco'nize it by. Did ye ever
hear tell o' George the Third, King of England, Alcestis, or ain't he
known over to the crambry medders? Well, once upon a time men used to go
through the forests over here an' slash a mark on the trunks o' the
biggest trees. That was the royal sign, as you might say, an' meant that
the tree was to be taken over to England to make masts an' yard-arms for
the King's ships. What made me think of it now is that the King's mark
was an arrer, an' it's an arrer that's on that there log I'm showin' ye.
Well, sir, I seen it fust at Milliken's Mills a Monday. It was in
trouble then, an'it's be'n in trouble ever sence. That's allers the way;
there'll be one pesky, crooked, contrary, consarn'ed log that can't go
anywheres without gittin' into difficulties. You can yank it out an' set
it afloat, an' before you hardly git your doggin' iron off of it, it'll
be snarled up agin in some new place. From the time it's chopped down to
the day it gets to Saco, it costs the Comp'ny 'bout ten times its pesky
valler as lumber. Now they've sent over to Benson's for a team of
horses, an' I bate ye they can't git 'em. I wish I was the boss on this
river, Alcestis."

"I wish I was," echoed the boy.

"Well, your head-fillin' ain't the right kind for a boss, Alcestis, an'
you'd better stick to dry land. You set right down here while I go back
a piece an' git the pipe out o' my coat pocket. I guess nothin' ain't
goin' to happen for a few minutes."

The surmise about the horses, unlike most of Old Kennebec's, proved to
be true. Benson's pair had gone to Portland with a load of hay;
accordingly the tackle was brought, the rope was adjusted to a log, and
five of the drivers, standing on the river-bank, attempted to drag it
from its intrenched position. It refused to yield the fraction of an
inch. Rufus and Stephen joined the five men, and the augmented crew of
seven were putting all their strength on the rope when a cry went up
from the watchers on the bridge. The "dog" had loosened suddenly, and
the men were flung violently to the ground. For a second they were
stunned both by the surprise and by the shock of the blow, but in the
same moment the cry of the crowd swelled louder. Alcestis Crambry had
stolen, all unnoticed, to the rope and had attempted to use his feeble
powers for the common good. When