d for the
"sacking crew," which would bring up the rear.

Jack Orde wandered back and forth over the work, his hands clasped
behind his back, a short pipe clenched between his teeth. To the edge of
the drive he rode the logs, then took to the bank and strolled down
to the dam. There he stood for a moment gazing aimlessly at the water
making over the apron, after which he returned to the work. No cloud
obscured the serene good-nature of his face. Meeting Tom North's
troubled glance, he grinned broadly.

"Told you we'd have Johnson on our necks," he remarked, jerking his
thumb up river toward a rapidly approaching figure.

This soon defined itself as a tall, sun-reddened, very blond individual
with a choleric blue eye.

"What in hell's the matter here?" he yelled, as soon as he came within
hearing distance.

Orde made no reply, but stood contemplating the newcomer with a flicker
of amusement.

"What in hell's the matter?" repeated the latter violently.

"Better go there and inquire," rejoined Orde drolly. "What ails you,
Johnson?"

"We're right at your rear," cried the other, "and you ain't even made a
start gettin' through this dam! We'll lose the water next! Why in hell
ain't you through and gone?"

"Keep your shirt on," advised Orde. "We're getting through as fast as
we can. If you want these logs pushed any faster, come down and do it
yourself."

Johnson vouchsafed no reply, but splashed away over the logs, examining
in detail the progress of the work. After a little he returned within
hailing distance.

"If you can't get out logs, why do you take the job?" he roared, with
a string of oaths. "If you hang my drive, damn you, you'll catch it
for damages! It's gettin' to a purty pass when any old highbanker from
anywheres can get out and play jackstraws holdin' up every drive in the
river! I tell you our mills need logs, and what's more they're agoin' to
GIT them!"

He departed in a rumble of vituperation.

Orde laughed humorously at his foreman.

"Johnson gets so mad sometimes, his skin cracks," he remarked.
"However," he went on more seriously, "there's a heap in what he means,
if there ain't so much in what he says. I'll go labour with our old
friend below."

He regained the bank, stopped to light his pipe, and sauntered, with
every appearance of leisure, down the bank, past the dam, to the mill
structure below.

Here he found the owner occupying a chair tilted back against the wall
of the buil