own from the rear shortly. Ought
to see something's wrong when he runs against the tail of this jam of
ours."

At this moment the lugubrious, round-faced man in the derby hat stepped
aside from the row of steaming utensils he had been arranging.

"Grub pile," he remarked in a conversational tone of voice.

The group arose as one man and moved upon the heap of cutlery and of tin
plates and cups. From the open fifty-pound lard pails and kettles they
helped themselves liberally; then retired to squat in little groups here
and there near the sources of supply. Mere conversation yielded to an
industrious silence. Sadly the cook surveyed the scene, his arms folded
across the dirty white apron, an immense mental reservation accenting
the melancholy of his countenance. After some moments of contemplation
he mixed a fizzling concoction of vinegar and soda, which he drank. His
rotundity to the contrary notwithstanding, he was ravaged by a
gnawing dyspepsia, and the sight of six eggs eaten as a side dish to
substantials carried consternation to his interior.

So busily engaged was each after his own fashion that nobody observed
the approach of a solitary figure down the highway of the river. The
man appeared tiny around the upper bend, momently growing larger as he
approached. His progress was jerky and on an uneven zigzag, according
as the logs lay, by leaps, short runs, brief pauses, as a riverman
goes. Finally he stepped ashore just below the camp, stamped his
feet vigorously free of water, and approached the group around the
cooking-fire.

No one saw him save the cook, who vouchsafed him a stately and
lugubrious inclination of the head.

The newcomer was a man somewhere about thirty years of age, squarely
built, big of bone, compact in bulk. His face was burly, jolly, and
reddened rather than tanned by long exposure. A pair of twinkling
blue eyes and a humorously quirked mouth redeemed his countenance from
commonplaceness.

He spread his feet apart and surveyed the scene.

"Well, boys," he remarked at last in a rollicking big voice, "I'm glad
to see the situation hasn't spoiled your appetites."

At this they looked up with a spontaneous answering grin. Tom North laid
aside his plate and started to arise.

"Sit still, Tom," interposed the newcomer. "Eat hearty. I'm going to
feed yet myself. Then we'll see what's to be done. I think first thing
you'd better see to having this wind turned off."

After the meal was f