how does
river-driving strike you?"

"It is extremely interesting," replied Newmark.

"Like to join the wanigan crew permanently?"

"No, thanks," returned Newmark drily.

"Well, stay with us as long as you're having a good time," invited Orde
heartily, but turning away from his rather uncommunicative visitor.

"Thank you," Newmark acknowledged this, "I believe I will."

"Well, Tommy," called Orde across the fire to North, "I reckon we've got
to rustle some more supplies. That shipwreck of ours to-day mighty near
cleaned us out of some things. Lucky Charlie held his head and locked in
the bedding with those sweeps, or we'd have been strapped."

"I didn't do it," grumbled Charlie. "It was him."

"Oh!" Orde congratulated Newmark. "Good work! I'm tickled to death you
belonged to that crew."

"That old mossback Reed was right on deck with his rope," remarked
Johnny Simms. "That was pretty decent of him."

"Old skunk!" growled North. "He lost us two days with his damn nonsense.
You let him off too easy, Jack."

"Oh, he's a poor old devil," replied Orde easily. "He means well enough.
That's the way the Lord made him. He can't help how he's made."

VI

During the thirty-three days of the drive, Newmark, to the surprise
of everybody, stayed with the work. Some of these days were very
disagreeable. April rains are cold and persistent--the proverbs as to
showers were made for another latitude. Drenched garments are bad enough
when a man is moving about and has daylight; but when night falls,
and the work is over, he likes a dry place and a change with which to
comfort himself. Dry places there were none. Even the interior of the
tents became sodden by continual exits and entrances of dripping men,
while dry garments speedily dampened in the shiftings of camp which, in
the broader reaches of the lower river, took place nearly every day. Men
worked in soaked garments, slept in damp blankets. Charlie cooked only
by virtue of persistence. The rivermen ate standing up, as close to
the sputtering, roaring fires as they could get. Always the work went
forward.

But there were other times when a golden sun rose each morning a little
earlier on a green and joyous world. The river ran blue. Migratory birds
fled busily northward--robins, flute-voiced blue-birds, warblers of
many species, sparrows of different kinds, shore birds and ducks, the
sweet-songed thrushes. Little tepid breezes wandered up and down,
warm in