o in your life,
M'sieu' Carnac. That's what you'll do."

"Always?"

"Well, you never can tell--but no."

"But you always can tell," remarked the boy. "The thing is, do what you
feel you've got to do, and never mind what happens."

"I wish I could walk," remarked the little man, "but this leg of mine is
broke--ah, bah, it is!"

"Yes, you mustn't try to walk. Be still," answered the boy. "They'll be
here soon." Slowly and carefully he took off the boot and sock from
the broken leg, and, with his penknife, opened the seam of the corduroy
trouser. "I believe I could set that leg myself," he added.

"I think you could--bagosh," answered Denzil heavily. "They'll bring a
rope to haul me up?"

"Junia has a lot of sense, she won't forget anything."

"And if your father's there, he'll not forget anything," remarked
Denzil.

"He'll forget to make me wear these boots tomorrow," said the boy
stubbornly, his chin in his hands, his eyes fixed gloomily on the
brass-headed toes.

There was a long silence. At last from the stricken Denzil came the
words: "You'll have your own way about the boots."

Carnac murmured, and presently said:

"Lucky you fell where you did. Otherwise, you'd have been in the water,
and then I couldn't have been of any use."

"I hear them coming--holy, yes!"

Carnac strained his ears. "Yes, you're right. I hear them too."

A few moments later, Carnac's father came sliding down the bank, a rope
in his hands, some workmen remaining above.

"What's the matter here?" he asked. "A fall, eh! Dang little fool--now,
you are a dang little fool, and you know it, Denzil."

He nodded to his boy, then he raised the wounded man's head and
shoulders, and slipped the noose over until it caught under his arms.

The old lumber-king's movements were swift, sure and exact. A moment
later he lifted Denzil in his arms, and carried him over to the steep
path up which he was presently dragged.

At the top, Denzil turned to Carnac's father. "M'sieu', Carnac hates
wearing those brass-toed boots," he said boldly.

The lumber-king looked at his boy acutely. He blew his nose hard, with a
bandana handkerchief. Then he nodded towards the boy.

"He can suit himself about that," he said.

With accomplished deftness, with some sacking and two poles, a hasty
but comfortable ambulance was made under the skilful direction of the
river-master. He had the gift of outdoor life. He did not speak as he
worked, but kept humming