on, listening, would have discovered that a
suppressed spirit of jest kept flashing across the earnestness of the
occasion--grins lighting up sharp retort--just as the radiant sunshine
of the day shuttled through the intermittent snow squalls which dusted
the shoulders of the thronging men.

There was a dominant monotone above all the talk and the cackle of
laughter; ears were dinned everlastingly by the thunder of the cataract
near the village. The Noda waters break their winter fetters first of
all at Adonia, where the river leaps from the cliffs into the whirlpool.
The roar of the falls is a trumpet call for the starting of the drive,
though the upper waters may be ice-bound; but when the falls shout
their call the rivermen must be started north toward the landings where
logs are piled on the rotting ice.

On that day Echford Flagg proposed to pick his crew.

To be sure, he had picked a crew every year in early April, but the
hiring had been done in a more or less matter-of-fact manner.

This year the summons had a suggestion of portent. It went by word o'
mouth from man to man all through the north country. It hinted at an
opportunity for adventure outside of wading in shallows, carding ledges
of jillpoked logs, and the bone-breaking toil of rolling timber and
riffling jams.

"Eck Flagg wants roosters this year," had gone the word. Spurred
roosters! Fighting gamecocks! One spur for a log and one for any hellion
who should get in the way of an honest drive!

The talk among the men who shouldered one another in the street and
swapped grins and gab revealed that not all of them were ready to
volunteer as spurred roosters, ready for hazard. It was evident that
there were as many mere spectators as there were actual candidates for
jobs. Above all, ardent curiosity prevailed; in that region where events
marshaled themselves slowly and sparsely men did not balk at riding or
hoofing it a dozen miles or more in order to get first-hand information
in regard to anything novel or worth while.

Finally, Echford Flagg stalked down the hill from his big, square
house--its weather-beaten grayness matching the ledges on which it was
propped. His beard and hair were the color of the ledges, too, and the
seams in his hard face were like ledgerifts. His belted jacket was stone
gray and it was buttoned over the torso of a man who was six feet
tall--yes, a bit over that height. He was straight and vigorous in spite
of the age rev