s of
papers, in which the men read that the unseasonable condition prevailed
all over the country.

At length, however, it gave signs of breaking. The sky, which had
been of a steel blue, harbored great piled thunder-heads. Occasionally
athwart the heat shot a streak of cold air. Towards evening the
thunder-heads shifted and finally dissipated, to be sure, but the
portent was there.

Hamilton's papers began to tell of disturbances in the South and West. A
washout in Arkansas derailed a train; a cloud-burst in Texas wiped out
a camp; the cities along the Ohio River were enjoying their annual flood
with the usual concomitants of floating houses and boats in the streets.
The men wished they had some of that water here.

So finally the drive approached its end and all concerned began in
anticipation to taste the weariness that awaited them. They had hurried
their powers. The few remaining tasks still confronting them, all at
once seemed more formidable than what they had accomplished. They could
not contemplate further exertion. The work for the first time became
dogged, distasteful. Even Thorpe was infected. He, too, wanted more
than anything else to drop on the bed in Mrs. Hathaway's boarding house,
there to sponge from his mind all colors but the dead gray of rest.
There remained but a few things to do. A mile of sacking would carry the
drive beyond the influence of freshet water. After that there would be
no hurry.

He looked around at the hard, fatigue-worn faces of the men about him,
and in the obsession of his wearied mood he suddenly felt a great rush
of affection for these comrades who had so unreservedly spent themselves
for his affair. Their features showed exhaustion, it is true, but their
eyes gleamed still with the steady half-humorous purpose of the pioneer.
When they caught his glance they grinned good-humoredly.

All at once Thorpe turned and started for the bank.

"That'll do, boys," he said quietly to the nearest group. "She's down!"

It was noon. The sackers looked up in surprise. Behind them, to their
very feet, rushed the soft smooth slope of Hemlock Rapids. Below
them flowed a broad, peaceful river. The drive had passed its last
obstruction. To all intents and purposes it was over.

Calmly, with matter-of-fact directness, as though they had not achieved
the impossible; as though they, a handful, had not cheated nature and
powerful enemies, they shouldered their peaveys and struck into the
br