ll worked side
by side. Thus no one noticed especially a tall, slender, but well-knit
individual dressed in a faded mackinaw and a limp slouch hat which he
wore pulled over his eyes. This young fellow occupied himself with the
chains. Against the racing current the crew held the ends of the heavy
booms, while he fastened them together. He worked well, but seemed
slow. Three times Shearer hustled him on after the others had finished,
examining closely the work that had been done. On the third occasion he
shrugged his shoulder somewhat impatiently.

The men straggled to shore, the young fellow just described bringing up
the rear. He walked as though tired out, hanging his head and dragging
his feet. When, however, the boarding-house door had closed on the last
of those who preceded him, and the town lay deserted in the dawn, he
suddenly became transformed. Casting a keen glance right and left to be
sure of his opportunity, he turned and hurried recklessly back over the
logs to the center booms. There he knelt and busied himself with the
chains.

In his zigzag progression over the jam he so blended with the morning
shadows as to seem one of them, and he would have escaped quite
unnoticed had not a sudden shifting of the logs under his feet compelled
him to rise for a moment to his full height. So Wallace Carpenter,
passing from his bedroom, along the porch, to the dining room, became
aware of the man on the logs.

His first thought was that something demanding instant attention had
happened to the boom. He therefore ran at once to the man's assistance,
ready to help him personally or to call other aid as the exigency
demanded. Owing to the precarious nature of the passage, he could not
see beyond his feet until very close to the workman. Then he looked up
to find the man, squatted on the boom, contemplating him sardonically.

"Dyer!" he exclaimed

"Right, my son," said the other coolly.

"What are you doing?"

"If you want to know, I am filing this chain."

Wallace made one step forward and so became aware that at last firearms
were taking a part in this desperate game.

"You stand still," commanded Dyer from behind the revolver. "It's
unfortunate for you that you happened along, because now you'll have to
come with me till this little row is over. You won't have to stay long;
your logs'll go out in an hour. I'll just trouble you to go into the
brush with me for a while."

The scaler picked his file from besid