l and indomitable,
yet hearty and joyous. It was exciting to watch him at the head of his
men, breaking up a jam of logs, and it was a delight to hear him of an
evening as he sang:

"Have you heard the cry of the Long Lachine,
When happy is the sun in the morning?
The rapids long and the banks of green,
As we ride away in the morning,
On the froth of the Long Lachine?"

One day, soon after they came, the dams and booms were opened above,
and forests of logs came riding down to Bamber's Boom. The current was
strong, and the logs came on swiftly. As Brydon's gang worked, they saw
a man out upon a small raft of driftwood, which had been suddenly caught
in the drive of logs, and was carried out towards the middle channel.
The river-drivers laughed, for they failed to see that the man was old,
and that he could not run across the rolling logs to the shore. The old
man, evidently hopeless, laid down his pike-pole, folded his hands, and
drifted with the logs. The river-drivers stopped laughing. They began to
understand.

Brydon saw a woman standing at a window of the House waving her arms,
and there floated up the river the words, "Father! father!" He caught
up a pikepole, and ran over that spinning floor of logs to the raft. The
old man's face was white, but there was no fear in his eyes.

"I cannot run the logs," he said at once; "I never did; I am too old,
and I slip. It's no use. It is my granddaughter at that window. Tell her
that I'll think of her to the last.... Good-bye!"

Brydon was eyeing the logs. The old man's voice was husky; he could not
cry out, but he waved his hand to the girl.

"Oh, save him!" came from her faintly.

Brydon's eyes were now on the covered bridge. Their raft was in the
channel, coming straight between two piers. He measured his chances. He
knew if he slipped, doing what he intended, that both might be drowned,
and certainly Mr. Rupert; for the logs were close, and to drop among
them was a bad business. If they once closed over there was an end of
everything.

"Keep quite still," he said, "and when I throw you catch."

He took the slight figure in his arms, sprang out upon the slippery
logs, and ran. A cheer went up from the men on the shore, and the people
who were gathering on the bridges, too late to be of service. Besides,
the bridge was closed, and there was only a small opening at the piers.
For one of these piers Brydon was making. He ra