young man smiles, with a curious expression, as he looks on.

"Did you see?" whispers one on the bridge to his neighbour. "Mark my
words, he knows what he's about."

"Look out ahead!" Redjacket slips his tree trunk under the boom, and
steps out on to it. Then with a touch of his foot he sends it round
and round--spinning it, and sending up the water on either side.

"Ay, he's a smart lad," say the onlookers on the bridge.

Redjacket stops his manoeuvres now, gives a bold glance towards the
bridge, then, with a shrill whistle, fixes the point of his pole in
the wood; and, stepping back a little, with his hands on his hips,
begins, mockingly, to "say his prayers."

"There! Ever see such a lad?" Redjacket's partisans look round proudly
at the rest.

"Look at him--look!"

"Have done with that!" cries a stern voice from the crowd. "'Tis no
time for mockery."

"What's it to you whether I choose to sing or pray?" cries Redjacket,
with an oath. But he stops his show of praying, all the same, and
picks up his pole again. He is nearing the bridge now.

Already the angry water swirls over the stem and laps his boots, but
he stands fast.

The speed increases, the log itself disappears in a flurry of
foam--those on the bridge hold their breath.

Then it comes up again. The current thrusts against its hinder end,
and the buoyant wood answers to it like the tail of a fish, slipping
sideways round; the steersman sways, but with a swing of his pole
recovers his balance, and stands steady as before.

A sigh of relief from the watchers.

"Tra la la la!" sings Redjacket, undismayed. And he takes a couple of
dance-steps on his log.

"He's no greenhorn, anyhow," the crowd agree. And some of them glance
at Olof--to see how he takes their praise of his rival.

But Olof does not seem to heed; he is watching the water with a
certain impatience--no more.

Just then Redjacket's log strikes a sunken rock, and is thrust
backward. A swift movement--the log comes down with a splash into the
foam; the man bends over, straightens his body, and stands upright as
before, then strikes an attitude, and sails on past the obstacle.

"Well done--well done!"

"'Twas a marvel he cleared it."

The log goes on its way, the man standing easily as ever.

Then once more it collides. The fore end lifts--an oath is heard--next
second the red jacket shows in a whirl of water. Then it disappears.

A movement of anxiety on the bridge--the watche