The logs behind the one which perilously supported him were
creeping forward ready for the mad rush that must follow a few seconds
later.

There remained now but one poor chance of escape and he seized it
instinctively. Springing along the sinking trunk, he threw himself
clear of it into the river, while running men jostled each other as
they surged toward the side of the timber when he sank. A wet head
broke the surface, a swinging left hand followed it. The swimmer
clutched the edge of a loosely-fitted beam, and held it until strong
hands reached down to him. Some gripped his wet fingers, some the back
of his coat, one even clutched his hair. There was a heave, then a
scramble, and, amid hoarse cheers, the rescued man fell over backwards
among his rescuers.

Thurston, who stood up dripping, said, somewhat shakily: "Ah, you were
only just in time! I'm vastly grateful to you all."

The last words were lost in a deafening crash as the jam broke up, and
the giant logs drove through the opening, thrashing the river into
foam. The tree-trunks ground against one another, or smote the slide
casing with a thunderous shock; but the stone-backed timber stood the
strain, and when the clamor of the passage of the logs ceased, a heavy
stillness brooded over the camp as the river grew empty again.

Thurston sought out the man from Mattawa. Laying a wet hand upon his
shoulder he said: "Thank you, Tom. I won't forget the assistance you
rendered me."

"That's all right," answered the brawny ax-man, awkwardly. "I get my
wages safe and regular, and I've tackled as tough a contract for a
worse master before."

There was no chance for further speech. Davies, who owned the saw-mill
lower down stream, reined in a lathered horse, close by. "Where have
all my logs gone to?" he asked. "My foreman roused me to say only a
few dozen had brought up in the boom, and as the boys were running them
down by scores I figured they'd piled up against your bridge. I don't
see any special chaos about here, though you look as if you had been in
swimming; but what in the name of thunder have you done with the logs?"

"They're on their way down river," Thurston replied, dryly. "We had
some trouble with them which necessitated my taking a bath. But see
here, what made you turn a two-hundred-foot red fir loose among them?"

"I didn't," answered Davies, with a puzzled air. "The boys saw every
log into standard lengths. We have no use for