road gunwale with his pike-pole,
thrusting away such logs as threatened interference.

"Well," said he at last, "we better make camp. We'll be down in the jam
pretty soon."

The cookees abandoned the sweeps in favour of more pike-poles. By
pushing and pulling on the logs floating about them, they managed to
work the wanigan in close to the bank.

Charlie, a coil of rope in his hand, surveyed the prospects.

"We'll stop right down there by that little knoll," he announced.

He leaped ashore, made a turn around a tree, and braced himself to snub
the boat, but unfortunately he had not taken into consideration the
"two ton" of water soaked up by the cargo. The weight of the craft
relentlessly dragged him forward. In vain he braced and struggled. The
end of the rope came to the tree; he clung for a moment, then let go,
and ran around the tree to catch it before it should slip into the
water.

By this time the wanigan had caught the stronger current at the bend and
was gathering momentum. Charlie tried to snub at a sapling, and broke
the sapling; on a stub, and uprooted the stub. Down the banks and
through the brush he tore at the end of his rope, clinging desperately,
trying at every solid tree to stop the career of his runaway, but in
every instance being forced by the danger of jamming his hands to let
go. Again he lost his derby. The landscape was a blur. Dimly he made
out the howls of laughter as the outfit passed a group of rivermen. Then
abruptly a ravine yawned before him, and he let go just in time to save
himself a fall. The wanigan, trailing her rope, drifted away.

Nor did she stop until she had overtaken the jam. There, her momentum
reduced by the closer crowding of the logs, she slowed down enough so
that Newmark and the cookees managed to work her to the bank and make
her fast.

That evening, after the wanigan's crew had accomplished a hard
afternoon's work pitching camp and drying blankets, the first of the
rear drifted in very late after a vain search for camp farther up
stream.

"For God's sake, Charlie," growled one, "it's a wonder you wouldn't run
through to Redding and be done with it."

Whereupon Charlie, who had been preternaturally calm all the afternoon,
uttered a shriek of rage, and with a carving-knife chased that man out
into the brush. Nor would he be appeased to the point of getting supper
until Orde himself had intervened.

"Well," said Orde to Newmark later, around the campfire, "