a-ha-ta-na-ta? But, no--the gray eyes were staring into
the fire calmly, and in their depths she could see no gleam of hate nor
steely glitter of rage.

What was it he said the day she told him of the affair on Broken Knee?
"I, too, could kill him for that." The girl gave it up, and fell to
wondering what the morrow would bring forth.

At daylight, when they poled the boat into the river, Bill gazed in
surprise at the surface of the stream. A few belated ice cakes floated
lazily in the current, and many uprooted snags reared their scraggly
heads as they rolled sluggishly in the water.

But what riveted his attention were the logs. Hundreds and hundreds of
smoothly floating logs dotted the river, and as far as the eye could
reach more logs were coming.

He leaped to his feet and stood, shading his eyes with his hand. Far up
the stream the surface seemed solid with logs, and here and there he
could make out moving figures--tiny and frail they looked, like
strange, misshapen insects, as they leaped from log to rolling log--the
white-water men of the North.

"It's the drive!" he cried excitedly. "_My_ drive! Come, pole for your
life--we've got to work her across!"

A mile farther down they swept around a wide bend, and before them
loomed the cleared rollways of Moncrossen's camp, and on top of the
slope, for all the world like fortifications commanding the river, were
pile after pile of pyramided logs.

The little flat boat was rapidly approaching, and men could be seen
swarming about the rollways. One man with a shirt of flaming red rushed
among them, gesticulating wildly, and faintly to their ears came the
raucous bellowing of his voice. At the sight of him Jeanne paled
visibly. The man was Moncrossen.

Even as they looked the first rollway tore loose; the logs, rolling and
tumbling down the steep slope, leaped into the river with a roar and a
splash that sent a fountain of white spray flying skyward. Bill set his
pole and fairly hurled the boat into the bank well above the rollways.

"Good God!" he cried. "Can't he see the drive? They'll jam and my men
will be killed!" He leaped ashore and crashed through the intervening
underbrush in great bounds, closely followed by the light-footed
Jeanne.

They gained the top, and while rushing along the rollways could hear
Moncrossen roaring his orders--could catch the words that foamed from
his lips amid volleys of crashing oaths.

"Cut them toggles! Let 'em go! Let '