unday-school teacher, the man whose golden
slippers were awaiting him in the sweet by-and-by, began to lie awake
at night and wrestle with the problem: "Is a man ever justified in
breaking the sixth commandment?" The camp held that Tom bore a charmed
life. Men had tried to kill him more than once, and had perished
ingloriously in the attempt. His coolness and courage were
indisputable. There are moments in a lumberman's business when nothing
will save an almost impossible situation but the instant exercise of
the most daring and devil-may-care pluck, determination, and skill.
Tom was never found wanting at such moments. To see him "ride a log"
was a sight to inspire admiration and respect in a Texas broncho-
buster. To kill such a superb animal might well rack a simple and
guileless cowboy whose name was--Dennis.

It is relevant to mention that Dennis, the dog, licked the hand that
beat him, fawned upon the foot that kicked him, and rendered unto his
lord and master implicit and invariable obedience. The Siwash, his
former owner, had trained him to retrieve, and of this Tom took
shameless advantage. He would throw his hat or a glove or a stick into
the middle of a rapid, and the gallant Dennis would dash into the
swirling waters, regardless of colliding logs, fanged rocks, or spiky
stumps. One day the dog got caught. Tom, with an oath, leapt on to the
nearest log, from that to another and another till he reached the poor
beast, whom he released with incredible skill and audacity, returning
as he had come, followed by the dog. The boys yelled their
appreciation of this astounding feat. Jimmy Doolan asked--

"What in thunder made ye do that, Tom?"

Tom scowled.

"I dunno," he answered. "Dennis Brown knows that I think the world of
that cur."

Within a fortnight, by an admittedly amazing coincidence, Dennis, the
man, was caught in a precisely similar fashion. As a "river-driver"
Dennis was beginning to "catch on." But he had not yet learned what he
could or could not do. River-drivers wear immense boots, heavily
spiked. Dennis upon this occasion had been sent with a crew to what is
technically called "sweep the river" after a regular drive. Such logs
as have wandered ashore, or been hung up in back eddies, are collected
and sent on to join the others. This is hard work, but exciting, and
not without its humours. Certain obstinate logs have to be coaxed down
the river. It would almost seem as if they knew the fate tha