"Like as not; that was his failin'. Well, most o' the boys were
on the other side o' the river, workin' above the bridge, an' the
boss hed called Pretty Quick to come off an' leave the jam till
mornin', when they'd get horses an' dog-warp it off, log by log.
But when the boss got out o' sight, Pretty Quick jest stood right
still, swingin' his axe, an' blasphemin' so 't would freeze your
blood, vowin' he wouldn't move till the logs did, if he stayed
there till the crack o' doom. Jest then a great, ponderous log
that hed be'n churnin' up an' down in the falls for a week, got
free an' come blunderin' an' thunderin' down-river. Land! it
was chockfull o' water, an' looked 'bout as big as a church! It
come straight along, butt-end foremost, an' struck that jam, full
force, so't every log in it shivered. There was a crack,--the
crack o' doom, sure enough, for Pretty Quick,--an' one o' the
logs le'p' right out an' struck him jest where he stood, with his
axe in the air, blasphemin'. The jam kind o' melted an' crumbled
up, an' in a second Pretty Quick was whirlin' in the white water.
He never riz,--at least where we could see him,--an' we
didn't find him for a week. That's the whole story, an' I guess
Steve takes it as a warnin'. Any way, he ain't no friend to rum
nor swearin', Steve ain't. He knows Pretty Quick's ways
shortened his mother's life, an' you notice what a sharp lookout
he keeps on Rufus."

"He needs it," Ike Billings commented tersely.

"Some men seem to lose their wits when they're workin' on logs,"
observed Mr. Wiley, who had deeply resented Long Dennett's
telling of a story which he knew fully as well and could have
told much better. "Now, nat'rally, I've seen things on the