waited for more.

These were a long time coming. Members of the driving crew leaped
shouting from one log to another. Sometimes, when the space across
was too wide to jump, they propelled a log over either by rolling
it, paddling it, or projecting it by the shock of a leap on one end.
In accomplishing these feats of tight-rope balance, they stood
upright and graceful, quite unconscious of themselves, their bodies
accustomed by long habit to nice and instant obedience to the almost
unconscious impulses of the brain. Only their eyes, intent,
preoccupied, blazed out by sheer will-power the unstable path their
owners should follow. Once at the forefront of the drive, the men
began vigorously to urge the logs forward. This they accomplished
almost entirely by main strength, for the sluggish current gave them
little aid. Under the pressure of their feet as they pushed against
their implements, the logs dipped, rolled, and plunged.
Nevertheless, they worked as surely from the decks of these unstable
craft as from the solid earth itself.

In this manner the logs in the centre of the pond were urged forward
until, above the chute, they caught the slightly accelerated current
which should bring them down to the pike-pole men at the dam.
Immediately, when this stronger influence was felt, the drivers
zigzagged back up stream to start a fresh batch. In the meantime a
great many logs drifted away to right and left into stagnant water,
where they lay absolutely motionless. The moving of them was
deferred for the "sacking crew," which would bring up the rear.

Jack Orde wandered back and forth over the work, his hands clasped
behind his back, a short pipe clenched between his teeth. To the