edge of the drive he rode the logs, then took to the bank and
strolled down to the dam. There he stood for a moment gazing
aimlessly at the water making over the apron, after which he
returned to the work. No cloud obscured the serene good-nature of
his face. Meeting Tom North's troubled glance, he grinned broadly.

"Told you we'd have Johnson on our necks," he remarked, jerking his
thumb up river toward a rapidly approaching figure.

This soon defined itself as a tall, sun-reddened, very blond
individual with a choleric blue eye.

"What in hell's the matter here?" he yelled, as soon as he came
within hearing distance.

Orde made no reply, but stood contemplating the newcomer with a
flicker of amusement.

"What in hell's the matter?" repeated the latter violently.

"Better go there and inquire," rejoined Orde drolly. "What ails
you, Johnson?"

"We're right at your rear," cried the other, "and you ain't even
made a start gettin' through this dam! We'll lose the water next!
Why in hell ain't you through and gone?"

"Keep your shirt on," advised Orde. "We're getting through as fast
as we can. If you want these logs pushed any faster, come down and
do it yourself."