problems of their task, have little attention to spare to such
things. The cold, the wet, the discomfort, the hunger, the
weariness, all pass as shadows on the background. In like manner
the softer moods of the spring rarely penetrate through the
concentration of faculties on the work. The warm sun shines; the
birds by thousands flutter and twitter and sing their way north; the
delicate green of spring, showered from the hand of the passing
Sower, sprinkles the tops of the trees, and gradually sifts down
through the branches; the great, beautiful silver clouds sail down
the horizon like ships of a statelier age, as totally without actual
existence to these men. The logs, the river--those are enough to
strain all the faculties a man possesses, and more.

So when, as now, a chance combination of circumstances brings them
leisure to look about them, the forest and the world of out-of-doors
comes to them with a freshness impossible for the city dweller to
realise. The surroundings are accustomed, but they bring new
messages. To most of them, these impressions never reach the point
of coherency. They brood, and muse, and expand in the actual and
figurative warmth, and proffer the general opinion that it is a damn
fine day!

Another full half hour elapsed before the situation developed
further. Then Tom North's friend Jim, who had gathered his long
figure on the top of a stump, unclasped his knees and remarked that
old Plug Hat was back.

The men arose to their feet and peered cautiously through the brush.
They saw Reed, accompanied by a thick-set man whom some recognised
as the sheriff of the county, approach the edge of the dam. A