an' we'll hear the rest tomorrer; only don't you forgit nothin'! Remember 't
was the Kennebec you was talkin' about."

"I will, indeed," responded the old man. "As I was sayin' when interrupted, I
may be a stranded log, but I'm proud that the mark o' the Gard'ner Lumber
Comp'ny is on me, so 't when I git to my journey's end they'll know where I
belong and send me back to the Kennebec. Before I'm sawed up I'd like to
forgit this triflin' brook in the sight of a good-sized river, an' rest my
eyes on some full-grown logs, 'stead o' these little damn pipestems you boys
are playin' with!"




V

The Game of Jackstraws

There was a roar of laughter at the old man's boast, but in a moment all was
activity. The men ran hither and thither like ants, gathering their tools.
There were some old-fashioned pick-poles, straight, heavy levers without any
"dog," and there were modern pick-poles and peaveys, for every river has its
favorite equipment in these things. There was no dynamite in those days to
make the stubborn jams yield, and the dog-warp was in general use. Horses or
oxen, sometimes a line of men, stood on the river-bank. A long rope was
attached by means of a steel spike to one log after another, and it was
dragged from the tangled mass. Sometimes, after unloading the top logs, those
at the bottom would rise and make the task easier; sometimes the work would go
on for hours with no perceptible progress, and Mr. Wiley would have
opportunity to tell the bystanders of a" turrible jam" on the Kennebec that