sound. It is a marvel to the spectator, that men should manipulate the
river so. To him it is a life apart; not belonging to the life he lives
-a passing show.

It was a stark surprise of the river which makes this story possible.
There was a strike at Bunder's Boom--as it was called--between Bunder and
Grier's men. Some foreman of Grier's gang had been needlessly offensive.
Bunder had been stupidly resentful. When Grier's men had tried to force
his hand also, he had resisted. It chanced that, when an impasse seemed
possible to be broken only by force, a telegram came to John Grier at
Montreal telling him of the difficulty. He lost no time in making his
way northwards.

But some one else had come upon the scene. It was Luke Tarboe. He had
arrived at a moment when the Belloc river crowd had almost wrecked
Bunder's Boom, and when a collision between the two gangs seemed
inevitable. What he did remained a river legend. By good temper and
adroitness, he reconciled the leaders of the two gangs; he bought the
freedom of the river by a present to Bunder's daughter; he won Bunder
by four bottles of "Three Star" brandy. When the police from a town a
hundred miles away arrived at the same time as John Grier, it was
to find the Grier and Belloc gangs peacefully prodding side by side.

When the police had gone, John Grier looked Tarboe up and down. The
brown face, the clear, strong brown eyes and the brown hatless head rose
up eighteen inches above his own, making a gallant summit to a robust
stalk.

"Well, you've done easier things than that in your time, eh?" John Grier
asked.