The Fourth Watch Part 30

All day long they jogged over the road, stopping only at noon to feed the horses and eat a lunch Marion's mother had tucked away in the corner of the waggon. Dan found it easy to talk to the big man sitting by his side.

He told him about his father's death, Parson John, and the accident, to which his companion listened with much interest. But concerning the object of his visit to the lumber camp, Dan was silent. Several times he was at the point of explaining everything, but always he hesitated and determined to wait.

"I did not tell Nellie," he said to himself, "and why should I tell a stranger first?"

The sun was sinking far westward as they wound their way along a woodland road. Down to the left the water of Big Creek Brook raced and swirled.

Occasionally they caught glimpses of the rus.h.i.+ng torrent as the road dipped closer to the bank.

"We should meet the drive ere long," the big man remarked, as he flicked the horses with his whip. "I'm afraid the logs have jammed in Giant Gorge, or else they would have been here by this time. It's a bad, rocky place, and seldom a drive gets through without trouble."

Presently he pulled up his horses before a little log shack standing to the right.

"I shall leave the horses here for the night, boy," he said. "There's a path down yonder to the left. If you're in a hurry you can take that. It will lead to the stream, and you can follow it up until you meet the men.

If they ask any questions tell them you came with Big Sam, and everything will be all right. Take care and don't fall into the water."

Dan was only too anxious to be on foot. He was cramped from sitting so long in the waggon. Moreover, he was restless to get to the end of his journey, and accomplish his business. Thanking the big man, he leaped from the waggon and was soon speeding down the path, and in a few minutes reached the edge of the brook, roaring and foaming between its steep banks. Looking up-stream he could see no sign of the drive, but the well-beaten path was there, and along this he hurried. Ere long he reached a bend in the stream and as he rounded this, and lifted up his eyes, a wild, terrible scene was presented to view. Away to the right he beheld Giant Gorge, a narrow gash in the rocks, through which the waters were seething and boiling in wildest commotion. On the hither side a flood of logs was sweeping and tearing down, like a mighty breastwork suddenly loosened. Dan started back in terror at the sight, and was about to spring up the bank to a place of safety, when his eyes rested upon the form of a man out in the midst of that rush of destruction, vainly trying to free himself from the watery chasm which had suddenly yawned beneath his feet.

Dan's heart beat wildly at the sight. But only for an instant did he hesitate. Then forward he leaped like a greyhound. Forgotten was the rus.h.i.+ng torrent, and his own danger. He thought only of that frantically clinging man. He reached the edge of the stream, leaped upon the nearest logs, and, with the agility of a wildcat, threaded his way through that terrible labyrinth of grinding, cras.h.i.+ng, heaving monsters.

Chapter XXIV

The Rush of Doom

To bring a drive of logs down Big Creek Brook required skill, patience and courage. It was a nasty, crooked stream, filled with sunken rocks, bad bends and stretches of shallow water. Rodgers & Peterson had their logs in the stream early, and everything pointed to a successful season's work.

For awhile all went well, but then mishap after mishap held them back. The logs jammed in several places, and days were lost in getting them cleared.

Then they grounded upon bars and shoals, which caused a great delay. But the most serious of all was the hold-up in Giant Gorge. This was the most dreaded spot in the whole stream, and seldom had a drive been brought through without some disaster. Much blasting had been done, and a number of obstacles blown away. But for all that there were rocks which defied the skill of man to remove. Two flinty walls reared their frowning sides for several rods along the brook. Between these an immense boulder lifted its head, around which the waters incessantly swirled. But when the stream was swollen high enough the logs would clear this obstacle at a bound, like chargers leaping a fence, and plunge into the whirling eddies below.

When the "R & P" drive, the name by which it was commonly known, reached Giant Gorge, it was confidently believed that there was enough water to carry it safely through. But such reckoning was wrong. As the logs came sweeping down and were sucked into the Gorge they began to crowd, and, instead of rus.h.i.+ng through loose and free, they jammed against the rocky walls, while a huge monster became wedged on the sunken boulder, and, acting as a key log, held in check the whole drive. Then began a wild scene, which once beheld can never be forgotten. Stopped in their mad career, the logs presented the spectacle of unrestrained pa.s.sion. The mighty, heaving, twisting ma.s.s groaned, pressed and writhed for freedom, but with the awful grip of death the st.u.r.dy key log held firm. Steadily the jam increased in size, and whiter threw the foam, as one by one those giant logs swept cras.h.i.+ng down, to be wedged amidst their companions as if driven by the sledge of Thor.

The drivers stood upon the bank and watched the logs piling higher and higher. Well did they know what the delay might mean to Rodgers & Peterson. Much depended upon that drive coming out, and for it to be held up during summer meant almost ruin to the firm. They were a hardy body of men who stood there late that afternoon discussing the matter. They were great workmen these, well versed in woodland lore. All winter long had they taken their part in that big lumber operation, and, now that the work was almost completed, it was certainly aggravating to be thus checked.

As the men talked, and several lighted their pipes, one strapping fellow stood on the bank, his eyes fixed upon that immovable key log. During the whole winter Tony Stickles had been the b.u.t.t as well as the curiosity of the men. His long, lank figure was the source of much ridicule, while his remarks, which were always slow and few, were generally greeted with merriment. From the first night in camp he had been a marked man. Ere he threw himself into the rude bunk he had knelt down on the floor in the presence of them all, and said his evening prayer. A boot had been thrown at his head, and a laugh had gone about the room. Tony had risen from his knees, and with a flushed face sought his couch, surprised at the action on the part of these men. But one middle-aged man of great stature and strength had watched it all. He sat quietly smoking for several minutes after the laughter had subsided.

"Boys," he said at length, taking his pipe from his mouth, "I'm real sorry at what ye've done to-night. I've six little ones of me own, an' I hope to G.o.d when they grow up they'll not be afeered to kneel down an' do as yon lad has done to-night. I'm not a good man meself, more's the pity. But that boy's had a good mother's teachin'. I honour her an' 'im. An' let me tell ye this, men, if I ketch ye doin' agin what ye did to-night, ye'll have to reckon with me. So jist try it on, an' I won't give a second warnin'."

Jake Purdy calmly resumed his smoking, and the men looked at one another in silence. They knew very well from certain past unpleasant experiences what it meant to cross this quiet, plain-spoken man. He said little, and never entered into a quarrel without some reason. But when he did there was cause for the stoutest heart to quake.

Tony listened to it all concealed away in his bunk. His heart thumped beneath his rough s.h.i.+rt, and he wished to thank Jake for taking his part.

But strive as he might he never had the opportunity. The big woodsman never seemed to notice him. Days pa.s.sed into weeks, and still Tony did not utter the grat.i.tude which was lying in his heart. To him Jake was more than ordinary--a hero. He watched him as he chopped, and drank in greedily the few words he let fall from time to time in the camp.

"Boys, that drive must go through."

It was the boss who spoke, as he jerked his thumb towards the Gorge. "Yes, it's got to go through to-night, or it's all up. The water's falling off fast, and if we wait till to-morrow, we'll wait till next fall. I've always said there should be a dam at the head of the Gorge, and I say it now more emphatically than ever. But as it is not there, it's up to us to get this d--n thing through as best we can. I've never been stuck yet in bringing out a drive, and I hope this won't be the first time."

"But what's your plan?" asked one. "Hadn't ye better pick one of us to go down into that h.e.l.l-hole, an' cut that key log?"

"No, that isn't my plan," and the boss scratched the back of his head.

"I'm not going to be responsible for the carcase of any man. If I say to one 'Go,' and he goes and gets pinched, I'll worry about it to my dying day. I'd rather go myself first. But if we draw for it, then it's off my shoulders, and I stand the same chance as the rest of ye. I believe that whatever is to be will be, and the right man to go down there will be chosen. Do you agree to that, boys?"

"Ay, ay," came the response. "Go ahead, Tim. We'll stand by the agreement."

Some brown paper was accordingly found, and cut with a big jack-knife into twenty pieces, according to the number of the men. On one of these a large X was marked with a blue lead-pencil, which one of the men had in his pocket. A tin lunch can was next produced, and into this the pieces of paper were all thrown and the cover shut down tight. When the can had been thoroughly shaken, the men came up one by one, shut their eyes, put in their hands and drew forth a slip. A tense silence reigned during this performance, and the hearts of these st.u.r.dy men beat fast as each glanced at his paper to see what it contained. Jake Purdy was one of the last to approach, and, thrusting in a huge, hairy hand, jerked forth his piece, and as he looked upon it his face turned pale, though he said not a word as he held up the slip for all to see the fatal X scrawled upon it. At that instant Tony Stickles started forward, and confronted Jake. His eyes were wide with excitement, and his long, lank figure was drawn up to its full height.

"You mustn't go!" he cried. "No, no! You've got six little ones at home, an' a wife who wants ye. I'll go in yer place."

Big Jake looked at Tony in surprise, and into his strong, determined face came an expression of tenderness which the men had never seen before.

"No, lad," he replied, "it can't be. The lot's fallen to me, an' I'm the one to do it. I thank ye kindly all the same."

Tony waited to hear no more. His eyes glanced upon an axe lying near.

Springing towards this he seized it, and before a restraining hand could be laid upon him he bounded towards the Gorge, sprang down the bank and leaped upon the logs.

Big Jake rushed after him, calling and imploring him to come back. But his cries were unheeded. Tony was now between the rocky walls, working his way over those tossed and twisted monsters, deaf to all entreaties from the sh.o.r.e.

"Come back, Jake!" roared the men from behind. "It's no use for you to go now. He's taken the matter into his own hands, an' one's enough."

Reluctantly he obeyed, and stood with the rest watching with breathless interest to see what would happen.

Tony had now reached the front of the jam, and was carefully picking his way to the gripping key log. Balancing himself as well as he could he chose a spot where the strain was the greatest. Then the axe cleaved the air, the keen blade bit the wood, and the whirling chips played about his head. Deeper and deeper the steel ate into the side of the giant spruce.

Suddenly a report like a cannon split the air, the axe was hurled like a rocket out into midstream to sink with a splash into the foaming eddies.

Tony turned, leaped like lightning back upon the main body of logs, and started for the sh.o.r.e. But he was too late. With a roar of pent-up wrath the mighty drive moved forward. Down through the Gorge it surged, gaining in speed every instant from the terrible pressure behind. And down with it went Tony, enwrapped with foam and spray. n.o.bly he kept his feet. He leaped from one log to another. He dodged monster after monster, which rose on end and threatened to strike him down. It was a wild race with death. Should he miss his footing or lose his head only for an instant he would have been ground to pieces in that rush of doom. The watching men stood as if transfixed to the spot. They saw him speeding onward and drawing nearer to the sh.o.r.e at the sharp bend in the stream. It looked as if he would gain the bank, and a cheer of encouragement rang out over the waters. But the words had scarcely died upon their lips ere they beheld the logs part asunder right beneath Tony's feet, and with a wild cry he plunged into the rus.h.i.+ng current below. Frantically he clutched at the nearest logs, and endeavoured to pull himself up from that watery grave.

At times he managed to draw himself part way out, but the swirling waters sucked him down. It needed only a little help, but the logs were wet and slippery, and there was nothing on which to obtain a firm grip. His body was becoming numb from the icy waters, and at each terrible struggle he felt himself growing weaker. He knew he could last but little longer in such a position. Was he to drown there? His thoughts flashed to his little home in Glendow. Were they thinking of him? he wondered. What would his mother say when they carried her the news? Oh, if he could only feel her strong hand in his now, how soon he would be lifted from that awful place.

Suddenly there came into his mind her parting words when he had left home.

"Tony," she had said, "ye may be often in danger out thar in the woods.

But remember what the good Lord said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble an' I will deliver ye.'"

And there in the midst of that swirling death he lifted up his voice. "Oh, Lord!" he cried, "help me! save me!"

And even as he prayed, and made one more mighty struggle, a small hand reached out and grasped his. It was all that was needed. He felt the watery grip loosen, and numbed to the bone he sprawled his full length across a big log at Dan's feet. And not a moment too soon had that helping hand been stretched forth, for glancing back he saw the logs had closed again, grinding and tearing as before. They had struck a wild eddy and all was confusion. He staggered to his feet at the shock and barely escaped a huge log which suddenly shot up from below. But Dan was not so fortunate, for a glancing blow sent him reeling back, a helpless, pathetic little figure. Tony was all alert now. Leaping forward he caught the unconscious boy in his arms, and started for the sh.o.r.e. Then began a fierce, determined fight, a hand-to-hand encounter with cold, relentless death.

Step by step Tony staggered forward, baffled here, retreating a few paces there, but steadily gaining. At first he did not mind Dan's weight, but after a few minutes the burden began to tell. He was weak anyway from the terrible strain and experience through which he had recently pa.s.sed. Could he hold out until he reached the sh.o.r.e? His face was drawn and tense; his eyes stared wildly upon those rolling, moving, writhing things beneath his feet. They seemed like thousands of serpents trying to capture him as he leaped from one to the other. His brain reeled; he was falling, but at that moment he felt strong arms about him. His burden was s.n.a.t.c.hed away.

He heard voices, friendly, encouraging and cheering, and then, oblivion.

When Tony opened his eyes he found himself lying upon the sh.o.r.e with several men standing near, watching him with keen interest. There was no merriment or ridicule in their faces now, but only anxiety and sympathy.

The hearts of these rough men had been touched by what they had recently witnessed. Most of them were with the drive, but a few had been told off to look after the two lads.

"Where's that boy?" asked Tony as the terrible scene flashed back into his mind.

"Over there," replied one, jerking his thumb to the left.

"Is he all right?" was Tony's next query.

"Can't say. He's not come to yet."

At this Tony struggled to his feet, and walked slowly over to where Dan was lying, unconscious still, and breathing hard.

"Who is he? Where did he come from?" were the questions which these men asked one another as they rubbed Dan's body, and bathed his forehead.