"No, no!" he cried vehemently."There is something criminal about it to me! I'd rather lose every log in the river!"Thorpe looked at him curiously."It is one of the chances of war,"said he, unable to refrain from the utterance of his creed."We all know it.""I'd better divide the crew and take in both banks of the river,"suggested Wallace in his constitutional necessity of doing something.
"See if you can't get volunteers from this crowd," suggested Thorpe.
"I can let you have two men to show you trails.If you can make it that way, it will help me out.I need as many of the crew as possible to use this flood water.""Oh, Harry," cried Carpenter, shocked."You can't be going to work again to-day after that horrible sight, before we have made the slightest effort to recover the bodies!""If the bodies can be recovered, they shall be," replied Thorpe quietly."But the drive will not wait.We have no dams to depend on now, you must remember, and we shall have to get out on freshet water.""Your men won't work.I'd refuse just as they will!" cried Carpenter, his sensibilities still suffering.
Thorpe smiled proudly."You do not know them.They are mine.Ihold them in the hollow of my hand!"
"By Jove!" cried the journalist in sudden enthusiasm."By Jove!
that is magnificent!"
The men of the river crew had crouched on their narrow footholds while the jam went out.Each had clung to his peavey, as is the habit of rivermen.Down the current past their feet swept the debris of flood.Soon logs began to swirl by,--at first few, then many from the remaining rollways which the river had automatically broken.In a little time the eddy caught up some of these logs, and immediately the inception of another jam threatened.The rivermen, without hesitation, as calmly as though catastrophe had not thrown the weight of its moral terror against their stoicism, sprang, peavey in hand, to the insistent work.
"By Jove!" said the journalist again."That is magnificent! They are working over the spot where their comrades died!"Thorpe's face lit with gratification.He turned to the young man.
"You see," he said in proud simplicity.
With the added danger of freshet water, the work went on.
At this moment Tim Shearer approached from inland, his clothes dripping wet, but his face retaining its habitual expression of iron calmness."Anybody caught?" was his first question as he drew near.
"Five men under the face," replied Thorpe briefly.
Shearer cast a glance at the river.He needed to be told no more.
"I was afraid of it," said he."The rollways must be all broken out.It's saved us that much, but the freshet water won't last long.It's going to be a close squeak to get 'em out now.Don't exactly figure on what struck the dam.Thought first I'd go right up that way, but then I came down to see about the boys."Carpenter could not understand this apparent callousness on the part of men in whom he had always thought to recognize a fund of rough but genuine feeling.To him the sacredness of death was incompatible with the insistence of work.To these others the two, grim necessity, went hand in hand.
"Where were you?" asked Thorpe of Shearer.
"On the pole trail.I got in a little, as you see."In reality the foreman had had a close call for his life.Atoughly-rooted basswood alone had saved him.
"We'd better go up and take a look," he suggested."Th' boys has things going here all right."The two men turned towards the brush.
"Hi, Tim," called a voice behind them.
Red Jacket appeared clambering up the cliff.
"Jack told me to give this to you," he panted, holding out a chunk of strangely twisted wood.
"Where'd he get this?" inquired Thorpe, quickly."It's a piece of the dam," he explained to Wallace, who had drawn near.
"Picked it out of the current," replied the man.
The foreman and his boss bent eagerly over the morsel.Then they stared with solemnity into each other's eyes.
"Dynamite, by God!" exclaimed Shearer.
Chapter L
For a moment the three men stared at each other without speaking.
"What does it mean?" almost whispered Carpenter.
"Mean? Foul play!" snarled Thorpe."Come on, Tim."The two struck into the brush, threading the paths with the ease of woodsmen.It was necessary to keep to the high inland ridges for the simple reason that the pole trail had by now become impassable.
Wallace Carpenter, attempting to follow them, ran, stumbled, and fell through brush that continually whipped his face and garments, continually tripped his feet.All he could obtain was a vanishing glimpse of his companions' backs.Thorpe and his foreman talked briefly.
"It's Morrison and Daly," surmised Shearer."I left them 'count of a trick like that.They wanted me to take charge of Perkinson's drive and hang her a purpose.I been suspecting something--they've been layin' too low."Thorpe answered nothing.Through the site of the old dam they found a torrent pouring from the narrowed pond, at the end of which the dilapidated wings flapping in the current attested the former structure.Davis stood staring at the current.
Thorpe strode forward and shook him violently by the shoulder.
"How did this happen?" he demanded hoarsely."Speak!"The man turned to him in a daze."I don't know," he answered.
"You ought to know.How was that 'shot' exploded? How did they get in here without you seeing them? Answer me!""I don't know," repeated the man."I jest went over in th' bresh to kill a few pa'tridges, and when I come back I found her this way.I wasn't goin' to close down for three hours yet, and Ithought they was no use a hangin' around here.""Were you hired to watch this dam, or weren't you?" demanded the tense voice of Thorpe."Answer me, you fool.""Yes, I was," returned the man, a shade of aggression creeping into his voice.
