Part 9 (1/2)
One log after another was detached from the disordered ma.s.s and sent whirling off down stream, until at the end of an hour's arduous exertion, the key-piece--that is, the log that had caused all the trouble--was found.
”Now, my boys,” said Johnston to his men, ”get ash.o.r.e as quick as you can. I'll stay and cut out the key-piece.”
The men demurred for a moment. They were reluctant to leave their chief alone in a position of such extreme peril. But he commanded them to go.
”There's only one man wanted,” he said; ”and I'll do it myself. It's no use you risking your lives too.”
So the men obeyed, and returned to the bank to join the group watching Johnston's movements with intense anxiety. They all knew as well as he did the exceeding peril of his position, and not one of them would breathe freely until he had accomplished his task, and found his way safely back to the sh.o.r.e.
CHAPTER XII.
HOME AGAIN.
For so large a man the foreman showed an agility that was really wonderful, as he leaped from log to log with the swiftness and sureness of a chamois. He had been lumbering all his life, and there was nothing that fell to the lumberman's experience with which he was not perfectly familiar. Yet it is doubtful if he ever had a more difficult or dangerous task than that before him now. The ”key-piece” of the jam was fully exposed, and once it was cut in two it would no longer hold the acc.u.mulation of logs together. They would be released from their bondage, and springing forward with the full force of the pent-up current, would rush madly down stream, carrying everything before them.
But what would Johnston do in the midst of this tumult? A few more moments would tell; for his axe was dealing tremendous strokes, before which the key-piece, stout though it was, must soon yield. Ah, it is almost severed. The foreman pauses for an instant and glances keenly around, evidently in order to see what will be his best course of action when the jam breaks. Frank, in an agony of apprehension and anxiety, has sunk to his knees, his lips moving in earnest prayer, while his eyes are fixed on his beloved friend. Johnston's quick glance falls upon him, and, catching the significance of his att.i.tude, his face is irradiated with a heavenly light of love as lie calls out across the boiling current,--
”G.o.d bless you, Frank! Keep praying.”
Then he returns to his work. The keen axe flashes through the air in stroke after stroke. At length there comes a sound that cannot be mistaken. The foreman throws aside his axe and prepares to jump for life; and, like one man, the breathless onlookers shout together as the key-piece rends in two, and the huge jam, suddenly released, bursts away from the rock and charges tumultuously down the river.
If ever man needed the power of prompt decision, it was the foreman then.
To the men on sh.o.r.e there seemed no possible way of escape from the avalanche of logs; and Frank shut his eyes lest he should have to witness a dreadful tragedy. A cry from the men caused him to open them again quickly, and when he looked at the rock it was untenanted--Johnston had disappeared! Speechless with dread, he turned to the man nearest him, his blanched countenance expressing the inquiry he could not utter.
”He's there,” cried the man, pointing to the whirl of water behind the body of logs. ”He dived.”
And so it was. Recognizing that to remain in the way of the jam was to court certain death, the foreman chose the desperate alternative of diving beneath the logs, and allowing them to pa.s.s over him before he rose to the surface. Great was the relief of Frank and the others when, amid the foaming water, Johnston's head appeared, and he struck out to keep himself afloat. But it was evident that he had little strength left, and was quite unable to contend with the mighty current. Good swimmer as he was, the danger of drowning threatened him.
Frank's quick eyes noticed this, and like a flash the fearless boy, not stopping to call any of the others to his aid, bounded down the bank to where the _bonne_ lay upon the sh.o.r.e, shoved her off into deep water, springing in over the bow as she slipped away, and in another moment was whirling down the river, crying out at the top of his voice,--
”I'm coming! I'll save you! Keep up!”
His eager shouts reached Johnston's ears, and the sight of the boat, pitching and tossing as the current swept it toward him, inspired him to renewed exertion. He struggled to get in the way of the boat, and succeeded so well that Frank, leaning over the side as far as he dared, was able to seize his outstretched hand and hold it until he could grasp the gunwale himself with a grip that no current could loosen. A glad shout of relief went up from the men at sight of this, and Frank, having made sure that the foreman was now out of danger, seized the oars and began to ply them vigorously with the purpose of beaching the _bonne_ at the first opportunity. They had to go some distance before this could be done, but Johnston held on firmly, and presently a projecting point was reached, against which Frank steered the boat; and the moment she was aground, he hastened to the stern and helped the foreman ash.o.r.e, the latter having just strength enough left to drag himself out of the water and fall in a limp, dripping heap upon the ground.
”G.o.d bless you, Frank dear,” he said, as soon as he recovered his breath.
”You've saved my life again. I never could have got ash.o.r.e if you hadn't come after me. One of the logs must have hit me on the head when I was diving, for I felt so faint and dizzy when I came up that I thought it was all over with me. But, thank G.o.d, I'm a live man still; and I'm sure it's not for nothing that I've been spared.”
The men all thought it a plucky act on Frank's part to go off alone in the boat to the foreman's rescue, and showered unstinted praise upon him; all of which he took very quietly, for, indeed, he felt quite sufficiently rewarded in that his venture was crowned with success. The exciting incident of course threw everybody out in their work, and when they returned to it they found that the logs had taken advantage of their being left uncared for to play all sorts of queer pranks and run themselves aground in every conceivable fas.h.i.+on.
But the river drivers did not mind this very much. The hated Black Rapids were pa.s.sed, and the rest of the Kippewa was comparatively smooth sailing. So, with song and joke, they toiled away until all their charges were afloat again and gliding steadily onward toward their goal.
Thenceforward they had little interruption in their course; and Frank found the life wonderfully pleasant, drifting idly all day long in the _bonne_, and camping at night beside the river, the weather being bright, and warm, and delightful all the time.
So soon as the Kippewa rolled its burden of forest spoils out upon the broad bosom of the Ottawa--the Grand River, as those who live beside its batiks love to call it--the work of the river drivers was over. The logs that had caused them so much trouble were now handed over to the care of a company which gathered them up into ”tows,” and with powerful steamers dragged them down the river until the sorting grounds were reached, where they were turned into the ”booms” to await their time for execution--in other words, their sawing up.
Frank felt really sorry when the driving was over. He loved the water, and would have been glad to spend the whole summer upon it. He was telling Johnston this as they were talking together on the evening of the last day upon the Kippewa. Johnston had been saying to him how glad he must be that the work was all over, and that they now could go over to the nearest village and take the stage for home. But Frank did not entirely agree with him.
”I'm not anxious to go home by stage,” said he. ”I'd a good deal rather stick to the river. I think it's just splendid, so long as the weather's fine.”