XXIVA DARING RESCUE
The boys were awakened before daylight by the “turning out” of the crew. They found Ben up and ready for breakfast, and, hastening into their clothes, they joined the line of jolly men waiting their turn at the tin wash-basin. Having finally reached it, they completed their toilet and followed Ben into the “grub-shanty.”
The merry meal was soon over, and, with an invitation to come and see them at work, the lumbermen started for the woods and the river. Ned, the foreman, was too busy to give much attention to his guests, and telling the guide where he might find him at work, he quickly followed after his men.
Left alone, Ben and the boys, feeling thoroughly at home, began a closer inspection of the camp. Charley, the cook, came out and joined them, and they found him a quaint and interesting character. He told of his experiences in the lumber woods, and, ofcourse, made a great impression on Ed and George. When they had been sitting there some little time, the guide rose and pointed toward the river.
“They’re running; here comes the head of the drive!” he cried.
Plowing their way swiftly down the current, the boys saw an advance-guard of huge logs. Close behind were others, and as the boys hurried to the water’s edge, they saw the river was dotted with logs as far up as they could look. The majority drifted rapidly past, well out in the middle of the stream. Occasionally, however, one would swerve and bang against the bank, or become temporarily stranded on a sand-bar or pebbly beach.
Suddenly they saw Jim Halliday sweep into view around a turn of the river. He was standing erect on one of the drifting logs, boldly “riding” it down the stream. The boys watched him in wide-eyed amazement as he came gliding along, balancing himself with a long peavey-pole, which he held horizontally. When he was opposite, the “lumber-jack” waved his arm, and they cheered him. Jim skilfully steered the log into a quiet eddy beyond, and, jumping into the water, sent his “wooden horse” down the river and waded briskly ashore.
“That’s what they call log-riding,” explained Ben.
“RIDING” A LOG DOWN THE STREAM
“RIDING” A LOG DOWN THE STREAM
“RIDING” A LOG DOWN THE STREAM
Halliday had been despatched back to camp on an errand, and had taken advantage of the opportunity for his first ride of the season. When he was ready to return up-river, he asked Ben and the boys to accompany him, declaring that there was “a barrel of fun” going on up there.
They followed Jim several miles along a winding river trail, until they came to a large clearing where the men were at work. Here the crew were rolling logs down the steep bank into the water. Strong-armed, quick-footed fellows started a huge log, and then jumped nimbly out of its way as it went bumping down the incline to land in the river. There other men, immersed to their waists, tugged and pushed till they worked it into the current and started it on its long, uncertain course to the distant mill. The great collection of logs extended well back into the woods. As fast as the front ones were moved more were dragged forward by the teams. It was an absorbing scene of bustling activity. As Jim had said, there was plenty of sport. They saw several of the crew pushed from the bank by their frolicsome comrades. The victims always took their ducking good-humoredly,and scrambled from the water determined to retaliate.
Just before noon a long, high-prowed boat, resembling a fisherman’s dory in its general lines, was seen slowly approaching against the current. This was the bateau. Two broad-shouldered fellows were at the oars, and in the bow was another, pole in hand, prepared to fend off drifting logs. In the stern sat no less a personage than Charley, the cook.
At sight of the boat Ned called a halt in the work, and then the real fun began. The men seized each other in rough sport, until almost the whole crew were wrestling about on the ground.
“This way, Charley; bring it up here,” ordered the foreman.
The cook and his three assistants struggled up the bank with the supplies for a hot dinner. Grouped in a circle on the ground, each man was equipped with a tin plate, a knife, a fork, and a spoon, and a large tin bowl which was speedily filled with hot stew. After that came heaping dishes of hot beans and steaming cups of coffee. Like the others, Ben and the boys ate the outdoor meal with keen relish.
As neither Ed nor George had seen a birlingcontest, and had no idea what it was like, Ned arranged one for their benefit.
A large log was towed out into fairly deep water in a near-by eddy of the river. Then Jake Grant, the champion of this particular sport, jumped from the bank and landed on the log. He caught his balance and drove the long, nail-like calks of his shoes deep into the bark. His action was intended as a challenge, or “defi,” to any one to jump on the other end and enter the contest.
There was a cry of “Sandy,” and, amid cheers from his comrades, “Sandy” Donaldson accepted the challenge. Moving their feet up and down together, the men whirled the log over and over beneath them. From time to time one or the other would jam his spiked shoes down hard in an endeavor to stop the log and throw his adversary into the water. First one way, then the other, they spun the log faster and faster. The excitement on shore was intense, for each contestant had his partisans. Once Grant lost his balance for a second, and a wild yell went up. It looked as though his long term of championship was about to end. By wonderful agility he saved himself, and another cheer broke forth.
“Toss him, toss him, Jake!” cried Grant’s friends.
“Bump him off, Sandy; you nearly caught him that time!” yelled the partisans of Donaldson.
Then the experience of the champion came to his aid. He worked backward toward the extreme end of the log, and started it spinning as fast as his nimble feet could work. Donaldson kept stride with him, and those on shore waited in breathless suspense for the outcome of what they believed a clever bit of stratagem.
Suddenly the champion jammed his spikes down hard, and Donaldson tottered. Before he could recover his balance Grant jumped into the air. Instantly his end of the log rose, and that on which his opponent swayed sank—not much, but enough to do the trick—and Donaldson went over backward into the river. Jake was still champion, for he landed squarely on top of the log and waved his hand to the cheering crowd.
“I wouldn’t have missed that for anything,” said Ed, when he had ceased cheering.
“Nor I,” declared George. “Say, we’ll try that some time, Ed. What do you call it, Ben?”
“Birling,” explained the guide.
The cook, who with his crew had waited to see the outcome of the contest, approached Ben and offered to take them back in theboat. That was certainly better than “hiking,” and presently they were gliding swiftly down the river.
That night there was less frolicking in the bunk-house. The first day’s river work had tired the men, and they sat about quietly smoking and telling yarns and singing a few lumbermen’s songs before they turned in.
Next morning they paddled their canoe some distance down-river to see a big restraining boom. They were obliged to dodge floating logs, which dotted the river as far as they could see. A collision would have smashed their light craft. However, Ben kept safely out of the way, and, searching the water far in advance, he chose open channels, down which he piloted them in safety.
They saw many logs which had grounded along the shore, but they learned that these would be all found and set afloat by the “reardrive” men, who followed the last of the logs down the river for that purpose. Occasionally they passed members of the river patrol, who stood on the banks and waved to them as they floated by. Ben pointed out several bark shanties, or lean-tos, in which these men sheltered themselves until the drive was over.
Then, at a narrow place in the river, theysaw a great jagged pile of logs. Others were constantly crashing into it and momentarily adding to the tangle.
“There’s a jam, and a nasty one!” said Ben, carefully working the canoe toward shore. “Wonder if any one is about?”
“Yes, I see a man,” declared George. “There he is, right under the big log that sticks out. Gee whiz! Did you see that one rise right up on end and sail past his head?”
They landed and ran along the bank until they drew near the spot. At the foot of the towering pyramid a red-shirted man was balancing on a slippery log and prying and pulling with all his might in an effort to free the log which was the key of the jam. Each moment he stayed there he was risking death from the grinding, crunching, splintering logs which the river was raising on end and throwing into the pile behind him. Calm and undismayed by his peril, he turned a flushed, perspiring face and called to Ben:
“Hey, run back up the trail a piece, till you see a box nailed to a big white pine. You’ll find a telephone inside. Tell ’em to send some men down here, quick, an’ to stop shovin’ in any more sticks till we git this straightened out.”
Bidding the boys remain where they were, Ben ran up the trail on his important errand. Anxious to help the plucky lumberman, but knowing themselves powerless, the boys, fearful but fascinated, could only stand and watch the reckless worker out there in that inferno of flying logs.
A great black hulk rose from the foaming water, shot into the air, and came straight at him. An exclamation of horror came from the white-faced spectators on shore. His quick eye and alert brain proved equal to the emergency, however, and he jumped back and just escaped being crushed. A cheer sounded from the lads on the bank, and the “lumber-jack” turned and waved his appreciation.
“It’s ‘Shorty’ Brundage, the champion jam-breaker!” cried Ed.
They watched him in awed silence while he went on with his hazardous task. Dodging and climbing, he seemed to escape destruction by simply the luck for which he was noted. Above him towered the great mass of piled logs. Should it give way, he would be buried beneath an avalanche. On each side great logs shot past within reach of his arm. Below, the river caught and tugged at his legs in an effort to sweep him to destruction. Still heworked on, his one thought the breaking of the jam and the clearing of the stream.
Suddenly he slipped, lost his balance, and fell into the swirling, foam-tossed water. They saw him reappear, a long, red streak showing down the side of his pallid face. He made a desperate effort to climb upon the log from which he had fallen; but two floating timbers caught him between them, and with a despairing gesture “Shorty” collapsed. Half in the water, half across one of the logs, he was in peril of being crushed to a pulp by the massive logs which reared themselves from the water and crashed down on all sides of him.
For a moment the boys stood paralyzed with horror. Then they realized that they were standing there without an effort to save the unconscious man. There was one startled glance at the towering log pile, the raging, white-capped water, and the crashing logs. Then their gaze settled on the helpless red-shirted figure in deadly danger. Instantly they made their choice. With white, set faces the lads ran down the bank and along the edge of the racing water toward the jam.
Out along the top of a slippery log they crawled, one behind the other. They dared not stand erect, for fear of falling into theseething, log-studded pool beneath. The noise was terrific. In some places the raging torrent surged above their waists and threatened to sweep them from the log.
“Hold on with your legs!” shouted Ed.
Then a long, spear-like splinter was thrust at him like a lance. He dodged just in time, and the splinter flew over his back. Again and again the whirling logs nearly crushed their legs. But at last only two feet of open water intervened between them and the log on which lay the victim of the jam.
As they were hesitating, the butt of another log was driven into the space and for the moment wedged fast. In an instant Ed had thrown himself across it to the log that supported Brundage. Quickly he crawled to the prostrate figure, and, placing his hands beneath the powerful shoulders, he tried to pull the man from his perilous position. In an instant George reached his side. After much effort they managed, between them, to lift “Shorty” from the water and drag him some distance along the slippery log over which they had come.
No sooner had they removed him than two great logs were lifted by the water and sent crashing down upon the very log across which his unconscious form had lain.
Lifting, pulling, and tugging with all their strength, Ed and George managed, somehow, to crawl over the wet logs, dragging “Shorty” with them. They had many narrow escapes, but at last the bank was reached. Pulling their man up beyond the reach of the angry river, they dropped beside him, too exhausted to move.
Then Ben, who, as he was returning, had seen the whole daring rescue, rushed breathlessly down the bank and hugged both boys in his arms.
“You fellows are the real thing!” he cried to the blushing boys. “You’ve got sand, and you know when to use it. That was one of the pluckiest pieces of work I ever saw done.”
“What’s—the—matter?” asked Brundage, feebly, opening his eyes and staring about him in bewilderment.
“The matter is that the jam came powerful near getting you, ‘Shorty.’ It would have got you, too, only for these young fellows. They got to you, somehow, and, what’s more wonderful, they got back and brought you with them! That splintered log out there, the one with the three big ones lying across it, is the log you were on,” said Ben.
The “lumber-jack” passed his hand weaklyacross his forehead, blinked, and sat up. He beckoned the boys to come close; and when they had done so, he reached up and grasped their hands.
“Much—obliged—pardners,” he said.
They thrilled at the last word. It was the greatest compliment this big, brave man of the woods could have paid them—he had placed them on an equality of manhood with himself.
“What about the jam?” he queried, in a half-dazed manner. “Did you tell them to stop the ‘sticks’?”
“Yes,” Ben assured him, “and Crawford and a picked crew are on their way down. Here they come now.”
Down the middle of the river came the bateau filled with lumbermen. The big foreman was in the bow. Spying the trouble ahead, he bawled his orders to the stalwart oarsmen, and the boat was quickly beached beside the little canoe.
The crew at once leaped out and came running to attack the huge pile of obstructing logs. They were armed with peavey-poles, axes, and steel bars. The boys could hardly keep from cheering these heroes of the river as they rushed forward to grapple with the jam.
“What’s up? Did it get you, ‘Shorty’?” inquired the foreman, bending anxiously over the stricken river-man.
“Pretty nigh got me, Ned,” laughed “Shorty,” feebly. “Guess I’d have gone if it hadn’t been for these lads. They ran out there and got me.”
The lumbermen had gathered about their injured comrade, and as he spoke they turned to the boys. They slapped them affectionately on the back and praised them for their bravery. Then they gave three mighty cheers which roared and echoed up and down the river for a mile.
“Well, let’s sail into it!” yelled Crawford.
His crew went to work with a will, and Ed and George stood by, interested witnesses of the determined onslaught. They saw daring chances taken by reckless men, and several miraculous escapes. The foreman himself led in the perilous work. He it was who, when the pile of logs began to creak and give and totter, stood calmly below them until the last of his crew had jumped to safety. Then, as the jam crumbled and broke, he, too, leaped from under the crash and ran nimbly across the tops of plunging logs to shore.
When the obstacle had been overcome,Crawford despatched a man up the river to the telephone-box, with orders for the crew above to resume operations. It was important that no time should be lost in getting the logs through while the high water lasted. Much against his wishes, “Shorty” was ordered to camp, and a new man was left on watch at the dangerous turn of the river.
Assisted by the boys, Ben paddled the canoe upstream, following in the wake of the bateau. The men in the latter struck up a familiar river song, and the music came drifting back over the water.
“I should think they would be too tired to sing, after what they’ve just been through,” said George.
“They’ve forgotten about it long ago; it’s all part of the day’s work,” laughed Ben.
The boat soon drew away in advance of the canoe. When the occupants of the latter disembarked at the camp, the larger craft had already landed “Shorty” and disappeared up the river.
That night was a gala one in the bunk-house. The whole crew of “lumber-jacks,” having learned of the boys’ gallant rescue of Brundage, came into camp to do them honor. Men arrived from far down the river to have a “look at the youngsters” who had madegood. The merrymaking was shared by all, and there was a general thanksgiving because “Shorty,” the best jam-breaker in the country, had been spared to his crew. Nor was Charley, the cook, to be outdone. When the fun had reached its height, he marched solemnly to the door of the bunk-house and, waving his arm toward the “grub-shanty,” invited them all over for a surprise party.
With loud cheers and whoops of approval, the noisy gathering sat down at the long table laden with good things which the cook and his assistants had prepared for the occasion. There were several rare treats; and when the feast was over, three rousing cheers were given for “the best cooks in the lumber country.”
Big-hearted Ned Crawford and his hospitable crew were for keeping their guests several days longer, but Ben explained that they must leave next day. Warmly seconded by the boys, he thanked the lumbermen for their hospitality and this glimpse of a new life.
Early next morning, when the canoe had been loaded and the departing guests were about to step into it, “Shorty” Brundage came forward and addressed them.
“I’m not much on speeches,” he laughed, nervously, as he grasped the hands of hisrescuers; “but I want you fellows to know that I feel what you did for me. It sure was a white thing to do, and any time I can do anything for you, just call on me like a pardner. I reckon Ben can tell you what that means in this country.”
The lads thanked him, and tried to make light of their exploit. Then they took their places in the canoe, and Ben put away from shore. Charley and his little crew waved their aprons and beat a loud salute on tin pans, and the foreman and some of his men accompanied the departing guests in the bateau as far as the log pile. Here more rousing cheers were given the voyagers, until they rounded a turn of the river and disappeared.
“Well, you fellows have made a hit with that crowd. Your names will be known along this river for a good many years to come,” said Ben, proudly. “How did you enjoy it all, anyway?”
“Ben, I’ve had the time of my life!” declared Ed. “As for the ‘lumber-jacks,’ as you call them, I think they are the manliest, jolliest, best all-round lot of fellows I ever met. As ‘Shorty’ would say, they sure treated us white.”
“They did that,” chimed in George; “andI want to say I have enjoyed it all immensely.”
“Well, I feel some better about having taken you, now, than I did yesterday, when I was running along the river-bank while you were out there below the jam. I want to tell you that you had a mighty close shave, boys, and I’m powerful thankful it turned out as it did,” he added, soberly.