The last month of hauling was also one of snow.In this condition were few severe storms, but each day a little fell.By and by the accumulation amounted to much.In the woods where the wind could not get at it, it lay deep and soft above the tops of bushes.The grouse ate browse from the slender hardwood tips like a lot of goldfinches, or precipitated themselves headlong down through five feet of snow to reach the ground.Often Thorpe would come across the irregular holes of their entrance.Then if he took the trouble to stamp about a little in the vicinity with his snowshoes, the bird would spring unexpectedly from the clear snow, scattering a cloud with its strong wings.The deer, herded together, tramped "yards" where the feed was good.Between the yards ran narrow trails.When the animals went from one yard to another in these trails, their ears and antlers alone were visible.On either side of the logging roads the snow piled so high as to form a kind of rampart.When all this water in suspense should begin to flow, and to seek its level in the water-courses of the district, the logs would have plenty to float them, at least.
So late did the cold weather last that, even with the added plowing to do, the six camps beat all records.On the banks at Camp One were nine million feet; the totals of all five amounted to thirty-three million.About ten million of this was on French Creek; the remainder on the main banks of the Ossawinamakee.Besides this the firm up-river, Sadler & Smith, had put up some twelve million more.
The drive promised to be quite an affair.
About the fifteenth of April attention became strained.Every day the mounting sun made heavy attacks on the snow: every night the temperature dropped below the freezing point.The river began to show more air holes, occasional open places.About the center the ice looked worn and soggy.Someone saw a flock of geese high in the air.Then came rain.
One morning early, Long Pine Jim came into the men's camp bearing a huge chunk of tallow.This he held against the hot stove until its surface had softened, when he began to swab liberal quantities of grease on his spiked river shoes, which he fished out from under his bunk.
"She's comin', boys," said he.
He donned a pair of woolen trousers that had been chopped off at the knee, thick woolen stockings, and the river shoes.Then he tightened his broad leather belt about his heavy shirt, cocked his little hat over his ear, and walked over in the corner to select a peavey from the lot the blacksmith had just put in shape.A peavey is like a cant-hook except that it is pointed at the end.Thus it can be used either as a hook or a pike.At the same moment Shearer, similarly attired and equipped, appeared in the doorway.The opening of the portal admitted a roar of sound.The river was rising.
"Come on, boys, she's on!" said he sharply.
Outside, the cook and cookee were stowing articles in the already loaded wanigan.The scow contained tents, blankets, provisions, and a portable stove.It followed the drive, and made a camp wherever expediency demanded.
"Lively, boys, lively!" shouted Thorpe."She'll be down on us before we know it!"Above the soft creaking of dead branches in the wind sounded a steady roar, like the bellowing of a wild beast lashing itself to fury.The freshet was abroad, forceful with the strength of a whole winter's accumulated energy.
The men heard it and their eyes brightened with the lust of battle.
They cheered.
Chapter XLVI
At the banks of the river, Thorpe rapidly issued his directions.
The affair had been all prearranged.During the week previous he and his foremen had reviewed the situation, examining the state of the ice, the heads of water in the three dams.Immediately above the first rollways was Dam Three with its two wide sluices through which a veritable flood could be loosened at will; then four miles farther lay the rollways of Sadler & Smith, the up-river firm; and above them tumbled over a forty-five foot ledge the beautiful Siscoe Falls; these first rollways of Thorpe's--spread in the broad marsh flat below the dam--contained about eight millions; the rest of the season's cut was scattered for thirty miles along the bed of the river.
Already the ice cementing the logs together had begun to weaken.
The ice had wrenched and tugged savagely at the locked timbers until they had, with a mighty effort, snapped asunder the bonds of their hibernation.Now a narrow lane of black rushing water pierced the rollways, to boil and eddy in the consequent jam three miles below.
To the foremen Thorpe assigned their tasks, calling them to him one by one, as a general calls his aids.
"Moloney," said he to the big Irishman, "take your crew and break that jam.Then scatter your men down to within a mile of the pond at Dam Two, and see that the river runs clear.You can tent for a day or so at West Bend or some other point about half way down; and after that you had better camp at the dam.Just as soon as you get logs enough in the pond, start to sluicing them through the dam.
You won't need more than four men there, if you keep a good head.
You can keep your gates open five or six hours.And Moloney.""Yes, sir."
"I want you to be careful not to sluice too long.There is a bar just below the dam, and if you try to sluice with the water too low, you'll center and jam there, as sure as shooting."Bryan Moloney turned on his heel and began to pick his way down stream over the solidly banked logs.Without waiting the command, a dozen men followed him.The little group bobbed away irregularly into the distance, springing lightly from one timber to the other, holding their quaintly-fashioned peaveys in the manner of a rope dancer's balancing pole.At the lowermost limit of the rollways, each man pried a log into the water, and, standing gracefully erect on this unstable craft, floated out down the current to the scene of his dangerous labor.
