They found the men gathered by the remnants of the dam. The wings of the structures sagged forlornly, and through the wrecked centre the stream poured over a rocky bed. The débris had been swept downstream by the rush of released water, and the ruin was beautifully complete. The cause of its going out must remain speculation merely.
“What’s the best thing to do?” Joe asked MacNutt.
“Ward,” said MacNutt, “you hike. Bring every man here, a-jumping. Load up a peakie with tools, blocks and tackle and dynamite and run her down river somehow. Load up another with tents, blankets, and grub, and tell the cook to bring her down. Camp is here till we move the logs. Get a move on you, now!”
“There’s only one thing to do,” he continued to Kent. “The dam has got to be put in again. There’s no fall to speak of, and four foot of water will float the best part of the logs. The rest we’ll have to sack out. It means a week, but we can’t help it.”
Regan, who after examining the wreck narrowly had taken to the bank, appeared above them. He carried a piece of timber, twisted and riven. This he dumped down before the boss.
“Found her back in the brush,” said he. “They used powder. I knowed that dam never went out by herself.”
“The infernal scoundrels!” said Joe.
Regan looked at him hopefully. “I seen an Injun yesterday. He says McCane’s drive is jammed near the mouth of Lebret. Say the word, boss, an’ we’ll mosey over an’ half murder every mother’s son of them!”
“Thank you, Regan, but I can’t say it,” said Joe. “I have to get these logs out. If I don’t get them I bust. Tell the boys that.”
The men began to arrive. MacNutt divided them into gangs and set them to work staying and shoring the remnants of the dam. Slight progress was made that day. The wanegan was looted and the peakies—a peakie is a flat-bottomed, double-ended river boat—made trip after trip, drawn by men wading in the shallows, until sufficient supplies were transferred to the camp by the dam.