He pulls off his red coat. "Seeing I've lost my hat, I can do without a jacket." A blue shirt shows up on the raft; he picks out a fresh log, thrusts it angrily under the boom, and comes floating down towards the bridge.
"Now you can stare till you think you'll know me again."
Not a sound from those on the bridge.
The log shoots down, the man stands erect, and passes proudly under the gaze of all. He plies his pole to the right, and the log swerves a little to the opposite side—the first obstacle is safely passed, though it almost cost him his footing again.
"Aha! He's on his guard this time! Maybe he'll do it, after all!"
"Well, he said you'd know him again!" Redjacket's party are recovering confidence.
The log hurries on, the man balancing carefully with his pole.
Nearing the second rock now—the figure crouches down and steps a little back. A sudden shock, a crash—his pole has broken, and the blue shirt disappears in the rapids.
"Look! Right down there! He'll never get ashore this time." The onlookers crowd together, straining to see.
The blue shirt comes into view for a moment.