"Turn off—turn off! He's making straight for the rock!"
He stands poised, with muscles tense, his pole in readiness, his eyes fixed on the whirl about the sunken rock, his knees slightly bent.
A shock—and he springs deftly in air as the heavy log is thrust backward under him—taking his footing again as firmly as before.
"Bravo, bravo! Finely done!"
On again. A few quick, powerful strokes with the pole—and the rock that had been his rival's undoing is safely passed.
"He'll do it! He's the man!" The onlookers were all excitement now.
The speed increases, the lithe figure swaying to either side. A thrust from the left—he springs light-footed to meet it.
Once more his body is bent, his pole held firmly, knees crouching deep—those on the bridge crane their necks to watch.
The next shock comes with a crash that is plainly heard by those upstream; again he springs as the log thrusts back, and comes down neatly as before. A few paces forward to get his balance, then back a step or two like a tight-rope walker.
"That's the way, lad!"