The young man came ashore. "Mind if I lose the axe?" he asked the foreman.
"Lose a dozen and welcome, if you can get it clear. Better than losing two hours' work for fifteen men."
"Right. Give me an axe, somebody."
"'Tis fooling with death," cried one in the crowd. "Don't let him go."
"How d'you reckon to get back?" asked the foreman.
"Upstream at first, and come down after, when it clears."
"'Tis a mad trick," muttered the men.
"I'm not telling him to go, but I won't forbid him," said the foreman, with emphasis. "And if 'twas any other man I'd not let him try, but when Olof says he'll do a thing it's safe enough to be done. Sure you can do it, lad?"
"Sure as can be. Where's the axe?"
He took the axe, and his pole, and balanced his way across to the rock, gliding like a shadow, up and down as the piled stems led.