"Aye, yesterday the creek was full of floating timber and we stuck on a sand bar. There were no rafts behind to shove us off and we had to wait for a greater flood. We wouldn't have stuck if Tom, there, hadn't lost his head."
Tom, a great hulking fellow, looked a trifle sheepish.
"You see," continued Hugh Lark, "I was up at the crosscut and in making the bend, I was just gitting the raft pinted when he was afraid we'd strike and tear up. He bellowed like a bull, 'We'll strike, we'll tear up, some un run out a rope and tie up.'"
"It war pretty nigh striking, though," muttered Tom, in some apology.
"Nonsense! Why, there were fully fifteen feet of water on either side. How could we strike or even run out and tie up when we had nothing to run on but water? The rain had stopped for an hour or two and we were getting on fine. The flood was a-carrying us on with a good speed. The banks were slipping by as if they were running the other way. The front men were dipping occasionally, but they hung on to the oar. Then come the bend. I could see it a hundred yards before we come to it, the water a-swirling and a-twisting like a yallow ribbon and then disappearing from sight behind the trees. 'Left, men, left,' I shouted. Then Tom lost his head. He let go the oar, and the oar being too much for the other chaps, and being afeared of being yanked into the flood they let go too, and the next minute came the thud of grounding. I saw that it was a-coming and braced myself, hanging on to the oar. But the fellows in front, how they tumbled! They were around Tom in the centre, a-galleyhooting and shouting. I never had such a crew of numbskulls. When the grounding came they tumbled over each other like nine-pins."
Supper was announced and the hungry raftsmen wended their way to the eating department, a plain long room, ceiled with pine, and adorned with sundry prints of "Babes in The Wood," and "Red Riding Hood." The table was a heavy wooden affair, evidently the result of home labour; the provisions with which it was plentifully laden were of the class found in every woodsman's home, viz., pork, beans, corn bread, burr-wheat bread, and home-made syrup.
A split log, the level side up, the rounded side down, into which were inserted several hickory legs, served in lieu of chairs, and seated upon this, the hungry raftsmen fell to with a will.
Meantime the public room was occupied by the tavern keeper and Professor Bill Banks. Professor Bill was apparently thirty years of age. He had a high forehead, blue eyes, a mass of dark hair overhanging his ears, and a prominent Roman nose. The nose seemed to give great strength to his features, as also did his chin. He was clad in the customary tail coat, tight pantaloons with straps, neckerchief, and over all towered his tall "nail keg" silk hat. Professor Bill was attired for a special occasion. He was going to visit, ostensibly, the father of a certain rustic damsel, and had stepped in for his mail. The talk with the pilot nettled him, for in an argument he liked to show his superiority, as he was the recognised great man of letters in the place. The talk was not the only thing that disturbed and ruffled his feelings. His horse had inadvertently stepped into a washout on the road, and had fallen so lame that it was utterly impossible for him to proceed.
"Hear of Big Paddy's accident?" asked the tavern keeper, wishing to promote a better feeling.