Sergeant Silk's pipe glowed very bright.
"For me?" he smiled, looking up.
"Why, yes," returned Dan, standing in front of him. "There never was any Corporal Pretty John in the Force. You just gave yourself that fancy name to put me off the scent, and the yarn has been about yourself all the time."
CHAPTER XV
THE GREAT JAM AT STONE PINE RAPIDS
Every one who saw it declared that it was the pluckiest thing that Sergeant Silk had ever done. He himself did not consider it an extraordinary thing to do. But, then, a man is seldom the best judge of his own bravery.
The incident occurred at the logging camp at Stone Pine Rapids, where some hundreds of men—lumber-jacks, hook-tenders, buckers, and snipers—were engaged in the work of driving an immense procession of forest logs down the stream.
The camp was at a sharp bend of the river, and the rafts had become hopelessly jammed. They had been jammed for the best part of a week, and crowds of river men had gathered from far and near to give help in the difficult task of dislodging the obstinate barrier of floating timber that filled and choked the narrow throat of the waterway.