‘THE RAFT RIVALS.’
“The last log of Thériault’s ‘drive,’ not counting a few sticks hopelessly ‘hung up’ on far-off Squatook Shoals, had been captured in the amber eddies of the Lower Basin below Grand Falls, and had been safely pinned into the great raft which was just about to start on its leisurely voyage down the river to the shrieking saws of Fredericton.
“‘This ’ere’s as purty a site fur pinnin’ up a raft as ever I sot eyes on!” remarked Ben Smithers, thrusting his hand into his gray-blue homespun breeches for his fig of ‘black-jack.’
“Ben was sitting on a rock near the water’s edge. No one made answer to his remark, which was perhaps regarded as too obvious to call for comment. Presently a large black dog, as if unwilling that any grain of wisdom should drop from his master’s lips unheeded, thrust his head into Ben’s lap, and uttered a short bark.
“For perhaps half an hour Ben Smithers and his fellows sat on the shore or lounged about the raft, smoking and whittling, and not one complained of the delay. The rafts which Thériault had already despatched down the river, each requiring two or three hands to navigate it through the rapids, had thinned the numbers of the drive down to not more than ten men, all of whom were bound for Fredericton on this very raft.
“Presently one of the hands took the pipe from his mouth, tapped it gently on a log to remove the ashes, and remarked, ‘Here they be!’
“A wagon was descending the precipitous road which led from the unseen village to the beach. An apprehensive looking horse between the shafts hung back warily upon the breeching, and a red-shirted lumberman clung doggedly to one of the wheels. At the anxious horse’s head trudged a boy; and behind or beside the wagon, as pleased her fancy, there danced a five-year-old child, her long yellow hair and bright pink frock making her look like some strange kind of butterfly.
“As their eyes fell on the little creature a grin of rough tenderness flashed out on the faces of the gang. Little Mame Thériault, who came with this wagon-load of supplies for the gang, and who was to accompany the raft down the river, at once became the pet of the drive. Her father, a young widower, took her wherever it was possible, and her baby hands were dispensers of gentleness throughout the roughest gangs.
“Only Jake, the dog, refused his tribute of homage. Jake’s heart was sore within him, for he was jealous of little Mame.
“Jake was a dog among ten thousand. He possessed countless accomplishments, and was ever athirst to learn more. His intelligence was such that ‘cute as Jake’ had become a current phrase of compliment with Ben Smithers and his comrades. Wholly devoted to his master, he was at the same time hail-fellow-well-met with all hands.