He turned to direct the boring of some long boom logs in preparation for the chains. Suddenly he whirled again to Wallace with so strange an expression in his face that the young man almost cried out. The uncertain light of the lanterns showed dimly the streaks of rain across his countenance, and, his eye flared with a look almost of panic.
“I never thought of it!” he said in a low voice. “Fool that I am! I don't see how I missed it. Wallace, don't you see what those devils will do next?”
“No, what do you mean?” gasped the younger man.
“There are twelve million feet of logs up river in Sadler & Smith's drive. Don't you see what they'll do?”
“No, I don't believe—”
“Just as soon as they find out that the river is booming, and that we are going to have a hard time to hold our jam, they'll let loose those twelve million on us. They'll break the jam, or dynamite it, or something. And let me tell you, that a very few logs hitting the tail of our jam will start the whole shooting match so that no power on earth can stop it.”
“I don't imagine they'd think of doing that—” began Wallace by way of assurance.
“Think of it! You don't know them. They've thought of everything. You don't know that man Daly. Ask Tim, he'll tell you.”
“Well, the—”
“I've got to send a man up there right away. Perhaps we can get there in time to head them off. They have to send their man over—By the way,” he queried, struck with a new idea, “how long have you been driving piles?”