“They've got 'em stopped,” commented Orde. “Look at that gang working from boats! They haven't a dozen 'cork boots' among 'em.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked Captain Marsh.
“This is a navigable river, isn't it?” replied Orde. “Run through!”
Marsh rang for half-speed and began to nose his way gently through the loosely floating logs. Soon the tug had reached the scene of activity, and headed straight for the slender line of booms hitched end to end and stretching quite across the river.
“I'm afraid we'll just ride over them if we hit them too slow,” suggested Marsh.
Orde looked at his watch.
“We'll be late for the mail unless we hurry,” said he. Marsh whirled the spokes of his wheel over and rang the engine-room bell. The water churned white behind, the tug careened.
“Vat you do! Stop!” cried Heinzman from one of the boats.
Orde stuck his head from the pilot-house door.
“You're obstructing navigation!” he yelled. “I've got to go to town to buy a postage-stamp.”