This at first he succeeded in doing; and very successfully as affecting the pressure on the jam below. The first logs came scattering. Then in a little while the surface of the river was covered with them; they shouldered each other aside in their eagerness to outstrip the rushing water; finally they crowded down more slowly, hardly able to make their way against the choking of the river banks, but putting forth in the very effort to proceed a tremendous power. To the crew working in the channel dredged through to Steam's Bayou the affair was that of driving a rather narrow and swift stream, only exaggerated. By quick and skilful work they succeeded in keeping the logs in motion. A large proportion of the timbers found their way into the bayou. Those that continued on down the river could hardly have much effect on the jam.
The work was breathless in its speed. From one to another sweat-bathed, panting man the logs were handed on. As yet only the advance of the big jam had arrived at the dredged channel.
Orde looked about him and realised this.
“We can't keep this up when the main body hits us,” he panted to his neighbour, Jim Denning. “We'll have to do some more pile-driver work.”
He made a rapid excursion to the boom camp, whence he returned with thirty or forty of the men who had given up work on the jam below.
“Here, boys,” said he, “you can at least keep these logs moving in this channel for a couple of hours. This isn't dangerous.”
He spoke quite without sarcastic intent; but the rivermen, already over their first panic, looked at each other a trifle shamefacedly.
“I'll tie into her wherever you say,” said one big fellow. “If you fellows are going back to the jam, I'm with you.”
Two or three more volunteered. The remainder said nothing, but in silence took charge of the dredged channel.
Orde and his men now returned to the jam where, on the pile-driver, the tugs, and the booms, they set methodically to strengthening the defences as well as they were able.