“Well!” burst out North, when they were out of hearing.
“Well!” mimicked Orde with a laugh.
“Are you going to let that old high-banker walk all over you?”
“What are you going to do about it, Tom? It's his dam.”
“I don't know. But you ain't going to let him bang us up here all summer—”
“Sure not. But the wind's shifting. Let's see what the weather's like to-morrow. To-day's pretty late.”
II
The next morning dawned clear and breathless. Before daylight the pessimistic cook was out, his fire winking bravely against the darkness. His only satisfaction of the long day came when he aroused the men from the heavy sleep into which daily toil plunged them. With the first light the entire crew were at the banks of the river.
As soon as the wind died the logs had begun to drift slowly out into the open water. The surface of the pond was covered with the scattered timbers floating idly. After a few moments the clank of the bars and ratchet was heard as two of the men raised the heavy sluice-gate on the dam. A roar of water, momently increasing, marked the slow rise of the barrier. A very imaginative man might then have made out a tendency forward on the part of those timbers floating nearest the centre of the pond. It was a very sluggish tendency, however, and the men watching critically shook their heads.