He sees a
cluster of logs gather and climb, and still gather and climb, and between
him and that cluster is a rolling waste of timber, round and square.
Suddenly, a being with a red shirt, with loose prairie kind of hat, knee-
boots, having metal clamps, strikes out from the shore, running on the
tops of the moving logs till he reaches the jam. Then the pike-pole, or
the lever, reaches the heart of the difficulty, and presently the jam
breaks, and the logs go tumbling into the main, while the vicious-looking
berserker of the water runs back to the shore over the logs, safe and
sound. It is a marvel to the spectator, that men should manipulate the
river so. To him it is a life apart; not belonging to the life he lives
-a passing show.
It was a stark surprise of the river which makes this story possible.
There was a strike at Bunder's Boom--as it was called--between Bunder and
Grier's men. Some foreman of Grier's gang had been needlessly offensive.
Bunder had been stupidly resentful. When Grier's men had tried to force
his hand also, he had resisted. It chanced that, when an impasse seemed
possible to be broken only by force, a telegram came to John Grier at
Montreal telling him of the difficulty. He lost no time in making his
way northwards.
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