A. M. Chisholm

“ He reached the dam at the head of a dozen indignant “bully-boys,” and he and Joe tackled McCane.
“You've got to move your logs,” Joe told him again.
“Not till I get ready,” McCane answered as before.
“You think you'll hang our drive, do you?” said MacNutt. “Well, you won't. You get your crew out on them booms at once and go to sluicing.”
McCane merely grinned.
“Get at it!” cried the foreman furiously, and took a step forward.
Rough Shan did not yield an inch.
“If you want a fight you can have it quick,” said he. “Me men have quit me. I can't pay their wages; I'm hung up meself.” ”

“ MacNutt issued private instructions to Cooley and Cottrell. They started upstream, where they were shortly joined by ten more. There they picked up a peakie, and laboriously portaged the heavy boat through the woods well out of sight of the dam, setting it in the water below. With another trip they brought augers, boom-chains and shackles, and a manilla rope. Embarking they ran downstream two miles.
At that point the river ran past the mouth of a backwater, an old channel, now an almost currentless little lake, reedy, with shores of floating bog and bottomed with ooze of unknown depth. ”

“ Not a man made a move, bad or otherwise. Cottrell chose a spot overlooking the packed logs and the sliding water of the sluiceway. There he sat down, rifle on knees, and smoked. He had apparently talked himself out, for he answered Joe's remarks with customary brevity.
In half an hour McCane quit sluicing. He and his crew came ashore and lit their pipes, lounging in the sun. The men from the rear came in and the whole camp rested. This continued all day. It was evident that McCane had a purpose in view. With the fall of night Joe and Cottrell moved down on the dam. ”

“ But McCane and his crew lay around camp. Nobody went out on the booms or touched a log. The Kent drive would soon be running into their rear, and this meant confusion as well as delay. Joe finally left Cottrell on the dam and walked down to the camp.
“See here, McCane,” said he, “you've got to get your logs out of my way. You can't hang me up like this.” ”

“ The crowd stampeded for cover as the bullet whined a foot above their heads. “It's all right—I held high,” he explained. “It'd be just my darn luck to get one o' them little shots in the eye. Now they won't do no more shootin'.” ”