Again he lost his derby. The landscape was a
blur. Dimly he made out the howls of laughter as the outfit passed
a group of rivermen. Then abruptly a ravine yawned before him, and
he let go just in time to save himself a fall. The wanigan,
trailing her rope, drifted away.
Nor did she stop until she had overtaken the jam. There, her
momentum reduced by the closer crowding of the logs, she slowed down
enough so that Newmark and the cookees managed to work her to the
bank and make her fast.
That evening, after the wanigan's crew had accomplished a hard
afternoon's work pitching camp and drying blankets, the first of the
rear drifted in very late after a vain search for camp farther up
stream.
"For God's sake, Charlie," growled one, "it's a wonder you wouldn't
run through to Redding and be done with it."
Whereupon Charlie, who had been preternaturally calm all the
afternoon, uttered a shriek of rage, and with a carving-knife chased
that man out into the brush. Nor would he be appeased to the point
of getting supper until Orde himself had intervened.
"Well," said Orde to Newmark later, around the campfire, "how does
river-driving strike you?"
"It is extremely interesting," replied Newmark.
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