Now, however, Orde unchained these boom logs. The men pushed them
ashore. There as many as could find room on either side the boom-
poles clamped in their peavies, and, using these implements as
handles, carried the booms some distance back into the woods. Then
everybody tramped back and forth, round and about, to confuse the
trail. Orde was like a mischievous boy at a school prank. When the
last timber had been concealed, he lifted up his deep voice in a
roar of joy, in which the crew joined.
"Now let's turn in for a little sleep," said be.
This situation, perhaps a little cloudy in the reader's mind, would
have cleared could he have looked out over the dam pond the
following morning. The blazed logs belonging to Heinzman, drifting
slowly, had sucked down into the corner toward the power canal
where, caught against the grating, they had jammed. These logs
would have to be floated singly, and pushed one by one against the
current across the pond and into the influence of the sluice-gate.
Some of them would be hard to come at.
"I guess that will keep them busy for a day or two," commented Orde,
as he followed the rear down to where it was sacking below the dam.
This, as Orde had said, would be sufficiently annoying to Heinzman,
but would have little real effect on the main issue, which was that
the German was getting down his logs with a crew of less than a
dozen men.
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