As the low marshes and cat-tails flew past,
Orde noted with satisfaction that many of the logs, urged one side
by the breeze, had found lodgment among the reeds and in the bayous
and inlets. One at a time, and painfully, these would have to be
salvaged.
In a short time the mills' tall smokestacks loomed in sight. The
logs thickened until it was with difficulty that Captain Marsh could
thread his way among them at all. Shortly Orde, standing by the
wheel in the pilot-house, could see down the stretches of the river
a crowd of men working antlike.
"They've got 'em stopped," commented Orde. "Look at that gang
working from boats! They haven't a dozen 'cork boots' among 'em."
"What do you want me to do?" asked Captain Marsh.
"This is a navigable river, isn't it?" replied Orde. "Run through!"
Marsh rang for half-speed and began to nose his way gently through
the loosely floating logs. Soon the tug had reached the scene of
activity, and headed straight for the slender line of booms hitched
end to end and stretching quite across the river.
"I'm afraid we'll just ride over them if we hit them too slow,"
suggested Marsh.
Orde looked at his watch.
"We'll be late for the mail unless we hurry," said he.
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