Then Orde, bareheaded and
dishevelled, strung to a high excitement, but cool as a veteran
under fire, began to be harassed by annoyances. The piles provided
for the drivers gave out. Newmark left, ostensibly to purchase
more. He did not return. Tom North and Jim Denning, their eyes
burning deep in their heads for lack of sleep, came to Orde holding
to him symbolically their empty hands.
"No more piles," they said briefly.
"Get 'em," said Orde with equal brevity. "Newmark will have enough
here shortly. In the meantime, get them."
North and his friend disappeared, taking with them the crews of the
drivers and the two tugs. After an interval they returned towing
small rafts of the long timbers. Orde did not make any inquiries;
nor until days later did he see a copy of the newspaper telling how
a lawless gang of rivermen had driven away the railroad men and
stolen the railroad's property. These piles lasted five or six
hours. Tom North placed and drove them accurately and deliberately,
quite unmindful of the constant danger. A cold fire seemed to
consume the man, inflaming his courage and his dogged obstinacy.
Once a wing of the jam broke suddenly just as his crew had placed a
pile in the carrier.
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