WHEN THE DAM WENT OUT
In the two weeks that had passed since Wingate & Gray started their
operations on the Little Big Branch, wonders had been accomplished. A
modern camp for the lumberjacks had been constructed, and the dam had
been completed to the extent of permitting them to close the gates and
let water accumulate there.
On the day that marked the completion of the work, the Overland girls
arranged to show their appreciation of what the jacks had done by giving
them a surprise party. This party, first suggested as a dinner, after
much discussion was changed to an old-fashioned dancing party, which the
girls thought the men would enjoy more than they would a dinner.
Just before they sat down to their supper, the lumberjacks were
"tipped" to finish the meal as quickly as possible and slick themselves
up, because the Overland party was coming over to call, and Captain Gray
to give them a brief "spiel," as Hippy expressed it in telling the men
to get ready. The jacks received the word without comment; in fact they
received it somewhat sullenly. Hippy, however, knew the lumberjack
tribe by this time--knew their peculiar ways--and told the girls to go
ahead with their plans.
Darkness had settled over the Big North Woods when Hippy rallied his
flock for the party, each girl spruced up for the occasion, Emma Dean's
face wreathed in smiles in anticipation of the good time that was in
prospect. The only member of the outfit who remained behind was the
forest woman, who flatly refused to associate with "them varmints,"
meaning the lumberjacks. Henry, laboring under no such scruples,
followed the Overlanders as they set out for the lumberjacks' shack.
Any unusual activity, especially one that gave promise of food,
instantly aroused Henry's curiosity, so, in this instance, he was close
at the heels of the party when they filed into the bunk-house, where he
nosed about smelling of the bunks, of the tables and sniffing the air,
following which he sat down where he could command a view of the entire
room.
The lumberjacks shook hands awkwardly with their guests, except that
Spike merely made a move to do so, then quickly withdrew his hand and
shoved it into the pocket of his Mackinaw. Hippy acted as master of
ceremonies, and, after waving jacks and guests to seats, cleared his
throat, and made a complimentary speech.
"Captain Gray got stage fright at the last minute and told me that I
must tell you what he wished you to know," he said. "I'm not going to
make a speech, but what I am to say is, that when we get through with
this job Mr. Gray and myself have decided to declare a dividend. That
is, we are going to give each one of you men who started out with us,
and who have done such fine, loyal work, a good-sized cash bonus. I
perhaps don't need to tell you that I never made a speech in my life--so
my friends say--but money is a loud talker; so, at the end of the
season, we'll let money tell you how much we appreciate the good work
you fellows have done."
Henry, who sat blinking at Lieutenant Wingate, at this juncture rolled
over, and, curling up, went to sleep.
"You see," cried Hippy. "Even the bear goes to sleep when I talk." The
men gave three cheers for Wingate & Gray, and three more for the
Overland girls. "Help us get these tables out of the way, you fellows.
We are going to have some music. Speech making is ended."
Nora Wingate was already conferring with the "fiddler." Then, as the
tables were moved to one side, Nora launched into a lively song that she
had sung to the doughboys in France, the fiddler accompanying her on his
violin. There were rough spots in the fiddling, but these Nora submerged
in the great volume of her fine contralto voice. The song finished, the
men howled for more and stamped on the floor. Nora sang again.
"We will now have a dance," announced Grace. "You boys will please act
natural, and for goodness sake don't step on our toes with those hob-nail
boots. Choose your partners."
Not a jack moved.
"Help me haul 'em out, Tom," cried Hippy, yanking a big Canadian to the
floor and standing him up beside Nora Wingate. Tom did a similar service
for another one, and in a few seconds five lumberjacks, red of face,
shifting uneasily on their feet, were standing beside their partners on
the dance floor.
"Hit it up, Mr. Fiddler," called Tom, whereupon the fiddler began sawing
the strings of his violin and calling off for the dance, a square dance,
and soon the crash of hob-nail boots on the board floor made the shack
tremble, the fiddler beating time with his foot.
Had it not been that the Overland girls knew the dance they never could
have followed the fiddler's calls.
"Shinny on the corners," "Gents all forw'd," "Sling yer pardner," "Up
and down the travoy," "Dozey-dozey," "Smash 'em on the finish," was the
way he called off, the latter call bringing the feet of the lumberjacks
down in a series of bangs that threatened the collapse of the floor.
Outside, hovering over a little Indian fire, Willy Horse smoked
stolidly, his ears attuned, not to the music and the shuffling feet, but
to the sounds of nature, and to sounds that did not belong in nature's
scheme of things.
"Let's have a waltz," cried Hippy exuberantly.
Grace shook her head.
"No waltzes," she answered. "Square dances will do very well. The
dancing is rough enough as it is without our being spun to dizziness,"
she added in a lower tone.
"What do you want, Hippy Wingate?" demanded Anne. "This surely is rough
enough work, isn't it? The fellows are doing the best they can, but they
are not used to dancing with women. It is a great party, just the same."
"Can't be beat," agreed Hippy.
"I think Willy is trying to attract your attention," interrupted Miss
Briggs, as she swept past Hippy in the dance.
Glancing towards the door, Lieutenant Wingate saw the Indian framed in
the open doorway. Willy Horse made no sign, but his intent gaze was full
of meaning. Hippy strolled leisurely to the door.
"Evening, Willy. Come in and have a dance or something to eat," greeted
Hippy cordially. In a lower tone he asked, "Anything wrong?"
"Mebby! You come. No speak here."
The Indian turned away, and Hippy followed him casually until well out
of sight of the dancers.
"Now what is wrong?" demanded the Overland Rider in a brisk tone.
"You hear big noise?"
Hippy shook his head.
"Can't hear anything above the smashing of the lumberjacks' boots."
"Me hear. Big noise up river--boom--boom--boom! Listen! What you hear?"
"It sounds like wind in the tops of the trees," answered Hippy after a
moment of listening.
"No wind. Willy know."
"What is it, then?"
"Water! Dam up-river go out. Water come down! Mebby logs come down,
too!"
"What! The dam built by the timber-thieves? It isn't possible. There is
not enough water in the dam to cause the roar I hear."
"Plenty water. You fix gates so dam fill up. You know."
"That's so." Hippy ran down to the river to listen, still doubting
Willy's assertion that the timber-thieves' dam had burst out.
The Indian had followed and stood silently beside his listening
companion, his own ears listening to the distant murmur. Willy, however,
did not need to listen. He knew!
"I don't believe it is water that we hear," muttered Lieutenant Wingate.
"Him water," muttered the Indian. "Moon come up. Good!"
The moon at full, after being hidden from view for nearly a week, rose
above the tops of the trees, thinning the darkness that lay heavy on the
river, the full light not yet having reached the Little Big Branch at
that point. Hippy shaded his straining eyes and gazed upstream. All
seemed peaceful in that direction, but he suddenly realized that the
sound he had heard was increasing in volume. He could now hear a
succession of hollow reports, the meaning of which he could not fathom.
He asked his companion what it meant.
"Logs him jump up in water. Knock together and make big noise."
Hippy suddenly visualized the scene that the Indian's brief words had
pictured.
"Watch it! I'm going for help!" cried Hippy, sprinting for the shack. As
he neared it the familiar sounds of the earlier evening greeted his
ears. The fiddler was still sawing away; the bang of hob-nailed shoes on
the floor of the shack resounded rhythmically, and Hippy thought, as he
ran, of the weariness that the Overland girls must feel after their
strenuous evening of constant dancing with the rough and ready
lumberjacks who knew neither fatigue for themselves nor for their
entertainers.
Reaching the doorway, Hippy caught Tom Gray's eye and beckoned to him.
"Yes?" questioned Tom eagerly as he stepped over to Lieutenant Wingate.
"Willy says the dam has gone out. I can't tell whether it has or not,
but it sounds that way."
"What dam?" demanded Tom Gray.
"That up-river dam of the timber-pirates. You remember we shut the gates
to keep the water below it low while we were driving the spiles for our
dam."
Tom ran out into the open and stood listening. A moment of it was all
that was necessary to tell him what had happened.
"Quick! The gates. We must get our gates open or we're lost!"
The two men sprinted for the river, Tom in the lead, Hippy a close
second. He wondered why he had not thought of the gates, and chided
himself for his stupidity.
"Come fast!" called Willy, referring to the rushing flood that now had
become a sullen roar.
"Call out the jacks. Hurry!" ordered Tom.
Willy flashed away. Tom paused only for an instant to listen and
estimate how much time they had before the flood would be upon them.
"Are you game for it, Hippy?" he demanded.
"For what?"
"To help me get the gates up?"
"Yes."
"Come on then, and watch your footing," shouted Tom, running out on the
top log that formed the cap on top of the spiles. The footing was
slippery, but not ordinarily perilous. Now, in the face of that which
was hurtling down upon them, their undertaking was a desperate one.
Neither had on his spiked boots, which, in a measure, would have aided
them in keeping their footing, and they slipped and stumbled, and
sprawled on all fours again and again.
Being so familiar with the operation of the gates that they had planned
and built, they had no difficulty in finding the gate-levers, but these
were heavy, necessarily so, operating somewhat after the manner of a
sweep in an old-fashioned well.
Tom and Hippy threw themselves upon one of the two big levers that
operated the gates, and began tugging with all their strength. In the
meantime Willy Horse had reached the lumberjacks' bunk-house.
"Dam go out! Water come down!" he shouted to make himself heard. "Big
Boss say come quick."
The fiddler ceased playing, and the dancers gazed at the Indian, not
fully understanding.
"Water come down! Come quick! Run!"
This time they understood. Uttering a shout the jacks burst out through
the narrow doorway, and ran for the river, followed by the Overland
girls on flying feet, and meeting Joe Shafto on the way to the scene of
the disaster.