THE RIOT OF THE LOGS
"We'll have to be quick!" shouted Tom to make himself heard above the
roaring of the waters. "Beardown hard!"
"I can't. I'm slipping!" gasped Hippy.
"The gates are moving! Keep it up!"
The two men struggled and fought, gaining a few inches at a time but not
enough to permit the jam of logs that was rushing down the stream to
pass through the gates in the flood.
At this juncture the Overland girls and the jacks came running down the
bank. They saw the two men struggling with the gates, and at the same
instant they saw something else. In the reflected light of the moon,
they saw a white crest sweeping around a bend in the river, hurling logs
into the air, which came tumbling and shooting ahead like huge black
projectiles. A warning scream from the girls was unheard by either of
the struggling men. A dozen lumberjacks leaped to the cap-log to go to
the assistance of Tom and Hippy, who they knew were in great peril.
"Come back! Boys, come back! You can't help them now," cried Grace in an
agony of apprehension.
"The fools! Why don't they run?" raged Joe Shafto, and the pet bear
growled in sympathy with her at the unusual sounds.
It was a terrifying moment for those who could do no more than stand
helplessly watching. The jacks by this time were well out on the
cap-log, with Willy Horse in the lead and red-headed Spike close at his
heels. They were suddenly halted by a report that sounded like an
explosion of heavy artillery.
An advance log, rushing straight towards the gates, swerved when within
a few feet of them, and, rearing half its dripping length, hurled itself
against the gate-lever at which Hippy and Tom were tugging.
Both saw the giant rise from the boiling flood.
"Too late! Save your--" Tom did not finish. Hippy and Tom at that
instant were catapulted into the air, hurled by the gate-lever, and fell
into the river below the dam with a splash.
Without an instant's hesitation, Willy Horse, followed by Spike, leaped
to the rescue, knowing well that only a few seconds lay between them and
the cataract of logs that was about to tumble over into the Little Big
Branch below the dam.
The rest of the jacks hesitated only for an instant, then they too
leaped into the river and made their way towards Tom and Hippy, both of
whom were unconscious. Willy Horse grabbed up Hippy with apparent ease,
and raised him to his own back just as he would shoulder a dead deer.
"Git Big Boss!" he shouted, and began struggling shoreward with his
burden.
In the meantime Spike had sprung to Tom Gray, but despite his great
strength he did not succeed in shouldering Tom.
"Give a hand here!" he bellowed.
The lumberjacks reached him at this juncture and, together, Spike and
his companions brought the unconscious man towards the shore.
Then the spiling gave way under the strain that for several minutes had
been put upon it, and the dam went out with a crash and a roar,
accompanied by a series of terrifying explosions.
It would have been an awesome sight to the Overland Riders had not their
attention, at that moment, been centered on the lumberjacks. The jacks
reached the shore only a few seconds before the structure gave way and
the logs, hurtled into the air, fell splashing into the flood below the
dam. Hippy and Tom were borne up the bank and laid on the ground.
"Are--are they dead?" gasped Emma.
"No," answered Miss Briggs, who had placed a finger on the pulse of
each.
"Please carry them to the bunk-house," directed Grace in a strained
voice, after Willy Horse had run quick fingers over the heads of the two
victims.
"Big Friends bump heads! Much all right soon, mebby," he grunted,
walking along beside Hippy as the jacks started with him and Tom towards
the house.
It was but a short time after their arrival there, however, when both
regained consciousness. Neither Tom nor Hippy knew whether they had been
hit by the log that struck the gate-lever, or whether they had been made
unconscious by their fall into the water. Both came to in a severe chill
and were put to bed in the bunk-house, warmed with hot drinks and
blankets, and soothed until they fell asleep.
The lumberjacks stood about awkwardly, and the Indian hovered near, his
stolid face reflecting no emotion. Spike was the only jack present who
apparently was indifferent to the scene. At midnight Willy motioned to
the girls to go.
"Me watch. Big Friends wake up morning. No sick," he said.
"Willy's suggestion is a good one," agreed Elfreda. "There is little the
matter with either except shock and exhaustion. Let's go!"
Grace nodded.
"Boys, we thank you very much," she said, turning to the lumberjacks.
"Mr. Wingate and Mr. Gray would have lost their lives had it not been,
for you and Willy. They will not forget. Neither shall we. Good-night."
At dawn when Hippy awakened, Willy Horse was still sitting by him,
puffing his pipe.
"Dam go out," observed the Indian between puffs.
"So I heard it rumored," yawned Hippy.
"Big Friend go out."
"Seems to me that I heard something about that too. How is Captain
Gray?"
"Other Big Friend all right."
"Are the jacks awake?" asked Hippy.
"Git up now."
"Tell them to come here."
When the half-dressed lumberjacks came over to his cot, Hippy eyed them
sternly.
"You're a fine bunch of ladies' men, aren't you? Dance the light
fantastic while your bosses are trying to save the dam."
The jacks grinned sheepishly.
"What are you loafing around here for? Why don't you get out and start
work on a new dam? You needn't think a little thing like a busted dam is
going to stop Wingate & Gray. Go on now! You know what to do. We two are
the only ones who've got a right to be lazy this morning. Wait a
moment! Come back here!" commanded Hippy as his men started to go away.
"I take back what I said. You aren't ladies' men at all. You are a bunch
of confounded rough-necks. Shake paws!" Hippy put out a hand, but was
sorry for it afterwards, for the bear-like grips of the lumberjacks
left it a "pulp," as Hippy Wingate expressed it.
Work on a new dam was begun that very day. Tom and Hippy, though lame
and sore, and, at odd moments, a little dizzy, were at the dam all day
long directing the work of clearing away the wreck while part of their
force cut fresh spiles in the woods. The lumberjacks, wet to the skin,
worked with tremendous force and to good purpose, for the organization
that Tom Gray had developed and systematized, was as near a perfectly
working machine as it was humanly possible to make it.
Day after day the work progressed, but despite their best endeavors two
weeks and a half had passed before the gates were again lowered to test
the new dam's power to resist a full head of water. Several days more
were required to fill the dam until the surplus water toppled over the
"dashboard."
For another twenty-four hours the dam was watched for indications of
weakness, but none developed. Now that the big work was completed Tom
and Hippy journeyed to the wrecked dam of the timber-pirates. They
examined what was left of it with great care. Finishing their
investigation, the two men looked at each other with eyes full of
meaning.
"Well, what do you think of it?" questioned Hippy.
"I think, Hip, that it was something more than structural weakness that
caused this dam to go out," answered Tom.
"What do you think did it--I mean how was it done?" wondered Lieutenant
Wingate.
"Dynamite!" The word came out with explosive force. "The pirates don't
like our presence here, so thought they would put us out of business.
They didn't know us, did they, Hippy?"
"No. I wonder what they will think now--or do?"
"Nothing in the way of damaging our property, for we shall have our
works watched after this. They might blow the upper dam, of course, but
there are no logs being held there and the water would simply flow over
our construction without doing damage. We must tell Willy what we
suspect and assign him to guard duty. An Indian can sleep and yet be on
watch."
"Like Hindenburg, who always sleeps with one ear awake," suggested
Hippy.
"But never hears anything with it," laughed Tom. "We'll see."
Later in the day when Tom spoke confidentially with the Indian about
what the Overlanders suspected, Willy evinced no surprise. He nodded in
agreement with Tom that the new dam must be guarded.
It was. Willy slept near it in a lean-to down near the river. For
several nights nothing occurred to indicate that there was anyone within
miles of the camp. By day Willy hunted, often not coming in until after
dark. It was on a Saturday night, however, that Willy failed to reach
camp until nearly midnight. On his back he bore the carcass of a young
deer that he had shot and dressed miles from the Overland headquarters
on the bank of the Little Big Branch. He was nearly in when suddenly he
raised his body to an erect position, listened for a few seconds, then
dropped his burden and sprinted for home.
The Overlanders long since had turned in and the lumberjacks were in
their bunks, comfortable, and as happy as a lumberjack permits himself
to be, when suddenly their bunk-house seemed to be lifted free of the
ground. It swayed and trembled as a terrific crash rent the air. The
tepee toppled over at the same instant, leaving the Overland girls lying
in the open. Tom and Hippy, at the time asleep in their lean-to, which
was a few yards nearer the river, never were able to decide whether they
had been hurled from their beds or had leaped out before they were fully
awake. At least, they found themselves outdoors, and some yards from the
lean-to.
"For the love of Mike, what now?" gasped Hippy.
Hindenburg was running about in circles, uttering dismal howls, and the
pet bear was scrambling for the top of the highest tree in his vicinity.
"It's the dam!" shouted Tom Gray. "They've got us this time!" growled
Tom, starting down the bank, followed by Hippy and the yowling bull pup.
Hippy saw a figure running from the bank of the river a little further
upstream. It was a man, and he was running in short hops, as if he were
using a stick or cane to assist him in covering ground rapidly.
Behind the fleeing man Tom and Hippy discovered a second figure. It was
Willy Horse. The first figure, as the two Overlanders started for him at
a run, had dashed out over the broken and bent spiles of the dam,
hopping from one spile to another with remarkable agility, with Willy
Horse in close pursuit.
The hopping man, reaching the end of the spiles at the middle of the
dam, halted, hesitated, and the Indian was upon him.
"It's Peg Tatem!" cried Hippy. "He's the scoundrel who did this thing."
A knife in Peg's hand flashed in the moonlight, another appearing in the
hand of the Indian, and out there on their precarious footing the men
stood, thrusting and parrying, with their two-edged blades, watched with
breathless interest by the entire Overland party, who had rushed to the
river's edge.
A sudden uproar was heard in the direction of the bunk-house. The
lumberjacks having discovered that a fight was in progress were running
towards the river to see if they too could not get into the fray, for a
lumberjack loves nothing in the world so violently as he loves a fight.
"Keep out of it!" ordered Tom as he saw that the jacks were headed for
the path that Peg and Willy had taken.
"Tom! Do something!" begged Grace. "Don't let those two men kill each
other."
"We can do nothing. Even to call to Willy would take his attention from
the battle. You know what that would mean."
"Oh-h-h-h-h!" moaned Emma, toppling over in a faint.
"Oh, Heavens! Look!" wailed Anne.
One of the combatants staggered and swayed. An arm was thrust out at
him, but the blade that had been driven against him did not flash in
the moonlight, for the body of the wielder was between it and the
spectators. Even the jacks stood silent, they having halted at Tom
Gray's command, but their breathing was heavily audible.
"He's killed! It's Peg!" cried Grace.
The Indian's victim, following the last thrust, had toppled over into
the river below the dam. With a bound, Willy Horse cleared the spiling
and leaped to the river bed to finish his victim.
"Willy! Stop!" Grace Harlowe's voice rang out shrill and penetrating, as
Willy, the savage instincts of his race having taken possession of his
soul, raised his knife-hand above Peg Tatem, who lay on his back on the
river-bed.