THE GREAT SPRING DRIVE.
At the sight of Frank's fall the three men gave a simultaneous shout of
alarm that caused the bear to halt for a moment in his fierce pursuit,
and lifting his head to look angrily in the direction from which the
sound had come. This action saved the helpless boy--striving to regain
his feet only a yard from death. The instant the creature's broad breast
was exposed, Johnston threw his rifle to his shoulder, and without
waiting to take aim, but ejaculating a fervent "Help me, O God!" pulled
the trigger. The report of the rifle rang out sharp and clear, the heavy
bullet sped through the air straight to its mark, and with it embedded in
his heart the mighty animal, leaving untouched the boy at his feet, made
a mad bound across his body to reach the assailant who had given him his
death wound.
But it was a vain though gallant attempt. Ere he was half-way to the
foreman, he staggered and rolled over upon the snow, and before he could
lift himself again the men were upon him, and Laberge, swinging his keen
axe high in the air, brought it down with a mighty blow upon the brute's
slanting forehead, letting daylight into his brain. Not even a bear could
survive such a stroke, and without a struggle the creature yielded up its
life.
Instantly the foreman sprang to Frank's side and lifted him upon his
feet.
"My dear boy!" he cried, his face aflame with anxious love, as he clasped
Frank passionately in his arms, "are you hurt at all? Did he touch you?"
What between his previous exertions and the big man's mighty embrace,
poor Frank had hardly enough breath left in him to reply, but he managed
to gasp out,--
"Not a bit. He never touched me."
"Are you quite sure now?" persisted Johnston, whose anxiety could not be
at once relieved. "O my lad! my heart stood still when you fell down
right in front of the brute."
"I'm quite sure, Mr. Johnston," said Frank. "See!" And to prove his words
he gave a jump into the air, threw up his arms, and shouted, "Hip! hip!
hurrah!" with the full force of his lungs.
"God be praised!" exclaimed the foreman. "What a wonderful escape! Let
us kneel down right here, and give Him thanks," he added, suiting his
action to his words. Frank at once followed his example; so too did
Laberge and Booth; and there in the midst of the forest-wilds this
strange praise-meeting was held over the body of the fierce creature from
whose murderous rage Frank had been so happily delivered.
Johnston sent Laberge back to the tent for the toboggan, and before
darkness set in the bear was dragged thither, where the two men skilfully
skinned him by the light of the camp fire, and stretched the pelt out to
dry.
The quartette had a long talk over the whole affair after supper had been
disposed of. Frank was plied with questions which he took much pleasure
in answering, for naturally enough he felt himself to be in some measure
the hero of the occasion. While he could not help admiring and cordially
praising Frank's audacity, the foreman felt bound to reprove him for it,
and to impress upon him the necessity of showing more caution in future,
or he might get himself into a situation of danger from which there might
be no one at hand to deliver him. Frank, by this time thoroughly sobered
down, listened dutifully, and readily promised to be more careful if he
ever came across bear tracks again.
"Anyway, my boy," said Johnston, "you won't go home empty-handed; and
when your mother sees those two skins, which are both pretty good ones,
she'll think more of you than she ever did before."
"Yes, but you know," said Frank, "both skins oughtn't to be mine, for I
didn't kill either of the animals."
"Neither you did, Frank," replied Johnston, "but you came mighty near
killing the one, and the other came mighty near killing you; so I think
it's only fair you should have both.--Don't you think so, mates?" turning
to the men.
"Ah, _oui_," exclaimed Laberge, with a vigorous nod of his head.
"Of course," added Booth, no less emphatically; and so the matter was
settled very much to Frank's satisfaction.
The next day the tent was packed and the little party set out for the
shanty, which was reached in good time without anything eventful
occurring on the way. They found the work of getting the logs down upon
the ice well nigh completed, and the foreman's return giving an impetus
to the men's exertions, it was finished in a few days more, and then
there was nothing to do but to await the breaking up of the ice.
They were not kept long in expectancy. The sun was now in full vigour;
before his burning rays the snow and ice fled in utter rout; and the
frost king, confessing defeat, withdrew his grasp from the Kippewa,
which, as if rejoicing in its release, went rippling and bounding merrily
on toward the great river beyond, bearing upon its bosom the many
thousand logs which represented the hard labour of Camp Kippewa during
the long cold winter months that were now past and gone. The most arduous
and exciting phase of the lumberman's life had begun, the great spring
drive, as they call it, and for weeks to come he would be engaged playing
the part of shepherd after a strange fashion, with huge, clumsy, unruly
logs for his flock, and the rushing river for the highway along which
they should be driven.
The shantymen were divided into two parties, one section taking the teams
and camp-belongings back to the depot, the other and much larger section
following the logs in their journey to the mills. Johnston put himself at
the head of the latter, and Frank, of course, accompanied him, for the
foreman was no less anxious to have him than the boy was to go. The bonds
of affection that bound the two were growing stronger every day they were
together. Frank regarded Johnston as the preserver of his life, and
Johnston, on his part, looked upon Frank as having been in God's hands
the means of bringing light and joy to his soul. It might be said,
without exaggeration, that either of them would risk his life in the
other's behalf with the utmost willingness.
The journey down the river had to be done in light marching order. Not
much baggage could be carried, so as not to burden too heavily the three
or four "_bonnes_," as they call the long, light, flat-bottomed boats
peculiar to lumbermen, which had been all winter awaiting the time when
their services would be required. The shore work being beyond his
strength, Frank was given a place in one of the _bonnes_ along with
Baptiste, Laberge, and part of the commissariat, and it was their duty to
precede the main body of the men, and have their dinner and supper ready
for them when they came up. In this way Frank would get a perfect view of
the whole business of river driving, and he was in high feather as they
made a start on a beautiful morning in early May, with the sun shining
brightly, the air soft and balmy, and the river reflecting the blue of
the unclouded heavens.
"Now take good care of Baptiste and the grub," said Johnston, with a
smile, as he pushed the boat in which Frank was sitting off into the
stream. "If you let anything happen to them, Frank, I don't know what
we'll do to you."
"I'll do my best, sir," replied Frank, smiling back. "The boat won't
upset if I can help it, and as Baptiste can't swim, he'll do his best to
be careful too; won't you, Baptiste?"
"_Vraiment, mon cher_," cried Baptiste. "If we upset--poor Baptiste! zat
will be the last of him." And he shrugged his fat shoulders and made a
serio-comic grimace that set everybody laughing.
If the Kippewa, through all its course, had been as deep and free from
obstructions as it was opposite the lumber camp, the river drivers
would have had an easy time of it getting their wooden flock to market.
But none of the rivers in this part of the country go quietly on their
way from source to outlet. Falls and rapids are of frequent occurrence,
and it is these which add difficulty and danger to the lumberman's
work. Carrying pike-poles and cant-hooks, the former being simply long
tough ash poles with a sharp spike on the business end, and the latter
shorter stouter poles, something like the handle of a shovel, with a
curious curved iron attachment that took a firm grip of a log and enabled
the worker to roll its lazy bulk over and over in the direction he
desired--with these weapons taking the place of the axe and saw, the men
set off on their journey down the river side, two of the boats going
ahead, and two bringing up the rear.
Frank felt in great spirits. He was thoroughly expert in the management
of a _bonne_, and the voyage down the river in this lovely spring weather
could be only continued enjoyment, especially as beyond steering the boat
he had nothing to do, and it would be practically one long holiday. There
were nearly twenty thousand logs to be guided, coaxed, rolled, and shoved
for one hundred miles or more through sullen pools, sleeping reaches,
turbulent rapids, and roaring falls, where, as if they were living
things, they would seem to exhaust every possible means of delay. The way
in which they would stick at some critical point and pile one upon
another, until the whole river was blocked, defies description; and one
seeing the spectacle for the first time might well be pardoned if he were
to be positive that there could be no way of bringing order out of so
hopeless a confusion, and releasing the tangled obstructed mass.
For the first few days matters went very smoothly, the river being
deep and swift, and the logs giving little trouble. Of course, numbers of
them were continually stranding on the banks, but the watchful drivers
soon spied them out, and with a push of the pike-pole, or drag of the
cant-hook, sent them floating off again on their journey. At mid-day all
the men would gather about Baptiste's kettles and dispose of a hearty
dinner, and then again at night they would leave the logs to look after
themselves while they ate their supper and talked, and then lay down to
rest their weary bodies. But this condition of things was too good to
last. In due time the difficulties began to show themselves, and then
Frank saw the most exciting and dangerous phase of a lumberman's life--a
part of it with which when he grew older he must himself become familiar
if he would be master of the whole business, as it was his ambition to
be.
The great army of logs, forging onward slowly or swiftly, according to
the force of the current, would come to a point where the stream narrowed
and jagged rocks thrust their unwelcome heads above the surface. The
vanguard of the army, perhaps, passing either to right or left of the
rocks, would go on its way unchecked. But when the main body came up, and
the whole stream was full of drifting logs, some clumsy tree trunk going
down broadside first would bring up short against the rock. As quickly as
a crowd will gather in a city street, the other logs would cluster about
the one that obstructed their passage. There would be no stopping the
on-rush. In less time than it takes to describe it, a hundred logs would
be jostling one another in the current; and every minute the confusion
would increase, until ere long the disordered mass would stretch from
shore to shore, the whole stream would be blocked up, and the event most
dreaded by the river driver would have taken place, to wit, a log jam.
The worst place that Johnston had to encounter in getting his drive of
logs to the river was at the Black Rapids, and never will Frank forget
the thrilling excitement of that experience. These rapids were the terror
of the Kippewa lumbermen. They were situated in the swiftest part of the
river, and if Nature had in cold blood tried her utmost to give the
despoilers of her forest a hard nut to crack she could scarcely have
succeeded better. The boiling current was divided into two portions by a
jagged spur of rock that thrust itself above the surging waters, and so
sure as a log came broadside against this projection it was caught and
held in a firm embrace.
Johnston thoroughly understood this, and had taken every care to
prevent a jam occurring; and if it had been possible for him to do what
was in his mind--namely, to land upon the troublesome rock, and with his
pike-pole push back again into the current every log that threatened to
stick--the whole drive would have slipped safely by. He did make a
gallant attempt to carry this out, putting four of the best oarsmen into
Frank's boat, and trying again and again to force his way through the
fierce current to the rock, while Frank watched him with breathless
interest from the bank. But, strain and tug as the oarsmen might, the
eddying, whirling stream was too strong for them, and swept them past the
rock again and again, until at length the foreman had to give up
his design as impracticable.
It was exciting work, and Frank longed very much to be in the boat; but
Johnston, indulgent as he was toward his favourite, refused him this
time.
"No, no, Frank; I couldn't think of it," he said decidedly. "It's too
risky a business. The _bonne_ might be smashed any time, and if it did
we'd run a poor chance of getting out of these rapids. More than one good
man has gone to his death here."
"Have there been men killed in these rapids?" Frank asked, with a look of
profound concern at his big friend, who was taking such risks. "The poor
fellows! What a dreadful death! They must have been dashed against the
rocks. Surely you won't try it again, will you?" For it was dinner-time,
and all hands were taking a welcome rest before resuming the toils of the
day.
Johnston thoroughly understood and appreciated the boy's anxiety in his
behalf, and there was a look of wonderful tenderness in his eyes as he
answered him:--
"I must try it once more, Frank; for if I can only get out to that rock
there'll be no jam this day. But don't you worry. I've taken bigger risks
and come out all right."
So he made one more attempt, while Frank watched every movement of the
boat, praying earnestly for its preservation. Again he failed, and the
_bonne_ returned to the bank unharmed. But hardly had the weary men
thrown themselves down for a brief spell of rest than what they all so
dreaded happened. One of the logs, getting into a cross eddy, rolled
broadside against the rock. It was caught and held fast. Another and
another charged against it and stayed there. The main body of the drive
was now passing down, and every moment the jam increased in size. Soon it
would fill the whole stream. Yet the lumbermen were powerless to prevent
its growth. They could do nothing until it had so checked the current
that it would be possible to make a way over to its centre.
So soon as this took place, Johnston, accompanied by three of his best
men, armed with axes and cant-hooks, leaping from log to log with the
sure agility only lumbermen could show, succeeded in reaching the heart
of the jam, and at once proceeded to attack it with tremendous energy.
One log after another was detached from the disordered mass and sent
whirling off down stream, until at the end of an hour's arduous exertion,
the key-piece--that is, the log that had caused all the trouble--was
found.
"Now, my boys," said Johnston to his men, "get ashore as quick as you
can. I'll stay and cut out the key-piece."
The men demurred for a moment. They were reluctant to leave their chief
alone in a position of such extreme peril. But he commanded them to go.
"There's only one man wanted," he said; "and I'll do it myself. It's no
use you risking your lives too."
So the men obeyed, and returned to the bank to join the group watching
Johnston's movements with intense anxiety. They all knew as well as he
did the exceeding peril of his position, and not one of them would
breathe freely until he had accomplished his task, and found his way
safely back to the shore.