Latisan had pitched the tune for that drive when he started it.
It was a tune in quick tempo, with the staccato clangor of the kettle
drums of the dynamite when he burst the icy sheathing of the waters in
order to dump the first logs in.
When he was on the job the directing wand of his pick pole kept
everything jumping.
Even when he was away for a few days his men toiled with the spirit that
he had left with them. They had adopted his cause and shared his
righteous resentment against the tactics of the Three C's.
They were able to work on without his guidance, after a fashion, but for
the fight that was ahead of them down the river they had depended on his
captainship. Therefore, Kyle with his scandals and reports and his
urging had been in a way to break down their morale. When they
reflected, they realized it. And it had been a wicked thing to face--the
prospect that they might quit! With Latisan of the Latisans present with
them, pursuing an honest vengeance, there were lift and sweep and swing
which made their toil an adventure rather than plain drudgery.
Then that day when rumor and Kyle and Latisan's protracted absence had
nigh killed courage!
But then, the inspiring night which had brought the granddaughter of
Echford Flagg with her story, her confession, her plea, and her still
strong faith in the awakening of Ward Latisan when he was able to know
the truth! She did not gloss her own involuntary fault; she was frank in
the statement that she loved the man whom she had harmed by her mistake.
She knew it was the truth; she took them into her confidence. Then there
was more than mere courage in the men of the drive--they were sharers in
the spirit of romance which put the dynamic zeal of fanatics behind
those logs. The girl's cause was linked with Latisan's and was a
compelling force.
* * * * *
Like racing horses the Flagg timber rushed along, crowding the river
from side to side.
The stream drives, breaking the bonds of the ice, had caught the top
pitch of the floods and were hurled into the boiling rapids.
But there was more than the mere thrust of the roaring waters behind
those tumbling logs.
The Flagg drive had a soul that year!
It was what the Comas corporation lacked.
Behind the Flagg logs were honest men, pityingly loyal--still to
Latisan--and behind the toilers was a dominating spirit that was a
combination of courage, wild enthusiasm, loyalty, and devotion in a
campaign that now was entered upon with tempestuous fervor in the
presence of Lida Kennard. When that fervor went smashing against the
Three C's crowd the men who were animated only by a corporation's wages
became cowards and stepped aside and gave the champions the right of
way.