Rafe was suddenly balked and had to stop. Too great a stretch of
water separated him from the next floating log. Turner beckoned
him on. It was difficult to make the foreman hear above the
noise of the water and the continual grinding of the logs, but
Rafe yelled some warning and pointed toward the timber now almost
upon Turner's foothold.
The man shot a glance behind him. The butt of the driving log
rose suddenly into the air as though it would crush him.
Turner leaped to the far end of the log on which he stood. But
too great a distance separated him from the log on which Rafe had
secured a foothold.
Crash!
Nan heard, on top of the bluff, the impact of the great timber as
it was flung by the current across the smaller log. Turner shot
into the air as though he were flung from a catapult. But he was
not flung in Rafe's direction, and the boy could not help him.
He plunged into the racing stream and disappeared. The huge
timber rode over the smaller log and buried it from sight. But
its tail swung around and the great log was headed straight down
the river again.
As its smaller end swung near, Rafe leaped for it and secured a
footing on the rolling, plunging log. How he kept his feet under
him Nan could not imagine.
Pages:
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157