The drivers, with their calked boots, were running here and there on the logs, busy with their peaveys in keeping them running free so that there would be no jam in the sluiceway. In this work the boys took no part, as it was work requiring a high degree of skill, which could be acquired only by long experience. Often situations arose where a misstep or a moment’s hesitation would be fatal, as the current was very swift and to be drawn into the sluiceway meant almost certain death.
By nine o’clock the last log was through, and the river, below the dam, was filled with the floating logs. The boys were to assist in driving them down, and in a very short time after the last of them were out of the lake they found themselves, peaveys in hand, slowly floating down the river.
It was strenuous work to keep all the logs in motion. Those at the sides were forever catching along the bank of the river and must be pried loose, and there was always the likelihood of a jam resulting should any of the front logs catch on an obstruction in the river. Then the logs behind, urged on by the irresistible force of the current, would pile up in a tangled mass, often many deep. It was at such times that seconds counted. Could the key log be located and be pried out in time the mass would begin to move again, but often this would be impossible and dynamite would have to be used.
Big Jean Larue was in charge of the crew and, as Tom Bean often declared, a better river driver never handled a peavey.
A few miles from the lake the river makes a sharp bend. Here the current is very swift and it is a place dreaded by the drivers as it requires quick and hard work to avoid a jam. Shallow water and large rocks, many of which are only a short distance beneath the rapidly swirling water, add to the difficulties. But at this time of year the melting snow makes the river higher than usual, and all hoped that they would be able to get past the bend without trouble.
It was about the middle of the afternoon when the head of the drive reached the rapids.
“Now for some fun and a fast ride,” Jack shouted, as the speed of the log he was riding increased.
“You be mighty careful,” yelled Bob, who was on a big log some forty feet to the right. “This is a nasty place for a spill.”