$o WILD BROTHER 



and under the weight of water that for the time 

 being was backed up behind the jam, the whole 

 mass trembled, then slowly started down-river. 

 Now the men turned toward the bank, for the jam 

 was gaining speed. The logs seemed to be alive; 

 they twisted and shook themselves, and as they 

 struck the rocks, the air resounded with the reso- 

 nant voice of the booming timber. Like squirrels, 

 the men jumped from one stick to another and 

 gained the shore. 



Some of these fellows are so adept that they are 

 called "bubble walkers"; it is said of them that, 

 if no logs offer a footing, they can come ashore on 

 the bubbles. But in spite of their supple bodies 

 and their nimble feet, the drive each spring claims 

 its victims from among them. One afternoon 

 there came into our camp a silent group of men on 

 their way out to the village. They bore in their 

 midst a litter, and on it lay, under a sheet of can- 

 vas, a river-driver, a young Indian. That morn- 

 ing he had been working with several other drivers 

 at a jam on a distant stream. When it broke, 

 everyone leaped for the bank. Suddenly the end 

 of a stick thrust itself up from the water in front 

 of the Indian. He tripped over it and fell into the 

 grinding mass. Two logs came together, and he 

 was between them. Others piled on top. It was 

 all over in a moment. And now the men were 



