hand the earth was soft and free from rocks. When completed the
channel gave passage to a rather feeble streamlet from the outer
fringe of the river. The men were puzzled, but Orde, by the strange
freak of his otherwise frank and open nature, as usual told nothing
of his plans, even to Tom North.

"He can't expect to turn that river," said Tim Nolan, who was once
more with the crew. "He'd have to dig a long ways below that level
to catch the main current--and then some."

"Let him alone," advised North, puffing at his short pipe. "He's
wiser than a tree full of owls."

Next Orde assigned two men to each of the queer-shaped sawhorses,
and instructed them to place the horses in a row across the
shallowest part of the river, and broadside to the stream. This was
done. The men, half-way to their knees in the swift water, bore
down heavily to keep their charges in place. Other men immediately
began to lay the heavy planks side by side, perpendicular to and on
the up-stream side of the horses. The weight of the water clamped
them in place; big rocks and gravel shovelled on in quantity
prevented the lower ends from rising; the wide slant of the legs
directed the pressure so far downward that the horses were prevented
from floating away. And slowly the bulk of the water, thus raised a
good three feet above its former level, turned aside into the new
channel and poured out to inundate the black-ash swamp beyond.

A good volume still poured over the top of the temporary dam and
down to the fall; but it was by this expedient so far reduced that
work became possible.