of the Kippewa lumbermen. They were situated in the swiftest part of the
river, and if Nature had in cold blood tried her utmost to give the
despoilers of her forest a hard nut to crack she could scarcely have
succeeded better. The boiling current was divided into two portions by a
jagged spur of rock that thrust itself above the surging waters, and so
sure as a log came broadside against this projection it was caught and
held in a firm embrace.

Johnston thoroughly understood this, and had taken every care to
prevent a jam occurring; and if it had been possible for him to do what
was in his mind--namely, to land upon the troublesome rock, and with his
pike-pole push back again into the current every log that threatened to
stick--the whole drive would have slipped safely by. He did make a
gallant attempt to carry this out, putting four of the best oarsmen into
Frank's boat, and trying again and again to force his way through the
fierce current to the rock, while Frank watched him with breathless
interest from the bank. But, strain and tug as the oarsmen might, the
eddying, whirling stream was too strong for them, and swept them past the
rock again and again, until at length the foreman had to give up
his design as impracticable.

It was exciting work, and Frank longed very much to be in the boat; but
Johnston, indulgent as he was toward his favourite, refused him this
time.

"No, no, Frank; I couldn't think of it," he said decidedly. "It's too
risky a business. The _bonne_ might be smashed any time, and if it did
we'd run a poor chance of getting out of these rapids. More than one good
man has gone to his death here."