"Have there been men killed in these rapids?" Frank asked, with a look of
profound concern at his big friend, who was taking such risks. "The poor
fellows! What a dreadful death! They must have been dashed against the
rocks. Surely you won't try it again, will you?" For it was dinner-time,
and all hands were taking a welcome rest before resuming the toils of the
day.

Johnston thoroughly understood and appreciated the boy's anxiety in his
behalf, and there was a look of wonderful tenderness in his eyes as he
answered him:--

"I must try it once more, Frank; for if I can only get out to that rock
there'll be no jam this day. But don't you worry. I've taken bigger risks
and come out all right."

So he made one more attempt, while Frank watched every movement of the
boat, praying earnestly for its preservation. Again he failed, and the
_bonne_ returned to the bank unharmed. But hardly had the weary men
thrown themselves down for a brief spell of rest than what they all so
dreaded happened. One of the logs, getting into a cross eddy, rolled
broadside against the rock. It was caught and held fast. Another and
another charged against it and stayed there. The main body of the drive
was now passing down, and every moment the jam increased in size. Soon it
would fill the whole stream. Yet the lumbermen were powerless to prevent
its growth. They could do nothing until it had so checked the current
that it would be possible to make a way over to its centre.

So soon as this took place, Johnston, accompanied by three of his best
men, armed with axes and cant-hooks, leaping from log to log with the
sure agility only lumbermen could show, succeeded in reaching the heart