The Savannah morning news., 1902-11-30
THE BLAZED TRAIL.
By STEWART EDWARD WHITE
(Author of the Westerners).
Copyright, 1902, by Stewart Edward White.
(AUthor of the Westerners).


it in spite of them! Show them they're
no good when they buck up against
& Thorpe's One Our boys died doing
their duty-the way a riverman ought
to. Now hump yourselves! Don't let
! 'em die in vain,"
The crew stirred uneasily, looking
at each other for approval of the con-
version each had experienced. Rad
way, turned easily toward the blaze
Better turn in, boys, and get some
sleep. he said. We've got a hard day
Tomorrow" He stopped to light his
pipe at the fire. When he had again
Strengthened his back rather a pro-
/ longed interval, the group had already
| disintegrated, A few minutes later
the cookee scattered the brands of the
fire from before sleeping camp.
Before daylight Injin Charley drifted
into the camp to find Thorpe already
out. With curt nod the Indian seat
ed himself by the fire, and producing
| a square plug of tobacco and a knife
began leisurely to fill his pipe. Final
~ Injin Charley spoke in the red mans
clear-cut, initiative English, pause
between each sentence.
Il find trail three men," said he.
Both dam, three men. One man go
down river. Those men have cork
boot. One man no have cork-boot He
' boss"
The Indian suddenly threw his chin
out, his head back, half closed his
eyes in a cynical squint. AS by flash
Dyer. the scaler leered insolently from
behind the Indians stolid mask
How do you know" said Thorpe
For answer the Indian threw his
| shoulders forward in Dyers nervous
fashion.
He make trail big by the toe, light
by the heel. He make trail big on in
side"
Charley arose and walked. after
Dyer's springy fashion, illustrating his
point in the soft wood ashes of the
immediate Preside.
Thorpe looked doubtful. II believe
you are right, Charley" said he. But
1t is mighty little to go on. You can't
be sure"
II sure" replied Charley.
He pulled strongly at the heel of his
smoke, then arose, and without fare
well disappeared in the forest.
| Then began the wonderful struggle
against circumstances which has be-
came a by-word among rivermen ev-
erywhere. A forty-day drive had to
! go out in ten. A freshet had to float
, out 3O,0O0000 feet of logs. 1t was ire
! mendous. Fourteen, sixteen, sometimes
eighteen hours a day the men of the
driving crew worked like demons,
| course, under the pressure the lower
dam had gone out. Nothing was to
| be depended on but sheer logged grit.
tar up-river Sadler q Smith had hung
their drive for the season, and so had
resigned themselves to a definite but
not extraordinary loss. Thorpe had
| at least clear river
Wallace Carpenter could not under
stand how human flesh and blood en-
dured. The men themselves had long
since reached the point of practical ex-
| naustlon, but We're carried through by
the fire of their leader Work was
| uogged until he stormed into sight:
then 1t became frenzied. When he
looked at man from his cavernous,
burning eyes, that man jumped.
lmpossibilities were puffed aside like
thistles. The men went at them head
long They gave way before the rush.
Ihorpe always led. Not for a single
instant of the day nor for many at
night was he at rest. Instinctively he
seemed to realize that a let-down
| would mean collapse.
After the camp had fallen asleep,
| he would often lie awake half of The
few hours of their night, every muscle
tense, staring at the sky. His mind was
| definitely every detail of the situation
as he had viewed it, In advance his
| imagination stopped and sweated 70
| the work which his body was to ac-
/ complish the next morning. Thus he
/ dld everything twice. Then at last
| the tension would relax. He would
fan into uneasy sleep. But twice that
! did not follow. Through the dissolv-
| ing iron mist of his striving, a sharn
thought cleaved like an arrow. 1t was
that after all he did not care. Sub
| consciousness, the other influence. was
growing like a weed; perhaps there
We're greater things than TO succeed
/ greater things than success. And then
! the Keen, poignant memory of the
| dream girl stole into the young mans
mind, and in agony was immediately
/ thrust forth. He would not think of
her. He had given her up. He re-
FUSED to believe that he had been
wrong. In the still darkness of the
night he would rise and steel to the
edge of the DULY roaring stream
There, his eyes blinded and his throat
choked with a longing more manly
than tears, he would reach out and
smooth the round, rough coats of the
| great logs.
Wen do it," he whispered to them
and to himself. Wen do 1t! We
can't be wrong"