St Nicholas [serial] . ed by their sharp-pointed pea-vies and cant-hooks, take their lives in theirhands many a time when they go to dislodgethis log — the key to the situation. Oftentimeswhen such a log is wedged into a great jam inthe middle of the river after the spring drivehas begun, dynamite must be used in dislodg-ing it, so great is the pressure of the thousandsof logs above it. Killing the Dutchman undersuch circumstances is a novel as well as a dan-gerous act. In the sweet springtime our pine board is shore, or here and there are jumping from logto log in mid-stream, in imminent dang
St Nicholas [serial] . ed by their sharp-pointed pea-vies and cant-hooks, take their lives in theirhands many a time when they go to dislodgethis log — the key to the situation. Oftentimeswhen such a log is wedged into a great jam inthe middle of the river after the spring drivehas begun, dynamite must be used in dislodg-ing it, so great is the pressure of the thousandsof logs above it. Killing the Dutchman undersuch circumstances is a novel as well as a dan-gerous act. In the sweet springtime our pine board is shore, or here and there are jumping from logto log in mid-stream, in imminent danger, onewould say, of rolling off and being whole vast mass is moving at last; theannual drive has begun. A wannegan is one of the essentials of thedrive. It is a long, low, one-storied house-boat which accompanies the drive down thestream, and in which the men sleep and days pass before the drive reaches thebig, log-bound boom at the mills, where thehungry saws are waiting to perform the last act. LOG PASSING UP THE SLIT FROM THE BOOM. resting in the center of a great log, one of manythousands, on its way down the broad-bosomedriver. The logs have sunk lower and lowerinto the river-bed as the ice has slowly melted,until at last the stream is bank-full. Then comethe rushing floods of the upper Mississippi, con-trolled by the great system of reservoirs whichregulates the flow of the stream for hundreds ofmiles; the river rises; the logs pile in fantasticshapes; they rush swiftly down the lumbermen are watching the logs from the in the life — or the death — of the tiny blackseed which started on its long journey a cen-tury and a half before. Up from the yellowish-brown depths of theslow-moving river, flowing so steadily on itsway to the sea, comes a huge dark-brown thingwith a shining, dripping coat. It is our log,entering upon its last stage. It passes at onceup a long incline called the slit — a trenchof wood about eight inches deep and t
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookidstnicholasserial251dodg
