"I guess they got a right to them
as long as we ain't marked them."
"They can have their deadheads," agreed the riverman, "but their piles
have jammed our drive and hung her."
"We'll break the jam," said Larsen.
Arrived at the scene of difficulty, Bob looked about him with great
interest. The jam was apparently locked hard and fast against a clump of
piles driven about in the centre of the stream. These had evidently been
planted as the extreme outwork of a long shunting boom. Men working
there could shunt into the sawmill enclosure that portion of the drive
to which they could lay claim. The remainder could proceed down the open
channel to the left. That was the theory. Unfortunately, this division
of the river's width so congested matters that the whole drive had hung.
The jam crew were at work, but even Bob's unpractised eye saw that their
task was stupendous. Even should they succeed in loosening the breast,
there could be no reason to suppose the performance would not have to be
repeated over and over again as the close-ranked drive came against the
obstacle.
Larsen took one look, then made his way across to the other side and
down to the mill.
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