You can yank it out an' set it
afloat, an' before you hardly git your doggin' iron off of it, it'll be
snarled up agin in some new place. From the time it's chopped down to the day
it gets to Saco, it costs the Comp'ny 'bout ten times its pesky valler as
lumber. Now they've sent over to Benson's for a team of horses, an' I bate ye
they can't git 'em. I wish i was the boss on this river, Alcestis."
"I wish I was," echoed the boy.
"Well, your head-fillin' ain't the right kind for a boss, Alcestis, an' you'd
better stick to dry land. You set right down here while I go back a piece an'
git the pipe out o' my coat pocket. I guess nothin' ain't goin' to happen for
a few minutes."
The surmise about the horses, unlike most of Old Kennebec's, proved to be
true. Benson's pair had gone to Portland with a load of hay; accordingly the
tackle was brought, the rope was adjusted to a log, and five of the drivers,
standing on the river-bank, attempted to drag it from its intrenched position.
It refused to yield the fraction of an inch. Rufus and Stephen joined the five
men, and the augmented crew of seven were putting all their strength on the
rope when a cry went up from the watchers on the bridge.
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