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The Blazed Trail

Chapter 10 No.10

Word Count: 1609    |    Released on: 29/11/2017

picturesque than a teamster conducting one of his great pyramidical loads over the little inequalities of the road, in the ticklish places standing atop with the bent knee of the Roman chariote

grasp applied at just the right moment to be effective. Sometimes he allows himself to be carried up bodily, clinging to the cant-hook like an acrobat to a bar, until the log has rolled once; when, his weapon loosened, he drops lightly, easily to the ground. And it is exciting to pile the log

whoever happens to be near! A saw log does not make a great deal of fuss while falling, but it falls through anything that happens in its way, and a man who gets mixed up in a load of twenty-five o

piled in a gigantic skidway to await the spring freshets, which will carry them

city, he has to rely on the material stored in one corner of a shed. It is easy to build a palace with men and tools; it is difficult to build a log cabin with nothing but an ax. His wits must help him where his experience fails; and his experience must push him mechanically along the track of habit when successive buffetings have beaten his wits out of his head. In a day he must construct elaborate engines, roads, and implements which old civilization considers the

a mistake. He could not but admire the feverish animation that now characterized the j

d the sprinklers followed the teams almost constantly. Often it was bitter cold, but no one dared to suggest to the determined jobber that i

mall, could be forced to the banks by the utmost exertions of the entire crew. Esprit de corps awoke. The men sprang to their tasks with alacrity, gave more than an hour's exertion to each of the twenty-fou

against an ove

d angrily at the unfortunate guardian of h

, "Ye're a burrd! If Oi couldn't make out to be more of a saint than that, Oi'd quit the biznis! Move yor pull, a

but with the shrewdness of the old man,

ta be ready for it. The trouble is we got behind Christmas. It's that Dyer. He's about as mean as they make 'em. The only reason he didn't die long ago is becuz th'

son seized a lantern and stumped out to see

a miner, Jackson," c

n at the door, "it's a lot eas

aking a little progress eve

back. Thus the log ran slanting across the skids instead of perpendicular to them. To rectify the fault, Thorpe dug his cant-hook into the timber and threw his weight on the stock. He hoped in this manner to check correspondingly the ascent of his end. In other words, he took the place, on his side, of the preventi

the prostrate young man, who would have thereupon been ground to atoms as he lay. With the utmost coolness Gladys swarmed the slanting face of the load; interposed the length of his cant-hook stock between the log and it; held it exactly long

ckly dared. No one saw it. Jim Gladys wa

ozen words to him in as many days gathered his few belongings and stuffed them awkwardly into his satchel. Ja

boss," said the old fellow.

om the front, and the ba

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