The log upon which he stood oscillated dizzily, and as he sprang for another, his foot slipped and he fell heavily, his peavey clattering downward among the promiscuously tangled logs, to come to rest some six feet beneath him, where the white-water curled foaming among the logs of the lower tier. Bill glanced hastily about him, expecting the shouts of laughter and good-natured chaffing which is the inevitable aftermath of the clumsy misadventure of a riverman. The bateau men were just gaining the shore and the attention of the others was engaged elsewhere, so that none noticed the accident, and, with a grin of relief, Bill clambered down to recover his peavey. And Moncrossen, peering over the top of the jam, took in the situation at a glance--the river apparently clear of men, and the greener, invisible to those on shore, crawling about among the logs in the center of the pile. It was the moment for which he had waited. Even the most careful planning could not have created a situation more to his liking. At last the greener was "his." "There she goes!" he roared, and turning, slid hastily from the top and leaped into the waiting bateau. "Let 'er go!" he shouted. Fallon and Stromberg leaped forward and simultaneously their peaveys bit into the smaller of the two key-logs. Both big men heaved and strained, once, twice, thrice, and the log turned slowly, allowing the end of the other to pass. The logs trembled for an instant, then, forced by the enormous weight behind them, shot sidewise, crossed each other, and pressed the tree-trunk deep under the boiling water. A mighty quiver ran through the whole mass of the jam, it balanced for a shuddering instant, then with a mighty rush, let go. Over the side of the bateau tumbled Fallon and Stromberg, sprawling on the bottom at the feet of the boss, while the man in the bow cast off the light line. The next instant the heavy boat leaped clear of the water, overriding, climbing to the very summit of the pounding, plunging logs which threatened each moment to crush and batter through her sides and bottom. The strong, new line was singing taut to the pull of the heavy bateau which was being gradually crowded shoreward by the sweep of the down-rushing logs. Suddenly a mighty shout went up from those on the bank. The men in the bateau looked, and there, almost in the middle of the stream, was the greener leaping from log to log of the wildly pitching jam. They stared horror-stricken, with tense, blanched faces. Each instant seemed as if it must be his last, for they knew that no man alive could hope to keep his feet in the mad rush and sweep of the tumbling, tossing drive. Yet the greener was keeping his feet. Time and again he recovered his balance when death seemed imminent, and amid wild shouts and yells of encouragement, climbing, leaping, running, stumbling, he worked his way shoreward.