From this viewpoint the jam looked much more serious and far-reaching than from below. It seemed like some huge abatis bristling with spikes, and holding in place a vast expanse of tumbled timber piled up and mingled together in inextricable confusion. A greenhorn, unused to lumbering conditions, would have said at once that no human power could possibly break up this terrific tangle. Bainbridge’s practiced eye, ranging swiftly from right to left, and back again to the breast of the jam, saw instantly that affairs were serious indeed, but far from being hopeless. He looked for Schaeffer, but at first he could see nothing of the person who was supposed to have charge of operations. There were in sight some seventy or eighty men, fully half of whom were gathered on the near bank, lounging in groups, laughing; talking, smoking, or sprawling at full length in the sun, luxuriating in its increasing warmth. Scattered over the jam were the remainder of the crew, making a half-hearted pretense at working which could not possibly deceive any one. As he watched one after another of them dally with a peavey in an indolent, purposeless kind of way, smoking a cigarette the while, and carrying on a jocular sort of repartee with neighbors, Bainbridge felt swelling within him the fury he had so long suppressed, but which seemed now as if it must find expression. He was about to step impetuously from the undergrowth, and wake up that crowd with a volley of vigorous English, when a figure appeared at the entrance of one of the tents pitched a little way back from the water. At the sight of this person the watcher held himself motionless, a gleam of intense satisfaction flashing into his eyes. The man was tall and lean and narrow-loined, with wide, muscular shoulders. His face was rather rough hewn, and the heavy black brows gave him a lowering, almost sullen look. There was, however, no lack of strength and intelligence of a certain sort in his expression. One would never have called him stupid, even though his appearance might not seem particularly prepossessing. He stood for a second or two staring at the jam and that throng of men playing at work, without changing his expression a particle. Then he strolled slowly down toward the crowd, hands thrust into his pockets, and lithe body swaying easily from side to side in the manner of one having all the time there is. His course led him along the edge of the bushes, and Bainbridge waited his coming with poorly restrained impatience. The man’s complacency infuriated him, and yet he was wise enough to realize that now was the time of all others when it was absolutely necessary to hold himself in hand. He stood there, lips tightly pressed together, and nails digging into the palms of his hands, until the foreman was almost opposite. Then he stepped suddenly forth. “I seem to have arrived at a very opportune moment, Schaeffer,” he said.