I was sorry I brought the Indian with me, for though the river-drivers
stopped their wild sing-song cry for a moment to call a "How!" at me,
they presently began to toss jeering words at the Indian. They had
recognised him--I had not--as a salmon-fisher and one of the Siwash tribe
from Sunburst. He remained perfectly silent, but I could see sullenness
growing on his face. He appeared to take no notice of his scornful
entertainers, but, instead of edging away, came nearer and nearer to the
tangle of logs--came, indeed, very close to me, as I stood watching four
or five men, with the foreman close by, working at a huge timber. At a
certain moment the foreman was in a kind of hollow. Just behind him, near
to the Indian, was a great log, which, if loosened by a slight impulse,
must fall into the hollow where the foreman stood. The foreman had his
face to us; the backs of the other men were on us. Suddenly the foreman
gave a frightened cry, and I saw at the same instant the Indian's foot
thrust out upon the big log. Before the foreman had time to get out of
the hollow, it slid down, caught him just above the ankle and broke the
leg.
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