Chapter 38
The morning of June twenty-sixth dawned clear. Orde was early on the road before the heat of the day. He drove his buckboard rapidly over the twelve miles that separated his home from the distributing booms, for he wanted at once to avoid the heat of the first sun and to arrive at the commencement of the day's work. After a glance at the river, he entered the tiny office and set about the examination of the tally sheets left by the foreman. While he was engaged in this checking, the foreman, Tom North, entered. "The river's rising a little"? he remarked conversationally as he reached for the second set of tally boards. "You're crazy," muttered Orde, without looking up. "It's clear as a bell; and there have been no rains reported from anywhere." "It's rising a little, just the same," ins
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