CHAPTER III.
A RAFT

Forester and Marco did not take breakfast on board the steamboat, but waited until they got on shore. They had inquired of a fellow-passenger, who seemed acquainted with the country, and were told that there was a very good tavern about a quarter of a mile from the mill.

When they landed upon the logs, Marco, whose curiosity seemed to be stronger than his appetite, wanted to ramble about for a little time along the shore and among the piles of boards, but Forester thought it would be best first to go and get their breakfast.

"Because," said he, "we can then amuse ourselves by rambling about here, and shall be ready to return to the steamboat whenever they send for us."

So they went to the tavern.

Forester seemed to have little appetite for his breakfast. He complained of feeling fatigued, and yet he had nothing to fatigue him. Marco ate, and talked fast all the time; but Forester seemed silent and dejected.

"Come, cousin Forester, what is the matter with you?" said Marco at last.

Forester said that he felt somewhat unwell, and as there was a sofa in the room, he concluded to lie down upon it, and not go out. Marco was, at first, disposed to stay and take care of him, but Forester said that he did not need anything, and he wished Marco to go out and amuse himself.

"You may go and see the mill," said he, "and the logs along the shore; only be careful not to go where there is any danger; and come and let me know when the boat is coming from the steamer to take us on board again."

So Marco left Forester upon the sofa, and went away. He was sorry that he was sick, and he was particularly sorry that he had to go himself without company. But, concluding that he would adopt Forester's principle of making the best of everything, in the events which occur in travelling, he walked along the road, singing a tune which he had learned at a juvenile singing school in New York, and watching the pulsations of the steam, as it issued from the pipe at the mill.

As Marco walked along, it occurred to him that he had not, after all, succeeded in acknowledging to the captain of the steamboat that he had lost the bucket. And, since the first occasion for doing so had gone by, he began to doubt whether it would be best for him to trouble himself any farther about it.

"The bucket was not worth much," said he to himself. "Nobody knows it is lost, except that boy, and he will not tell. I've a great mind not to say anything about it."

In fact, Marco found that he was much less inclined to make his acknowledgment now, than he was when the circumstance first occurred. He wished that he had at once stated the facts to Forester, which would have been his wisest course; but now, that the first occasion for doing so had passed away, he began to feel disinclined to do it at all.

Marco soon reached the mill, and he amused himself, for half an hour, in watching the movement of the engine, the strokes of the saw, and the drawing up of the logs from the water to the floor of the mill. There was a steep, sloping platform from the mill down to the river, and a long chain extended down to the water. This chain was fastened to one end of one of the logs, which lay floating there, and then, by means of the machinery, it was drawn slowly up, bringing the ponderous log with it.

The way in which the machinery drew up the chain was this: The end of the chain, which was within the mill, was wound around an axle, which was made to revolve by the machinery. The axle, thus revolving, wound up the chain, and, in this manner, drew it gradually in, by which means the log, which was attached to the lower end of it, was drawn up.

Presently, Marco's attention was attracted towards some men, who seemed to be sailing about upon some logs, in a cove, just below the mill. He went down immediately to see what they were doing. They had long poles in their hands, with iron points in the ends of them, and were pushing the logs about with these poles, to choose out such as they wished to saw in the mill.

Just as Marco came down, one of the men stepped upon the end of a log which was floating very near him. The log sank a little, but not much, under him, and the man walked along towards the other end of it. Marco wondered how he could keep his balance.

When the millman reached the farther end of the log, he extended his long pole very dexterously, and struck the point of it into the corner of a sort of wharf, which was built upon the bank; and then, pulling gently, he drew himself along, together with the log upon which he was floating. Marco was surprised at this, and he wondered that the man did not fall off the log. He thought that if the log were to roll in the least degree, the man would be rolled off into the water. He ran down to the little wharf, so that he could see better.

"Well, my boy," said the millman, "do you belong on board the steamboat?"

"Yes, sir," said Marco; "we got aground. You'll fall off of that log if you don't take care."

"No," said the millman, "there's no danger."

"Why, if the log should roll the least atom, away you'd go," said Marco, "though the water is not very deep."

Here the man began to step upon the log in a peculiar manner, so as to make it roll. It rolled slowly, but the man continued stepping until he had rolled it completely over. The side which had been under water appeared of a dark color, and was very slippery, being covered with a sort of slime; but the man did not slip. After he had thus rolled the log completely over, he looked up to Marco, and said,

"There, you see that there is no danger."

When the man had drawn this log up to the shore, he went for another; and he had to sail upon this second one a long distance, in bringing it to its place. He pushed himself along by running his pole down to the bottom, and pushing against the sand.

"Could I sail upon a log?" asked Marco.

"No," replied the millman; "you'd roll off."

"How did you learn to do it?" asked Marco.

"Oh, I learned when I was a boy," replied the millman.

"Did you roll off when you were learning?" asked Marco.

"Yes," said the man. "I've been off the log into the water many a time."

"And how did you get out again?" said Marco.

"Oh, I could swim," he replied; "and as soon as I came up, I would paddle back to the log, and climb up upon it. Once, however, I came very near being drowned."

"How was it?" said Marco.

"Why, I was on the upper side of a boom"–

"A boom?" said Marco, "what is that?"

"A boom!" repeated the millman; "don't you know what a boom is? It is a place to catch logs. They go to some cove or eddy, where the water is pretty still, and chain logs together, end to end, so as to form a long line on the lower side of the eddy, and then along up the middle of the river a little way, so as to enclose a space to catch the logs."

"What do they fasten the boom to?" asked Marco.

"Why, the lower end," said the millman, "is fastened to the shore, by means of a very strong post, or an iron staple set into the rocks. The other end, which is out in the middle of the stream, is fastened to some island, if there is one, or, if not, to a pier built up from the bottom."

"Well," said Marco, "tell on about your getting in."

"The boom was full of logs, and I was upon the upper side of it, at work with some other men. I was on a log trying to find the mark, and I fell in."

"What made you fall off?" asked Marco.

"I don't know," replied the millman. "I was not much use to logs then. I was trying to find the mark."

"What mark?" asked Marco.

"The owner's mark," said the millman. "The owners all mark their logs, when they get them out in the winter, and then we separate or sort them in the booms. Sometimes the mark is on the under side of the log, and so we have to turn it over in the water to find it."

While all this conversation had been going on, the millman had been moving about over the water with the various logs, Marco accompanying him, and keeping as near to him as possible, walking along the shore, and sometimes on the logs which were resting by one end on the shore. As the millman was describing the system of marking the logs, he was sailing along very near to Marco, and he immediately began to turn the log over under him, saying—

"For instance, look here, and see me turn up the mark of this log."

Marco watched the log, as it slowly revolved, until presently there came a sort of hieroglyphical mark upon one end, made by crosses and lines cut into the wood.

"Every owner has his particular mark," said the millman.

"Whose mark is that?" asked Marco.

"I don't know," said the man, "but they know at the mill. They have a register of them all at the mill."

"I wish I could turn over a log, standing on it, in that way," said Marco.

"You couldn't," said the millman. "The only way by which you can sail safely on logs, would be to put two together, and make a sort of raft."

"How?" asked Marco.

"By nailing short pieces of boards across from one log to another. Then they would not roll."

"Well," said Marco, "if I could only get a hammer and some nails."

The millman told him that perhaps they would let him have a hammer and some nails at the mill; and Marco, accordingly, went up to inquire. They told him they had a hammer, but they had no nails to spare. So Marco failed of getting the means of making a raft. He forgot to go back to the millman to get the rest of his story, but, instead of it, he rambled down the bank of the river, until he came to a place where there was an old fence, which had fallen down, and the nails were sticking out of the boards. He now wished that he had borrowed the hammer at the mill, and he tried to persuade a boy, who was standing there, to go and borrow it for him.

The boy told him that a stone would do very well for a hammer.

"So it will," said Marco; "find me a good one, and bring it to this old fence."

The boy brought Marco a stone, and Marco began to knock out the nails. Very soon, however, he set the boy at work upon the nails, while he went in pursuit of some short boards, to nail across from one log to the other. He found some, which he thought would answer, without much difficulty, and collected them together near the logs; and, soon afterwards, the boy brought him the nails.

The logs were lying side by side, with two ends resting upon the shore, the two other ends being out towards the stream. Marco concluded to nail first the two ends which were towards the shore, they being nearest, and being also more steady than the others. He accordingly laid one of his short pieces across, and nailed it as well as he could, using the stone for a hammer.

"Now," said he to the boy, "I'll put another board across at the middle, and one more at the other end, and then, if I can find something for a pole, I'll take a little sail. Look about a little, my boy, won't you," continued he, "and see if you can't find a pole, while I am nailing the other boards."

The boy accordingly went away in pursuit of a pole, while Marco nailed first the middle board, and then the end one. He came back just after Marco had got the first nail of the end board driven in, and as soon as he came in sight of the logs and of Marco, he exclaimed—