The log lurched noisily across lumps and hollows, the chain made a harsh clank, and the wood echoed the thud of heavy hoofs.  Festing ran his best, and imagined that he was running for the horses’ lives and perhaps for his.  He durst not look round, and could only guess where the log was by the noise.  The blurred trees rolled back to him in a thick dark mass, but he thought the gap he followed got narrower ahead.  This was, no doubt, the awkward spot where the trunks closed on the track, and there was a corner.  He must go on and trust to luck for getting round.

In a few moments he was almost at the corner, and although it was hard to see, thought he distinguished a break in the dark wall of trees.  One must keep to the inside, on the right; but there was very little room, and if he miscalculated, he or the horses would collide with a trunk.  He smashed through a bush that caught his foot, but his hold upon the bridle saved him from a fall.  It looked as if he had left the track and was plunging into the wood.  Then a black trunk became detached from the rest, apparently straight in front.  He did not mean to let go, although he might be crushed between the horse’s shoulder and the tree, and drew as close as possible to the animal.  Something brushed his coat, he felt a button torn off, but the tree was passed.  He knew where he was now, and thrusting hard against the horse urged the animal towards the other side of the road.  The log ran into soft snow and slowed; there was more room here and the steepest pitch was behind.  A few minutes later, he reached the top of the skids and sat down on the log, breathing fast and feeling badly shaken.

He frowned as he thought there was no physical reason he should feel shaken.  He was used to strenuous effort, and danger could not be avoided when one engaged in construction work.  It was mental strain that was wearing him out; the constant endeavor to finish a task in less than the necessary time.  Want of money was, however, the main cause of his difficulties, and when he had got his cheque it would be possible to take things easier.  Comforting himself with this reflection, he got up and led the horses down-hill.

The clang of hammers and rattle of shovels rose from the gorge, sharply distinct at times, but melting when the throb of the river swelled and a gust roared among the trees.  A dark skeleton of steel that stood out against pulsating flame, with blurred reflections below, marked the central pier of the bridge; the line of track was picked out by twinkling fires.  Then the scream of a whistle pierced the sound and the lights went out.  The men were going back to the bunk-house and Festing envied them.  Their work was finished for the day and they could rest, free from care, until the whistle roused them to begin again.  Many were, no doubt, tired, but that was man’s common lot, and muscular fatigue in moderation was no hardship.  The strain came when one had to make the dollars go round and see that every effort paid its cost.  Among the mountains, the cost was high.