Festing held his breath as he watched, for some gravel cars had come down the track, and he could not tell where they were.

The log was going slower, but he doubted if it would stop.
It plowed on through the gravel, which shot up all round, and then the end of the bank seemed to fall away.

There was a shower of stones; the butt of the log went down and its after end tilted up.

Then it lurched out of sight and there was a heavy crash below.

After this Festing heard a confused din, and imagined, though he could not see, the mass of timber plunging down the precipitous slope, smashing rocks and scattering gravel as it went.