The noise stopped, he heard a splash, and as the following logs leaped the broken bank, the first shot half its length out of water, and falling again, drove down stream.
The rope at the island caught it while a trolley ran down, but the straining wire curved and parted, and the trolley fell into the river as the log swept on.

The others followed and vanished in a turmoil of muddy foam, and Festing went down to the track.

Things might have been worse, for nobody was hurt, although some yards of road-bed had been carried away and a derrick he had built to put the logs on the cars was smashed.
As he studied the damage a wet and angry engineer ran up.
"You have got to stop your blamed logs jumping down like that! They've broken a steel rope and there's a new trolley-skip in the river!" "I'm sorry," Festing answered.

"I'll try to get the skip out as soon as possible, and you can trust me to stop more logs getting away, for my own sake." "There'll be trouble if you let your lumber loose on me, and I want the skip soon," said the other.

"A stranger asked for you a few minutes ago and I sent him up the hill." He went away and Festing's men came up.
"Pretty rough luck, boss!" one remarked.