Then the driver, walking by his horses' heads, felt with his feet for the hollowed track, and losing it now and then embedded his load in snow.

Then he called for help, and men with cantpoles laboriously hove the ponderous mass back to the road.
The work was worse on the inclines, where the logs ran smoothly and there was a risk of their overtaking the horses.

Rain had begun to fall and one could not see the obstacles, but there were pitches where one must go fast in order to keep in front of the dangerous loads.

But risks must be run in lumbering, and Festing felt that rashness was justified.
Speed was the thing that counted most.
When supper time drew near, men and horses were worn out, and Festing knew that if he urged the former to continue he could not do much without the teams.

There were, however, a few logs he meant to haul to the skidway before he stopped, and he had some misgivings when he started with the last.