When the police from a town a hundred miles away arrived at the same time as John Grier, it was to find the Grier and Belloc gangs peacefully prodding side by side.
When the police had gone, John Grier looked Tarboe up and down.

The brown face, the clear, strong brown eyes and the brown hatless head rose up eighteen inches above his own, making a gallant summit to a robust stalk.
"Well, you've done easier things than that in your time, eh ?" John Grier asked.
Tarboe nodded.

"It was touch and go.

I guess it was the hardest thing I ever tried since I've been working for you, but it's come off all right, hasn't it ?" He waved a hand to the workmen on the river, to the tumbling rushes of logs and timber.

Then he looked far up the stream, with hand shading his brown eyes to where a crib-or raft-was following the eager stream of logs.