At length among them he saw the great log that had fallen almost horizontal with the water; upon it a solitary human figure stood erect in an attitude of frenzied defiance.
"I have come from your daughter, Markham." Then in a moment, by way of self-explanation, he said, "Toyner." The man addressed only flung a clenched fist into the air.

The silence of his pantomime now that there was some one to speak to was made ghastly by the harangue which he had been pouring out upon the solitude.
"Have you lost your head ?" asked Toyner.

"I have come from your daughter--I'm not going to arrest you, but set you down at The Mills--you can go where you will then." He knew now the answer to his first question.

The man before him was in some stage of delirium.

Toyner wondered if any one could secretly have brought him drink.
There was nothing to be done but to soothe as best he could the other's fear and enmity, and to bring the boat close to the tree for him to get in it.