Katy John and her people came back from the salmon fishing. Jim Renfrew,
still walking with a pronounced limp, returned from the hospital.
Charlie wheedled Stella into taking up the cookhouse burden again.
Stella consented; in truth she could do nothing else. Charlie spent a
little of his contract profits in piping water to the kitchen, in a few
things to brighten up and make more comfortable their own quarters.
"Just as soon as I can put another boom over the rapids, Stell," he
promised, "I'll put a cook on the job. I've got to sail a little close
for a while. With this crew I ought to put a million feet in the water
in six weeks. Then I'll be over the hump, and you can take it easy. But
till then--"
"Till then I may as well make myself useful," Stella interrupted
caustically.
"Well, why not?" Benton demanded impatiently. "Nobody around here works
any harder than I do."
And there the matter rested.
CHAPTER X
ONE WAY OUT
That was a winter of big snow. November opened with rain. Day after day
the sun hid his face behind massed, spitting clouds. Morning, noon, and
night the eaves of the shacks dripped steadily, the gaunt limbs of the
hardwoods were a line of coursing drops, and through all the vast
reaches of fir and cedar the patter of rain kept up a dreary monotone.
Whenever the mist that blew like rolling smoke along the mountains
lifted for a brief hour, there, creeping steadily downward, lay the
banked white.
Rain or shine, the work drove on.
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