"The enemy is before us. You have heard and seen his challenge.

It behooves us to respond gallantly. To jump and skip like
rabbits is unmilitary and unsoldierlike. I propose that each of

us shall select two large logs, tie them together, procure, if
possible, a boat-hook or an oar, and, sitting astride the logs,

boldly push out into the river. If we can advance in a tolerably
even line, which I think quite possible, we can send so deadly a

charge into the ranks of our adversaries that they will be
compelled to flee. Then we will land on the east side, occupy

the heights, and rout our foe.
"Now let each man do his duty. Forward, march!"

The lumbermen, whose sympathies were with the East-Siders, found
this performance highly diverting, but Viggo allowed himself in

nowise to be disturbed by their laughter or jeers. He marched
his troops down to the river-front, commanded "Rest arms!" and

repeated once more his instructions; then, flinging off his coat
and waistcoat, he seized a boat-hook and ran some hundred yards

along the bank of the stream.
The river-bed was here expanded to a wide basin, in which the

logs floated lazily down to the cataract below. Trees and
underbrush, which usually stood on dry land, were half-submerged

in the yellow water, and the current gurgled slowly about their
trunks with muddy foam and bubbles. Now and then a heap of

lumber would get wedged in between the jutting rocks above the
waterfall, and then the current slackened, only to be suddenly

accelerated, when the exertions of the men had again removed the
obstruction.

It was an exciting spectacle to see these daring fellows leap
from log to log, with birch-bark shoes on their feet. They would

ride on a heap of lumber down to the very edge of the cataract,
dexterously jump off at the critical moment, and after half a

dozen narrow escapes, reach the shore, only to repeat the
dangerous experiment, as soon as the next opportunity offered

itself.
It was the example of these hardy and agile lumbermen, trained

from childhood to sport with danger, which inspired Viggo and his
followers with a desire to show their mettle.

"Sergeant Henning," said the General to his ever-faithful shadow,
"take a squad of five men with you, and cut steering-poles for

those for whom boat-hooks cannot be procured. You will be the
last to leave shore. Report to me if any one fails to obey

orders."
"Shall be done, General," Marcus responded, with a deferential

military salute.
"The bows, you understand, will be slung by the straps across the

backs of the men, while they steer and push with their poles."
"Certainly, General," said Marcus, with another salute.

"You may go."
"All right, General," answered Marcus, with a third salute.

And now began the battle. The East-Siders, fearing that a
stratagem was intended, when they saw the enemy moving up the

stream, made haste to follow their example, capturing on their
way every stray log that came along. They sent ineffectual

showers of arrows into the water, while the brave General Viggo,
striding two big logs which he had tied together with a piece of

rope, and with a boat-hook in his hand, pushed proudly at the
head of his army into the middle of the wide basin.

Halvor Reitan was clever enough to see what it meant, and he was
not going to allow the West-Siders to gain the heights above him,

and attack him in the rear. He meant to prevent the enemy from
landing, or, still better, he would meet him half-way, and drive

him back to his own shore.
The latter, though not the wiser course, was the plan which

Halvor Reitan adopted. To have a tussle with the high-nosed
Viggo in the middle of the basin, to dislodge him from his

raft--that seemed to Halvor a delightfulproject. He knew that
Viggo was a good swimmer, so he feared no dangerous consequences;

and even if he had, it would not have restrained him. He was so
much stronger than Viggo, and here was his much-longed-for

opportunity.
With great despatch he made himself a raft of two logs, and

seating himself astride them, with his legs in the water, put off
from shore. He shouted to his men to follow him, and they needed

no urging. Viggo was now near the middle of the basin, with
twenty or thirty picked archers close behind him. They fired

volley after volley of arrows against the enemy, and twice drove
him back to the shore.

But Halvor Reitan, shielding his face with a piece of bark which
he had picked up, pushed forward in spite of their onslaught,

though one arrow knocked off his red-peaked cap, and another
scratched his ear. Now he was but a dozen feet from his foe. He

cared little for his bow now; the boat-hook was a far more
effectual weapon.

Viggo saw at a glance that he meant to pull his raft toward him,
and, relying upon his greater strength, fling him into the water.

His first plan would therefore be to fence with his own boat-
hook, so as to keep his antagonist at a distance.

When Halvor made the first lunge at the nose of his raft, he
foiled the attempt with his own weapon, and managed dexterously

to give the hostile raft a downward push, which increased the
distance between them.

"Take care, General!" said a respectful voice close to Viggo's
ear. "There is a small log jam down below, which is getting

bigger every moment. When it is got afloat, it will be dangerous
out here."

"What are you doing here, Sergeant?" asked the General,
severely. "Did I not tell you to be the last to leave the

shore?"
"You did, General," Marcus replied, meekly, "and I obeyed. But I

have pushed to the front so as to be near you."
"I don't need you, Sergeant," Viggo responded, "you may go to the

rear."
The booming of the cataract nearly drowned his voice and Marcus

pretended not to hear it. A huge lumber mass was piling itself
up among the rocks jutting out of the rapids, and a dozen men

hanging like flies on the logs, sprang up and down with axes in
their hands. They cut one log here and another there; shouted

commands; and fell into the river amid the derisive jeers of the
spectators; they scrambled out again and, dripping wet, set to

work once more with a cheerful heart, to the mighty music of the
cataract, whose thundering rhythm trembled and throbbed in the

air.
The boys who were steering their rafts against each other in the

comparatively placid basin were too absorbed in their mimic
battle to heed what was going on below. Halvor and Viggo were

fighting desperately with their boat-hooks, the one attacking and
the other defending himself with great dexterity. They scarcely

perceived, in their excitement, that the current was dragging
them slowly toward the cataract; nor did they note the warning

cries of the men and women on the banks.
Viggo's blood was hot, his temples throbbed, his eyes flashed.

He would show this miserable clown who had dared to insult him,
that the trained skill of a gentleman is worth more than the rude

strength of a bully. With beautiful precision he foiled every
attack; struck Halvor's boat-hook up and down, so that the water