He could not believe that more than half of the logs
ever reached their destination. Many were floating in midstream, and for
them all went smoothly; others moved close to the shore, bumping against
points of land, and some were left behind in the still waters of the
creeks. On the lakes there were so many logs that they covered the
entire surface of the water. These appeared to be lodged for an
indefinite period. At the bridges they stuck; in the falls they were
bunched, then they were pyramided and broken in two; afterward, in the
rapids, they were blocked by the stones and massed into great heaps.
"I wonder how long it takes for the logs to get to the mill?" said the
boy.
The eagle continued his slow flight down River Ljungen. Over many places
he paused in the air on outspread wings, that the boy might see how this
kind of harvest work was done.
Presently they came to a place where the loggers were at work. The eagle
marked that the boy wondered what they were doing.
"They are the ones who take care of all the belated harvest," the eagle
said.
The boy remembered the perfect ease with which his people at home had
driven their grain to the mill. Here the men ran alongside the shores
with long boat-hooks, and with toil and effort urged the logs along.
They waded out in the river and were soaked from top to toe.
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