away with it; and because she knew and was sure she knew.
He saw a farmer who had come to work for a few days standing close behind a team as the driver prepared to skid out a log.
"That's dangerous," Helen called out.
The man grumbled that he had been in the woods before, but did not move.
The horses started forward and hung and strained—and one tooth of the heavy tongs slipped from its hold and the implement shot forward, spinning over, struck the man's thigh and bit savagely into the flesh before the horses, lurching forward at the sudden relief of strain, could be stopped. The tongs fell away but the polished steel was smeared with blood and the man's pants leg darkened quickly with it.
Helen was the first to his side, borrowing a knife, slitting his clothing, exposing the two ugly holes in the flesh, one of which spurted an alarming stream where an artery had been torn. She took the man's suspenders, bound them about his leg above the injury and twisted the tourniquet tight with a stick—She was gone most of the day, remaining in camp with the man until the doctor from Pancake had come to dress the injury, and then going herself to tell his family of the accident.
(They recounted this of her while she waited for the doctor: "'Swear', she says. 'Swear if it hurts too much. I've heard worse oaths than you can invent!'")
Another item: He heard men on the job scoffing at the idea of timber as a crop; in Pancake he saw men grin and mutter to one another as Helen passed, and knew that the girl was aware that she was being laughed at
