The early morning visitor was not a bear. He was a very welcome visitor,
for as soon as he made himself visible he was seen to be the missing
canoeist. Charley was very wet and cold, but he was soon furnished with
dry clothes and a blanket, and warmed with a cup of hot coffee made with
the help of Harry's spirit-lamp; and as he lay on the bank and waited
for daylight, he told the story of his midnight run down the rapid.
When the boys were crossing the river above the rapid Charley's canoe
was close behind Joe's. The latter ran on a rock, and in order to avoid
her Charley was compelled to pass below the rock. In so doing he found
himself in great danger of running on another rock, and in his effort to
avoid this he drifted still farther down the river. Before he was aware
of his danger he was caught by the current at the head of the rapid. He
had just time to turn his canoe so as to head her down stream, and to
buckle his life-belt around him. In another second he was rushing down
the rapid at a rate that, in view of the darkness, was really frightful.
It was useless to attempt to guide the canoe. Charley could see so
little in advance of him that he could not choose his channel nor avoid
any rock that might lie in his path. He therefore sat still, trusting
that the current would carry him into the deepest channel, and keep him
clear of the rocks. The rapid seemed to be a very long one, but the
_Midnight_ ran it without taking in a drop of water or striking a single
rock.
As soon as quiet water was reached, Charley paddled to the shore,
intending to make his canoe fast and to sleep quietly in her until
morning. He was in high spirits at having successfully run a rapid in
the dark, and he paddled so carelessly that just as he was within a yard
of the shore the canoe ran upon a sunken log, spilled her captain into
the water, and then, floated off in the darkness, and disappeared.
Charley had no difficulty in getting ashore, but he was wet to the skin,
and his dry clothes and all his property, except his paddle, had gone on
a cruise without him. There was nothing for him to do but to make his
way back along the bank to the other boys. This proved to be a tiresome
task. The woods were very thick, and full of underbrush and fallen
trunks. Charley was terribly scratched, and his clothes badly torn, as
he slowly forced his way through the bushes and among the trees. He was
beginning to think that he would never reach the boys, when he
fortunately heard their voices as they whispered together.
When morning dawned, the canoeists, feeling extremely cramped and stiff,
cast their canoes loose, and started down the river, intending, if
possible, to find Charley's canoe, and then go ashore for breakfast and
a good long sleep. The rapid had been run so easily by Charley in the
night that they rightly imagined they would find no difficulty in
running it by daylight. Tom took Charley in the _Twilight_, and the
fleet, with Harry leading the way, passed through the rapid without
accident. The boys could not but wonder how Charley had escaped the
rocks in the darkness, for the rapid, which was much the roughest and
swiftest they had yet seen, seemed to be full of rocks.
Not very far below the rapid the missing canoe was discovered aground in
an eddy. She was uninjured; and as there was a sandy beach and plenty of
shade near at hand, the boys went ashore, made their breakfast, and
lying down on their rubber blankets, slept until the afternoon.
[Illustration: RUNNING THE RAPID.]
It was time for dinner when the tired canoeists awoke, and by the time
they had finished their meal and were once more afloat it was nearly
three o'clock. They ran three more rapids without any trouble. Their
canoes frequently struck on sunken rocks; but as they were loaded so as
to draw more water aft than they did forward, they usually struck aft of
midships, and did not swing around broadside to the current. When a
canoe struck in this way, her captain unjointed his paddle, and taking a
blade in each hand, generally succeeded in lifting her clear of the rock
by pushing with both blades against the bottom of the river. In the next
rapid Joe's canoe ran so high on a rock that was in the full force of
the current that he could not get her afloat without getting out of her.
He succeeded in getting into her again, however, without difficulty, by
bringing her alongside of the rock on which he was standing, although he
had to step in very quickly, as the current swept her away the moment he
ceased to hold her.
In running these rapids the canoes were kept at a safe distance apart,
so that when one ran aground, the one following her had time to steer
clear of her. At Charley's suggestion, the painter of each canoe was
rove through the stern-post instead of the stem-post. By keeping the end
of the painter in his hand the canoeist whose canoe ran aground could
jump out and feel sure that the canoe could not run away from him, and
that he could not turn her broadside to the stream by hauling on the
painter, as would have been the case had the painter been rove through
the stem-post.
"I want to see that Sherbrooke postmaster!" exclaimed Joe, after running
what was the seventh rapid, counting from the dam at Magog. "He said
there were only one or two little rapids in this river. Why, there isn't
anything but rapids in it."
"There's something else just ahead of us worse than rapids," said
Charley. "Look at that smoke."
Just a little distance below the fleet the river was completely hidden
by a dense cloud of smoke that rested on the water, and rose like a
heavy fog-bank above the tops of the highest trees. It was caused by a
fire in the woods--probably the very fire which the boys had started on
the previous night. How far down the river the smoke extended, and
whether any one could breathe while in it, were questions of great
importance to the canoeists.
The fleet stopped just before reaching the smoke, and the boys backed
water gently with their paddles while they discussed what they had
better do. It was of no use to go ashore with the hope of finding how
far the smoke extended, for it would have been as difficult to breathe
on shore as on the water.
"There's one good thing about it," said Charley; "the smoke blows right
across the river, so the chances are that it does not extend very far
down stream."
"We can't hear the noise of any rapid," said Harry, "and that's another
good thing. There can't be a rapid of any consequence within the next
quarter of a mile."
"Then I'll tell you what I'll do, with the Commodore's permission,"
continued Charley. "There is no use in staying here all day, for that
smoke may last for any length of time. I'll tie a wet handkerchief
around my mouth and nose, and take the chances of paddling through the
smoke. It isn't as thick close to the water as it looks to be, and I
haven't the least doubt that I can run through it all right."
"But suppose you get choked with smoke, or get into a dangerous rapid?"
suggested Tom.
"There isn't any rapid near us, or we would hear it, and I don't think
the smoke will hurt me while I breathe through a wet handkerchief. At
any rate, I'd rather try it than sit here and wait for the smoke to
disappear."
It was decided, after farther discussion, that Charley should attempt to
paddle through the smoke if he really wished to do so; and that he
should blow a whistle if he got through all right, and thought that the
other boys could safely follow his example. Paddling a little way up
stream, so as to have room to get up his fastest rate of speed before
reaching the smoke, Charley started on his hazardous trip. He
disappeared in the smoke, with his canoe rushing along at a tremendous
rate, and in a few seconds his comrades heard him calling to them to
come on without fear.
They followed Charley's example in covering their mouths and noses with
wet handkerchiefs, and in paddling at the top of their speed. They were
agreeably surprised to find that the belt of smoke was only a few yards
wide, and that almost before they had begun to find any difficulty in
breathing they emerged into pure air and sunlight.
"It was a risky business for you, Charley," said Harry, "for the smoke
might have covered the river for the next quarter of a mile."
"But then it didn't, you see," replied Charley. "How cheap we should
have felt if we had waited till morning for the smoke to blow away, and
then found that we could have run through it as easily as we have done!"
"Still I say it was risky."
"Well, admitting that it was, what then? We can't go canoeing unless we
are ready to take risks occasionally. If nobody is ever to take a risk,
there ought not to be any canoes, or ships, or railroads."
"That Sherbrooke postmaster isn't afraid to take risks," observed Joe.
"If he keeps on telling canoeists that there are no rapids in this
river, some of these days he'll have an accident with a large canoeist
and a heavy paddle. We've run seven rapids already, and have another one
ahead of us. If we ever get to Sherbrooke, I think it will be our duty
to consider whether that postmaster ought to be allowed to live any
longer."
Just before sunset the fleet reached Magog Lake--a placid sheet of water
about four miles long, with three or four houses scattered along its
eastern shore. At one of these houses eggs, milk, butter, bread, a
chicken, and a raspberry pie were bought, and the boys went into camp
near the lower end of the lake. After a magnificent supper they went to
bed rather proud of their achievements during the last day and night.
The next day the canoeists started in the cool of the morning, and as
soon as they left the lake found themselves at the head of their eighth
rapid. All that day they paddled down the river, running rapids every
little while, jumping overboard when their canoes ran aground and
refused to float, and occasionally slipping on the smooth rocky bottom
of the stream and sitting down violently in the water. Once they came to
a dam, over which the canoes had to be lowered, and on the brink of
which Joe slipped and slid with awful swiftness into the pool below,
from which he escaped with no other injury than torn trousers and wet
clothes.
"That postmaster said there were no dams in the Magog, didn't he?" asked
Joe as he prepared to get into his canoe. "Well, I hope he hasn't any
family."
"Why, what about his family?" demanded Tom.
"Nothing; only I'm going to try to get him to come down the Magog in a
canoe, so he can see what a nice run it is. I suppose his body will be
found some time, unless the bears get at him."
"That's all rubbish, Joe," said Charley. "We wouldn't have had half the
fun we've had if there hadn't been any rapids in the river. We're none
the worse for getting a little wet."
"We might have had less fun, but then I'd have had more trousers if it
hadn't been for that dam. I like fun as well as anybody, but I can't
land at Sherbrooke with these trousers."
"I see Sherbrooke now," exclaimed Harry; "so you'd better change your
clothes while you have a chance."
Sherbrooke was coming rapidly into sight as the fleet paddled down the
stream, and in the course of half an hour the boys landed in the
village, near a dam which converted the swift Magog into a lazy little
pond. While his comrades drew the canoes out of the water and made them
ready to be carted to the St. Francis, Harry went to engage a cart. He
soon returned with a big wagon large enough to take two canoes at once;
and it was not long before the fleet was resting in the shade on the
bank of the St. Francis, and surrounded by a crowd of inquisitive men,
boys, and girls.
It was difficult to convince the men that the canoes had actually come
from Lake Memphremagog by the river, and the boys were made very proud
of their success in running rapids which the men declared could only be
run in skiffs during a freshet. Without an exception all the men agreed
that there were rapids in the St. Francis which were really impassable,
and that it would be foolish for the boys to think of descending that
river. After making careful inquiries, and convincing themselves that
the men were in earnest, the canoeists retired some distance from the
crowd and held a council.
"The question is," said Harry, "shall we try the St. Francis after what
we have heard? The youngest officer present will give his opinion first.
What do you say, Joe?"
"I think I've had rapids and dams enough," replied Joe; "and I'd rather
try some river where we can sail. I vote against the St. Francis."
"What do you say, Tom?"
"I'll do anything the rest of you like; but I think we'd better give the
St. Francis up."
"Now, Charley, how do you vote?"
"For going down the St. Francis. I don't believe these men know much
about the river, or anything about canoes. Let's stick to our original
plan."
"There are two votes against the St. Francis, and one for it," said
Harry. "I don't want to make a tie, so I'll vote with the majority.
Boys, we won't go down the St. Francis, but we'll go to the hotel, stay
there over Sunday, and decide where we will cruise next."
"All right," said Joe, going to his canoe, and taking a paddle blade in
his hand.
"What in the world are you going to take that paddle to the hotel for?"
asked Harry.
"I'm going to see the postmaster who said there were no rapids in the
Magog or the St. Francis; that's all," replied Joe. "I've a painful duty
to perform, and I'm going to perform it."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]