IN THE WILDERNESS
Cora was lost!
For an hour past she had refused to admit it to herself. The utmost that
she would concede was that she had become separated from her party. But
that of course often happened, was bound to happen again and again, when
one was out in the woods.
Jack and the rest must be looking for her as eagerly as she was for them.
How heartily they would laugh and joke over the needless fears that had
assailed her when she first realized that she was alone.
So she had reasoned with herself, thrusting resolutely into the
background the terrible dread that kept trying to get possession of her
mind, marshaling all the pathetic sophistries by which those in similar
plight have tried to delude themselves from the beginning of the world.
But with every moment that passed she grew more certain of the truth,
until she seated herself on a fallen tree, and, burying her face in her
hands, gave way to the tears she tried in vain to hold back.
There was no use in blinking the fact. She was lost in the Adirondack
wilderness, cut off for the time being from her friends, doomed perhaps
to suffer incredible hardships before she should be rescued. She
shuddered as she recalled instances of others, lost in that vast region,
strong men, some of them, for whom rescue had arrived too late.
She pressed her fingers into her throbbing temples and tried to think.
But her head swam, and it was only by a strong exertion of her will that
she was able to pull herself together. It was some minutes before she had
herself well in hand and was able to bring all her powers to bear on the
problem before her. That problem had suddenly assumed gigantic
proportions. Unless she solved it correctly, her life might pay the
penalty.
"What shall I do?" she asked herself. "What shall I do?"
North, east, south, west, wherever she looked she could see nothing
resembling a trail. In all that tangle of trees, rocks and undergrowth
there was no indication that the foot of man had ever disturbed its
solitude. And as Cora looked wildly about her, the forest seemed to mock
her with a lurking smile as though taunting her helplessness.
But she resolutely crushed back the feeling of panic that clutched at her
heart and hunted about desperately to get her bearings. It was
ridiculous, she told herself, that she should not find something that
would give her the needed clue.
She knew in a general way that the bungalow lay a little north of east.
It was not much to go by, but if she could keep in that line it might
make all the difference between safety and disaster.
But how was she to find the cardinal points? She had no compass with her.
And then her heart gave a great bound as she thought of her watch!
Like all the Motor Girls, Cora, in her frequent journeyings, had picked
up a good many points of woodcraft. Among others, she knew how by a
simple device to locate the south, and with this as a starter find the
other points of the compass.
Where she sat, the trees were so thick that a perpetual twilight reigned
beneath. A little to the right, however, they thinned out somewhat, and
rays of light fell through the foliage. Here was her chance to get an
idea of the sun's location.
She went hurriedly to the spot and opening her watch carefully turned it
until the figure twelve pointed directly at the sun. Then she measured
half the distance between twelve and the hour hand and knew that this
central point indicated due south. Directly opposite, of course, was
north. Standing, then, with her face to the north, it followed that the
east was on her right hand and the west on her left.
She had a tiny penknife with her, and with this she cut two strips of
bark and dovetailed them in the form of a cross, so that each of the four
ends stood for one of the cardinal points. On these she cut the
appropriate initials and carefully planted it in the ground at her feet.
Then she put back her watch with a sigh of satisfaction.
Now she had at least a point of departure. All she had to do was to start
in the right direction and depend upon further glimpses of the sun to
correct her course from time to time.
From the beginning her progress was slow, owing to the absence of a trail
and the necessity of forcing her way through the underbrush. At times she
had to make a considerable detour, to avoid brush so thickly matted that
she could not penetrate it. This of necessity threw her out of the course
she was trying to keep. And her consternation was great to find, on
reaching a more open spot, that the sun was now hidden by thick clouds.
Still she went doggedly on for two hours or more, taxing every ounce of
courage and resolution that she possessed, finding a mental relief in the
physical effort that kept her from dwelling too intently on her desperate
plight. The afternoon was rapidly waning and the gloom of the forest was
deepening into dusk. And just then, panting with fatigue and exhaustion,
her eye caught something familiar close to her feet.
It was the cross of bark that she had made two hours earlier!
This, then, was the reward of all her exertions. Obeying that inexorable
and malign law that seems to hound desert and forest wanderers, she had
worked around in a circle to the very point from which she had started!
For a moment it seemed to Cora that she must be dreaming. She could not
bring herself to admit that all the toil and effort of the afternoon had
come only to this. It was absurd, ridiculous! She rubbed her eyes and
looked again. It was only too surely the fact. There was the little cross
with the edges still raw from the blade of her knife.
Fate had played a cruel joke on her--a joke that might prove to be
deadly. She had taxed her muscles until she was dropping with weariness,
kept up her courage with the thought that she was making progress, only
to find that all was utterly wasted, and that she was no nearer safety
than when she had started. The reaction came on her with a rush and for a
moment she thought she was going to faint.
Now, for the first time, the full horror of her situation dawned on her.
As long as she had kept in motion, she had been buoyed up by the thought
that at any minute she might win her way to safety. But now her chance,
for the day at least, was gone. She was alone, cut off from all human
companionship in that vast wilderness, and night was coming on!
What was to be her fate? She had everything to live for, youth, health,
friends, home and love. She was just on the brink of womanhood, and life
ran at full tide through her veins. The future stretched before her,
glowing with promise and with hands heaped high with treasures. She was
just getting ready to drink the wine of life. Was the cup to be dashed
rudely to the ground, just as she was lifting it to her lips?
For a little while she surrendered to these gloomy imaginings. The shock
had been too severe for her to rally all at once. Then she took a grip on
herself.
For it was not in Cora's nature to yield tamely to despair. Her heart was
naturally brave and she came of fighting stock. It was good red blood
that ran in Cora's veins, and now, as the first depression passed, it
began to assert itself.
Not that she attempted longer to deceive herself. She admitted that her
plight was desperate. But it was not hopeless. It never would be that,
she told herself, as long as a spark of life was left. She would work,
plan, struggle and never give up.
But where would she find shelter for the night? In some dense thicket? In
a hollow tree? She shuddered as she thought of spending the night
entirely in the open. What wild animals might be abroad, coming out,
soft-footed and wary, to make their nightly kill? She knew that there
were bears, wolves and lynxes in these forests, and also rattlesnakes.
Without anything approaching a weapon, what chance would she have in case
of attack?
If she only had some matches! None of the beasts would dare to touch her
if she were seated close to a roaring fire. They might prowl about and
eye her hungrily, but no matter how famished or savage they were, they
would not venture into that zone of flame.
But a fire was impossible. And as Cora realized this, she looked about
her wildly, as though she expected even in the twilight to hear a
stealthy footfall or see a pair of phosphorescent eyes glaring at her.
She could almost hear the pounding of her heart.
She must find shelter in the few minutes of daylight that remained. There
was nothing to gain and everything to lose by staying where she was. With
a little prayer on her lips, she set off, choosing no particular
direction, but trusting to Providence to direct her.
Five minutes later she gave a joyous cry, and ran forward to a tiny hut
that stood in a little clearing.
It was a rude cabin of a single room. Its weather-beaten and dilapidated
appearance showed that it had been knocked together a long time
previously, probably by some trapper or hunter. Part of the thatched roof
had sagged in, leaving rifts open to the sky.
On the earthen floor within were the ashes of a fire and several rusty
pans and skillets, abandoned or forgotten by the last occupant. In the
center was a bunk, consisting of four uprights, to which were fastened
ropes that crossed and criss-crossed each other to form a rough mattress.
A door swung loosely from the rusted hinges.
From all appearances, no one had been in the place for years. Cora rushed
inside, pulled the door shut and slipped a bar that she found within into
place. Then she sat down on the cord mattress and cried with
thankfulness.
From all the terrors of a night spent in the open forest she was safe.
Night had fully fallen now, and the myriad voices of the forest were in
full swing. It was nature's symphony on a colossal scale. Locusts,
crickets and katydids sought to outdo each other. From the trees came the
hoot of owls and the mournful notes of the whippoorwill.
Now that she was temporarily safe, Cora was conscious of being hungry.
She had been so absorbed in her attempt to escape from the captivity of
the forest that she had not even thought of food. Now she realized that
her healthy appetite was clamoring for satisfaction.
Suddenly she remembered that she had slipped a tablet of chocolate in the
pocket of her blouse that morning, to nibble at on the trip. She had
forgotten all about it till now, and she thanked the fates for the
oversight.
She drew it out, and as she did so she felt two other objects that she
had not known were there. She drew them out and found that they were two
cubes of compressed soup stock, wrapped in little pieces of waxed paper.
How on earth had they gotten there? Some trick played by Bess or Belle
probably. They had slipped them in when she had not been looking, just
for the sake of seeing her perplexed expression when she should discover
them. That must be the explanation.
Her spirits rose with the discovery. If she could only have had a can of
water and a fire, she could have made a delicious soup. But this was out
of the question, and she had to content herself with putting one of the
precious cubes in her mouth and letting it slowly dissolve. It was rather
dry eating, but the nourishment was there.
She was sorely tempted to let the other cube and the tablet of chocolate
take the same course, as all of them together would have made but a
slender meal. But prudence spoke more loudly than appetite and she
crushed down the temptation. Although it taxed her resolution sorely, she
thrust them back into her pocket.
She lay down on the rude mattress, although she was sure that she would
not close her eyes the whole night through. But she was utterly used up
by the terrible strain of the day's experience, and tired nature demanded
her rights. Sleep laid its soothing fingers on her eyelids, and all her
troubles were, for the time being, forgotten.