DOWN THE RIVER
Anna had gathered an armful of dry wood and was just starting back when
a queer little frightened cry made her stop suddenly and look quickly
around. In a moment the noise was repeated, and she realized that it
came from a pile of logs near the river bank. Anna put down the wood,
and tiptoed carefully in the direction of the sound.
As she came near the logs she could see a little gray creature
struggling to get loose from a coil of string in which its hind legs
were entangled.
"Oh! It's a rabbit!" Anna exclaimed. "Perhaps it is Trit," and she ran
quickly forward. But the little creature was evidently more alarmed at
her approach than at the trap that held him, and with a frantic leap he
was off, the string trailing behind him; but his hind feet were still
hampered by the twisting string, and he came to a sudden halt.
"Poor Trit! Poor Trit!" called the little girl pityingly, as she ran
after him. Just as she was near enough to touch him another bound
carried him beyond her reach. On leaped the rabbit, and on followed Anna
until they were some distance below the mill and near the river's
sloping bank, over which the rabbit plunged and Anna after him. A small
boat lay close to the shore, and Bunny's plunge carried him directly
into the boat, where, twisted in the string, he lay struggling and
helpless.
Anna climbed into the boat and picked up "Trit," as she called the
rabbit, and patiently and tenderly untied the string from the
frightened, panting little captive, talking gently as she did so, until
he lay quiet in her hands.
The little girl was so wholly absorbed in her task that she did not
notice that the boat was not fastened, or that her spring into it had
sent it clear from the shore. Not until Trit was free from the string
did she look up, and then the little boat was several feet from the
shore, and moving rapidly downstream.
If Anna had stepped overboard then she could easily have waded ashore
and made her way back to the mill; but she was so surprised that such a
course did not come into her thoughts, and in a few moments the boat was
in deep water and moving with the current downstream.
On each side of the river the woods grew down to the shore, and now and
then the wide branches of overhanging trees stretched for some distance
over the stream. A blue heron rose from the river, making its loud call
that drowned Anna's voice as she cried: "Father! Father!" Even had Mr.
Weston been near at hand he could hardly have distinguished Anna's
voice. But Anna was now too far downstream for any call to reach her
father or Rebby and Paul, who were all anxiously searching for her.
At first the little girl was not at all frightened. The river ran to
Machias, and, had it not been that she was sure her father and sister
would be worried and sadly troubled by her disappearance, Anna would
have thought it a fine adventure to go sailing down the stream with her
captured rabbit. Even as it was, she had a gleeful thought of Luretta's
surprise and of Melvina's admiration when she should tell them the
story.
She soon discovered that the boat leaked, and, holding the rabbit
tightly in one hand, she took off her round cap and began to bail out
the water, which had now risen to her ankles. Very soon the little cap
was soggy and dripping; and now Anna began to wonder how long the leaky
little craft could keep afloat.
Both Anna and Rebby could swim; their father had taught them when they
were very little girls, and Anna knew that if she would leave the rabbit
to drown that she could reach the shore safely; but this seemed hardly
to be thought of. She now resolved to clutch at the first branch within
reach, hoping in that way to scramble to safety with Trit. But the boat
was being carried steadily along by the current, although the water came
in constantly about her feet.
"I mustn't get frightened," Anna said aloud, remembering how often her
father had told her that to be afraid was to lose the battle.
The boat swayed a little, and then Anna found that the board seat was
wabbling.
"I never thought of the seat," she whispered, slipping down to her knees
and pulling the seat from the loose support on which it rested. It was
hard work to use the board as a paddle with only one hand, but Anna was
strong and resolute, and managed to swing the boat a little toward the
shore, so when a turn of the river came, bringing the boat close toward
a little point of land, she quickly realized that this was her
opportunity, and holding Trit close she sprang into the shallow water
and in a moment was safe on shore.
The old boat, now half-filled with water, moved slowly on, and Anna knew
that it would not be long afloat. She looked about her landing-place
with wondering eyes. Behind the little grassy point where she stood the
forest stretched close and dark; the curve of the river shut away the
course by which she had come, but she could look down the smooth flowing
current, and toward the wooded shores opposite.
The rabbit moved uneasily in her hands, and the little girl smoothed him
tenderly. "I don't know who will ever find me here, unless it should be
Indians," she said aloud, remembering the canoe that she and Rebby had
noticed as they sat on the big rock.
Anna felt a little choking feeling in her throat at the remembrance. It
seemed so long ago since she had seen Rebby and her father. "And it's
all your fault, Trit," she told the rabbit; "but you could not help it,"
she added quickly, and remembered that the rabbit must be hungry and
thirsty, and for a little while busied herself in finding tender leaves
and buds for Trit to eat, and in holding him close to the water's edge
so that he could drink. Then she wandered about the little clearing and
to the edge of the dark forest. She began to feel hungry, and knew by
the sun that it was well past noon.
"Oh! If that Indian we saw in the canoe would only come downstream,"
she thought longingly. For Anna well knew that when night came she would
be in danger from the wild beasts of the wilderness, but that almost any
of the Indians who fished and hunted in that region would take her
safely back to her home.
An hour or two dragged slowly by; Anna was very tired. She held Trit
close, and sat down not far from the river's edge. "Father will find me
some way," she said to herself over and over, and tried not to let
thoughts of fear and loneliness find a place in her mind. The little
wild rabbit was no longer afraid of its captor, and Anna was sure that
it was sorry it had led her into such trouble. But now and then tears
came to the little girl's eyes, when suddenly she heard a voice from the
river just above the curve singing a familiar air:
"Success to fair America,--
To courage to be free,
Success to fair America,
Success to Liberty."
"Oh! That is Paul! That is Paul!" cried Anna, jumping up and down with
joy; and the next moment a canoe swung round the curve, paddled by a
tall boy with a cap ornamented by tall feathers.
Paul nearly dropped his paddle as he saw Anna at the river's edge.
"However did you get here?" he exclaimed, as with a swift stroke of his
paddle he sent his canoe to shore.
Anna told him quickly of the capture of Trit, the leaking boat, and her
jump to safety, while Paul listened with astonished eyes, and, in his
turn, told of the discovery of the honey-tree, and then of the search
for Anna.
"Your father and Rebby are sadly frightened," he concluded; "they are
well on the way home now, thinking possibly you might have followed the
path. Now, get in the canoe, and I'll try my best to get you home by the
time they reach the settlement."
Anna sat in the bottom of the canoe, and Paul skilfully wielded the
paddle, sending the little craft swiftly down the river.
"That bucket is full of honey," he said, nodding toward the bow of the
canoe. But Anna was not greatly interested in the honey; she had even
forgotten that she was hungry and thirsty. She could think only of her
father and Rebby searching along the path for some trace of her.
It was late in the afternoon when the canoe swept across the river to
the same landing where Paul had fastened the liberty tree earlier in the
month. And in a few moments Anna was running up the path toward home,
followed by Paul with the bucket of honey.
"Why, child! Where are Father and Rebby? and where is your cap?"
questioned Mrs. Weston.
"Oh, Mother!" began Anna, but now the tears could not be kept back, and
held close in her mother's arms she sobbed out the story of the capture
of Trit, and all that had followed. And then Paul told the story of the
honey-tree, and his story was not finished when Anna exclaimed: "Father!
Rebby!" and ran toward the door.
How Mr. Weston's face brightened when he saw Danna safe and sound, and
how closely Rebby held her little sister, as Anna again told the story
of her journey down the river.
When Paul started for home Mrs. Weston insisted that a generous portion
of the bucket of honey should go with him; and Trit, safely fastened in
a small basket, was sent to Luretta as a gift from Anna. He promised to
be ready the next morning to return to the falls with Mr. Weston in the
canoe to bring home the store of honey.
As the Westons gathered about the table for their evening meal they
looked at each other with happy faces.
"I couldn't feel happier if the _Polly_ were in port, and America
triumphant over her enemies," declared Mr. Weston, as he helped Anna to
a liberal portion of honey.