Jack propelled the raft into the middle of the current, and, taking the
sweep aboard, sat down on the end of it with his back to the others,
and nursed his anger. They sat or lay on the poles in various uneasy
positions. Sir Bryson, who, until the the day before, had probably not
been obliged to sit in man's originally intended sitting position for
upward of thirty years, felt the indignity keenly.
Every one's nerves were more or less stretched out of tune. Linda,
watching Jack's uncompromising back with apprehensive eyes, was
exasperated past bearing by her father's fretful complaints.
"What do you want?" she burst out. "A padded chair? Don't be
ridiculous, father!"
Sir Bryson swelled and snorted. "That is no way to speak to your
father, Belinda. Because you see me robbed of my outward and visible
dignity is no reason for your forgetting the respect you owe me. I am
surprised at you."
Linda's muttered reply was forcible and inelegant. None of the others
paid any attention. Sir Bryson, feeling perhaps that a magisterial air
accorded ill with his tousled hair and his cross-legged position, made
a bid for sympathy instead.
"My feet are going to sleep," he said plaintively.
Jack, overhearing, was reminded again of the resemblance between father
and daughter. "You don't have to sit still," he said, speaking over
his shoulder. "You can move about as long as you don't all get on the
same side at the same time."
Sir Bryson, who would not have been robbed of his grievance for any
consideration, continued to sit and suffer dramatically.
Vassall's head was heavy. Stretching himself out, and watching Linda
wistfully, he finally fell asleep. Humpy Jull, up at the bow--if a
raft may be said to have a bow--constructed a fishing line out of a
bent pin and a moccasin lace, and baiting it with a morsel of bacon,
fished for hours with the trusting confidence of a child. Discouraged
at last, he fell asleep beside Vassall.
Thus the morning passed. Left to its own devices, the raft swung
around and back in the eddying current, and a superb panorama was
ceaselessly and slowly unrolled for any who cared to see. The river
moved down through its vast trough in the prairie, and an ever-changing
vista of high hills, or seeming hills, hemmed them in. On the
southerly side the hills were timbered for the most part. On the
northerly side, where the sun beat all day, the steep slopes were bare,
and the rich grass made vivid velvety effects darkened in the hollows
and touched with gold on the knolls. The whole made a green symphony,
comprising every note in the scale of green from the sombre spruce
boughs up through the milky emerald of the river water to the high
verdancy of the sunny grass and the delicate poplar foliage.
Of them all only Kate Worsley watched it as if the sight was enough to
repay one for the discomfort of sitting on poles. Her quiet eyes were
lifted to the hills with the look of one storing away something to
remember.
Now and then a momentary excitement was created by the sight of a bear
grubbing about the roots of the poplar saplings, homely, comical beasts
with their clumsy ways and their expression of pretended cuteness.
Something still wild in the breasts of domesticated creatures like
ourselves never fails to answer to the sight of a real wild thing at
home in his own place. Since they had no time to go ashore in case of
a hit, no shots were fired.
Once in the middle of the day they landed long enough for Jack to build
a hearth of flat stones on Humpy's end of the raft, and cover it with
clay. Then, gathering a little store of wood, they pushed off again,
and Humpy built his fire, and boiled his kettle while they floated down.
After lunch Jack's anger was no longer sufficient to keep his neck
stiff. He had been up since three that morning, and in spite of
himself he began to nod. Vassall volunteered to keep watch while he
slept.
"There's nothing to do as long as she keeps the middle of the stream,"
Jack said. "If she drifts to one side or the other wake me."
He stretched himself out, and in spite of the cobbly nature of his bed,
immediately fell asleep. Linda watched him with the tears threatening
to spring. He had not spoken to her since they started, and indeed had
scarcely seemed to be aware of her. She glanced at the others with
rebellious brows. If it were not for them, she thought, the tawny head
might be pillowed in her lap.
Another hour dragged out its slow length. Kate Worsley out of pity for
Sir Bryson's increasing peevishness proposed a game of bridge. It was
hailed with alacrity. A sweater was spread for a cloth; Sir Bryson,
Kate, Baldwin Ferrie, and Vassall squatted around it, and the cards
were dealt.
"Fancy!" exclaimed Vassall, looking around. "Rather different from a
game in the library at Government House, eh?"
"And different looking players," suggested Kate with a smile.
"I feel it very keenly, Mrs. Worsley," said Sir Bryson tearfully. "I
have always attached great importance to the little details of one's
personal appearance. Perhaps it is a weakness. But that is the way I
am."
"We're all in the same boat--I mean raft," said Mrs. Worsley
cheerfully. "Look at me!"
"I will make it no trumps," said Baldwin Ferrie.
Linda, seeing the others fully occupied, moved nearer to Jack, and lay
down where, making believe to be asleep herself, she could watch his
face, calm and glowing in sleep, the lashes lying on his cheeks, the
thin nostrils, the firm, red line of his lips. If he had only slept
with his mouth open, or had snored, it might have broken the spell that
held her, and a deal of trouble been saved. Unfortunately he slept
beautifully; and if that was not enough, once he smiled vaguely like a
sleeping baby, and changed his position a little with a sigh of
content. The sight of her strong man in his helplessness affected the
girl powerfully; when he moved, her heart set up a great beating, and
the alarmed blood tingled to her finger-tips.
During this time but an indifferent watch was kept. Humpy Jull had
fallen asleep again. There seemed little need to watch on such a
voyage. True, they had passed little reefs and stretches of broken
water where the swift current met obstructions inshore, but there had
been no disturbance that extended out into midstream. The raft was
carried down squarely in the middle of the channel.
Once when it came to Vassall's turn to be dummy, he stood up to stretch
his legs and look about him. A short distance ahead he saw that the
invariably earthy slope of the hills was broken by an outcropping of
rock on either side. The band of rock evidently crossed the river, for
in the middle a ragged islet of rock stuck its head out of the water.
Vassall debated on which side of the rock they ought to pass with the
raft. To a riverman the "middle of the stream" means the main sweep of
the current of course. Vassall was not a riverman and he did not
observe that the greater body of water made off to the left and around
that side of the island. The channel on the right-hand side stretched
straight ahead of them, wide and apparently smooth, and to Vassall this
looked like the "middle of the stream." If he had left the raft alone
the current of its own accord would have carried it around to the left,
but he ran out a sweep and pulled her to the other side. He saw no
occasion for waking Jack.
A new hand was dealt and he returned to the game. It was a critical
hand, and the attention of all four of the players was closely fixed on
the cards until the last trick was taken. Not until then did they
become aware of the grumble of broken water ahead. They had heard the
sound before on the reefs they had passed. Vassall, looking up, saw
only a kind of smudge like a thumb-mark drawn across the smooth face of
the river ahead. The next time he looked he saw darkish spots here and
there between the island and the shore.
The noise became louder. Finally he got up, and in the act of rising
the ominous white leaped into his view. It was a reef extending all
the way across. The dark spots were rocks covered by an inch or two of
water.
For an instant Vassall looked at it stupidly. The others were
arranging their cards in ignorance of any danger. Before Vassall could
wake Jack, the hoarse roar of the reef reached the subconsciousness of
the sleeping man, and he sprang up, all standing. A glance told him
everything.
"What are we doing on this side?" he cried.
He ran out one sweep, and motioned Vassall to the other. They pulled
with a will. The others watched, not fully understanding the nature of
the danger yet, but alarmed by Jack's grimness. He was heading the
raft for the main channel. They had not reached the island yet, but
Jack soon saw that at the rate they were being carried down he could
not make the other side, nor could he land his clumsy craft on the
shore above the reef.
"Save your strength," he said to Vassall. "We'll have to chance it.
Everybody sit still and hold on."
A breathless few minutes succeeded. Jack steered for the widest space
he could see between the rocks. Those who were sitting down still
could not see much of what was ahead, but the roar of the water was now
sufficiently terrifying. Moving of a piece with the current as they
were, it seemed as if they were not moving, but that the broken rocks
were striding to meet them, not very fast, but inexorably. It was hard
to sit and wait.
Then as they came close they saw how the water slipped silkily over the
reef with the dark shadows showing like teeth beneath, and boiled up
below. The women cried out sharply, and the men turned pale. It
suddenly became evident how fast the heavy raft was moving.
"Throw yourselves flat and hang on!" Jack shouted.
They obeyed. There was a dreadful moment of waiting, while the roar of
the water filled their ears. Then she struck. One side of the raft
slid up on a submerged shelf, the floor tilted at a steep angle, and
the current surged over the lower side, sweeping everything movable
off. Jack stood up to his knees in the torrent, pushing desperately at
the heavy sweep. He budged her inch by inch.
"Lie still!" he shouted. "For your lives! We'll make it yet!"
But panic seized upon his passengers. Somebody scrambled for the high
side of the raft, and the rest followed. The strain was too great for
the lashings. A rope parted somewhere, and the floor instantly heaved
up beneath them. There was a brief, wild confusion of thrashing,
tangled logs and feeble human bodies. Then the whole thing, logs,
bodies, baggage, and playing cards was swept over into the deep, rough
water below.
When Jack came to the surface he had a confused impression of bobbing
heads and logs on every side. He seized the nearest log, and
unstrapping the cartridge belt and the gun that were drowning him,
buckled it on. Meanwhile, he was looking for the long hair of the
women. He reached one of them in six strokes. A pair of clutching
arms reached for him, but he dived, and seizing her by the collar,
towed her to the nearest log. It was Linda.
Leaving her supported, he trod water looking for Kate. He saw more
streaming hair not far away, and reached the spot as she rose again.
There was sterner stuff here; her face was white and wild, but her arms
were under control. She put her hands on Jack's shoulders as he
commanded, and he brought her likewise to a log. A little brown box
came bobbing by, Linda's jewel-case. Kate coolly put out her hand and
secured it.
All this had taken but a minute. Jack looked about him. Everything
was being carried down of a piece with the current, and they were all
close together. It seemed to Jack as if the whole face of the river
was littered with playing cards. He had a particular impression of the
deuce of clubs. Vassall was helping Baldwin Ferrie to a log, and Humpy
Jull had secured the log that bore Jack's cartridge belt. Only Sir
Bryson was missing. Farther out Jack saw a feeble commotion, and no
log near.
"See to the women!" he called to Vassall. "There's a backwater
inshore. Humpy, save that belt as you value your life!"
The struggling figure sank before he reached it. Jack swam about the
spot. It rose again, but out of his reach. He dived for it. They
came together, and a pair of frantic arms closed about Jack's neck.
They sank together, Jack struggling vainly. They rose, Jack got a
breath, and broke the hold. The struggling ceased.
Swinging the inert figure over his back, Jack struck out for the shore.
It was a desperately hard pull. They had been carried too far to
obtain any advantage from the backwater. The logs he passed were of no
aid to him, because the current tended to carry them into midstream.
For a long time the shore seemed only to recede as he struggled toward
it. More than once fear touched him and he was on the point of going
down. He rested, breathing deep, and set to it again. Finally he
ceased to think or to feel, but he continued to struggle automatically,
and he still clung to his burden.
It was with a kind of surprise that he finally felt the stones under
his feet. He staggered ashore, and putting down the limp figure he
carried, flung himself on the shore utterly exhausted. How long he lay
there he hardly knew. As soon as a little strength began to stir in
him, with the man-of-the-wilds instinct he set to work collecting
sticks to make a fire.
He had been carried nearly a mile below the reef. By and by, far up
the shore he saw some wavering, uncertain little figures. He was able
to count five of them, so he knew all were safe. He hailed them
shrilly after the way of the country. After his little fire sprang up,
he could see that they were coming toward him slowly, the men helping
the women.
They came, a distressed little company, drenching wet, silent and
dazed. They moved like automatons, as if their limbs were independent
of them, and they looked at each other dully, as if not with full
recognition. Reaching Jack, they stood around in an uncertain way;
none of them spoke. It was as if they had lost the faculty of speech
also. Linda was roused by the sight of her father; with a cry, she
cast herself on his body.
"He's not drowned," Jack said quickly. "Only stunned a little."
The helplessness of the others had the effect of rousing Jack to an
ardour of activity that transformed him. His gnawing anger was
forgotten; his black looks were flown. Their situation was well-nigh
desperate, but here the opposing forces were purely physical, such as
he thoroughly understood, and loved to attack. His exhaustion passed,
and his eyes became bright.
"Has anybody dry matches?" he sang out.
The dazed ones looked a little amazed at his spirits. It appeared that
no one's match-safe was waterproof but Jack's own.
"Spread 'em out to dry on a rock," he said. "They may work. I have
seventeen good ones. That's enough at a pinch. Everybody scatter for
dry wood. Keep on the move, and get your circulation going. Humpy,
you build another fire behind the willows for the ladies. Light it
from this one. We can have all the fire we want, anyway. Vassall,
help me here with Sir Bryson. We must take his wet things off." He
glanced up at the sun. "Rest for an hour," he said; "then on the
march! Red Willow Creek to-night; Fort Cheever to-morrow afternoon!"
"But how are we going to support life on the way?" stammered Baldwin
Ferrie.
Jack pointed to the belt Humpy Jull had brought along. His gun and his
hunting-knife hung from it. This, with Linda's jewel-case, was the sum
total of what they had saved from the wreck.
"We have the cannon," Jack said with a laugh. "About forty cartridges,
and the seventeen matches. We'll make out."
An hour later they started to climb the steep, high hill to the
prairie. They took it very slowly on account of Sir Bryson, who was
still white and shaky. But he complained no more. Jack's example had
had its effect on all, and a more cheerful feeling pervaded the party.
They were at least dry and warm again. The men still regarded Jack's
high spirits a little askance. It did not fit their settled
convictions about him; they resented it slightly while forced to admire.
"Where are we heading for?" Vassall asked.
"There's a trail down this side of the river as well as on the other,"
Jack said. "I've never been over it, but if we strike straight back we
must hit it."
"How will we get back across the river?"
"Nothing easier," said Jack. "When we arrive opposite the fort, if
it's daylight, we'll wave a shirt; if it's night, we'll build a fire,
and they'll send a canoe over for us."
Once having accomplished the difficult hill it was easy enough going
over the prairie. Taking his bearings from the sun, Jack led them in a
line at right angles back from the river. Linda walked beside him.
Vassall and Ferrie helped support Sir Bryson. Half an hour's walking
brought them to a trail, as Jack had promised, and their hearts rose.
It was a less well-beaten track than the main route on the north side
of the river, but easy enough to follow.
Jack called a halt. "Here we are," he said. "The first good water
that I know of is Red Willow Creek. I've camped on the river at the
mouth of it. It will be about seven miles. Are you good for it?"
They said they were. No one dreamed of opposing Jack now. They hung
on him like defenceless merchant-men on their man-o'-war convoy.
"Vassall, you lead the way from here," Jack went on. "You'll find the
creek in a big coulee. We'll camp for the night in the bottom of it.
If by any chance you should lose the trail before you get there, just
climb to the highest place you see, and sit down and wait till I come
along."
"But where are you going?" they demanded.
"To hunt for our supper," said Jack.
He issued two of the precious matches to Humpy to make a fire on
arrival. "There ought to be berries in the coulee," he said. "Collect
all you can."
Linda clung to him. "Can't I go with you?" she begged.