CANOEING
No pastime was so popular at camp as canoeing. To send the light,
graceful barks over the smooth waters of the lake to some favorite
shadowy nook where glimpses of the mountains appeared between the
waving branches of the trees, to spend an hour then with a book, or to
watch the birds, or perhaps only to lie at full length on the grass and
dream, and then to take up the paddles again, all this was exactly the
kind of thing which appealed to every one of the girls.
“I think you might sometimes let me go with you,” said Jack one morning
to her eldest sister. “You never seem to think I ever want to be with
any one but Jean. Of course I am fond of Jean, but I am just as fond of
you, and half the time she wants to do something I don’t want to do, so
I think you might take me out in your canoe.”
“How do you know but that I shall want to do something you don’t want
to do?” returned Nan.
“Well, I’d be no worse off,” maintained Jack. Nan laughed and Jack felt
that her case was won, but she added, “Besides, you promised to teach
me how to paddle and you never have done it. I never have a chance to
paddle because the older girls always want to do it. Everybody says you
are a fine paddler, Nan.”
“And you are a fine tease as well as a flatterer,” responded Nan. “All
right, kitten, I’ll take you, and may I not live to regret it.”
The final clause had no effect upon Jack who, having gained her point,
went off well satisfied and was waiting at the lake when her sister
appeared, paddles over her shoulder and book under her arm.
“Are you going to read to me?” asked Jack.
“No, sir,” returned Nan with emphasis. “One would think you were an
infant in arms. You can provide your own entertainment. I didn’t invite
you on this expedition, you may remember. If I waste my energies
showing you how to paddle I am fulfilling all my part of the bargain.
Get in, and don’t tumble all over yourself or you will upset.”
They started off in fine style, Nan really becoming interested in
giving instructions to her apt pupil who tried hard to heed her
warnings of “Not that way. Don’t use your paddle like that. Don’t you
see you only turn around and around and will never get on? Take care.
Bear on more weight. That’s it; now,” and so on till Jack finally
caught the swing and kept steadily at it in unison with Nan’s “one,
two, three.”
At last the canoe swung around into a sheltered inlet where overhanging
boughs fairly touched the water and a little stream emptied itself
into the lake. Here Nan announced she would go ashore. “Now,” she said
to Jack, “you can do anything you choose except fool with the canoe.
I forbid that. You can go berrying, or fish, or study birds or do
anything reasonable like that. I am going to read.” She settled herself
comfortably in a small depression between the roots of a far-reaching
tree and left Jack to her own devices.
Jack’s devices, be it said, were seldom like other people’s, and on
this occasion her inclination was to follow up the tinkling stream
till she came to a rotten log fallen across the water. Upon this, it
struck her, she would experiment to see how far she could venture
without the log’s giving way. “Even if it should break and I went in,”
she said to herself, “I couldn’t get very wet, for the stream isn’t
at all deep.” The log proving stronger than she anticipated, the
excitement of the enterprise soon faded away and she sought out other
employment. She tried to catch in her hands the little silvery minnows
which darted through the clear water, but they were too fleet and too
wary. She listened to the birds and recognized the notes of several.
Then she climbed the bank and went afield for berries. She discovered
a clump of bushes from which she garnered quite a treasure. These she
carried in her hat to share with Nan, but before she reached the tree
where Nan was sitting she decided to pin some leaves together in the
form of a basket to be filled with the berries she had gathered. This
occupied some time. Nan accepted the offering very graciously, but
was too absorbed in her book to notice more than that Jack had found
entertainment and to feel satisfaction in the fact.
“I wish I had brought a book,” murmured Jack, as she consumed her last
berry and perceived that Nan was not to be inveigled into a protracted
conversation.
She tried climbing a tree, getting very warm, and sticky from the gum,
as it happened to be a spruce-tree, and not feeling much ambition to
try a second climb, she went down to the lake where the canoe lay and
regarded it thoughtfully. She looked up to where her sister sat some
distance away. “She didn’t say I wasn’t to get into it; she only told
me not to fool with it. It won’t do any harm just to sit in it,” she
said to herself. She drew the canoe in and stepped over the side, then
tried to push off, but to do this she found she must use a paddle.
This she did, and presently found herself afloat. It was a delightful
sensation, and she decided that since she had gone thus far she would
make use of her opportunities and would practice paddling for a little
while. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” she told herself. “I don’t have
to obey Nan; she isn’t my mother, and I will never learn if I don’t
practice. The big girls want the canoes all the time, and it’s so
seldom I get such a chance.” She stood up and was soon sending the
canoe jerkily through the water.
Meanwhile the sun had found its way through the boughs of the tree to
Nan’s book, falling directly on its pages. She looked up. “It must be
nearly noon,” she said; “the sun is almost directly overhead. We must
get back if we are to be in time for dinner. Jack!” she called, rising
to her feet.
There was no answer, and she turned toward the little stream which ran
through the field where she knew Jack had gathered the berries, but no
Jack responded to her repeated calls. “Where in the world can the child
have gone?” murmured Nan. She went toward the lake, following its
brink till she came to the spot where the canoe had been left. There
was not even the canoe. Lifting her eyes she saw at some distance away,
Jack paddling lustily, though rather ineffectually. Curving her hands
each side her mouth, Nan gave the long call which the campers used for
their signal. Jack heard and gave answer. Nan beckoned vigorously. Jack
evidently was making an effort to return, but in her anxiety to do so
she lost the little skill she had acquired and could only turn the
canoe helplessly around.
“Oh, dear,” said Nan, “if I could only swim I’d try to get out to her,
for she never can bring the thing in that way; she might try all day.”
She looked up and down the lake to see if other canoes were in sight,
but it so happened that those who had been out had already returned
that they might not miss the noon meal, it being later than Nan
realized. There was only one of two things to be done; either walk back
to camp or wait till some one appeared. After a moment’s thought Nan
decided to wait, for she did not want to desert Jack. “If anything were
to happen to her I’d never forgive myself,” she said. “No doubt some
one will be coming along after a while.” She sat down where she could
see Jack’s manœuvres. She was still too far away to give any orders
which might be heard as the wind was in the wrong direction to bear her
voice distinctly, and it was after repeated efforts to make Jack hear
and understand that she gave up trying.
Jack struggled for a while and then sat forlornly and let the canoe
drift. Nan watched anxiously. If it should strike a snag or if Jack
should move unwarily and upset the canoe what could Nan do? Her anger
at Jack’s disobedience was lost in apprehension. Further, further
on the little boat drifted, very slowly, for there was not a strong
current. Nan arose and walked along the bank that she might keep
opposite her sister, feeling that she must be as near as possible, at
the same time realizing that she would be powerless in case of any
accident. She registered a vow that she would learn to swim forthwith
that she might be ready for such emergencies.
After what seemed an unconscionable time she heard the faint sound
of voices coming nearer and nearer, and around the bend she saw a
canoe coming with two girls in it. Again Nan gave the call, which was
answered promptly, and presently she could distinguish Jo and Daniella,
who directly made their way to where Nan stood.
“Hallo!” was Jo’s greeting. “What are you doing up here by yourself,
and why didn’t you come back to dinner? I thought Jack was with you.”
“Jack was,” replied Nan, “but there’s where she is now,” and she
pointed to where the canoe was drifting.
“The little monkey! Do you mean to say she took your canoe off and left
you no way of getting back?”
“Oh, I could have walked, but I didn’t want to leave her up here alone.
You see she’s lost her head and can’t do a thing with the canoe, so she
is just letting it drift. She managed all right at first, but when she
tried to get back she became so scared that she forgot all I had told
her. I couldn’t get to her nor she to me, but I didn’t want to leave
her absolutely in the lurch. Is dinner over?”
“Yes, long ago. We came away just after. We all came to the conclusion
that you two had taken something with you and had preferred to picnic.
It’s a burning shame.”
“I do feel the pangs of hunger,” acknowledged Nan, “although we had
some berries a while ago, but they are not very satisfying. Could you
girls go out there and bring that little sinner back, do you think?”
“Why, of course. Come, Daniella,” and Jo turned the canoe in Jack’s
direction. So before very long Jack was rescued from her unpleasant
situation, and was brought back a repentant culprit to her sister.
Now that her sister was out of danger Nan felt her anger returning,
and after giving one withering look at the offender, she turned to her
friends and said: “We’ll not keep you, girls, for I know you are out
for a good time. We’ll go back and see if we can find anything to eat.
I am almost starved.”
“I am afraid you will get no dinner,” Jo said. “You know the rule is
‘no meals after hours,’ and you know how cross old Hetty is if she is
disturbed when she has cleared away.”
“I’ll risk her crossness,” returned Nan lightly. “She can’t do more
than refuse me. Thanks, girls, for coming to the rescue.”
She stepped into the canoe and pushed off, not deigning to give Jack a
word.
Very meekly sat Jack. “Won’t you forgive me, Nan?” she asked after a
while. But she might have spoken to a graven image for all Nan gave
sign of hearing, and Jack lapsed into silence, though at intervals she
repeated her question plaintively.
Once arrived at camp, Nan shouldered the paddles and marched directly
to her tent, Jack meekly following. The place seemed deserted. Both
girls knew that this was the time for their mother’s afternoon nap.
Most of the girls were off on some expedition, and upon inquiry they
learned that even ’Lish had gone away with the wagon. Hetty was not to
be found, so there seemed nothing to do but “grin and bear it.”
In her various excursions hither and thither about the camp grounds,
Nan had kept up the same stony attitude toward Jack who followed
closely at her heels, but at the conclusion of the unprofitable search
she at last broke forth into speech. “As if it weren’t enough for
you to worry me nearly to death by being out there alone.” She began
turning her vials of wrath upon Jack. “Those canoes are the most
ticklish things, and if you had happened to upset nothing could have
saved you. You couldn’t swim, neither could I. You would have been
drowned before my very eyes.”
“I wish I had been, if you are going to talk to me that way,” replied
Jack tearfully. “I was just going to practice a little, and got along
beautifully at first till I got scared about getting back.”
“Practice! I wish you’d not take it into your head to practice quite
so near dinner time. I suppose I shall be laid up with a headache from
going without food for so long.”
“Oh, Nan, I _am_ sorry,” answered Jack wofully. “I’m hungry, too.”
“Well, you ought to be.” And Nan turned scornfully away, going within
her tent and forbidding Jack to follow her.
Left alone Jack took counsel with herself. What could she do to
propitiate Nan? It was a very rare occasion when Nan turned upon her in
this way. Usually it was this sister who screened her and acted as a
buffer when others were making attacks, so it was all the more terrible
to have Nan so very, very angry. It was because she was hungry, no
doubt. All persons were cross when they were hungry. If she could find
something to eat, she might perhaps gain forgiveness. She took her
courage in her hand and invaded the kitchen, but all was clean and
orderly, not even a crust of bread to be seen. Jack wondered if it
would be wrong to pursue her investigations as far as the pantry, but
even if her conscience had allowed her she found the door closed and
locked between this place and the kitchen. Next she thought of hunting
up Miss Lloyd or Miss Marshall, but Miss Lloyd had gone away, she
learned from Florence Yardley who had declined to join the expedition
which Miss Lloyd had headed. Miss Marshall was lying down. Some of the
girls were still on hand, Florence informed her, and one or two of the
ladies, not Miss Helen; she had gone with the others, so had Mary Lee
and Jean.
Rather than explain why she and Nan had not had dinner, Jack moved off
to continue her consideration of the situation and at last determined
upon a course which she proceeded to carry out.
Three hours later, Nan, having somewhat recovered her equanimity,
appeared at her mother’s cabin. “Where is Jack?” she asked.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Mrs. Corner. “I thought she was with
you.”
“So she was, but----” Nan told her tale.
“I am so thankful she wasn’t drowned,” said Mrs. Corner sighing, “that
I can’t think of anything else just now, but poor Nan, had you no
dinner?”
“Not a mouthful. Oh well, it is only an hour to supper time. I can
stand it, I reckon. I’ll go see what has become of Jack. One cannot yet
trust her out of sight, you see. I’ll tether her to a tree next time I
take her canoeing, that is, if we land anywhere, otherwise it won’t be
necessary.”
“I really think Jack is old enough to stop such tricks,” said Mrs.
Corner. “We could excuse it when she was younger, but she ought to be
gaining some discretion at her age.”
“She has lots more than she used to have; she seldom gets into any
awful scrape, and it used to be a daily occurrence.” For all her
morning’s experience Nan was ready as usual to take up the cudgels in
Jack’s defense. “Where are the others?” she asked.
“Gone off to Pine Knob, at least some of them have.”
“We met Danny and Jo going up the lake; but for them I suppose Jack
would still have been drifting.”
“Don’t speak of it, Nan; it makes me shudder to think what might have
happened. I shall forbid Jack’s ever going out without some older and
more experienced person.”
“That is just what you’d better do. There is one thing to be said for
Jack; she always minds what you tell her, even though she doesn’t have
the same respect for my orders. The girls will be back soon. I will go
hunt up Jack and send her to you.”
She went out, searched the camp from one end to the other, but no Jack.
Florence Yardley had seen her and reported the conversation. Hetty had
returned to her duties but had seen no Jack. Nan went along the path
and entered the country road leading to the village. Jack might have
gone to meet the wagon which would return that way. Looking down the
road she did see, not the wagon, but some one coming along slowly, a
figure which she presently recognized as Jack’s. In a few minutes she
came up, hot, dusty, travel worn. Her hands were full of packages.
At sight of Nan she set down one of her paper bags and wiped her
perspiring face.
“Oh, Nan,” she cried joyfully, “I hoped I’d meet you before I did any
one else. Come right over here under these trees. I’ve brought you
something to eat.”
“Brought me something to eat?” cried Nan in astonishment. “Where did
you get it?”
“At the village. There’s a right nice store there, you know.”
“At the village? Why that is three miles away. You don’t mean to say
you have walked there and back, six miles? I should think you would be
dead beat, this warm afternoon.”
Jack’s lip trembled. “It was right far,” she acknowledged, “but I knew
I’d made you miss your dinner and I didn’t want you to have a headache;
besides I wanted to punish myself.”
“You poor little midget,” exclaimed Nan, gathering the culprit to her
and kissing the flushed cheek.
The tears sprang to Jack’s eyes, and she turned away saying, “I’m so
glad you forgive me. Please eat something,” she added earnestly as she
opened her packages to display a nondescript collection of stale cakes,
hard candies and uncertain fruit.
Whatever Nan may have thought of the quality of the feast provided,
she gave no sign, but did her best by it, and if Jo was surprised to
see how small an appetite Nan had for her supper, there was no reason
given for it then, but it was explained later and at the same time
Jo and Daniella were begged not to tell the others of the morning’s
misadventure.
So peace was restored. Jack had punished herself, and if tired in body,
was at least serene in mind when she went to bed that night.
[Illustration: CHAPTER VII
A RAINY DAY]