Greenleaf rolled the others out in the morning while it was still dark
and breakfast was disposed of in short order. It was a repetition of the
morning before except that pancakes and bacon were added to the menu. As
soon as the dishes were rubbed clean in the sand from the river bed and
the packs made up the party was again on the trail.
They made good time the second day in spite of the slight soreness in
their necks and backs from the unaccustomed packs, light though they
were. By night they had covered twenty-five miles and camped within
sight of the lights of Red Wing. Scott was delighted with the active
part he was already able to take in the preparations for the night. The
wind blowing steadily in their faces all day had made them very sleepy.
Within an hour after they had finished their supper they were all asleep
in their blankets.
[Illustration: By night they had camped within sight of the lights of
Red Wing.]
Saturday morning they felt better than ever—for the second day of a
walking trip is always the hardest—and started out in splendid spirits.
Entering Red Wing just as the grocery stores were opening they tarried
only long enough to replenish their food supply. The boys were jealous
of every minute they had to spend in town. The cliffs were on the west
bank of the river now and they looked far out across the broad bottom
lands of the Wisconsin shore to the hills in the distance. Later in the
day they came to Lake Pepin and enjoyed the change of scenery. Scott
explained the geological significance of the great lake in the course of
the Father of Waters and it took on a new interest to them.
In the evening they were well within reach of Wabasha and knew that they
could “take it easy” the next day. They lounged around the fire in
luxurious ease for several hours spinning yarns before they piled the
fire with green wood for the night and turned in.
Early morning found them tramping gaily along the river bank, their
packs lightened of nearly all the provisions and their minds happy in
the freedom of movement which came with the third day of the walking
trip. They felt primed for any adventure and it was not long till they
had one which furnished them with more excitement than they had
bargained for.
They had stopped to throw stones at a bottle which was bobbing down the
current when Greenleaf, who had spent one spring on the “drive”
(floating the winter cut of logs to the mill), discovered a couple of
logs hung on the shore near them. He had learned after many a ducking,
to ride a log in the water, and seizing a pole lying on the shore,
succeeded in shoving off the log into deep water and jumping on it. It
was a dangerous proceeding for without the long spikes, or driving
calks, in the shoes a log is very hard to handle, especially when it has
been hung up along the shore for a long time and become coated with a
layer of mud. But Greenleaf had had plenty of training in this business
and with the aid of the long pole rode the log down the swift current as
steadily as though it were a mud scow. The others kept pace with him
along the shore cheering vociferously. At last Greenleaf tired of the
fun and yielded to the entreaties of the others to let them try it.
Ormand had ridden logs a little the summer before while his class was at
Itasca Park and the ease with which Greenleaf rode that particular log
piqued him into a desire to show his skill. He knew it was a ticklish
undertaking and one not likely to add much to his credit but nerve was
not among the things he lacked and he was willing to take the chance.
When Greenleaf jumped ashore Ormand grasped the pole boldly and sprang
onto the log with apparent confidence. He landed squarely on the center
of the log, which, propelled by his momentum, glided smoothly out into
the stream. His success astonished him more than it did the others who
did not know how little experience he had had. Had the log been straight
and had fate not doomed it to strike a snag in the river Ormand might
have landed successfully with a brilliant reputation as a riverman. But
it was decreed otherwise.
As soon as the log floated out of the eddies near the shore it was
caught by the current and turned down stream, but it was still working
out toward the center of the river. Ormand did not like this for he knew
that his success so far was due almost entirely to luck, and he did not
want to tempt providence too far. He began paddling with the pole in an
attempt to work the log back toward the shore. He was making a little
progress but his work with the pole had a tendency to make the log turn
slowly over in the water. He moved cautiously to keep on top and was a
little surprised when the log stopped twisting as though one side of it
were weighted. The other boys on the shore were cheering and keeping
pace with the log, each eager for his turn to come. Just as Ormand was
beginning to have hopes of making a graceful landing the center of the
log touched a snag which was fast to the bottom of the river. The log
twisted slowly a few inches in the same direction as before and then
suddenly whirled over like a thing bewitched. Ormand was not looking for
the sudden change of speed. His feet were jerked from under him and he
fell backwards into the river. A shout of laughter arose from the boys
on the shore for they knew Ormand was a good swimmer and considered it a
huge joke to see him ducked.
Scott alone had noticed that Ormand’s head had seemed to strike the log
as he fell and when he did not see him come up immediately he dived into
the river without hesitation much to the surprise of the others. Scott
was a splendid swimmer and even encumbered with his heavy shoes and his
clothes he covered the fifty feet between the log and the shore in a few
powerful strokes.
“Have you seen him?” he called to the boys on the shore.
“No,” yelled Morgan, now thoroughly scared, “he has not come up yet.”
Scott dived beside the snag and came up almost immediately with Ormand
grasped firmly by the collar. He swam straight for the shore with his
burden.
Greenleaf’s experience on the drive helped him now. “You help them out,”
he called to Morgan, “while I build a fire.” He dashed back to the
timber at the edge of the grass swamp and collected some wood.
In spite of Scott’s best efforts the current carried him quite a way
down the stream. It was hard work and he was glad when Morgan relieved
him by grasping the unconscious Ormand and, dragging him out on solid
ground, lent him a helping hand. Together they carried the limp body to
the fire.
Greenleaf, who had seen several such cases on the river, immediately
took charge. “First we must get the water out of him,” he said, and
turning Ormand on his face he grasped him around the waist and raised
his body.
“Pull his tongue out, Scotty,” he said.
It was not easily done but Scott finally succeeded with the aid of his
pocket handkerchief. By gently shaking Ormand, Greenleaf succeeded in
getting most of the water out of his lungs.
“Now turn him on his back,” he said, “and we’ll start him breathing.”
The boys obeyed feverishly. Greenleaf then placed a foot on either side
of the inert body and grasping a wrist in either hand raised the arms
slowly to a perpendicular position and then lowering them onto the chest
by flexing the elbows pressed them down firmly. He repeated this motion
slowly and regularly while the others obeyed his directions to take off
Ormand’s shoes and rub his feet. Five minutes passed in this way—it
seemed hours to the anxious boys—and still there was no sign of life.
“Fellows,” Morgan sobbed imploringly, “he can’t be dead, can he?”
Before anyone could answer the question a little shiver passed through
Ormand and he heaved a gasping sigh. Morgan and Scott were so delighted
that they wanted to throw themselves on him.
“Get out of the way,” Greenleaf commanded sternly, “and heat up a couple
of those blankets I put there by the fire.”
Both of them grabbed the blankets, eager to be of some help.
Ormand looked around in a dazed way and groaned, “What’s the matter with
my chest, Greeny?” he asked feebly; “it feels as though somebody was
sticking a knife in me.”
“You’re all right,” Greenleaf said cheerfully, “but you had a pretty
narrow squeak. Be quiet now while we wrap you in these hot blankets.”
Together they rolled Ormand in the hot blankets and Greenleaf fed him
spoonfuls of hot tea that he had kept from lunch in his canteen.
For a while it did not seem as though Ormand realized what had happened
to him, but after a while he raised his hand slowly to the back of his
head and a light broke over his face.
“Now I remember,” he said. “I fell off that log and broke my head on the
way.”
“Yes,” Greenleaf said, feeling the bump gently, “you cracked it on the
way, all right, but you cracked it a good deal harder on the log.”
The reaction from the strain they had all been suffering brought a laugh
out of all proportion to the joke.
“I can’t see what threw me so quick,” Ormand said; “it was turning so
slowly that I thought I could control it.”
“Didn’t you know she was crooked?” Greenleaf asked in astonishment.
“No,” Ormand said, “I did not notice it.”
“Well,” Greenleaf exclaimed, “you sailed out there into the stream so
well that I thought you were an old hand or I would have told you. She
was as crooked as a dog’s hind leg and floated pretty solidly belly
down. When you started paddling it turned the bowed part way up and she
stayed that way till she struck that snag. That forced the bow clear
over and she went down the other side with a whoop. Those crooked ones
are the deuce to ride; even the old hands seldom tackle them.”
“I don’t know much about it,” Ormand confessed, “but you did it so well,
Greeny, that I wanted to show off. It would probably have fixed me if it
had not been for you fellows. Well, I feel all right now,” and he tried
to get up.
“No you don’t,” Greenleaf said determinedly, pushing him back into the
blankets, “you were pretty nearly drowned, and unless you are careful
you’ll have pneumonia, and you must not leave those blankets till you
are plumb dry.”
“Was I really that near it?” Ormand shivered.
“Seemed to me you were unconscious about an hour,” Scott said.
“Scotty was the only one who had sense enough to know that you were
hurt,” Morgan said. “He dived right in as soon as you went overboard
while the rest of us were laughing our heads off.”
Ormand looked his thanks to Scott and shivered again to think how near
to death he had been.
In about three hours all the clothes were dried out and Greenleaf
consented to let his patient move slowly with two assistants. They made
their way to Reeds Landing, which was close by, and took the train back
to the city. Their pleasure trip had narrowly escaped a very tragic
ending, but even Ormand, after a few days, declared it had been a grand
success.