THE GIRL SCOUTS’ CANOE TRIP
CONTENTS
CHAPTER Page
I AMATEUR CANOEISTS 3
II HAROLD’S PLAN 17
III SETTING OFF 24
IV THE FIRST ENCAMPMENT 37
V THE BY-STREAM 42
VI THE ACCIDENT 53
VII THE SAILOR BADGE 67
VIII ADVENTURE ON AN ISLAND 75
IX BACK TO CIVILIZATION 88
X THE FORD TO THE RESCUE 98
XI IN QUEST OF PEACHES 107
XII THE SEARCH 119
XIII PRISONERS 126
XIV THE LAST DAY OF THE TRIP 136
XV THE PURSUIT 144
XVI THE HOUSE-PARTY 150
XVII A STRANGE BOY SCOUT 158
XVIII RUTH FINDS A PARTNER 171
XIX THE RESCUE 181
XX GRIFFITH’S CHOICE 193
XXI A SECOND ATTEMPT 202
XXII THE STORM 212
XXIII THE TENNIS TOURNAMENT 220
XXIV THE CANOE MEET 230
[Illustration: So Marjorie continued her steady strokes, now leaving
all but Ruth behind, and taking her place as second.
(_The Girl Scouts’ Canoe Trip_) _Page 234_]
THE GIRL SCOUTS’ CANOE TRIP
BY EDITH LAVELL
AUTHOR OF
“_The Girl Scouts at Miss Allen’s School_,” “_The Girl
Scouts at Camp_,” “_The Girl Scouts’ Good
Turn_,” “_The Girl Scouts’ Rivals_.”
[Illustration]
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
THE
GIRL SCOUTS SERIES
A Series of Stories for Girl Scouts
By EDITH LAVELL
The Girl Scouts at Miss Allen’s School
The Girl Scouts at Camp
The Girl Scouts’ Good Turn
The Girl Scouts’ Canoe Trip
The Girl Scouts’ Rivals
Copyright, 1922 By A. L. BURT COMPANY
THE GIRL SCOUTS’ CANOE TRIP
Made in “U. S. A.”
THE GIRL SCOUTS’ CANOE TRIP
CHAPTER I
AMATEUR CANOEISTS
At a peaceful spot along the Silver Creek, where the water was so still
that it seemed to belong rather to a lake than to a stream, five new
canoes lay upturned on the shore. Their long, graceful curves, their
shining new paint and varnish, their picturesque beauty and obvious
excellence of workmanship proclaimed them the best to be had.
Although it was July, the weather was not hot; in this secluded wooded
nook where the great shade trees cut off the direct rays of the sun,
the atmosphere was almost cool. An old boatman, in charge of a rustic
boathouse at the water’s edge, stood beside the stream, lost in
memories of his own youth and the delightful canoe trips he had taken.
Suddenly the laughter of two girls broke in abruptly upon his reveries;
a moment later Marjorie Wilkinson and Ruth Henry appeared from among
the trees.
“Hello, Michael!” cried Ruth. “How are you?”
But not waiting for any reply, the girls rushed forward to view at
closer range their new treasures. With the eye of an experienced
canoeist, Marjorie took in every detail.
“They’re _Old Towns_, aren’t they?” she said. “Oh, but aren’t they
lovely?”
“Beat yours all to pieces, don’t they, Marj?” remarked Ruth.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that, but of course----”
“Don’t you wish you knew who bought them?”
“You bet I do! Somebody rich, I guess!”
“And wouldn’t you love to know where we’re going, and how long we’ll
stay, and--and----”
“I hope you gals is all good swimmers,” interrupted Michael, advancing
slowly to the edge of the shore. “Purty ticklish business--canoeing is!”
“Not in flat bottom canoes!” protested Marjorie. “Why, I’ve had mine
for nearly a year now, and never upset once!”
“But you never tried to navigate a stream like the Silver!” said the
old man, reaching for his pipe and tobacco pouch. “There’s one place in
this here stream I’d be willing to bet a silver dollar somebody upsets!”
“Oh, where is it?” cried Ruth, delighted that all of the water was
not to be so monotonous as it seemed to be in the locality of the
boathouse. Already she had visions of the rest of the girls upsetting;
and after steering her own canoe safely through, she saw herself
effecting thrilling rescues. There were even medals in life-saving, she
had read in the handbook; it certainly would be worth while to possess
one, especially if it were the only one of its kind in Pansy troop.
But the old man smoked silently, refusing to explain his remark.
“And are there any wild animals along the stream?” pursued Ruth.
“Hardly!” replied Michael, turning about and going back to his broken
chair beside the boathouse. “Maybe a fox or a deer. But nuthin’ real
dangerous.”
Ruth and Marjorie both seemed a trifle disappointed until the latter
thought suddenly of snakes, and a shudder passed through her.
“Any snakes?” she asked.
“Oh, mostly black snakes and water snakes. Do you mind ’em?”
“I loathe them!” exclaimed Ruth. “All girls do. But isn’t there
anything really dangerous along this creek?” she continued. “Besides
that one swift place in the water, I mean.”
“Jest one thing, and that only scares some folks. It’s a quare woman,
what lives all alone in a farm-house by herself.”
“Oh, and is she really crazy--stark mad?”
“Some says she’s jest sort o’ idiotic; wouldn’t hurt nobody--but never
was all there. They say she had a husband once, but he’s dead now.”
The old man shook his head doubtfully, to betray the fact that he did
not know whether the report were true or not. Marjorie, who had become
tired of this conversation, begged to borrow a paddle to try a canoe,
but upon refusal--“according to me orders,” Michael said--she strolled
off in the direction from which she had come, to look for the others.
But Ruth continued the topic which was to her highly interesting.
“What kind of house does the woman live in, and what does she look
like?”
The old boatman described an ordinary farmhouse, on the edge of the
creek, some distance down stream. “You’ll know it,” he added; “it’s
opposite to an old mill--the only big mill you’ll see on the trip.”
“But would she really hurt any of us girls?” asked Ruth.
“No--hardly! Probably only scare you a bit.”
Before she could put any more questions they heard a shout in the
distance, and Marjorie was greeting the rest of the party. Ethel Todd
and Frances Wright, the two oldest girls of the crowd, walked ahead.
These girls were seniors now at Miss Allen’s, and as they approached
they seemed unconsciously to embody the dignity a member of that class
is always expected to display. Marjorie remembered when they had been
sophomores--at the time when she had entered the boarding school. It
was true that their dresses were no longer now, and their hair was
still bobbed; but there was something grown-up about their manner of
walking. No one would mistake them for boarding school sophomores.
Miss Phillips, their beloved captain, looking more like a girl than
ever in her white linen dress, was walking with Doris Sands and Frieda
Hammer. The latter was the troop’s ward, who was to serve as cook on
the canoe trip. And last of all came Lily Andrews, Alice Endicott, and
Florence Evans.
Marjorie greeted the girls pleasantly and hugged Lily and Frieda. Over
three weeks had passed since they had seen each other, and three weeks
is a long time for a girl to be separated from her chums.
They all exclaimed admiringly at the graceful green canoes beside the
quiet water, and ran forward eagerly to examine them.
“May we get in right away, Captain?” asked Lily, impatient of delay.
She had paddled Marjorie’s canoe so often that she knew she could
handle one of these.
“No,” replied Miss Phillips, noticing the little twinkle in old
Michael’s eyes at the question. “We are going very slowly.”
She bent over and began to right one of the canoes, so that the girls
might see the inside. “As you all observe,” she said, “there are five
canoes----”
“Aren’t they beauties!” exclaimed Lily, unable to keep silent. “Whoever
bought them must be rich----”
“Who was it, Captain?” pleaded Ruth. “Please tell us!”
“No; I dare not. But I will tell you one thing: after the trip is over,
the canoes are to be the property of the members of Pansy troop!”
“When we graduate, can we take them with us?” demanded Ruth.
“No; they are to belong to the active members of the troop. But you
have two years yet, Ruth. You’re only a Junior.
“Now--to get back to the subject in question. Suppose we all sit down
here. The ground’s dry enough, isn’t it, Michael?”
“Dry enough for anybody what hasn’t got the rheumatiz.”
“All right!” laughed Miss Phillips. “Then I guess we’ll take a chance.”
The happy party seated themselves upon the ground which was well
covered with pine needles and dry leaves. Here and there they found
patches of moss, but it seemed dry enough not to cause them to avoid
it. Miss Phillips began all over again.
“As you have guessed,” she said, “we are going down the Silver Creek.
I am allowing two weeks for the trip, although it may take us longer.
As far as I know there is only one portage.”
“What’s a portage, Captain?” asked Lily.
“Lily Andrews! And you a Latin student. Didn’t you ever hear the word
‘porto’?”
Lily blushed; of course she remembered now. It was one of the first
verbs in the grammar: “porto, portare--to carry.”
“There is this one place where the stream is very rapid and filled with
dangerous rocks, so we shall have to carry our canoes about a hundred
yards,” explained Miss Phillips.
“Frieda knows all about how to do that,” remarked Ruth, significantly.
The girl flushed, and Marjorie gave Ruth a cutting look. Evidently the
flags of war were to be hoisted again.
“Is that the dangerous spot Michael was talking about?” she asked, in
order to hide Frieda’s embarrassment at Ruth’s reference to her runaway
escapade in the stolen canoe.
“I suppose so,” replied Miss Phillips. “It can be done in a canoe, but
I prefer the safer way.”
“Oh, Captain, aren’t we to have any adventure at all?” sulked Ruth.
“You know, if there isn’t some naturally, we may provide it for
ourselves; and then maybe you’d be sorry!”
“There will be plenty of adventure,” said Miss Phillips. “Remember,
you all are inexperienced canoeists----”
“Except Marjorie,” put in Ruth.
“No, even including Marjorie; for she has never been on a long trip.
And it will all be very new to you. Then, at the end of the trip, we
shall reach Silvertown, and spend a week there. On Wednesday of that
week there will be a canoe meet--races, righting canoes, etc.; and our
benefactor will award a silver cup.”
The girls scarcely took in their captain’s words. Had they really
heard her aright--or could there be another place by the same name as
Silvertown? Ruth jumped up excitedly.
“Captain, we’re not actually going to Silvertown, _the_ Silvertown? Is
it possible?”
“It’s not only possible, but a decided fact. The cottage is all in
readiness!”
“But Captain, that’s one of the most fashionable resorts in the
country! Why, I’ve heard that it costs hundreds of dollars a day to
live there!”
“It does cost a good deal, Ruth,” admitted Miss Phillips, still
noncommittal.
“And to get a summer house takes thousands--they’re so in demand, and
the place is so small.”
“Very true.”
Ruth stamped her foot impatiently, and even the other girls grew a
little exasperated. Miss Phillips seemed really mean to tease them so.
“How could we--the humble members of Pansy troop, Girl Scouts--ever
dare to hold a canoe-meet on their priceless lake?” asked Ethel Todd.
“Well, we’re going to; that’s all I can say,” replied their captain.
“And now, you all understand, I am sure, how much we want to become
expert canoeists and bring credit to the troop. So, all during the
trip we want to practice as we go along, until the summer guests at
Silvertown think we are regular Indians.
“Of course, Girl Scouts will be an entirely new thing to these people;
but they are all interested in boating, and horseback riding, and all
sorts of athletics; so there is no reason why they should not look
favorably upon us. I have heard, too, that they give a great carnival
in the interests of charity each year, and it is possible that the
winner of the silver cup may receive an invitation to take part in
that. But that, of course, is only conjecture!”
“Ye Gods!” breathed Ruth, in awe. “Adopted by that bunch; your social
position would be assured for life!”
“Oh, _social_ position!” mimicked Marjorie. “Ruth, you are so droll!”
Ruth looked daggers at Marjorie; the latter had sent her a return blow
in answer to her knock of a few minutes before at Frieda. But she was
not cowed; it would take more than that to defeat Ruth Henry. Instead,
she made a mental note of Marjorie’s irony, and resolved that she
would make her pay later.
“The next thing, I think, is the choosing of canoe-mates. You all know
that we shall have two persons to each canoe--one in the stern who
steers and does the hardest work, and one in the bow who watches for
rocks ahead and also paddles.
“Now would you rather draw lots to see which girls go together, or
would you rather select your own partners? It is immaterial to me, so
long as everyone is satisfied.”
“Oh, let’s draw lots,” said Frances, carelessly.
“I don’t agree with you,” put in Ruth. “We not only travel with the
girl, but we occupy the tent with her, don’t we, Captain?”
“Yes, except that I will have a tent of my own, and Frieda, who as cook
will have more equipment than the rest of you, will sleep by herself.
And Frieda and I will travel in the same canoe, but the rest of you
girls--the eight of you--will have four canoes and four tents.”
“Then let us choose our own canoe-mates!” pleaded Ruth.
“But who would have first choice?” questioned Marjorie.
“Draw lots!”
“All right--as you wish,” agreed Miss Phillips, producing a tiny
note-book from which she tore out several pages.
On separate slips she placed numbers from one to eight, requesting the
girls to draw at random. With her usual good luck, Ruth Henry drew
number one; while Marjorie Wilkinson discovered that her paper read
“eight.”
“I want Lily Andrews!” announced Ruth, triumphantly, to the
consternation of the girl mentioned.
“Are you satisfied, Lily?” asked the captain.
Lily hesitated a moment, and glanced shyly at Marjorie. But her chum
smiled back at her frankly, and Lily knew that she did not mind.
“Perfectly,” replied Lily.
Frances Wright, who held number two, chose Ethel Todd; and Doris Sands
selected Marjorie. This meant, of course, that the two freshmen, or
rather sophomores, as they now were--Alice Endicott and Florence Evans,
should be together.
“You can decide among yourselves which is to be stern man,” concluded
the captain; “or you may even alternate, if you wish. Now suppose we
man our canoes, just as we have decided to travel, and practice a
little bit.”
A trifle stiff from sitting on the ground, the girls jumped up eagerly,
glad of the opportunity for action. Miss Phillips obtained the paddles
from Michael, and the girls began to turn the canoes right-side up.
“Why, they haven’t any names!” exclaimed Marjorie, in surprise.
“No,” replied Miss Phillips; “I forgot to tell you that you are to name
them yourselves, and if you will write and tell me your decisions, I
will have them painted on the edges before we start on our trip.”
Alice clapped her hands joyfully. It would seem so much more like their
own canoes if they chose the names, she thought. And all of the others
immediately expressed their approval of the plan.
“And now for the paddling,” said Miss Phillips, after the girls had
pushed their canoes from the shore, and were drifting along rather
aimlessly. “Put your shoulders and body into it--then your arms won’t
get tired. And, above all, don’t reach far ahead into the water, or dip
too deep. For those are the signs of a novice.
“Both girls watch cautiously for rocks, and rapids, and tree-trunks;
but always let the girl in the stern do the steering. Remember--she is
the boss, the captain of the boat, as it were. Finally, don’t paddle
in deep, fierce water--keep away from it. And be sure to keep out of
eddies. Now suppose we all paddle down stream for half a mile or so and
I will watch your motions and give you directions. Of course we cannot
become experienced canoeists all at once.”
The canoes shot ahead, following the direction indicated by the
captain. After a short distance the stream became narrower and swifter.
Tall banks on either side, covered with trees whose trunks bent toward
the water, almost obscured the sun and the sky from view. The girls
were enchanted with the beauty of the scene and the joy of the new
experience. For some minutes they were too deeply impressed to speak.
And although Miss Phillips noticed some very awkward strokes, she had
too much tact to spoil the spell of the scene by criticism. That could
very well wait.
It was Ruth who first broke the silence. She steered her canoe up to
the side of Marjorie’s, which had up to this time taken the lead.
“I’ll race you, Marj!” she challenged.
“No, no!” protested Miss Phillips. “Not now. Later we shall have some
races--but with only one girl in a canoe.”
“I wish we were starting to-day,” said Marjorie; “it’s dreadfully hard
to wait.”
“But it won’t be long,” reassured Miss Phillips. “And there is a lot to
do. Why, I haven’t even bought the tents yet!”
“What kind are you going to get, Captain?” asked Marjorie, who had
always enjoyed reading the sporting catalogues which her brother Jack
left around the house. “Shelter-halves?”
“I don’t know; they’re the easiest to put up and really afford perfect
protection. I believe that the men in the army use them for their
short overnight hikes.”
“And the food?” questioned Ruth. “Shall we have to take loads and
loads?”
“No, because I think we can buy things along the way. But of course we
need a good deal.”
The girls now had their first lesson in turning their canoes about,
for the captain decided it was time to go back. As usual, Marjorie
accomplished this act with the most grace, and the others exclaimed
admiringly at her prowess.
The scouts found it a different matter indeed to paddle up stream, and
more than one of them admitted that they were thankful that they were
not coming home that way. All but Marjorie felt tired when they handed
the canoes over to Michael’s keeping at the little boathouse.
“And now one thing more,” said Miss Phillips, as they reascended the
bank to the edge of the woods. “I have a little present for each of
you, which you must take good care of. It’s a map of the country
through which our stream runs, and where we shall travel. Study it,
show it to your families, and bring it with you next Monday when we
start off.”
“Next Monday!” echoed Marjorie, as she and Ruth left the others at the
fork in the road. “I wonder if it will ever come!”