THE ACCIDENT
It was evening--of the second day of their trip and the scouts were
seated about their camp fire, enjoying the leisure after the day’s
activities. The flame lighted up the immediate circle, and the tents
just beyond; but by way of contrast, it seemed to make the blackness of
the woods and the water still deeper.
“Anybody want to go for a walk?” asked Miss Phillips, teasingly.
“We want to stay just where we are!” replied Marjorie, who was
comfortably leaning against Lily’s back for support.
“Remember that dark forest in Barrie’s play--‘Dear Brutus’--where
everybody went on a summer’s night and got things they all wished for!”
remarked Lily.
None of the others had seen the play, and they asked her several
questions about the story.
“It would take an Edith Evans to tell that story well,” sighed Lily;
“it certainly was a pretty one.”
“But wouldn’t it be strange,” mused Marjorie, “if we could go into the
woods over there and get our dearest wish. I wonder what mine would be.”
“To win the silver cup at the races, I guess,” put in Ruth. “I’m sure
that’s my greatest desire at present.” Then, becoming very practical,
she added, “Now please tell us all about it, Captain Phillips.”
“Well, I haven’t worked out the exact program,” replied Miss Phillips;
“but I can tell you most of the things it will include.”
“First of all there will be a race----”
“With the same two girls together, just as we are now?” asked Alice
Endicott.
“No--one girl to a canoe, for this event. You can’t very well sit down
when you want to paddle fast--you kneel somewhere in the middle of the
canoe. So, if we can’t hire canoes there, we will have two races, and
then let the winner of each compete.”
“That really would be the fairest thing to do, anyway,” said Frances.
“Because we’ll be more used to these canoes than any others.”
“Then there will be another event when there are two girls in each
canoe, and perhaps a relay race. And finally, there will be a
Capsized-canoe Competition. Someone will take the canoe to the middle
of the lake and upset it. As soon as the contestant sees this take
place, she is to kick off her shoes and dive into the lake, right the
canoe, bale the water out, and bring it safely--with its first occupant
in it--to shore. This is undoubtedly the most difficult feat of all.”
“But how will you decide who has won the cup?” asked Ruth, when Miss
Phillips had finished her explanation.
“Mr. Remington and I are going to decide on how to award the different
points, and then ask three strangers--people of Silvertown, I mean--to
judge the contest.”
“Mr. Remington!” repeated Marjorie. “Will he be there?”
Miss Phillips blushed. “There, now, I have said too much already.
Suppose we say nothing more about it. It’s time to go to bed, anyway.”
The scouts did as the captain commanded, pausing only to put out the
fire. They reserved further discussion of the subject of the matter
until they were by themselves.
Early the next morning they were in their canoes again, ready to start
off. This time Miss Phillips kept her map in view so that there could
be no chance of a mistake; and she designated Frances Wright and Ethel
Todd--the two oldest girls in the troop--to take the lead.
For the next few days they progressed steadily onward. Always on
the water by nine o’clock, and pausing only an hour for lunch, they
continued until four; then with the aid of the map, Miss Phillips
watched for the best camping place.
All had gone well thus far; and by Saturday morning they were
practically on schedule time.
“Have you ever been over this stream before, Captain?” asked
Marjorie, as the canoes set off from the shore together.
“No, never,” replied Miss Phillips.
“Well, then how did you know all about making the map, and the best
sites for our camps, and----?”
The captain smiled. “Mr. Remington, the scoutmaster, took it once, and
recommended it to me. It was he who made the maps for us.”
“It certainly is lovely,” observed Marjorie. “I couldn’t ask for a more
beautiful trip.”
“And don’t forget what awaits at the other end,” put in Ruth, with a
tone of joyous anticipation.
“Except for the water meet!” sighed Doris. “Do you know, Captain
Phillips, the idea of our racing and doing all those stunts sort of
scares me--before all those strange people, I mean. Do we all have to
take part?”
“Oh, I wish you all would, though of course I wouldn’t absolutely
insist,” replied Miss Phillips. “But really, nobody in Pansy troop need
be afraid. Already I consider you really expert canoeists!”
“Thanks, Captain!” exclaimed Ethel Todd, well pleased at the compliment.
“But of course nobody stands a chance with Marj!” said Ruth, rather
sulkily. “Because she has had so much experience.”
“Experience isn’t everything,” said Miss Phillips. “It’s deftness--a
certain knack, which I can’t explain.”
The canoes were forced to go in single file now, for the stream had
become very narrow. Miss Phillips and Frieda took the lead, the former
watching cautiously for rapids; for it was somewhere near here, she
thought, that a portage would be necessary. Ruth and Lily in the
_Water-Witch_ were the last in the trail.
“I honestly don’t think it’s fair about Marj!” repeated the former, in
discontent.
“Why, Ruth, of course it is! Marj isn’t any professional, like you make
her out to be! What don’t you consider fair about it?”
Ruth paddled more slowly, in order to allow those in the canoe ahead to
get out of hearing distance.
“Just this. I think the whole idea of a canoe meet is not Miss
Phillips’s, but Marj’s. Why should the captain have chosen the thing
Marjorie Wilkinson is most proficient in? You can’t tell me! It’s
because Marj paws around her, and makes her do just as she likes!”
“Ruth Henry!” cried Lily, furious at the slur against her best friend.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am, Lil. You’re blinded by her; Marj can do anything with
you that she likes, and you think she’s wonderful. But other people
don’t think so! She’s not half good enough for you, I tell you.”
Ruth lowered her voice and spoke slowly in the hope that her words of
flattery might make a deep impression upon the other. “You’re the most
popular girl in our class, Lily Andrews, and everybody knows it. But
if you don’t pay any attention to anybody except Marj, you’ll lose all
your friends!”
Lily was simply dumbfounded at the words of her companion. It was true
that she always put Marjorie first, assuming that her room-mate was
more popular than herself. And yet, as Ruth had reminded her, it was
she who had been chosen president of the class, and not Marjorie.
“Now I think it’s all very well to have tests like this Sailor’s test,
as a regular part of scouting,” continued Ruth; “but when it comes
to a big meet, which all Silvertown will witness, I don’t think it’s
quite fair to select canoeing. Why shouldn’t Miss Phillips have chosen
tennis? We’ve never had a tennis tournament.”
“But I thought it was our benefactor who suggested canoeing--not Miss
Phillips.”
“Well, I don’t know, but I wish you’d help me this once. You know Miss
Phillips hates me--” Ruth laughed carelessly, as if the fact did not
cause her any unhappiness--“but she likes you, Lil. So you suggest a
tennis match instead. Won’t you please, Lil?”
“Well, tennis would suit me just as well--though I’m not much good
at either sport. Still, I do see what you mean. Yes--if I have a
chance--maybe--I’ll mention the matter to Miss Phillips!”
“Oh, Lil, you’re an angel!” cried Ruth, in ecstasy.
All this time both girls had been so engrossed in the conversation that
they had forgotten to paddle. Ruth, however, had continued to guide
the canoe until she won Lily’s consent to attack Miss Phillips on the
subject; then she gave a little jump, and dropped her paddle in the
water. She had not noticed that the stream had become swifter, and
that there were sharp rocks ahead; with her mind still upon the recent
conversation, she leaned far over the side of the canoe in order to
secure the floating paddle. The canoe, however, driven by the current,
swung around and hit against a protruding rock. An instant later, the
girls were thrown under the water. The canoe had capsized.
“Lil, oh! Lil! Where are you?” called Ruth, as soon as her head came to
the surface.
“Here!” sputtered Lily, her nose and mouth filled with water by the
violent ducking. Then a series of violent chokes on her part prevented
all hope of replying.
“Oh, where can the others be?” cried Ruth, grasping at the canoe in
despair, and looking wildly about for help. But she saw no signs of
the other girls; the _Water-Witch_ had evidently been progressing more
slowly than they had either of them realized.
With a desperate effort, they finally managed to turn the canoe about,
and pushing it before them, they swam for the shore, which was close
by. The water-proof bags containing rain-coats, blankets, and supplies
were scattered in all directions, headed down stream.
“Lil, we’ve got to get our stuff--or it will sink so that we can’t find
it!”
“Oh! Oh! What shall we do!” wailed Lily, now able to speak. “Marj!
Marj!” she screamed helplessly.
In a second two or three scouts appeared about fifty yards down stream,
on the bank. They had already landed their canoes when they heard the
cry of distress. But in an incredibly short time Marjorie had pushed
hers in to the water again, and was paddling madly against the current
towards the scene of the accident. Seeing, however, when she reached
them, that Lily was perfectly safe, and with Ruth, capable of managing
the capsized canoe, she turned about and rescued the bags of luggage.
By this time the rest of the party had run along the shore, reaching
the scene just as Lily, with drenched clothing and streaming hair,
climbed out of the water. Meanwhile Marjorie continued to fish for the
lost articles.
“We’re safe now. Pull her up, Lil!” called Ruth. “Hello, everybody!
Weren’t we crazy, though?”
“It’s a swift part of the stream, and there are lots of sharp rocks,”
explained Miss Phillips, after the scouts had pulled the canoe upon
the bank and dumped out the water. “It is near here where we make our
portage.”
“Oh, no wonder! Well, Marj--” Ruth watched the other girl direct her
canoe to the shore--“did you find everything?”
“I saw something or other sink to a watery grave,” replied Marjorie;
“and maybe I missed one or two little things. But I guess I got most
everything.”
“We’ll have to make a grand drying-day,” remarked Miss Phillips. “But
there doesn’t seem to be any good place to pitch our tents.”
She looked around anxiously, but the banks on either side of the stream
were sharply and thickly covered with trees. Suddenly she realized how
still everything was; not a leaf was stirring, not a bird was singing.
The girls, too, were absolutely quiet, as if awed by some approaching
calamity. She glanced nervously at the sky; the sun was still shining
brightly, but a glistening white cloud was rapidly rising out of the
east, and increasing in size as it advanced higher into the heavens.
A moment later, the sun was temporarily obscured. A distant rumble
was heard. There was no doubt about it now; a heavy thunderstorm was
approaching.
“We’ll never get dry!” said Lily, dolefully. “Oh, Ruth, aren’t you
getting sort of cold? And with nothing but wet sweaters to put on----”
“Here’s mine!” offered Alice, handing her sweater to Lily. “And I’ll
get Flo’s for you, Ruth.”
“Thanks!” murmured both girls, gratefully.
“Girls,” said Miss Phillips, “I have decided not to attempt to put up
tents now. Do you see that barn over there? I think we had better take
out our bags and blankets, and turn our canoes upside down and make for
shelter. Whoever owns it surely wouldn’t put us out in the storm.”
“Suits me to the ground!” said Lily.
When Marjorie unbarred the bolt of the heavy wooden door, the first big
drops of rain were falling from the black cloud overhead. The rusty
hinges creaked, and the door swung open, revealing an empty interior of
huge proportions. The divisions of the stalls were still standing, and
the floor of the loft was covered with straw. Although the place was
deserted, everything was neat and clean.
“I’m just as glad we don’t have to share our quarters with horses,”
said Alice.
“Or cows!” added Ruth.
“Let’s hope nobody puts us out,” said Miss Phillips. “As soon as the
storm is over, I’ll go and see if the house to which this belongs is
occupied, for it would seem to me to be wiser to stay here all night
than to pitch tents on wet ground. And especially on Lily’s and Ruth’s
account.”
“Oh, don’t mind us,” said Ruth. “We’ll be all right.”
“Well, suppose you select that stall over there as your boudoir, and
put on dry clothing. If your own bloomers and middies are wet, borrow
somebody else’s. And a good rub with a Turkish towel wouldn’t hurt.”
The rest of the scouts climbed to the loft, and seated themselves on
some straw near a window, so that they might watch the storm. Great
claps of thunder followed sharp flashes of lightning, but the girls did
not seem the least afraid. Indeed, several of them were sorry when the
storm gave indication of subsiding.
“Will it be safe to make a fire outside the barn to cook something?”
asked Frieda. “There’s hardly any thing on hand that’s good cold.”
“Yes,” replied the captain; “if we notice which side the wind is
blowing from, and make it so the sparks blow away from the barn, and
not towards it.”
“Oh, here are some dry twigs and a few logs!” said Marjorie, who had
descended the ladder again, and was making a tour of exploration. “Just
the thing for a fire.”
“Good!” cried Frieda. “Now I won’t have to demonstrate my ability to
make a fire from wet wood!”
The rain had entirely ceased now, and the sun was shining again.
Marjorie and Alice offered to make the fire while Frieda prepared the
supper. Ruth and Lily spent their time rigging up a place to hang
their wet clothing, and Florence and Miss Phillips went in search of
water.
The fire had been blazing brightly for several minutes when a gruff,
loud voice suddenly startled the girls from their pleasant conversation.
“Who’s trying to burn my barn down?”
The girls crowded together fearfully, and Frances stood ready to face
the angry owner; for, to their dismay, Miss Phillips was still out of
sight.
“Please sir,” Frances began, as soon as an old man appeared around the
side of the barn, “we are being very careful. You see we made our fire
away from the wind----”
“Oh, you did, eh? Well, suppose you put it right out again!”
Something in the old man’s manner, gruff though it was, reminded Doris
of her father, and hardly realizing what she was doing she put her hand
on his sleeves, and looked beseechingly into his eyes.
“Please don’t put us out!” she pleaded. “We’re Girl Scouts, and we give
you our word of honor----”
At her words and her tone, the old man’s anger subsided; she seemed
so like a child, asking him for shelter and protection. No one could
resist Doris Sands for any length of time.
“But my dear child--” he began.
A voice behind him interrupted his sentence. The captain had returned
to the scene of action.
“Please accept my apologies,” she said; and before he could reply, she
told him the whole story.
“Why, I understand perfectly!” he said. “But can’t you come up to the
house instead, and I guess my wife can give you some supper?”
“Thanks,” said Miss Phillips; “we shall be glad to accept your
invitation. But so long as the girls have started supper, we may as
well eat it.”
“Then save up for dessert! I saw my wife making a cake this morning.”
“Hooray!” exclaimed Alice. “We haven’t had any home-made cake for an
age!”
“And I’ll see that the fire is entirely put out,” concluded Miss
Phillips, as the man turned to go.
“Doris, you certainly got around him nicely,” remarked Ruth as they
took their plates of beans into the barn to eat.
“Oh, country people are always nice,” said Doris; “if you only
understand them right.”
“Do you think this is a big farm, Miss Phillips?” questioned Marjorie.
“I don’t think it’s a farm at all,” replied the captain. “I think these
old people live here by themselves, and probably raise a little garden
for their own use. But if it were really a farm, this barn wouldn’t be
empty like this.”
“That’s true,” agreed the girl.
The old people proved to be living just such a life as Miss Phillips
had surmised. Kindly, hospitable, and simple-hearted, they made their
guests quite at home and the girls enjoyed their evening, and the day
that followed. For it was Sunday, and the old couple insisted that the
girls accompany them to the country church and remain with them for
dinner.
It was nearly three o’clock when the scouts made their adieux, and
returned to seek their canoes, for Miss Phillips had decided that they
would make the portage before setting up camp for the night.
“And we couldn’t be more rested, or in better condition to carry heavy
loads,” said Miss Phillips, as they came upon the canoes lying just as
they had left them, bright and shining after their washing in the rain.
“And now for the heavy work!” said Lily, tucking her luggage into the
_Water-Witch_.
“Thank goodness for that chicken dinner!” added Ethel.
“So say we all!” echoed Marjorie.