and the scouts? I've simply _got_ to rush away and meet Mr. Vernon.
Then we will plan to-night after dinner, and see what we can do. I do
know that there's no use your trailing back unless you go all the way
to Loveland or Boulder for your mounts--and you won't want to lose all
that time, I'm sure."
So Mr. Kenmore and his friend, Mr. Neil, spent a pleasant day with the
scouts, and at night the subject of canoeing was again debated.
Finally, Joan said, "It's foolish of Verny to say we will drown, when
we won badges for our canoeing last year, and carried off the prizes
for our county this spring."
"These girls are better swimmers and more expert canoeists than most,"
added Mr. Gilroy.
"Besides, my dear," said Mr. Vernon to his wife, "it is not as if they
had to paddle. With expert Indians to guide the crafts, why do you
feel so timid about the trip?"
"We only have Tally, and he can paddle but one canoe at a time. If
only Omney were here, he could take charge of one, and I could manage
the other one," sighed Mrs. Vernon, feeling overcome by the combined
arguments of the others.
"How many canoes have you?" asked Mr. Gilroy.
"Three large ones, built for parties," replied Mr. Kenmore. "My wife
is a poor swimmer and knows nothing about a canoe, yet she had no fear
in trusting herself to the expert Indian who managed the canoe she was
in."
"Why not let that Indian take charge of one canoe? Then the Captain
will feel safer, and her responsibility will be less?" suggested Mr.
Gilroy.
"We'd be glad to, as that will take care of him until we come back
from our ride."
Finally, Mrs. Vernon said, "If you agree to wait until Omney returns,
so we can let him manage one of the canoes, I'll withdraw most of my
objections, but still I am not in favor of this trip!"
Having gained that much, the scouts knew better than to urge more at
that time. Mr. Kenmore was relieved to find he could go back to his
party with such good news--that horses and pack-mules were found as if
by a fairy. He thought to himself, "By a clever little scout of a
fairy, called Julie!"
Before the two men left camp in the morning, it was all settled. As
soon as Omney returned, the scouts would break camp and ride on until
they reached the camp pitched by Mr. Kenmore's party. Mr. Gilroy and
Mr. Vernon would move leisurely along, searching in the moraines
during the day, and pitching camp wherever they were when night fell.
There would be no outfits to look after, and no cares about scouts, so
they would reach Flat Top about the time the canoe party returned from
its trip.
As soon as Omney came back to camp, therefore, every one was ready to
proceed along the trail to Kenmore's Camp. When the scout party rode
into that camp, every one there was glad to see them, for they had
heard about the scout outing and the plan to exchange horses for
canoes, for a short time, at least.
"Couldn't be better if Providence itself planned it all!" declared
Mrs. Kenmore, enthusiastically. "Don't you think so, Mrs. Vernon?"
"I'll wait until we return before I commit myself. I always did think
folks blamed Providence too much for what really was their own
stubborn will," returned the Captain.
Her repartee caused a laugh, and Julie exclaimed, "Verny, I fear you
are coming down with chills and fever,--you never were so pessimistic
before!"
"Yes, you are awfully lugubrious, Verny. At home you are with us on
any wildcat scheme," added Ruth.
"That's it! It took a trip to the Rockies to show me what I was at
home--for your wildcat schemes. Now I'm learning sense!" declared the
Captain.
Mr. Kenmore had a brilliant idea, and he instantly followed it up. He
brought the Indian guide who had paddled the canoe to camp, and
introduced him to Mrs. Vernon, as his future mistress for the canoe
trip.
The Captain saw the tall slender form, the fine muscular development
of the Indian, and the polite demeanor. Then she said, "Have you been
in the Rockies long?"
"Borned here. My fodder Chief of waterways in Colorado when she was
territory and me lee'l boy." The Indian demonstrated how small he was
at that time.
"John tells me he has spent the last twenty years on these streams
flowing from the Rockies. So he can be depended upon," said Mr.
Kenmore.
That noon, the party wishing to cross the Divide rode away with the
horses and two pack-mules, while the three Indian guides showed Mrs.
Vernon the route they proposed taking for the canoe trip. They would
follow the creek that eventually emptied its crystal waters into
Glacier Creek. But the latter had many fine tributaries, so they would
follow one of these to a spot John knew of, where a short carry of a
mile would bring them to a splendid river along which they could canoe
for miles and miles.
The blankets and other necessities were carefully packed in the bottom
of the canoes, and the slat frameworks for the flooring were laid down
over them. Then the scouts divided their party and got into the three
large canoes, with an experienced guide for each.
When they were once under way, Mrs. Vernon began to enjoy the trip as
much as any one of the scouts. She leaned back comfortably in the
canoe as she thought to herself, "What's so enjoyable as this peaceful
riding over placid waters, and passing by Nature's wonder-spots!"
The Indians thoroughly enjoyed canoeing, and the two boys, Tally and
Omney, were delighted at the change of plan that made this water trip
possible for them. The paddles were in capable hands, and the canoes
responded instantly to every touch.
A stroke one way and the canoe would evade a snag thrusting its ugly
head from the stream. A stroke the other way, and the passengers
quickly rounded a finger of land that jutted out into the water. Now
and then a quick stroke, and a rock was passed without scraping, and
all was done so quietly that no undue fear was roused.
They rode under massive overhanging rocks, glided past flat banks of
land where gorgeous bloom offered sweetest nectar to bees and
butterflies. Then they would shoot by cliffs whose towering sides were
bare and threatening, or were overrun with vines and topped with giant
pines whose roots found a hold down on the other side of the rock.
Finally the current began to run swifter, and still swifter. The
Captain sat, half-mesmerized by the swirling water as the canoe shot
through it. She was in a delicious state of mind when a stifled scream
from Julie, in the leading canoe, caused her to rouse instantly.
They were sweeping around a wooded curve in the stream, and just
before them was a series of little rapids that foamed and frothed.
Farther on a narrow gorge was seen, and here the water doubled on
itself and curled backward in its attempt to escape from the frowning
walls of rock on either side.
Now the canoes were in the white churning waters! Now they were
cutting through the foam, the wavelets striving to pile up and over
the top of the canoes. The rapids roared as they flung themselves
against the rocky wall just ahead, and the Captain murmured, "Oh, I
hope no one runs into that!"
Then the three canoes were flying through the gorge, riding over the
lapping waters, and now they were out again on the other side, gliding
silently across a wide expanse of dark-green lake. And now the Captain
heaved a sigh of relief and sent up a prayer of thanks for the
protection.
The lake was quickly crossed, and again the three canoes were going
down what seemed to be a chute. The scouts gasped at the speed, and
grasped the edges of the crafts tightly. When the first canoe, managed
by John, came to the spot, he called back a warning to the other two
guides. And all three bent their muscles to the work in hand.
Suddenly, without other warning, Mrs. Vernon felt as if the canoe she
sat in had dropped from under her--its flight was so swift that she
scarcely realized the motion. Then--s-s-suash! down it came upon the
top of the water again--but far ahead of whence it sprang. She turned
to look at what could have caused this queer sensation and saw they
had ridden a "rift."
The three Indians cheered and complimented the scouts for their
courage in this their first rift. So the scouts understood that such
things were mere joys to an Indian and nothing to be frightened about.
During the afternoon the line of canoes reached one of the wildest and
most alluring spots in the mountains. The forest was not so dense
here, the water was smoother, and the stream wider. The Indians were
warning each other "Watch out!" so their passengers were alert also.
No one wanted to miss a single thrill of this marvelous trip.
Now a sound as of thunder in the distance reached their ears, and the
Captain wondered what it could be. As the canoes sped onward, the
sound grew plainer and louder, and caused a clutch of fear at the
throats of the girls. But the Indians smiled eagerly and allayed undue
trepidation.
Then quite suddenly, coming out of a screen of overhanging verdure,
the strange sounds broke into wild tearing, roaring, pulsating tones,
and the canoes slid down upon the tawny yellow chute of a _real_
cataract!
The bulky black things that flashed up before the canoes, only to be
as swiftly passed by, were _rocks_! The queer, rocking, green-gold
glass they were sliding upon was _water_! And then, as in the rift,
after a sudden sinking as if through space, they all rode out safely
upon another deep quiet lake of dark-green water.
That night the Indians made camp on the moonlit shores of a marvelous
lake. They had not bothered to stop for much dinner at noon, so every
one was hungry by evening. Freshly caught fish, and the food that only
an Indian can find and cook to perfection, made the scouts feel "like
monarchs of all they surveyed."
Such thrilling experiences as John could tell, kept the scouts gasping
until Mrs. Vernon suggested they had best go to bed if they wished to
continue in the morning. The beds of sweet bracken made up by Tally
never held more appreciative mortals than the scouts, after the
entertainment furnished by John had ended.
For breakfast, there were wild ducks' eggs, found by Omney; stewed
Indian potatoes, dug by Tally; Indian onions, discovered by John; and
delicious coffee, brought by Mrs. Vernon. Then they cleared away all
signs of the camp and proceeded along the way.
The second day of the canoeing there was no fear felt by any one, as
the Indians had proved to be adequate for any emergency, and the
canoes were splendidly constructed craft. In them the scouts shot
rapids, rode down cataracts, bobbed about in whirlpools, and then--rode
out upon quiet lakes laughing merrily in their nervous tension.
Finally Julie felt tired of sitting still, and asked to paddle. But
the guides shook their heads. No amount of coaxing could make them
turn over the paddles to other hands. The Indians knew their
responsibility, and were determined to avoid trouble.
The third morning, Julie said, "We can paddle so well, Tally, and some
of these lakes are as tame as dish-water."
"Den wait to dinnertime at camp!" said Tally, unthinkingly.
The rest of the morning was passed in dodging great rocks, passing
through arched aisles, where the water cut a way through the timber,
or again rocking perilously in a seething bowl of froth, to be shot
out at the other side, and then ride along on smooth water.
That noonday they landed on a blossoming meadow for camp. The canoes
were taken from the water and turned over on the beach, while the
Indians hunted for food to cook for dinner. Two of them started for an
inland pond where they saw flocks of wild duck, and John began to
catch fish for cooking.
Mrs. Vernon took charge of the fire, and the scouts made bread, set
the dishes out and did other chores. Julie and Joan had been sent to
hunt for a fresh spring of water, and in passing the canoes where they
had been left, Joan said, "The lake's like a millpond."
"I'd like to paddle across to the other side and climb that steep
knoll. I bet there's a fine view from there," said Julie.
"Verny would have a fit!" declared Joan, looking back but not seeing
the camp, as the bank hid it from sight.
"It wouldn't take long, and I'm dying to try these canoes," suggested
Julie.
"Come on, then," responded Joan. "I suppose it's safe."
"Of course, and Tally said we might try at noon-time."
"We'll just shoot over and back again," said Joan, as the two girls
managed to carry the canoe to the water.
No one saw them glide away, and no one missed them at first, as they
were thought to be hunting for spring water. Then when dinner was
ready there was no Julie or Joan to be found!
CHAPTER TEN
JULIE AND JOAN'S PREDICAMENT
It was all very well to talk about paddling across a quiet little
lake, but it was another thing when one got into the swift current
that ran past the rocky bluff where the girls wished to land. There
was no shallow water anywhere, where they might get out and beach the
canoe, so Julie paddled with the current for a distance, leaving the
camp site far behind.
Joan kept gazing for a likely spot to anchor in, but there were none
such. Then suddenly, the canoe was caught in a swirl of water that was
caused by the outpouring of a creek, and Julie discovered that
managing a large canoe built for Rocky Mountain waters was far
different from steering a light craft across a home lake, or along the
canal that ran through the town.
"Why are you going this way, Julie--why not stick to the shore line?"
asked Joan, as the canoe was driven along with the current.
"Stick to nothing! How can I help going this way when the current is
as mad as a Jehu!" cried Julie, desperately.
"Then let me help in some way."
"I only wish you could, but we only have one paddle."
Joan glanced at the water. It was running quite shallow just where
they were. An idea flashed into her mind.
"Julie, I'll get out and pull the canoe upstream while you help with
the paddle."
Julie made no demur, although she said, warningly, "Don't let go of
the canoe for a second, will you?"
"Of course not! Did you think I wanted to be left on a desert shore?"
laughed Joan, climbing out.
She managed to drag the canoe for quite a distance upstream again,
while Julie paddled with all her might. At times Joan stepped down in
a hole and had to cling to the canoe to save herself. At such times
the craft swung back again downstream, making the girls do the same
work all over again. Finally Joan's teeth began chattering and she
managed to quiver forth, "The water's like ice!"
"You've been in too long. Now you get in and let me take your place,
Jo. Later you can switch off with me again, and in that way we'll get
back to still water opposite camp."
So Julie jumped out and Joan got in to paddle, but her hands were
stiff with the chill and her whole body shaking, hence her paddling
was not of much use. Julie was the stronger of the two scouts, so she
managed to pull the canoe upstream splendidly, and both girls felt
that now their troubles were over. All of a sudden, however, she
stumbled over a great submerged stone and fell out flat on the water,
face downward.
She had presence of mind to cling to the edge of the canoe with both
hands, but Joan stopped paddling in consternation when she saw the
accident. Instantly the craft caught in the swift current and shot
ahead as an arrow from the bow. Julie floated out behind, on the
water, at times completely covered with the swirling waves curled up
by the sharp canoe.
At times she lifted her head up and tried to gasp. In one of these
desperate efforts, she cried, "Paddle--paddle for the love of Mike!"
then she was swept under again.
Before Joan got down to actual work again with the paddle, the canoe
was running opposite the creek again, and all the gain the girls had
made by wading upstream was lost. Julie was very cold by this time,
and the water was so deep that she could not touch bottom, so she
climbed back in the canoe.
During the help Joan had to give the half-fainting mariner, the canoe
headed straight for a bend in the river. Where they would land neither
scout could tell. It might be over the falls--it might be in a mud
puddle.
"Can't you stop it?" screamed Julie, hysterically. "We may run plumb
into a cliff and smash to bits!"
As she spoke, she grabbed the paddle and worked with the strength that
fear sometimes gives, so that she really poled the canoe across the
creek to the shore where the water was quiet. But they were now on the
far side of the current, in the creek that was hidden by the bluff
they had passed. The distance from camp was too far for any one to
hear them, even if they did shout. So they fastened the canoe and got
out upon the bank.
"When Verny finds us gone, and one canoe missing, she will send the
Indians out at once to hunt for us. Meantime, we may as well make a
fire and get warm," suggested Julie.
"Tally left a line and tackle in the bottom of the canoe," announced
Joan, remembering that she had caught her toe on a fish-hook when she
climbed out.
"Oh, then we're not so hard up, after all. We can catch a fish and
broil it for lunch."
"I'm fearfully hungry after all that work," hinted Joan.
"Then you fish while I make fire with some rubbing-sticks. As soon as
you land a fish, I'll clean it with my scout knife and start broiling
it. Better try upstream a ways, where the water is quiet," said Julie.
The fire was soon blazing, and Joan managed to catch two goodly sized
fish, so they ate them, and dried their uniforms at the fire at the
same time. This done, they felt better. But no call from the rescuers
the girls had expected, nor sign of them, came from the lake beyond
the bluff.
"Jo, suppose we follow this creek a ways until we find a shallow place
where we can ford. Then we can climb up to that knoll and signal with
smokes."
"We may get into all sorts of new trouble, Julie. I'd rather wait here
for them."
"I've got to get up and do something, Jo. I'll go crazy sitting here
waiting, with no sign from any one out there."
"Why can't we paddle the canoe up a ways. If we walk we may step on a
rattler, or meet other dreadful things," ventured Jo.
"All right, then. We'll canoe upstream a ways. If it doesn't look
healthy yonder, we'll come back. But should we find a trail we may as
well follow it to the bluff," returned Julie.
"Who'd make a trail in this wilderness!" scorned Joan.
"Don't you suppose others have been in this beautiful spot? Others
have seen that bluff and climbed it, too."
So the scouts paddled the canoe upstream as far as it seemed
advisable, and that is how they missed hearing the Indians, when they
crossed the creek and called for the lost ones. Then the hunters
paddled on downstream, searching ahead for a canoe that might be going
straight for the great falls John knew to be a mile further down.
John and Omney were in the leading canoe, while the Captain and Tally
were in the second canoe of the rescuing party. When no sign of the
scouts was seen at the creek, John called back to Tally.
"Omney and me go on, you take lady to shore and wait on creek for me."
Tally did not tell Mrs. Vernon that a dangerous waterfall was
downstream, but he knew that was where John was going to hunt, so he
landed his passenger on the far side of the creek, where they sat and
waited for news. No one dreamed that the two girls would paddle up the
creek and thus miss a chance of being helped. Nor did Tally find the
ashes of the little campfire Julie had made to cook the fish and to
dry themselves.
"I knew there would be a fine trail along here, somewhere, Jo!"
exclaimed Julie, driving the canoe inshore and pointing exultantly at
a distinct trail that ran up from the water's edge.
"Oh, joy! It runs straight for the bluff, too!" cried Joan.
So they climbed this steep trail, which was so plainly worn that there
was no need of blazes along the way. They climbed and climbed! Still
they had not reached the top where they expected to find the knoll
they originally started out for.
"Seems to me we have gone twice as far as ever that bluff was,"
complained Joan.
"Places always seem close at hand when one is on the water," commented
Julie.
But they now found the trail descending, and shortly it went decidedly
downhill, away from the lake. Both scouts looked at each other.
"There is no sense in _going down_, Julie!"
"Apparently not, Jo, but these trails wind awfully, you know; and
maybe it is trying to avoid a gully or a cliff."
So they kept on, hoping every moment for a sight of the bald place
that had allured them from the camp on the safe and desirable meadow.
After half an hour of this hiking they came out to an inland pond with
canals cut in different directions.
"Why! it's a beaver colony!" exclaimed Julie, pointing to the huts and
dam, and they saw several beavers working in the aspens at the far
side of the pond.
"I could eat one of those beavers--I'm so starved!" sighed Joan.
"Shall we follow that trail around the pond?" asked Julie.
"What for? We're only going further away all the time."
"Then we may as well go back to the creek and wait."
"All this long walk for nothing!" grumbled Joan. But she followed
Julie nevertheless, and when they reached the brook they had recently
crossed, the girls found two trails leading to it.
"I only saw one before," said Joan.
"Because we were _on_ that one,--but which one was it?"
"Coming from the left, to be sure. Would we be coming from the
interior?" asked Joan, impatiently.
So they took the lefthand trail, although they really had come up by
the other one, which led from the creek where their canoe was waiting.
"Jo, I believe both those trails were worn by animals going to the
creek," ventured Julie, as the idea suddenly came to her.
"Well, you said tourists would surely visit here and leave a trail!"
Joan returned, jeeringly.
For once Julie made no reply in self-justification. The two scouts
kept on hiking until they were so fatigued that they both felt like
crying.
"I hope we're not lost," whimpered Joan, wiping her eyes.
"Of course not! Folks are never lost unless they get into a panic of
fear," declared Julie, keeping up her own courage by trying to boost
that of her companion.
Again the girls climbed and climbed, until presto! right in front and
down far below, was the lovely lake! Oh, how beautiful it looked! They
stood where they were for a few moments sighing in relief that now
they were sure to be rescued. Then Julie frowned and looked at Joan.
"Jo, is there anything wrong with my eyes? I can't see any meadow
opposite us."
"Neither can I! There's a rocky pine-topped wall over there."
"But there _was_ a flat meadow where we camped, wasn't there?" queried
Julie.
"O Julie, you're not going daffy, are you?" wailed Joan.
"Good gracious! Why do you ask such a thing! _Was_ there a meadow over
there?" screamed Julie, shaking Joan fearfully.
"I've heard that folks lose their minds when they're lost in the
wilderness," cried Joan, forgetting to answer the all-important
question about the meadow.
"Will you tell me what I want to know--_was there a meadow_?" yelled
Julie, stamping her foot vehemently as she spoke.
She had been standing upon long wiry witch grass that had washed its
blades downwards toward the lake, and having but little roothold in
the thin layer of dried moss and top soil that was spread over the
cliff, the sharp stamping of a scout heel loosened this slight
attachment.
Then like a mirage in the desert, Joan beheld her friend vanish! Not
swiftly and instantaneously, but slowly and surely, as the roots and
matted surface reluctantly broke away because of Julie's weight and
downward gravity.
"Save me! Oh Jo! Save me!" screamed Julie, clutching wildly at scrub
bushes that held tenaciously to the crevices and so gave her temporary
resistance. But her weight always tore them away finally, and then she
had to grasp the next one.
"Oh Julie--come back! Come back, don't leave me all alone in this
wilderness!" wailed Joan, wringing her hands.