Paul reached the dark object. Then, after a short delay, she could see
that he was trying to bring it in.
But his progress was slow.
"Oh, there must be something the matter! Perhaps a cramp has seized
him." A terrible impatience took possession of her; it was impossible
for him to hear her, yet she cried to him at the top of her voice, and
fiercely: "Let it go! Let it go, I say! Come in alone. Who cares for it,
whatever it is?" It was not until his burden lay on the beach that she
could turn her mind from him in the least, or think of what he had
brought.
The burden was a girl of ten, a fair child with golden curls, now heavy
with water; her face was calm, the eyes peacefully closed. She had been
lashed to a plank by somebody's hand--whose? Her father's? Or had it
been done by a sobbing mother, praying, while she worked, that she and
her little daughter might meet again.
"It's dreadful, when they're so young," said big Paul, bending over the
body reverently to loosen the ropes. He finished his task, and
straightened himself. "A collision or a fire. If it was a fire, they
must have seen it from Jupiter Light." He scanned the lake. "Perhaps
there are others who are not dead; I must have one of the canoes at
once. I'll go by the beach. You had better follow me." He put on his
shoes, and, dripping as he was, he was off again like a flash, running
towards the west at a vigorous speed.
Eve watched him until he was out of sight. Then she sat down beside the
little girl and began to dry her pretty curls, one by one, with her
handkerchief. Even then she kept thinking, "He has forgotten it!"
By-and-by--it seemed to her a long time--she saw a canoe coming round
the point. It held but one person--Paul. He paddled rapidly towards her.
"Why didn't you follow me, as I told you to?" he said, almost angrily.
"Hollis has gone back to the camp for more canoes and the Indians; he
took Cicely, and he ought to have taken you."
"I wanted to stay here."
"You will be in the way; drowned people are not always a pleasant sight.
Sit where you are, then, since you are here; if I come across anything,
I'll row in at a distance from you."
He paddled off again.
But before very long she saw him returning. "Are you really not afraid?"
he asked, as his canoe grated on the beach.
"No."
"There's some one out there. But I find I can't lift anything into this
canoe alone--it's so tottlish; I could swim and tow, though, if I had
the canoe as a help. Can you paddle?"
"Yes."
"Get in, then." He stepped out of the boat, and she took his place. He
pushed it off and waded beside her until the water came to his chin;
then he began to swim, directing her course by a movement of his head.
She used her paddle very cautiously, now on one side, now on the other,
the whole force of her attention bent upon keeping the little craft
steady. After a while, chancing to raise her eyes, she saw something
dark ahead. Fear seized her, she could not look at it; she felt faint.
At the same moment, Paul left her, swimming towards the floating thing.
With a determined effort at self-control, she succeeded in turning the
canoe, and waited steadily until Paul gave the sign. Keeping her eyes
carefully away from that side, she then started back towards the shore,
Paul convoying his floating freight a little behind her. As they
approached the beach, he made a motion signifying that she should take
the canoe farther down; when she was safely at a distance, he brought
his tow ashore. It was the body of a sailor. The fragment of deck
planking to which he was tied had one end charred; this told the
dreadful tale--fire at sea.
The sailor was dead, though it was some time before Paul would
acknowledge it. At length he desisted from his efforts. He came down the
beach to Eve, wiping his forehead with his wet sleeve. "No use, he's
dead. I am going out again."
"I will go with you, then."
"If you are not too tired?"
They went out a second time. They saw another dark object half under
water. Again the sick feeling seized her; but she turned the canoe
safely, and they came in with their load. This time, when he dismissed
her, she went back to the little girl, and, landing, sat down; she was
very tired.
After a while she heard sounds--four canoes coming rapidly round the
point, the Indians using their utmost speed. She rose; Hollis, who was
in the first canoe, saw her, and directed his course towards her. "Why
did you stay here?" he demanded, sternly, as he saw the desolate little
figure of the child.
Eve began to excuse herself. "I was of use before you came; I went out;
I helped."
"Paul shouldn't have asked you."
"He had to; he couldn't do it alone."
"He shouldn't have asked you." He went off to Paul, and she sat down
again; she took up her task of drying the golden curls. After a while
the sound of voices ceased, and she knew that they had all gone out on
the lake for further search. She went on with what she was doing; but
presently, in the stillness, she began to feel that she must turn and
look; she was haunted by the idea that one of the men who had been
supposed to be dead was stealing up noiselessly to look over her
shoulder. She turned. And then she saw Hollis sitting not far away.
"Oh, I am so glad you are there!"
Hollis rose and came nearer, seating himself again quietly. "I thought I
wouldn't leave you all alone."
She scanned the water. The five canoes were clustered together far out;
presently, still together, they moved in towards the shore.
"They are bringing in some one else!"
"Sha'n't we go farther away?" suggested Hollis--"farther towards the
point? I'll go with you."
"No, I shall stay with this little girl; I do not intend to leave her.
You won't understand this, of course; only a woman would understand it."
"Oh, I understand," said Hollis.
But Eve ignored him. "The canoes are keeping all together in a way they
haven't done before. Do you think--oh, it must be that they have got
some one who is _living!_"
"It's possible."
"They are holding something up so carefully." She sprang to her feet. "I
am sure I saw it move! Paul has really saved somebody. How _can_ you sit
there, Mr. Hollis? Go and find out!"
Hollis went. In twenty minutes he came back.
"Well?" said Eve, breathlessly.
"Yes, there's a chance for this one; he'll come round, I guess."
"Paul has saved him."
"I don't know that he's much worth the saving; he looks a regular
scalawag."
"How can you say that--a human life!"
Hollis looked down at the sand, abashed.
"Couldn't I go over there for a moment?" Eve said, still excitedly
watching the distant group.
"Better not."
"Tell me just how Paul did it, then?" she asked. "For of course it was
he, the Indians don't know anything."
"Well, I can't say how exactly. He brought him in."
"Isn't he wonderful!"
"I have always thought him the cleverest fellow I have ever known,"
responded poor Hollis, stoutly.
The next day the little girl, freshly robed and fair, was laid to rest
in the small forest burying-ground belonging to Jupiter Light; Eve had
not left her. There were thirty new mounds there before the record was
finished.
"Steamer _Mayhew_ burned, Tuesday night, ten miles east Jupiter Light,
Lake Superior. Fifteen persons known to be saved. _Mayhew_ carried
twenty cabin passengers and thirty-five emigrants. Total loss."
(Associated Press despatch.)
Soon after this the camp was abandoned; as Paul was to go south so soon,
he could not give any more time to forest-life, and they all, therefore,
returned to Port aux Pins together. Once there Paul seemed to have no
thought for anything but his business affairs. And Eve, in her heart,
said again, "He has forgotten!"