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The Hunters of the Ozark, a novel by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
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Chapter 9. A Mishap |
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_ CHAPTER IX. A MISHAP Fred Linden and Terry Clark were alarmed when, on their way home, they came to the creek across which they had paddled only a short time before. It was then the comparatively shallow stream that was scarcely an obstacle in their path; now it was a rushing torrent, whose volume was increasing with great rapidity. The sinuosities of the creek had caused it to gather in a large part of the rain that had fallen some miles away, and its usual boundaries were overflowed. It was well that Fred had tied his canoe to the tree that was quite a distance from the stream, for had he not done so it would have been swept away like an egg shell. As it was, the water had reached the base of the tree, while the boat was bobbing up and down almost in a straight line with the course of the creek, as though it was tugging to get loose. "My gracious, Terry!" said Fred, "this is a little worse than I expected; it is going to be hard work to get across." "Ye are right for once," added the other, gravely shaking his head; "them rapids are a little closer than I loike." "It seems to me," added Fred, who was unwilling to admit that he was afraid to try the task, "that I have gone over the creek when it was just as high and rapid, and have crossed at this place, too." "Who swung the paddle?" "Father did once and Mr. Bowlby at another time." "Did ye iver manage the paddle yersilf when the creek got onto one of its tears?" "I don't remember that I have, but that has been only because the need did not arise; I am not afraid to try it, even if you are." "Who said I was afraid?" demanded Terry; "I'm riddy to hop into the boat and sway the paddle mesilf, and I'll do it, too." He stepped into the water, which was up to his shoe tops, and began drawing in the rawhide rope which held the frail boat from breaking away. His companion laughed and said nothing until the canoe was at their feet and drawn up on the land away from the rushing current. "Don't be quite so touchy, Terry; that boat belongs to me and I can handle the paddle better than you; anyway I shall try to take us to the other side, and all that you have to do is to keep those limbs and trees from capsizing us." The time occupied in pulling the boat to the spot had given the Irish lad a chance to regain his usual good nature, and he made no protest against the decision of his companion, though Terry was no unskillful handler of the paddle himself. The creek was probably over a hundred feet wide, and the roiled current abounded with limbs and trees that swung up and down, sometimes out of sight and then popping up again, as though they were frolicking in the swift waters. It would require a strong arm and a cool head to force the birchen craft through these obstacles to the shore on the other side. It must be admitted, too, that it was a piece of imprudence on the part of the lads, who would have been wiser had they quietly waited where they were until the overflow exhausted itself. A stream that rises so fast subsides with the same quickness, and long before nightfall the creek would shrink to proportions that would take away all peril to any one in paddling across. They would have been compelled to go a long distance up stream before finding a place where the crossing was easier, and it would have been almost impossible to drag the canoe thither. They would have held fast to one end of the rope and allowed it to dance through the rapids, so as to allow them to make the passage below, where the great peril was removed, had they not known that the chances were ten to one that it would be snatched from their grasp, thus shutting them out altogether. Looking up and across the sloping clearing, the cabins forming the settlement of Greville could be seen at no great distance. From several of the stone chimneys the smoke was curling lazily upward, and now and then glimpses could be caught of persons moving hither and thither, but no one appeared to be looking in the direction of the creek, or if any one was doing so, he saw nothing of the two boys standing on the further shore and debating with themselves the best course to follow. At any rate no one would think they were unable to take care of themselves. Both Fred and Terry knew that there was but one prudent plan to follow; that was quietly to wait where they were until near night, by which time all danger would be gone. But neither proposed the course nor made mention of it. It is natural for youth to be rash, and there was a semblance of timidity in such a shrinking back that was repellent to American and Irish lad alike. And so you will understand how it was that each showed an eagerness to enter into the contest with the angry current. You will see, too, how foolish they were, when I tell you that during the few minutes they stood by the tree to which the rope had been tied discussing the situation, they saw the proof that the creek was subsiding. There was a perceptible lowering of the surface, as was shown by the soiled line against the trunk of the tree. Even Terry, when he looked down, observed that he was not standing in quite as deep water as he was a few minutes before. No danger, however, of his making mention of it. It took but a minute or so to untie the long thong that was wrapped about the limb, and then, as Fred was on the point of flinging the coil into the bottom of the boat, the end of which was drawn up on the bank, and to take up the paddle and push off, Terry, with some excitement, caught his arm and said: "Plase wait a minute, will ye?" "What for?" "I'll not be gone long; howld the boat only for a twinkling." He ran a dozen steps or so from shore to where was the stump of a tree that had probably been splintered by a thunder-bolt, and around which sprouted a number of bushes that were dense enough to hide a large object within. Carefully parting these, Terry laid down his rifle and the bell, and then as carefully smoothed the undergrowth in place. Then he hurried back. "There are plinty of lads about me own size," said he, "but there's only one gun that belongs to me, and if the canoe should upsit and both of us get drowned I want to be sure and save me gun." Fred smiled at this Irish-like explanation, but he was glad that Terry had left the gun on shore. It was safely hidden until he should wish to get it again, while its presence in the canoe would be the worst kind of encumbrance. The new owner was so charmed with his prize that he would think more of saving that than of saving the boat. It was clear that the task of Terry in fighting off the rushing timber would be almost as difficult as that of guiding it across the swift stream. "In with you!" said Fred to Terry, who carefully seated himself near the bow of the canoe and took up the long pole that lay in the bottom and projected some distance over the end of the boat. Fred Linden gave it a vigorous shove, landed in the stern, caught up the paddle, and instantly began his struggle. You will see the difficulty and danger of his task, and must therefore join with me in condemning the lack of judgment showed by both. They had to paddle more than a hundred feet across a furious torrent in which were scores of uprooted trees, wrenched-off limbs, and craggy stumps, all speeding downward with great swiftness and force. The course of the boat being at right angles to these objects, must bring it in collision with some of them, at the great risk of overturning or shattering the canoe, that was not calculated to withstand any such blows. And yet, though the task was a hard one, there was little doubt that the two lads could make their way across, provided they were given enough time in which to do so; but there were the rapids, so near that their roar was plainly heard. In case of an overturn or accident, the two would be swept among them. It was the same, on a smaller scale, as if a person should start to row across Niagara River, just above the falls, where by vigorous work he could make the passage, provided he did not drop a stroke on the way. You will say that any one making such an attempt placed little value on his own life. Fred Linden used his paddle after the manner of an Indian--that is, he dipped the broad end first on one side of the boat and then on the other. The paddle was not widened at each end, as is sometimes the case, the one who wields it using the sides alternately and with great rapidity. In calm water such a light structure as an Indian canoe can be driven with great speed, and I have no doubt that the youths would have made a speedy passage had it not been for the interference of the floating objects to which I have referred. Ten feet from land Fred was forced to back water suddenly to avoid a jagged stump that danced in front like a bull getting ready to charge, and finally did strike the bow with a thump that startled both the occupants. "Me pole slipped off the side of that," Terry explained, as he brandished the stick in front on the lookout for the threatening waste-wood; "have a care that ye don't drive the boat agin something that is stronger than the boat itsilf." By coolness, alertness and strength, Fred fought his way in safety until probably one-third of the distance was passed. Then he saw the great blunder he had made in trying to cross while the current was so high. The constant fighting with the floating stumps and trees caused them to lose so much ground--or rather water--that they were drifting frightfully close to the rapids, whose roar grew plainer every moment. But he had gone so far that it was as safe to keep on as to turn back, and so he dipped the paddle and swung it with renewed vigor. "Look out!" he called to Terry, who in parrying the rush of a stump a couple of yards in advance, did not notice one that was coming broadside on, its presence betrayed by a tiny branch that protruded a few inches above the surface like the fin of a shark. Fred did his utmost to avoid it, but he was too slow, and a second later the pointed log not only struck the side of the canoe, but capsized it. _ |
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