A Daughter of the Forest

  CHAPTER XIV

  SHOOTING THE RAPIDS

  Three months earlier, if anybody had told Adrian he would ever beguilty of such "squeamishness" he would have laughed in derision. Now,all unconsciously to himself, the influence of his summer at PeaceIsland was upon him and it came to him with the force of a revelationthat God had created the wild creatures of His forests for somethingnobler than to become the prey of man.

  "Oh! that grand fellow! his splendidly defiant, yet hopeless, facingof death! I wish we'd never met him!"

  "Well, of all foolishness! I thought you wanted nothing but the chanceat him yourself."

  "So I did. Before I saw him. What if it had been Madoc?"

  "That's different."

  "The same. Might have been twin brothers. Maybe they were."

  "Couldn't have been. Paddle, won't you?"

  Adrian did so, but with a poor grace. He would now far rather haveturned the canoe about toward camp, yet railed at himself for hissudden cowardice. He shrank from looking on the dead moose as only anhour before he had longed to do so.

  They were soon at the spot where the animal had disappeared andpushing the boat upon the reedy shore, Pierre plunged forward throughthe marsh. Adrian did not follow, till a triumphant shout reached him.Then he felt in his pocket and, finding a pencil with a bit of paper,made his own way more slowly to the side of his comrade, who, wildlyexcited, was examining and measuring his quarry. On a broad leavedrush he had marked off a hand's width and from this unit calculatedthat:

  "He's eight feet four from hoof to shoulder, and that betters theKing by six inches. See. His horns spread nigh six feet. If he stoodstraight and held them up he'd be fifteen feet or nothing! They spreadmore'n six feet, and I tell you, he's a beauty!"

  "Yes. He's all of that. But of what use is his beauty now?"

  "Humph! Didn't know you was a girl!"

  Adrian did not answer. He was rapidly and skilfully sketching theprostrate animal, and studying it minutely. From his memory of italive and the drawing he hoped to paint a tolerably lifelike portraitof the animal; and a fresh inspiration came to him. To those projectedwoodland pictures he would add glimpses of its wild denizens, and insuch a way that the hearts of the beholders should be moved to pity,not to slaughter.

  But, already that sharpened knife of Pierre's was at work, defacing,mutilating.

  "Why do that, man?"

  "Why not? What ails you? What'd we hunt for?"

  "We don't need him for food. You cannot possibly carry those horns anydistance on our trip, and you're not apt to come back just this sameway. Let him lie. You've done him all the harm you should. Come on. Isthis like him?" And Adrian showed his drawing.

  "Oh! it's like enough. If you don't relish my job--clear out. I canskin him alone."

  Adrian waited no second bidding, but strolled away to a distance andtried to think of other things than the butchering in progress. But atlast Pierre whistled and he had to go back or else be left in thewilderness to fare alone as best he might. It was a ghastly sight. Thegreat skin, splashed and wet with its owner's blood, the dismemberedantlers, the slashed off nose--which such as Pierre considered aprecious tid-bit, the naked carcass and the butcher's own uninvitingstate.

  "I declare, I can never get into the same boat with you and all thathorror. Do leave it here. Do wash yourself--there's plenty of water,and let's be gone."

  Pierre did not notice the appeal. Though the lust of killing had diedout of his eyes the lust of greed remained. Already he was estimatingthe value of the hide, cured or uncured, and the price those antlerswould bring could he once get them to the proper market.

  "Why, I've heard that in some of the towns folks buy 'em to hang theirhats on. Odd! Lend a hand."

  Reluctantly, Adrian did lift his portion of the heavy horns and helpedcarry them to the birch. He realized that the pluckiest way of puttingthis disagreeable spot behind him was by doing as he was asked. He washopeless of influencing the other by any change in his own feelingsand wisely kept silence.

  But they hunted no more that day, nor did they make any furtherprogress on their journey. Pierre busied himself in erecting a rudeframe upon which he stretched the moose skin to dry. He also preparedthe antlers and built a sort of hut, of saplings and bark, where hecould store his trophies till his return trip.

  "For I shall surely come back this same way. It's good hunting groundand moose feed in herds. Small herds, course, but two, three make afellow rich. Eh?"

  Adrian said nothing. He occupied himself in what Pierre considered asilly fashion, sketching, studying "effects," and carefully cuttingbig pieces of the birch-bark that he meant to use for "canvas." Tokeep this flat during his travels was a rather difficult problem, butfinally solved by cutting two slabs of cedar wood and placing thesheets of bark between these.

  Whereupon, Pierre laughed and assured the weary chopper that he hadhad his trouble for his pains.

  "What for you want to carry big lumber that way? Roll your bark.That's all right. When you want to use it put it in water. Easy.Queer how little you know about things."

  "All right. I was silly, sure enough. But thanks for your teaching.Maybe, if you were in my city I might show you a thing or two."

  Both lads were glad, however, when night came, and having cookedthemselves a good supper and replenished their fire, they slept asonly such healthy lads can sleep; to wake at sunrise, ready for freshadventures, and with the tragedy of the previous day partly forgotteneven by Adrian. Then, after a hearty breakfast, they resumed theirtrip.

  Nothing eventful occurred for some time after. No more moose appeared,and beyond winging a duck or two and fishing now and then, Pierre kepthis hunting instincts down. In fact, he was just then too lazy toexert himself. He felt that he had labored beyond all reason duringthe past summer and needed a rest. Besides, were not his wagessteadily going on? If Adrian was silly enough to paint and paint andpaint--all day, this old tree and that mossy stump, he was notresponsible for another man's stupidity. Not he. The food was stillholding out, so let things take their course.

  Suddenly, however, Adrian realized that they were wasting time. Hehad made sketches on everything and anything he could find and hadaccumulated enough birch-bark to swamp the canoe, should they strikerough water; and far more than was comfortable for him to carry overany portage. So one morning he announced his intention of leaving thewilderness and getting back to civilization.

  "All right. I go with you. Show me the town, then I'll come back."

  "Well. As you please. Only I don't propose to pay you any longer thanwill take us, now by the shortest road, to Donovan's."

  "Time enough to borrow that trouble when you see it."

  But Pierre suggested that, as Adrian wished to learn everythingpossible about the woods, he should now take the guidance of affairs,and that whenever things went wrong he, Pierre, could point the way.He did this because, of late, he fancied that his young employerhad taken a "too top-lofty" tone in addressing him; and, in truth,Adrian's day-dreams of coming fame and his own genius were making himfeel vastly superior to the rough woodsman.

  They had paddled over dead water to a point where two streams touchedit, and the question rose--which way?

  "That!" said Adrian, with decision, pointing to the broader and moresouthern of the two.

  "Good enough."

  For a moment the leader fancied there was a gleam of malice inhis hireling's eye, but he considered it beneath his notice andcalmly turned the canoe into the thoroughfare he had chosen. It waswonderfully smooth and delightful paddling. In all their trip they hadnot found so level a stream, and it was nothing but enjoyment of thescenery that Adrian felt, until it seemed to him that they had beenmoving a long time without arriving anywhere. "Haven't we?" he asked.

  "Oh! we'll get there soon, now."

  Presently things began to look familiar. There was one curiouslyshaped, lightning-riven pine, standing high above its fellows, thatappeared like an old friend.

  "Why,
what's this? Can there be two trees, exactly alike, within ahalf-day's rowing? I've certainly sketched that old landmark fromevery side, and---- Hello! yonder's my group of white-birches or I'mblind. How queer!"

  A few more sweeps and the remains of the camp they had that morningleft were before them, and Pierre could no longer repress his glee.

  "Good guide, you! Trust a know-it-all for making mistakes."

  "What does it mean?" demanded Adrian, angrily.

  "Nothing. Only you picked out a run-about, a little branch of river,that wanders out of course and then comes home again. Begins and endsthe same. Oh! you're wise, you are."

  "Would the other lead us right?"

  "Yes."

  "But it turns north. We're bound south."

  "That's no matter. Can't a river turn, same as runabouts?"

  "I give up. You guide. I'll stick to my brush."

  This restored affairs to the ground which Pierre considered proper;and having paused long enough to eat a lunch, they set out afresh. Thenew track they followed ascended steadily, and it proved a difficultstream to get up; but the ascent was accomplished without accident andthen the surface of the land altered. Again they reached a point wheretwo branches met and Pierre explained that the waters of one ran duenorth, but the other bent gradually toward the south and in a littlewhile descended through one of the most dangerous "rips" he had everseen.

  "Only saw them once, too. When I went as far as Donovan's with themaster, year before last."

  "Didn't know he ever came so far from the island."

  "Why, he goes once every summer, or fall, as far as that New York ofyours. Likely he'll be going soon again."

  "He does? Queer he never mentioned it."

  "Maybe. I've a notion, though, that the things he don't say are moreimportant than what he does. Ever shoot a rip?"

  "No. I've tried and failed. That's how I happened to get lost andwandered to Dutton's."

  "He's the boss hand at it. Seems as if the danger fired him up. Makeshim feel as I do when I hunt big game. He didn't need my help, onlyfetched me along to take back some truck. That's how he picked me outto show you. He knew I knew----"

  "And I wish I knew--lots of things!"

  "One of 'em might be that round that next turn comes the first dip.Then, look out."

  The stream was descending very perceptibly; and they needed nopaddling to keep them moving. But they did require to be incessantlyon the watch to guard against the rocks which obstructed the currentand which threatened the safety of their frail craft.

  "You keep an eye on me and one on the channel. It'll take a clear headto carry us through, and no fooling."

  Adrian did not answer. He had no thought for anything just then butthe menace of those jagged points which seemed to reach toward them asif to destroy.

  Nor did Pierre speak again. Far better even than his silent companioncould he estimate the perils which beset them. Life itself was theprice which they would pay for a moment's carelessness; but a coolhead, a clear eye, and a steady wrist--these meant safety and theproud record of a dangerous passage wisely made. A man who could shootthose rapids was a guide who might, indeed, some time demand the highwages at which Adrian had jeered.

  Suddenly, the channel seemed barred by two opposing bowlders, whosepoints lapped each other. In reality, there was a way between them, bythe shortest of curves and of but little more than the canoe's width.Pierre saw and measured the distance skilfully, but he had not countedupon the opposing force of the water that rushed against them.

  "Look--out! take----"

  Behind the right-hand rock seethed a mighty whirlpool where the riverspeeding downward was caught and tossed back upon itself, around andaround, mad to escape yet bound by its own power.

  Into this vortex the canoe was hurled; to be instantly overturned anddashed to pieces on the rock.

  On its first circuit of the pool Adrian leaped and landed upon theslippery bowlder--breathless, but alive! His hand still clasped thepole he had been using to steer with, and Pierre----? He had almostdisappeared within the whirling water, that tossed him like a feather.