The Rapids

  XVII.--THE GIRL IN THE CANOE

  She stared at him with undisguised astonishment. "Good evening," helaughed. "Here I am!"

  The girl grew rather pink. "Isn't it wonderful that you really foundus?"

  "I didn't, the captain found you."

  "It's hard to think of you as--well--just here."

  "I came down for a day or two off. For the first time in years, I'veforgotten all about the works."

  "I'm glad, and do you--"

  At that instant there came from between Clark's feet a mighty thump,and the big bass, curving its spiney back, leaped clear of the boat andlanded in the brown water with a splash. A flip of the broad tail andit vanished.

  "You've lost your fish!" exclaimed Elsie, aghast.

  "Perhaps you lost it, but it doesn't matter."

  "Is that the way you feel, just slack and careless?"

  "Just like that."

  "I knew you had a mind above fish," she laughed.

  "That's a distinction, because few fishermen have. Now I'd like tothank you again for your note of a few weeks ago."

  "Do you really remember that?" she said earnestly.

  He nodded, and over him came a slow conviction that there was an avenueof life he had never traversed and which seemed to be, after all, moreinviting than he had allowed himself to believe. Elsie was yearsyounger than Clark, but just now the latter felt strangely young.

  "Do you recollect finding out that I had but a few personal friends?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Well," he said thoughtfully, "I would like another."

  "Oh!" She stared at him, her startled eyes full of light.

  "You don't mind, I hope?"

  The canoe drifted like a leaf towards his heavy boat, but Elsie'spaddle was motionless.

  "It would make me very happy. But could I really do anything for you?It has always seemed that," she hesitated and her lips becametremulous, "that you didn't need any one." Then she added under herbreath, "like me."

  Clark's face was grave. "And if I did?"

  She looked at him with growing fascination. Surrounded by the giganticthings of his own creation he was impressive, but here in the solitudeshe took on even more suggestive characteristics. She stretched out aslim brown hand.

  "You will find me very difficult sometimes, I warn you now."

  "I like difficult things, they seem to come my way."

  The languid hours sped by. Clark swam, fished, paddled with the girl,entertained her party in the tug's white painted saloon, and chattedwith Mrs. Dibbott, the chaperon, about St. Marys. But most of all heexplored the mind of Elsie Worden. It was like opening successivedoors to his own intelligence. She startled him with her intuition,delighted him with her keen sense of humor, and seemed to grasp theman's complex nature with superlative ease. And, yielding to hercharms, Clark, for the first time in his life, felt that he must goslow. It was a new country to him. Previous experience had left nolandmarks here.

  They were drifting lazily along the shore, miles from the others, whenElsie, after a long pause, glanced at him curiously.

  "Will you tell me just what you find in music?"

  "But I don't know anything about it."

  "Perhaps not, but you feel it, and that's what counts. I've only heardyou play twice."

  "Once," he corrected.

  "No, I was out on the bay one night, below the blockhouse, when youwere playing." Belding's name was on the girl's lips but at the momentBelding did not fit and she went on evenly, "It is something like therapids."

  "I'm glad you think that. It's the response that one gets."

  "That's what I feel. You're an American, aren't you?"

  "Yes."

  "I thought so. You see your people are more responsive than we are,and you don't seem so ashamed of enthusiasm."

  "We can't help it, but it's a little awkward sometimes," his eyestwinkled, "that is in Canada. Now talk about yourself."

  "There's so little to say. I was asleep for years like every one elsein St. Marys, till you came and woke us all up.

  "And then?"

  "I realized that life was rather thin and that I wanted a lot of thingsI'll never get."

  "Why never,--and what do you want?"

  "To be part of something bigger than myself," said the girl very slowly.

  Clark felt an answering throb. That was what he had felt and wantedand achieved.

  "To feel what the world feels and know something of what the worldknows," she added intensely. "I want to work."

  "That sounds strenuous."

  She flushed a little. "Won't you take me seriously?"

  "I beg your pardon. As a matter of fact I've always taken youseriously."

  "Have you, why?"

  "Perhaps because I don't know anything about your sex," he answeredteasingly. "I never had time,--they're sealed books to me."

  "So this is your first exploring trip?"

  "The very first,--and it's not at all what I expected."

  A question moved in Elsie's eyes but she did not speak. Clark, takingin the supple grace of her figure and expanding to the candor of herspirit, wondered if now, at the apex of his labors, the color of hisfuture life was being evolved by this girl who was as free anduntainted as the winds of Superior. He had at times attemptedfriendships of another kind and found them unsatisfying and ponderedwhether this might not be the human solution of that loneliness whichhe had admitted to her, months before, was only so far assuaged bydriving himself to the uttermost. Then her voice came in again.

  "It was so queer meeting you here, just as if the voice of the rapidshad carried a hundred miles. I always associate you with the rapids."

  "But they'll go on forever, and I won't."

  "You're doing something better than that," she said swiftly.

  He laid down his paddle. "I'd like very much to know just what my newfriend means."

  "You're touching the hidden springs of things that will go on forever."Elsie's voice was vibrant with feeling. "That's the difference betweenyou and other men I know. You're in the secret."

  Clark drew a long breath. "When did you decide that, and why?"

  "When I heard about your speech that first night. I was only seventeenthen but I felt almost as if you'd told me the secret. So I'vefollowed all you've accomplished since, and I would give anything tohave done just the littlest part of it."

  "So it's just a matter of recognizing one's destiny and following it?"he said curiously.

  "Just that." Complete conviction was in her tones.

  "Then, for the first time in my life, I'm wondering what destiny has instore for the immediate future," he said with a long stare of his grayeyes, and in them was that which set her heart throbbing.

  "You must go to-morrow?" she ventured. Could such wonderful momentsever be repeated?

  "Yes, at sunrise, and I'll be at the works at noon. Do you know thatyou've done a lot for me? It's a selfish remark, but it's true, andmay we have another talk when you get back?"

  Her lips trembled, and Clark, gazing at her, felt an intense yearning.She was very beautiful and very understanding. Then again hehesitated. There were things, many things, he had in mind to arrangebefore he spoke. A few weeks would make no difference, but onlyprolong those delightful and undecipherable sensations to which he nowyielded luxuriously. If this was love, he had never known love before.

  The sun's red orb was thrusting up over the glassy lake when, nextmorning, the big tug with a slow thudding of her propeller, moved fromher anchorage. At Clark's orders they passed on down the channel, andjust where the lake began to broaden was a cluster of white tents. TwoIndians were warming their fingers at a rekindled fire. Clark staredhard, and lifted his hat.

  One of the tent flaps had been opened, and a girl stood against a snowybackground, her hair hanging loose. As the tug drew abreast she wavedgood-by, and, for another mile, till he swung round the next point, hecould see the slim figure and it
s farewell salutation. There wassomething mystical about it all. The girl vanished abruptly behind ascreen of trees, the propeller revolved more rapidly, and the sharpswish of cleft water deepened at the high, straight bow.

  He stood for a long time immersed in profound thought, and oblivious ofthe keen air of early morning. Never before had he found it hard to goback to duty.

  Six hours later the tug swept into the St. Marys River, and three milesahead lay the works, the vast square-topped buildings rising, itseemed, out of the placid waters of the bay. He drew a long breath andemerged from fairyland. Had he created all this? Yet it was not morereal than something he had just left and had also created.