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.

The sudden realization that Joan thought only of herself in face of the calamity that threatened her friend, served to cool Julie's fear; then she used common sense in sparing herself as far as possible. She was out of Joan's sight now, and by making use of every bush, root, or vine on the slanting rocks, she resisted the force of gravitation enough to slide slowly instead of being catapulted from the heights. She knew not just where this chute would end--in deep or shallow water. If the former she still might swim to shore, if that were not too far away.

The last few feet of this slide ended abruptly where the cliff had been worn away by the spring freshets and floods. Here Julie dropped into the water which formed a hole along the rockbound shore, so that she went in without striking anything, and immediately began swimming to free herself from the tangle of roots and debris that fell with her.

She swam for a distance until she found a narrow edge of sand where she might sit and rest in the sunshine. So she managed to reach this twenty-inch-wide refuge and shook out her hair to dry. She wondered what Joan would do when she found she had to make her own way alone to the canoe! And the picture she painted of her erstwhile companion, stumbling along weeping, gave her some satisfaction.

This spirit of vengeance, however, was soon gone, and a kindly feeling took its place. She began to plan how she might creep along that narrow edge of beach to reach the point on land where she could see the creek pouring into the lake. From there she could signal Joan when she reached the canoe, and thus relieve her mind of the fear that her chum had been drowned.

After overcoming many obstacles, she reached the jutting land that marked the entrance to the creek. The canoe had landed on the opposite side, further up stream. Hardly had she gained the top of this promontory before she heard excited voices, and one above the others wailing dismally.

Instantly she knew Joan was safe and that the others had arrived. A line of Scripture flashed through her mind and caused her to smile--"The voice of one crying in the wilderness," quoth Julie.

No sooner had she grasped the fact that she would be with her old friends in a few moments, than she recovered all her old _sang froid_. She shook out her clinging clothes, and twisted up her half-dried hair, then sat down on top of the promontory and sang. Yes, _sang_, and sang merrily, too, because she thought that would convey the impression of how unconcerned she felt.

Sound carries far over the water, so Julie's singing was heard by the rescuers as soon as they came out into the lake. Then they shouted, and she replied. Finally they saw the solitary figure sitting upon a rock with both hands clasped about her knees, singing as if her heart was too full of joy to hold it all.

The moment the canoes came near enough, the Captain gazed up, and asked, "How can you get down, Julie?"

"Same way I came up, Verny--with my feet!"

Every one laughed, but Mrs. Vernon shook her head as she murmured, "Same old Julie! Nothing on earth will quench that spirit."

Suddenly, to the horror of every one in the canoes, they saw a form shoot past them and dive into the water. But as suddenly, a laughing face appeared above the surface and soon Julie was in one of the canoes.

Had it not been for the danger of upsetting, the occupants of that canoe would have hugged the scout in their relief at having found her safe and sound,--because Joan's report had been more than despairing.

"O Julie, darling! I thought you were dead!" cried Joan.

"Did you? But you wailed for yourself when you saw me go down to perdition," scorned Julie.

"But how did you manage to get down to the promontory, Julie?" argued Joan, ignoring the other's reply.

"Now, how do you s'pose? I motored there, of course!"

When they all returned to the belated and cold dinner, it was late afternoon, and no one felt in the mood for fresh adventures that day. So they decided to camp on the lovely meadow for the night, and continue the trip in the morning. The three scouts who had been left in camp to guard the dinner were not told of the escape until later.

As they all dawdled languidly over the last fragments of the supper, a silver bar slanted suddenly across their faces, and the very dishes were transformed into a shimmering glory. The broad shaft of light that shone from the newly-risen moon lighted up the whole meadow and penetrated far into the dark fringe of pines that bordered the meadowland.

Then the full moon rose higher in the vaulted dome of the blue heavens--heavens as blue as the Venetian Sea; and sharp points of starlight began to twinkle like tiny beacons on crafts at anchor in that peaceful haven of fathomless blue.