Part 25 (2/2)

His face was calm and unchanged as when setting a mousetrap. 'Never mind that, save yourself,' I called out; he made no response, and, after all, it was safest to hang on to the canoe. I was swept into a shallow place at once, and got on my feet, then gained the sh.o.r.e.

”'My journals--save them first!' I shouted to the two boys, and now remembered with horror, how, this very morning, on account of portaging, I had for the first time put all three journals in the handbag, that had disappeared, whereas the telescope that used to hold two of them, was floating high. It is the emergency that proves your man, and I learned that day I had three of the best men that ever boarded a boat. A glance showed Preble in shallow water coolly hauling in the canoe.

”Rob and Billy bounded along the rugged sh.o.r.es, from one ice-covered rock to another, over piles of drift logs and along steep ledges they went; like two mountain goats; the flood was spotted with floating things, but no sign of the precious journal-bag. Away out was the grub-box; square and high afloat, it struck a reef. 'You save the grub,' yelled Billy above the roaring, pitiless flood, and dashed on. I knew Billy's head was cool and clear, so I plunged into the water, ice-cold and waist deep--and before the merciless one could s.n.a.t.c.h it along, I had the grub-box safe. Meanwhile Rob and Billy had danced away out of sight along that wild canyon bank.

I set out after them. In some eddies various articles were afloat, a cocoa tin, a milk pot, a bag of rare orchids intended for a friend, a half sack of flour, and many little things I saved at cost of a fresh wetting each time, and on the bank, thrown hastily up by the boys, were such bundles as they had been able to rescue.

”I struggled on, but the pace was killing. They were young men and dog-runners; I was left behind and was getting so tired now I could not keep warm; there was a keen frost and I was wet to the skin. The chance to rescue other things came again and again. Twelve times did I plunge, into that deadly cold river, and so gathered a lot of small truck. Then knowing I could do little more, and realising that everything man could do would be done without me, turned back reluctantly. Preble pa.s.sed me at a run, he had left the canoe in a good place and had saved some bedding.

”'Have you seen my journal-bag?' He made a quick gesture down the river, then dashed away. Alas! I knew now, the one irreplaceable part of our cargo was deep in the treacherous flood, never to be seen again.

”At the canoe I set about making a fire; there was no axe to cut kindling-wood, but a birch tree was near, and a pile of shredded birch-bark with a lot of dry willow on it made a perfect fire-lay; then I opened my waterproof matchbox. Oh, horrors! the fifteen matches in it were damp and soggy. I tried to dry them by blowing on them; my frozen fingers could scarcely hold them. After a time I struck one. It was soft and useless; another and another at intervals, till thirteen; then, despairing, I laid the last two on a stone in the weak sunlight, and tried to warm myself by gathering firewood and moving quickly, but it seemed useless a very death chill was on me. I have often lighted a fire with rubbing-sticks, but I needed an axe, as well as a buckskin thong for this, and I had neither. I looked through the baggage that was saved, no matches and all things dripping wet. I might go three miles down that frightful canyon to our last camp and maybe get some living coals.

But no! mindful of the forestry laws, we had as usual most carefully extinguished the fire with buckets of water, and the clothes were freezing on my back. 1 was tired out, teeth chattering. Then came the thought, Why despair while two matches remain? I struck the first now, the fourteenth, and, in spite of dead fingers and the sizzly, doubtful match, it cracked, blazed, and then, oh blessed, blessed birch bark!--with any other tinder my numbed hands had surely failed--it blazed like a torch, and warmth at last was mine, and outward comfort for a house of gloom.

”The boys, I knew, would work like heroes and do their part as well as man could do it, my work was right here. I gathered all the things along the beach, made great racks for drying and a mighty blaze. I had no pots or pans, but an aluminum bottle which would serve as kettle; and thus I prepared a meal of such things as were saved--a sc.r.a.p of pork, some tea and a soggy ma.s.s that once was pilot bread. Then sat down by the fire to spend five hours of growing horror, 175 miles from a settlement, canoe smashed, guns gone, pots and pans gone, specimens all gone, half our bedding gone, our food gone; but all these things were nothing, compared with the loss of my three precious journals; 600 pages of observation and discovery, geographical, botanical, and zoological, 500 drawings, valuable records made under all sorts of trying circ.u.mstances, discovery and compa.s.s survey of the beautiful Nyarling River, compa.s.s survey of the two great northern lakes, discovery of two great northern rivers, many lakes, a thousand things of interest to others and priceless to me--my summer's work--gone; yes, I could bear that, but the three chapters of life and thought irrevocably gone; the magnitude of this calamity was crus.h.i.+ng. Oh, G.o.d, this is the most awful blow that could have fallen at the end of the six months' trip.

”The hours went by, and the gloom grew deeper, for there was no sign of the boys. Never till now did the thought of danger enter my mind. Had they been too foolhardy in their struggle with the terrible stream? Had they, too, been made to feel its power? My guess was near the truth; and yet there was that awful river unchanged, glittering, surging, beautiful, exactly as on so many days before, when life on it had seemed so bright.

”At three in the afternoon, I saw a fly crawl down the rocks a mile away. I fed the fire and heated up the food and tea. In twenty minutes I could see that it was Rob, but both his hands were empty.

'If they had found it,' I said to myself, 'they would send it back first thing, and if he had it, he would swing it aloft,' Yet no, nothing but a s.h.i.+ny tin was in his hands and the blow had fallen.

The suspense was over, anyway. I bowed my head, 'We have done what we could.'

”Rob came slowly up, worn out. In his hand a tin of baking-powder.

Across his breast was a canvas band. He tottered toward me, too tired to speak in answer to my unspoken question, but he turned and there on his back was the canvas bag that held labour of all these long toilsome months.

”'I got 'em, all right,' he managed to say, smiling in a weak way.

”'And the boys?'

”'All right now.'

”'Thank G.o.d!' I broke down, and wrung his hand; 'I won't forget,'

was all I could say. Hot tea revived him, loosened his tongue, and I heard the story.

”I knew,' he said, 'what was first to save when I seen you got ash.o.r.e. Me and Billy we run like crazy, we see dat bag 'way out in the deep strong water. De odder tings came in de eddies, but dat bag it keep 'way out, but we run along de rocks; after a mile it came pretty near a point, and Billy, he climb on a rock and reach out, but he fall in deep water and was carried far, so he had to swim for his life. I jump on rocks anoder mile to anoder point; I got ahead of de bag, den I get two logs, and hold dem between my legs for raft, and push out; but dat dam river he take dem logs very slow, and dat bag very fast, so it pa.s.s by. But Billy he swim ash.o.r.e, and run some more, and he make a raft; but de raft he stick on rock, and de bag he never stick, but go like h.e.l.l.

”'Den I say, ”Here, Billy, you give me yo' sash,” and I run tree mile more, so far I loss sight of dat bag and make good raft. By'mebye Billy he come shouting and point, I push out in river, and paddle, and watch, and sure dere come dat bag. My, how he travel! far out now; but I paddle and push hard and b.u.mp he came at raft and I grab him. Oh! maybe I warn't glad! ice on river, frost in air, 14 mile run on snowy rocks, but I no care, I bet I make dat boss glad when he see me.”

”Glad! I never felt more thankful in my life! My heart swelled with grat.i.tude to the brave boys that had leaped, scrambled, slidden, tumbled, fallen, swum or climbed over those 14 perilous, horrible miles of icy rocks and storm-piled timbers, to save the books that, to them, seemed of so little value, but which they yet knew were, to me, the most precious of all my things. Guns, cameras, food, tents, bedding, dishes, were trifling losses, and the horror of that day was turned to joy by the crowning mercy of its close.

”'I won't forget you when we reach the Landing, Rob!' were, the meagre words that rose to my lips, but the tone of voice supplied what the words might lack. And I did not forget him or the others; and Robillard said afterward, 'By Gar, dat de best day's work I ever done, by Gar, de time I run down dat h.e.l.l river after dem dam books!'”

<script>