Part 6 (1/2)
”Now, for example, I am going to measure the distance to that tree over there. Get out your chain and measure off a straight line 10 feet long.
Now, I'll set the surveying instrument with the plumb-bob right over the end of this line, and sight through the two sight holes until I bring the two vertical hairs in line with each other and the tree. Look at the compa.s.s needle. It points to the 173 degree mark on the cardboard ring.
Now, Bill, you hold the rod at the other end of our base line while I swing this instrument around and sight it. There, the needle points to 92 degrees, and subtracting this from 173 the difference, 81 degrees, is the angle at the right end of our base line. We'll do the same thing at the other end of our line. See, the compa.s.s needle points to 189 degrees, and now sighting to the pole at the other end of the line we find that the needle points to 268. The difference, 79 degrees, is therefore the size of the angle at the left end of our base line. Now we will draw this out on paper, as we did our first triangle, using quarter-inches to represent feet. Our base line was 10 feet long, and we will therefore draw a line 10 quarter-inches, or 2-1/2 inches long, on our drawing board. On this line we will construct the triangle, using the angles 81 and 79 degrees. There, that's how our triangle looks, and the right hand side measures 7-1/4 inches, while the left hand side measures 7-5/16 inches. That is, 29 quarter-inches for one side and 29-1/4 quarter-inches for the other. As each quarter-inch represents a foot, you will find that the tree is about 29 feet from the right end of our base line and 29 feet 3 inches from the left hand end. Of course, our instrument is not perfect, neither is our drawing; but if you measure it off with the chain you will see that I am not very far from correct.”
MAPPING THE ISLAND.
Most of our surveying was done by actual measurement, the surveying instrument being used only to determine the exact direction of the measurement. However, there were some measurements which we could not make directly with the chain. For example, we wished to know just how far it was from our tent to the Jersey sh.o.r.e of the river. We measured off a base line along our sh.o.r.e 400 feet long and sighted to a point directly across the river from our tent. The angle in front of our tent was 90 degrees, and at the other end of the base line was 73 degrees.
When we drew out our triangle on the scale of 100 feet to the inch we found that the shorter side directly in front of the tent was almost exactly 13 inches long. This meant that the river at this point was 1,300 feet wide, nearly a quarter of a mile. On the other side of the island we found, in the same way, that the river at its narrowest point was about 500 feet wide. This portion of the river we named Lake Placid, as the water was very still and quite deep. This was due to a sort of natural dam formed at the lower end of our island. The small island that Dutchy found was kite-shaped, with a tail of boulders which extended almost all the way across to a rocky point on the Pennsylvania sh.o.r.e.
The channel between ”Kite Island,” as we called it, and Willow Clump Island was not more than fifteen feet wide in some places, and through this the water swept with a swift current down past a narrow neck of land to join the main current. This narrow stretch of land we named the Tiger's Tail, owing to its peculiar shape. It was in the hook at the end of this tail that we discovered the old bridge wreck above referred to.
From the tip of the Tiger's Tail to Point Lookout, at the extreme upper end of Willow Clump Island, it was a little under a half-mile. The sh.o.r.e all along Lake Placid was very steep, except near Point Lookout. At one place there was a shallow bay which we called the lagoon.
CHAPTER VIII.
SWIMMING.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 85. The Diving Tree.]
Lake Placid was a favorite swimming place for us. We used to plunge in from the branches of a tree which overhung the water a little ways above the lagoon and made a natural springboard. We could all swim like ducks, except Dutchy, who couldn't do anything but paddle. However, Uncle Ed was an expert, and he took Dutchy in hand and soon made a pretty good swimmer out of him. He also taught us some fancy strokes. Of course I took no record of these lessons. You would hardly expect me to sit on the bank with a book in hand jotting down notes while the rest were splas.h.i.+ng around in the cool water having the best of fun in the world, and even if I had, I wouldn't republish the notes here, because whoever heard of a boy learning to swim while reading a book on the subject? A beginner had better leave books alone and plunge right into the water.
He will soon learn to keep himself afloat and can then practise any fancy strokes that he sees others try. Then, again, don't try to learn in shallow water, because you will never do it. Of course it doesn't pay to jump into water that is over your head unless there is a good swimmer near by to help you out. But you will never learn to swim until you have become accustomed to putting your head under water. You can not swim with a dry face. The first time we went swimming, we couldn't persuade Dutchy to try it. The water was deep right up to the very bank and he had never been in over his head. Instead he sat up in the diving tree swinging his feet and trying to hide the fact that he was having a dull time.
”Say, we've got to douse that fellow,” said Reddy.
”You're right; he needs a wash,” said Jim. ”Let's sneak up behind him and chuck him in.”
They landed a little ways up the stream behind a large bush and then crept down stealthily on their victim. But Dutchy had his suspicions aroused and saw them coming. He scrambled out of the tree in a jiffy and tore off into the woods as fast as his legs could carry him.
SWIMMING ON A PLANK.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 86. Swimming on a Plank.]
We didn't expect to see him again that afternoon, for the pace he was leading should have carried him miles in no time; but while he couldn't swim, Dutchy had his own ideas of fun on the water. It was about twenty minutes later that we saw him coming down-stream lying full length on one of the 2-inch planks taken from the bridge wreck. He was paddling himself along with arms and legs hung over the sides of the plank. We all gave him a cheer, and then started out to have some fun with him. We tried to pull him off his raft, but he stuck on like a leech. It was only when we made his craft turn turtle that Dutchy got his head under water. But it wasn't a moment before he scrambled back on top again, gasping and sputtering to get the water out of his nose and mouth.
Uncle Ed all this time had been sunning himself on the bank, when suddenly he uttered a shout of warning. We were right at the mouth of the mill-race. For the moment we forgot about Dutchy, and swam out for sh.o.r.e. Before we realized it Dutchy was caught in the current, and was being swept full tilt down the stream. My but wasn't he scared. I can see him yet clinging for dear life to the plank, his face the color of ashes and his eyes bulging out in terror. First he tried to make for the bank, but the water was so swift that when the front end of the board struck land the rear end swung around in a circle, carrying him on again, but backward this time, before we could reach him. Two or three more times the plank struck the bank and turned him around, while we raced along the high bank, scrambling down to catch him every time he headed for sh.o.r.e, but each time just missing him. Then he swung out past the Tiger's Tail into the open river just above the rapids. Fortunately he was going along headforemost this time, and Uncle Ed, who had just arrived, panting and breathless, from running, shouted to him to keep his head and steer for a narrow opening between two jutting boulders. I don't know whether Dutchy did any steering or not, but the raft shot straight through the opening, and was lost in a cloud of spray. In a moment he reappeared below the rapids, paddling like mad for a neck of land on the Pennsylvania side of the river.
Dutchy would never own up that he was afraid. He never told a lie under other circ.u.mstances, but when it came to a question of courage he had the habit of stretching facts to the very limit. Even in this case, he said that he started out with the idea of shooting the rapids, and if we hadn't fl.u.s.tered him so, he would not have b.u.mped into the bank and turned about so many times. Dutchy was a very glib talker. He nearly persuaded us that it was all done intentionally, and his thrilling account of the wild dash between the rocks and through the shower of spray stirred us up so that we all had to try the trick too.
SHOOTING THE RAPIDS.
The next day, while Uncle Ed was taking a nap, we stole off to the upper end of Lake Placid, each one towing a plank. We needn't have been so afraid of Uncle Ed, for we found out later that he intended to try a plank ride through the rapids himself next time he went in swimming.
Down Lake Placid we paddled in single column to the mill-race. In a moment the current had caught us and we were off. I shall never forget the thrilling ride down the swirling mill-race, the sudden pause as we shot out into the open river, the plunge between the boulders and the dive through the spray. It was all over too soon. Something like coasting--whiz, whiz-z-z, and a half-mile walk. Were it not for the trouble of hauling the planks back by the roundabout course along the Pennsy sh.o.r.e we would have thought shooting the rapids a capital game.
RESTORING THE DROWNED.