My Strange Rescue — On the Edge of the Rapids

*ON THE EDGE OF THE RAPIDS.

* "Hurrah, Lon!

we've got the sort of day we've been looking for at last," cried Alec Pearson, as he met his chum one lovely still summer morning.

"No trouble about getting over to Deschenes to-day."

"Right you are, Alec!

This is just the correct thing.

We'll start straight after breakfast--hey?"

"As soon as you like, provided mother's got the grub ready.

Can't think of going without that, you know."

"No, sir.

A basket of grub's half the fun.

And mother's promised me a big one."

"Ditto mine," responded Alec.

"So there's no fear of our starving for a while, even if we get cast away on one of the islands."

"Cast away on one of the islands!"

echoed Lon.

"That's a great idea!

Wouldn't it make a great sensation?"

"Perhaps it would," replied Alec, who was of a more cautious and unimaginative cast of character.

"But I'm not hankering to try it all the same.

To get over to Deschenes will be enough fun for me."

The speakers were two boys of about sixteen years of age, sitting upon the front steps of a summer cottage, and looking out across the splendid stretch of water that flashed like a flawless mirror beneath the fiery morning sunshine.

They had come out to Britannia for the summer, and were enjoying its fine facilities for boating, bathing, and canoeing as only city boys, pent up in close quarters for three-fourths of the year, can enjoy such exhilarating sports.

The great Lake Deschenes filled them with profound admiration.

They exulted in its magnificent breadth, its mighty length, its cool, limpid depths, and most of all the glorious rapids which marked the place where it gathered itself together to become the River Ottawa again, and resume its steady course seaward.

Nearly all their time they spent upon the water or in it, and in the course of a month had become tolerably expert canoeists, so that they did not hesitate to take long trips up the lake or across to the farther side.

The visit to Deschenes village, whose cottages were scattered along the lake shore almost opposite to Britannia, had been put off until they felt themselves to be thoroughly masters of their cranky craft; for in order to get there it was necessary to cross the head of the rapids, and to do this successfully would require both strength and skill.

For a week past Alec and Lon had felt themselves to be equal to the task, but had been delayed by unfavourable weather.

Great, then, was their delight when this particular Saturday morning dawned clear and calm, promising to be the very kind of a day they desired.

They started at nine o'clock, taking with them for company, besides their well-filled baskets, Wad, Alec's handsome hunting spaniel, who had learned to behave perfectly on board the canoe.

Their craft was of the most approved make, of which they were joint-owners, completely equipped with paddles, cushions, sails, and steering-gear.

There being not a breath of wind, they had no use for the sail, so the mast was not put up nor the rudder shipped.

In his enthusiastic eagerness to realize their long-cherished plan, Lon set to paddling with all his might; but Alec, who had the stern, laughingly checked his ardour, saying,-- "Take it easy, Lon; take it easy, my boy!

There's lots of work ahead of you.

Better not waste your muscle now!"

Alec had taken care to make inquiries of some of the Britannia folk as to the course he should steer, and they had all impressed upon him to go a good way straight up the lake, and away from the rapids, before turning toward Deschenes, as the current was tremendously strong, and made itself felt far higher up than one would imagine, looking at it from the Britannia side.

Accordingly he pointed the canoe almost due north, as though he had Aylmer in mind rather than Deschenes, and kept her on that course until Lon began to grow impatient.

"What's the use of going up so far?"

he protested; "you can't feel the current here."

"Because old Lark told me to make that point before striking across, and he knows all about it," replied Alec.

"Ugh: Lark's an old fuss.

He goes away up there only because he's too lazy to pull straight across where the current's strong," grumbled Lon, who had a passion for short cuts, and who kept urging his companion to head the canoe more directly toward their destination, until at last Alec, for very peace's sake, and against his better judgment, altered their course in compliance with his wishes.

For a hundred yards or so the paddling was no harder than before, and they made no leeway, so that Lon could exclaim triumphantly,-- "There now, didn't I tell you?

It's only a waste of time going so far up."

But when another hundred yards' advance had brought the canoe fairly into the middle of the mighty stream, moving with majestic flow toward the angry rapids, the paddlers soon awoke to the fact that while they were still making good headway, they were making considerable leeway also, and that the task of getting across was going to be made much harder thereby.

Although both noticed this, neither made any remark about it at first: Alec, because he did not wish to alarm Lon; and Lon, because he shrank from admitting that it would have been wiser to follow shrewd old Lark's advice.

So they paddled away in silence, putting plenty of muscle into their strokes, and anxiously measuring their progress by landmarks on the farther shore.

Presently their exertions began to toll upon their young frames.

The perspiration beaded their faces, their breath came short, their backs began aching, and their arms grew weary.

Lon's heart was already sinking within him, and Alec deeply regretted having yielded to his companion's ill-advised solicitations to disregard old Lark.

But there was no time for reconsideration or exchanging of regrets.

They were beyond a doubt in the grasp of the current, and must strain every nerve to extricate themselves.

Then, to add to their anxiety, the weather showed signs of betraying the fair promise of the morning.

Clouds began to obscure the deep blue of the sky, and a breeze to ruffle the calm surface of the lake.

Unable to control his feelings any longer, Lon broke out with more than a hint of a sob in his voice,-- "O Alec, I wish we hadn't started!

I'm getting awfully tired, and we don't seem to be making any headway at all."

"Oh, yes we are, Lon," responded Alec, doing his best to be cheerful.

"Paddle away; we'll get across all right."

Thus encouraged, Lon put a little more life into his strokes for the next few minutes, and the canoe did seem to be gaining ground.

But the gain was only temporary.

The further they advanced the more they felt the force of the current.

Yet it was too late to turn back.

Their only course was to keep on until they had shaken themselves free from the power that was dragging them downward to destruction.

Whether they would have been equal to this feat can only be guessed; for in trying to change his position to relieve his cramped legs, Lon lost his balance for a moment, and on attempting to recover himself did what was even worse--let slip his paddle, which was instantly whirled out of his reach.

"O Alec!

what shall we do now?"

he cried in dismay.

Alec's face was white and set.

"Nothing--we are powerless," he said quietly.

It was, of course, futile for him to try to contend alone with the pitiless current.

The little canoe, as if glad at having no longer to fight its way foot by foot, glided gaily down towards the rapids, and all that Alec could do was to keep it straight in its course, and not allow it to swing around broadside.

Poor Lon, utterly overcome with terror, crouched down in the bow, sobbing so that he shook the frail canoe.

But Alec was not one to yield to despair so long as anything could be done.

His brain was busy seeking some scheme for escape from their exceeding peril, and as he glanced anxiously ahead, a thought flashed into his mind that caused his eye to brighten and his pale face to light up with hope and determination.

Right on the edge of the rapids, just before the smooth swift stream broke up into tumultuous billows, stood a little island--a mere patch of rocks, crowned with half-a-dozen straggling trees.

If he could only beach the canoe on this island they might yet be saved.

It was all that remained between them and certain death.

The island was not more than two hundred yards distant, and to reach it he must make the canoe cut obliquely through the current.

Summoning all his energies for a supreme effort, he bent to his task, in the meantime saying to Lon,-- "Be ready to jump the moment the canoe strikes."

For a boy of his age, Alec put a wonderful degree of strength into his strokes, and he had the joy of seeing his frail craft obey, in spite of the opposing waters, until it was pointing fair for the island.

Then with a glad hurrah he ceased fighting the current, and joined forces with it, so successfully as to drive the canoe straight towards the rocks.

He did not miss his aim.

With a leap, as though it were alive, the canoe rushed at the island and ran half its length out of the water, a sound of splintering wood telling that its bottom had suffered in so doing.

With feelings of indescribable relief the boys sprang out upon the solid ground, and instantly embracing one another, danced about in sheer exuberance of joy.

The rapids were cheated of their prey, and the worst of the peril was passed.

Having thus given vent to their feelings, they proceeded to examine the canoe, and were glad to find that its bottom was not very badly injured, and could be easily repaired.

Their next thought was, how could they get off the island?

They were safe enough there for the present, of course, and they had sufficient provisions, if carefully husbanded, to keep them from starving for three or four days.

But they had no idea of playing the part of Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday, even for that short space of time, if it could possibly be helped.

So they got on the edge of the island nearest Britannia, and Alec held up his paddle with his coat on it as a signal of distress, while both shouted at the top of their voices.

Their shouts were drowned in the ceaseless roar of the rapids; but after a while their signal of distress was observed, and soon a crowd had gathered on the shore opposite them, and there was great excitement.

Everybody was eager to help, but nobody knew just what to do.

All sorts of schemes were suggested for the rescue of the boys, the most feasible of which was to have a large boat go out above the rapids and anchor there, and then send down a smaller one secured by a rope, with which it could be hauled back again, for no boat could by any possibility be rowed back against that mighty current.

But there were two difficulties in the way of this plan.

There was no boat at the village big enough and no rope long enough for the purpose, so some other way must needs be devised.

The morning wore away and the afternoon shadows lengthened without anything being done, and it looked as though the boys would have to stay on the island all night, when the cry was raised that there was a raft coming down; and sure enough the great towing steamer, followed by a huge raft of square timber, hove into sight far up the lake.

The problem of the boys' deliverance need no longer he worried over.

The raftsmen would solve it in short measure.

The big raft reached Britannia just long enough before dark to allow of the rescue being accomplished.

The moment the foreman heard of the boys' situation he detailed six of his best men, three being Indians and three French Canadians, to bring them off.

Landing their largest bonne, a kind of boat peculiar to lumbering being flat on the bottom and very high at both bow and stern, they rowed off briskly towards the rapids, laughing and chaffing one another, and evidently deeming it quite a bit of fun, while the crowd gathered on the shore watched their every movement with breathless attention.

Managing their clumsy-looking but most seaworthy craft with perfect skill, they made an easy landing on the island, took the boys on board, and then waving their hats to the admiring onlookers, continued gaily on into the very midst of the boiling rapids, the big bonne bobbing about like a cork, seemingly at the entire mercy of the waters, yet all the time being cleverly steered by her crew, and after an exciting passage, during which the boys hardly breathed, shooting out into the smooth stretch below the rapids without having taken so much as a single drop of water on board.

A hearty cheer broke from the delighted spectators at this happy conclusion to the affair, and a few moments later the boys were in their midst, receiving the embraces of their overjoyed parents and the vigorous congratulations of the others.

The rescuing raftsmen were well rewarded for their timely service, and Master Lon learned a lesson in caution that he is not likely soon to forget.

[Illustration: THEO'S TRIUMPH.

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