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[A STORY OF STRIFE.]
FIRST-PRIZE STORY.
BY F. M. MACNAUGHTON.
Was Jake Lawson a coward? Well, according to Strife Settlement standards there could be but one answer to that question, for how could a boy be anything else who was afraid of the river? The river! Why, the Strife babies were almost born in it. Its roaring was the first sound they heard. It was the lullaby that hushed them to sleep, and the morning call that wakened them. Ask any Strife boy what was the first sight he remembered, and he would say the river. Ask him when he learned to swim, find ten to one he could not tell you. Every boy in Strife learned to swim very soon after he learned to walk, and thenceforth lived almost as much in the water as out. Jake, the youngest of the four stalwart sons of Lawson, the lumberman, had done as the others—bathing, swimming, fishing, paddling—-till the day when he had stood on the rocks overhanging the Big Rapid and seen his brother Jim drowned. To shoot this rapid was the ambition of every boy living within a day's journey of it, and one day Jim, then in his thirteenth year, said to eight-year-old Jake, "I am going to shoot the Big Rapid to-day, and if you want to see me you can run down to the rocks." So little Jake had trotted off, not for a moment doubting his brother's ability to successfully accomplish this or anything else he undertook. What could not Jim do? The handsome, strongly built, daring boy was the idol of the rather delicate little brother, and Jake stood on the rocks in fancy already announcing to his playmates that Jim had run the rapid, a feat not yet performed by any boy of his age. But poor Jim had undertaken a task beyond him this time, and Jake, looking helplessly down, had seen the canoe overturned and his brother swept away by the rushing, foaming waters. Once his head appeared above the current, and Jake fancied he caught an imploring look in the dark eyes, and then he remembered no more. When a Strife boy is missed he is sought by the river-side, and there Jake was finally found unconscious. A serious illness followed, and since then his dread of the river had been unconquerable.
The Lawsons mourned their son in their rough way, and when the bruised and battered body was recovered there were sad scenes in their humble home. But there were seven other children, and as time passed Jake's affliction, for so they considered it, was perhaps the greater trial. In the lumber region a boy who is not as much at home in the water as on the land is not worth much to his family, and Jake could give little or no assistance in the labor by which the family bread was gained. To his mother, who was often weak and ailing, he was of great assistance, there being as yet no grown daughter in the Lawson household; but the shame of his position preyed upon him. He knew that in the settlement he was an object of pity if not of contempt. He could fancy that the younger boys pointed at him as "that no-account Jake Lawson, skeered of the water and only fit to help women folk." And he knew that to strangers who came out to fish he was mentioned as the one boy over fifteen who had never shot the Big Rapid. He made many efforts to overcome his timidity, even "wrestling in prayer," but no help came. He used to force himself to go down to the banks of the Strife and watch the swirling, writhing, tossing waters, only to return with an access of terror. Why! the rapid seemed to him possessed of life! It was a very demon with teeth and claws, continually roaring for prey. Fierce eyes seemed to glare at him out of the foam, and shadowy arms to stretch towards him. At this stage he commonly turned and ran, only too thankful if he could gain home unobserved by the settlement boys.
He had one comfort. Education was not much thought of in the rough-and-ready backwoods family; "but bein' as Jake is so unlike other folks," said his father, "he might as well try to get a little larnin'. It's not as though we could ever make a man of him, so I don't keer so much about his spendin' his time; and they do say that book stuff sometimes comes in handy. I don't know nothin' about it, but if Jake can make a show anywhere let him get his chance." So, though the village school was six miles distant, Jake managed to attend pretty regularly for several years. The schoolmaster, who also did the little doctoring required in the settlement, took a great interest in the boy, in whom he soon discovered an unusual aptitude for study. He taught him many things not usually included in a village school course, and Jake while studying with him forgot his misery, but at home he could not get away from it. The roaring of the Strife seemed often like a voice proclaiming his cowardice. Sometimes he fancied that even strangers must hear it shouting "There goes Jake Lawson; he is a coward, coward, coward!" About this time his dream was to do some heroic deed and then die. Once owned brave, he would be too happy to live.
One afternoon he was feeling unusually depressed. A good job of lumbering at a distant drive had offered, and his brothers, with all the men able to work, had gone off gayly in the morning. Unusually good wages were offered, and old Lawson, who had been prevented from going with the others on account of a badly sprained ankle, had been unable to conceal his vexation that Jake could not join the party. He had said a few bitter words that the son could not forget, and then hobbled off to the yard. He had not been gone ten minutes when Jake heard a fall and a cry, and, rushing out, found that his father had stumbled over a log of wood, and, falling on an axe he was carrying, had made a terrible gash in his arm. By the spurting of the blood Jake knew at once that an artery had been severed. Without an instant's hesitation he tore open his father's shirt-sleeve and grasped his arm, pressing firmly against the inner edge of the biceps muscle, calling loudly at the same time for his mother. Mrs. Lawson came in haste and uttered a scream when she saw the quantity of blood that had already flowed from the cut, which was just above the elbow.
"Do not be frightened, mother," said Jake. "Father has cut himself badly, but I know just what to do. Please take the lace out of his shoe and give it to me."
The stout leather lace was handed to Jake, who bound it firmly round his father's arm above the wound, making a deep pressure, and explaining quietly to his mother, just as Dr. Barnes had to him, why this must be done. "And now, mother," said he, when Mr. Lawson had been helped into the house, "I must leave you and go for the doctor at once; but remember that the pressure must be kept up. I do not think that the bleeding will begin again, but if it does do not get frightened, but tie a fresh cord, bringing the knot just over the same place. Tilly," addressing his twelve-year-old sister, who had stood by, "help mother all you can. Keep up your courage, father. Good-by."
He snatched up his hat and hurried out. By the road it was six miles to the village, and a mile in an opposite direction to the nearest place where he might hope to get a horse. And there were many chances that the horse might be away at work. No, he must walk, and it would be over two hours before he could bring help to his father, whose situation he knew to be critical. But there was one other way. If he went by the river the swift current would land him at the doctor's door in half an hour. It must be by the river, and he resolutely took the side path leading down to the pool where the boats were kept. A thought struck him that for a moment stayed his feet. He might not get through, and then no help would reach his father. It might be his duty to take the road, after all, unless a messenger could also be sent that way. But at that moment he sighted a boy who could be sent. Benny Masters, a ten-year-old boy, and one of the swiftest runners in the village, sat idly rocking in one of the boats.
"Benny," said Jake, "will you do something for me? Father has cut himself very badly. He may bleed to death. So I am going down to the doctor's by the river; it is father's best chance, but some one ought to go by the road in case anything happens to me. Will you go right off? And if I have not reached there, bring the doctor at once, and be sure to tell him just what the trouble is. Don't wait one minute for anything."
"Be you goin' to run the Big Rapid, Jake?" said Benny, with eyes wider open than they had ever been before.
"Yes; but don't wait a moment. I'll give you my knife if I get back; now run."
Benny raced up the path, and Jake, who had meantime untied the canoe, jumped into it and pushed it from the shore. And now for a moment his courage failed him, and he made no effort to guide the canoe, but covered his face with his hands, trying vainly to shut out sight and sound. He did not fear death; he had often wished to die, and to die giving his life for another, but he feared the demon; he felt himself in the grasp of the horrible creation of his fancy, that had held him in thrall for so many years; but the boat swept round the curve that brought the Big Rapid in sight, and the deafening roar of the waters brought him to himself, and, grasping the paddle, he headed the boat for the centre of the river.
THE WATERS FOAMED AND ROARED ALL ROUND HIM.
Drawn by P. R. Goodwin, Winner of First Prize in Drawing Competition.
The Big Rapid was nearly half a mile in length, and not really dangerous to an experienced person except in one spot, about the middle of it, where an enormous bowlder rises from the river, and, dividing the current, sends it rushing to the shores, only to fall back from the rocky walls in a wave that would upset the largest boat likely to be found on the Strife. Jake had heard so much about the rapid all his life that he knew the one chance of safety lay in passing as close to the large bowlder as possible without striking on a little reef of jagged rocks that surrounded it, and he exerted all his strength to head the boat accordingly. The waters foamed and roared all round him, and the boat was tossed about like an egg-shell; but he managed to keep it right side up and headed for the rock. In a few moments he had reached it, and was being carried towards the shore by the mighty side sweep of the current. He did his best to pull across it, but his strength was as nothing against the fierce rush of the water. Once within the grasp of that foaming wave, he knew that he and the canoe would be rolling over and over, and all hope be lost, and he redoubled his efforts. It was no use; he shut his eyes, expecting all to be over in a moment, when a sudden shock almost threw him out of the canoe, and, opening his eyes, he found he was again in the centre of the river. Looking back he saw he must have been struck by a side wave from an almost sunken rock, whose head he could see just above the water a few feet from the shore, and so carried out into the river again.
How he finished the run he never quite knew, but seemed to waken from a dream to find himself floating round and round in an eddy of the pool in which the rapid ended. The river was in flood at the time, and he was doubtless safely carried over many dangers, which might have beset him at low water. Fearing he had lost time, he paddled out into the current as quickly as possible, and in a few moments he ran alongside the doctor's landing. He jumped ashore at once, and, entering the little front garden, was met by Dr. Barnes himself, who exclaimed:
"Why, Jake, where did you spring from? You don't mean to tell me you came down the river?"
"Yes, sir," said Jake; "father has cut an artery, and we had to have help at once. I sent Benny Masters by the road in case I could not get through; if you meet him tell him it's all right, but would you please go as quickly as possible? I tied up his arm as you told me it should be done, but I am afraid that if the bleeding starts again mother will be frightened." Jake got out the words with difficulty. The excitement and strain of the last half-hour had been too much for him, and, his message given, he staggered and fell into the arms of the doctor, who carried him in, and, while his horse was being saddled, applied restoratives. Then, asking his housekeeper to get Jake to bed, he galloped off to Mr. Lawson's, arriving just in time to prevent serious results from the bleeding, which had recommenced in spite of Mrs. Lawson's efforts.
When Jake awoke next morning he could not understand what had happened to him. The rushing of the river sounded like music to him. He walked down to the shore half expecting that at the sight of the water the old terror would revive. But no; his burden had fallen from him; it was buried in the bright, cold waters of the Strife.
He was aroused by the clatter of a horse's hoofs, and turned round as Dr. Barnes, who had remained at Lawson's all night, rode up to the gate. He brought word that Jake's father was doing well, and wishing to see him; so, having already breakfasted, Jake started at once for home.
His mother was waiting for him on the door-step, and clasped him in her arms. She had, motherlike, always clung to the one of her children least promising, according to the accepted standards, and triumphed greatly that he had now won his spurs. His father did not say much, but grasped his hand in a way Jake never forgot, and the altered demeanor of his brothers when they returned went far to heal the wounds of the past. In fact, now that the stigma of cowardice was removed, the family began to recognize in Jake a higher type than themselves, and, advised by Dr. Barnes, who pointed as proof of his leaning that way to his coolness and nerve in dealing with his father's wound, they decided to give him an opportunity to become a doctor.