Late in the forenoon of the seventh day I toiled up the slope of a low ridge and amid the tree trunks on its summit I saw the bright sky glimmering through the forest ahead. My heart leaped with joy at the sight, for I knew that the wilderness must be nearly at an end, that open country must be just beyond, and that my journey must be nearly over. Tired as I was, I hurried onward, thrilled to think that my tramp would soon be finished, that but a few hundred yards more and I would break from the woods and look upon open fields, a clearing, or some similar scene of the outposts of civilization, and that ere nightfall I would be talking with my fellow-men. Forgetting my weary, blistered feet, forgetting that my clothes were torn and ragged, forgetting the hardships I had suffered, I pushed rapidly forward, my eyes fixed upon the sunlit sky among the trees to the south, and all unmindful of the fallen branches, the thick underbrush, and the brambles that beset my path. Already the character of the woods had changed. Among the somber evergreens deciduous trees grew thickly; open, brush-filled glades were here and there; patches of blueberry-bushes grew in the hollows beneath the trees, and on every hand were indications that I was approaching the verge of the forest. A few moments more and between the tree trunks I caught a glimpse of light, broken by breeze-swayed golden leaves, and with a glad cry I broke into a run and dashed forward. I crashed through the last small growth, burst forth into glorious sun-filled, open air, and the next instant sank, exhausted and bitterly disappointed, to the earth.
CHAPTER VI
I MEET WITH AN ACCIDENT
I had expected to see tilled fields, shingled houses, perhaps a distant village or at least a clearing, with blackened stumps, a tiny shack, or rude buildings marking the outposts of the settlements. Instead, I found myself upon the banks of a great lake, the wooded shores unbroken by clearing, field, or house as far as eye could reach. A lake of the wilderness, silent, bathed in a vast solitude, and with naught but the forest-clad hills reflected on its placid blue bosom. Far out upon its surface a solitary loon swam slowly, a tiny ripple marking his wake, and from his throat came a peal of weird, maniacal laughter.
Echoing from the hills, multiplied a thousandfold, from every direction the sounds poured forth, as though the woods were filled with demons, mocking my disappointment and my plight.
A half-hour previously I had been filled with happiness and elation at the thought that my journey was over. Now I was cast down, discouraged, and ready to give up, for I realized that to cross the lake was impossible and that for miles and miles I must push through the forest around its shores ere I could hope to proceed on my southerly course. Dimly I remembered that Joe had spoken of a lake and no doubt this was the very one he had in mind, but whether the settlements were to the south, east, or west I knew not. With wistful, weary eyes I gazed across the broad, blue expanse of waters, and the forests beyond seemed vast indeed, and to penetrate them and find my way to civilization through their labyrinths seemed a hopeless, endless task.
Gradually, however, a measure of common sense returned to me, and I realized that I was terribly hungry and that here was as good a place as any in which to camp. No doubt the lake teemed with fish, and presently I had baited my hook and had cast the line into deep water from a jutting ledge. Scarcely had the hook descended when it was seized and a moment later a large salmon-trout was floundering about among the ferns behind me. Three of the great fellows were landed, and, well satisfied with my success, I soon had one broiling over my fire. After my meal I felt far better and gradually my first disappointment wore away and I began to plan for the future. If I was compelled to walk about the lake I would not want for food, at any rate, and, moreover, I thought, traveling along the shore would be far easier than tramping through the woods or clambering among the boulders and up and down the high banks of the river. By the time the setting sun painted the lake with crimson and gold and the distant forests turned purple and blue in the fading light I was again cheerful and went to sleep upon a bed of fragrant fir in a lean-to, fully expecting to resume my way upon the morrow.
Traveling along the shore of the lake was by no means as easy as I had anticipated, for dense brush and a tangle of brambles grew close to the water’s edge in many places and here and there deep alder swamps compelled me to make long detours. But in the swamps I found frogs, which gave me a change of diet, and I managed to capture a fine, big turtle that was sunning himself on a log on the lake’s shore. Two days of weary tramping brought me to the western end of the lake and once more I became utterly discouraged as I saw that my efforts had been in vain. The outlet of the lake was a broad, swiftly flowing river which barred me from the farther shore as effectually as the lake itself. My case seemed hopeless indeed, for the river, where it emptied into the lake, was, I knew, fully as wide and impassable as the outlet, and I could see no way of reaching the country to the south save by retracing my steps for miles, crossing the river where it was narrow, and then following down its other bank. The very thought of this made me sick at heart, for it meant over a week’s steady walking through the forest. Moreover, my shoes—light, rubber-soled affairs which I had donned only to wear in the canoe—were almost worn out, my clothes were in rags and tatters, and my flesh was scratched, bruised, and torn by brambles, brush, and stones. My coat, flannel shirt, hat, corduroy trousers, and heavy boots had all gone down with the canoe and I had been compelled to journey through the forest and endure all my hardships in light tennis-shoes and with only a white cotton shirt and a pair of thin worsted trousers for my costume.
Although I had satisfied my most pressing needs, which were food, fire, and shelter, yet I had suffered a great deal from exposure, the bites of black flies and mosquitoes, and the scratches of brush and brambles. Hitherto my mind had been so filled with more important matters that I had paid little heed to these discomforts, yet now my sufferings came back to me and I could scarce bring myself to think of again facing the long journey necessary to carry me back to a spot where I could ford the river.
To add to my misery it commenced to rain and I was forced to build a lean-to and a fire and to camp where I was by the outlet of the lake. It was no drizzle, such as I had experienced hitherto, but a torrential downpour, the water falling in perfect sheets and at times completely blotting the farther shores from my view. Within a few hours the river was a foaming torrent and the waters of the lake had risen perceptibly. Huddling in the shelter of my rude hut and striving to keep warm in the glow from my fire, I gazed upon the gray, wind-lashed lake and the dripping, sodden shores, feeling unutterably miserable. Near my camp a large log was stranded on the beach and idly I watched it as the waters crept higher and higher, and I began to wonder if the lake might not rise to the spot whereon I had made my lean-to. I was pondering on this and had almost decided to brave the elements and make another shelter on higher ground when a sudden gust of wind whipped the water into foam-capped waves and with a final lurch the log slipped from the shore and floated, bobbing up and down, on the surface of the lake. A moment later it had felt the suction of the current and, lurching and rolling, was drawn rapidly toward the river. It was a small matter, but it was of the greatest importance to me, as it pointed a way by which I might escape from the wilderness.
For the first time it now occurred to me that by means of a few logs I could build a raft and cross the lake as soon as the storm passed and the waters were again calm and peaceful.