“It certainly was a practical lesson for me,” she told the other girls, “and if necessity called I think I could do as Win did.”
“It is devoutly to be hoped that necessity will not call,” said Claudia. “We have been spared accidents, so far.”
However, what came near to being a similar accident did occur a few days later when Miriam Overton, who was the heavyweight of the party, was sitting on the little bridge which spanned the stream caused by the overflow of the water supply. Miriam was trying to read and to fish at the same time, and hitched her chair too close to the edge so that over she went into the stream. It was not deep enough to be dangerous, but oh, the mud! Poor Miriam was caked with it to her waist.
“I could have stood it better,” she said plaintively, “if Win hadn’t made that awful pun about its being ‘over ton’ that went into the water.”
“Did Win say that?” asked Betty Streeter. “Then she ought to be ducked herself. Attaboy!” And poor Winnie was made miserable for the rest of the day when the other girls chased her around the place threatening to douse her in the canal. She escaped finally by means of counter threats and, as Claudia expressed it, “the incident was closed.”
CHAPTER XII
A DASH FOR HELP
ALTHOUGH no serious accident did occur in the girls’ camp during the month they spent at the lodge, there did come an occasion which might have resulted unfortunately. This time it was Joanne whose quick wits saved the situation. She was riding Chico through the woods, keeping to the bridle paths, rather than to the main road. She loved the bosky depths of these woods, so shady and quiet. Often she would dismount, tether the little pony to a tree and go exploring for plants and flowers. Or she would sit very still in order to observe bird life, and maybe find an opportunity of spying on some little wild animal, a Molly Cottontail or a wise looking old woodchuck. Once she saw a raccoon; at another time came upon a huge black snake which went scalloping off as glad to get out of her way as she was to get out of his. Of the little green grass snakes she was never afraid, knowing them to be perfectly harmless, but this big black monster, although he might not be venomous, was, nevertheless, a creature to inspire fear.
Upon this particular day Joanne had been watching a family of squirrels, amused by their antics, and making notes of what she saw. Leaving Chico she followed the squirrels from tree to tree as they leaped and scolded overhead. Presently she heard a strange crackling sound, and noticed much chattering from the squirrels, then she observed much excitement among the birds who flew about the branches, uttering wild cries of alarm. “Something’s the matter,” Joanne told herself. “I wonder if that old black snake is after the birds, or if the squirrels are bothering them; they both seem to be very fussy.”
She walked on a little way then she exclaimed, “I smell smoke!” Then she saw a darting flame. She ran forward, surveyed the scene for a moment, then dashed back to where Chico stood. Her mind worked rapidly. She must get help at once. There was no use for her to try to quench the flames; they had made too great headway, but if allowed to pursue their way the whole forest might go; valuable timber would be lost. What could she do? Where was the nearest help?
Suddenly an idea struck her. She raced to the spot where Chico stood, unfastened him, mounted and cried, “Go, for your life, Chico!” Through the woods they sped, out upon a little used country road, up-hill, down, up again, till they reached a high crag overlooking the river. Without waiting to fasten the little pony, Joanne ran to the edge of the crag, whipped off the kerchief she wore around her neck, drew her handkerchief from her pocket and with one in each hand began to signal to Longshanks Island immediately opposite.