The four Corners in camp

by Amy Ella Blanchard

Jack’s devices, be it said, were seldom like other people’s, and on this occasion her inclination was to follow up the tinkling stream till she came to a rotten log fallen across the water. Upon this, it struck her, she would experiment to see how far she could venture without the log’s giving way. “Even if it should break and I went in,” she said to herself, “I couldn’t get very wet, for the stream isn’t at all deep.” The log proving stronger than she anticipated, the excitement of the enterprise soon faded away and she sought out other employment. She tried to catch in her hands the little silvery minnows which darted through the clear water, but they were too fleet and too wary. She listened to the birds and recognized the notes of several. Then she climbed the bank and went afield for berries. She discovered a clump of bushes from which she garnered quite a treasure. These she carried in her hat to share with Nan, but before she reached the tree where Nan was sitting she decided to pin some leaves together in the form of a basket to be filled with the berries she had gathered. This occupied some time. Nan accepted the offering very graciously, but was too absorbed in her book to notice more than that Jack had found entertainment and to feel satisfaction in the fact.

“I wish I had brought a book,” murmured Jack, as she consumed her last berry and perceived that Nan was not to be inveigled into a protracted conversation.

She tried climbing a tree, getting very warm, and sticky from the gum, as it happened to be a spruce-tree, and not feeling much ambition to try a second climb, she went down to the lake where the canoe lay and regarded it thoughtfully. She looked up to where her sister sat some distance away. “She didn’t say I wasn’t to get into it; she only told me not to fool with it. It won’t do any harm just to sit in it,” she said to herself. She drew the canoe in and stepped over the side, then tried to push off, but to do this she found she must use a paddle. This she did, and presently found herself afloat. It was a delightful sensation, and she decided that since she had gone thus far she would make use of her opportunities and would practice paddling for a little while. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” she told herself. “I don’t have to obey Nan; she isn’t my mother, and I will never learn if I don’t practice. The big girls want the canoes all the time, and it’s so seldom I get such a chance.” She stood up and was soon sending the canoe jerkily through the water.

Meanwhile the sun had found its way through the boughs of the tree to Nan’s book, falling directly on its pages. She looked up. “It must be nearly noon,” she said; “the sun is almost directly overhead. We must get back if we are to be in time for dinner. Jack!” she called, rising to her feet.

There was no answer, and she turned toward the little stream which ran through the field where she knew Jack had gathered the berries, but no Jack responded to her repeated calls. “Where in the world can the child have gone?” murmured Nan. She went toward the lake, following its brink till she came to the spot where the canoe had been left. There was not even the canoe. Lifting her eyes she saw at some distance away, Jack paddling lustily, though rather ineffectually. Curving her hands each side her mouth, Nan gave the long call which the campers used for their signal. Jack heard and gave answer. Nan beckoned vigorously. Jack evidently was making an effort to return, but in her anxiety to do so she lost the little skill she had acquired and could only turn the canoe helplessly around.

“Oh, dear,” said Nan, “if I could only swim I’d try to get out to her, for she never can bring the thing in that way; she might try all day.” She looked up and down the lake to see if other canoes were in sight, but it so happened that those who had been out had already returned that they might not miss the noon meal, it being later than Nan realized. There was only one of two things to be done; either walk back to camp or wait till some one appeared. After a moment’s thought Nan decided to wait, for she did not want to desert Jack. “If anything were to happen to her I’d never forgive myself,” she said. “No doubt some one will be coming along after a while.” She sat down where she could see Jack’s manœuvres. She was still too far away to give any orders which might be heard as the wind was in the wrong direction to bear her voice distinctly, and it was after repeated efforts to make Jack hear and understand that she gave up trying.

Jack struggled for a while and then sat forlornly and let the canoe drift. Nan watched anxiously. If it should strike a snag or if Jack should move unwarily and upset the canoe what could Nan do? Her anger at Jack’s disobedience was lost in apprehension. Further, further on the little boat drifted, very slowly, for there was not a strong current. Nan arose and walked along the bank that she might keep opposite her sister, feeling that she must be as near as possible, at the same time realizing that she would be powerless in case of any accident. She registered a vow that she would learn to swim forthwith that she might be ready for such emergencies.

After what seemed an unconscionable time she heard the faint sound of voices coming nearer and nearer, and around the bend she saw a canoe coming with two girls in it. Again Nan gave the call, which was answered promptly, and presently she could distinguish Jo and Daniella, who directly made their way to where Nan stood.

“Hallo!” was Jo’s greeting. “What are you doing up here by yourself, and why didn’t you come back to dinner? I thought Jack was with you.”

“Jack was,” replied Nan, “but there’s where she is now,” and she pointed to where the canoe was drifting.