“Don’t you think we’d better try to go over to the mainland and rouse out Ethan? Ben may be in trouble somewhere, and Ethan’ll find him if any one can,” said Bert.
“I’ve thought of that,” said Jock, “but it won’t be safe to try it. We’ve nothing but the canoe here, and it couldn’t live in such a storm as this. Just hear that, will you!” he added.
There was a great roaring in the trees now, and the sound became steadily louder. The rain, too, increased, and sometimes seemed to dash upon them in sheets. Out on the river the tossing waters could be seen where the light of the camp-fire fell, and, capped with white, they presented a wild sight. And Ben was somewhere on those angry waters! For a moment it seemed to the troubled Jock that he could see the picture of a little white-winged canoe driven on by the furious storm, and in the stern of the boat was a terrified face which strongly resembled that of the missing Ben. Just then there came a still more furious blast. The tall trees bent and groaned, and the tossing waters leaped before it, as a highly strung horse darts forward at the touch of a whip.
Again it seemed to Jock as if he could see the little canoe driven before the roaring wind. The gust seemed to lift the light craft in its grasp, the pale face of the lad on board leaned forward, then there was a sudden lurching of the boat, the sail dipped until it touched the water, and then boat and boatman disappeared from sight and nothing could be seen but the tossing waters and nothing be heard but the roar of the storm. Thick darkness settled over all, and even penetrated the heavy heart of the anxious watcher.
None of the boys was willing to leave Jock alone to watch the camp-fire, and after the mackintoshes had been put on they all returned and waited. Occasionally a fresh log was thrown upon the blazing pile and the sparks flew upward, serving only to render more intense the thick blackness that surrounded them.
There was slight hope of Ben returning now, but the anxious boys were determined to keep the fire burning, for it would serve as a landmark if, by any chance, the absent lad might be near. Their eyes were seldom taken from the river, and hour after hour passed as the vigil continued.
About midnight the storm abated, and soon the twinkling stars appeared in the sky. In the renewed hope that Ben might have been able to gain the shelter of some secluded island and remain until the storm had passed, they piled the logs still higher and waited and watched for the canoe to appear.
There were few words spoken now. The river gradually became more silent and resumed its former peacefulness, and the tall trees ceased to bend and sway. Perhaps the end had already come and even the waves were satisfied with the ruin they had wrought.
“I shan’t give up hope yet,” said Jock, at last. “Ben wouldn’t be likely to try to get back before morning, and he’ll wait for daylight wherever he is.”
“Wherever he is,” murmured Bert, as if he was speaking to himself.