The Long Patrol: A Tale of the Mounted Police

by H. A. Cody

"Mebbe yer right, pardner, an' I guess we'd better git a move on. It's purty light now, an' the moon makes the land almost as bright as day. If ye'll jist bring some water from the river I'll start a fire. We'll have a hot drink an' a snack of food afore we hike outer this."

Seizing the small tin pail in his hand Grey moved toward the river. He had taken but a few steps when he paused in amazement, for a wild cry for help winged through the crisp morning air and fell upon his ears. His eyes sought the rapids, from which the sound came, and as he looked a never-to-be-forgotten sight met his gaze. For an instant he thought it must be another vision, and would vanish like the one he had recently seen. But how real it was—the leaping billows, the dashing spray, and that fair form with uplifted arms gliding through that channel of death. Surely it must be a spirit, or else he was losing his reason, and it was all the strange fancy of a mad man.

When, however, the shock came, and he saw the woman hurled forward he knew it was no dream, but a terrible reality. With Grey to think was to act. With a shout to Dan he dashed forward, leaped down the bank, and laid his hands upon the canoe. As he did so the trapper was at his heels. He, too, had heard that cry, and had seen the wreck in the rapids, and had bounded forward on the instant. Into the canoe they sprang, and without a word sent it reeling from its moorings. It was caught by the swirling current, and carried a few yards down river. But strong arms held the paddles, and forced its stubborn and rebellious prow against the pressing stream.

A nameless fear clutched at Grey's heart as he drove the paddle through the water with great sweeps until the slender blade bent like a reed beneath a tempest. Could it be Madeline? Who else could be in that staring wilderness with such a form as the one he had just beheld? His eyes noted everything ahead. Would she rise, or had she been carried down to the bottom by some swirling eddy, to reappear bruised and lifeless farther down-stream? Only a brief space of time had elapsed since that cry had fallen upon his ears. Yet in that infinitesimal tick of eternity he had endured the life of the damned. For one who has passed through such an experience it would be easy to realise how much is summed up in "the twinkling of an eye" of the Great Judgment Day.

The canoe was now close to the foaming breakers, where progress was almost imperceptible. Grey's eyes were searching the waters to the right, when a cry from Dan caused him to glance quickly around. As he did so he caught sight of a dark object on the left. Then a hand—oh, so white and small—rose above the surface. With a half-smothered cry Grey dropped his paddle, flung himself into that racing stream, and in an instant sank from view. With titanic strokes he threaded the icy chambers of that watery world. He caught a glimpse of a whirling form a few feet ahead. He reached out one gripping hand; it closed; it held firm, and with his precious burden he rose to the surface with the speed of a nimble bubble.

With a vigorous shake of the head Grey tossed some of the water from his eyes, and endeavoured to look around. A gladsome shout from the left told him that Dan was not far away. Ere long the canoe was a few yards off, then a few feet, and soon the swimmer was able to reach out and seize the trapper's big strong hand. And none too soon, for Grey was almost exhausted, and the helpless form he was supporting was like a great leaden weight.

"Wall done, pardner," was Dan's cheery greeting. "Ye'd better not try to git on board, fer ye'll be likely to capsize the canoe. Jist hold on here to the stern. Thar, that's good. I'll run her ashore now like greased lightnin'!"

Thus Grey clung to the craft with his right hand, while with his left arm he upheld Madeline's limp form. It took Dan several minutes to make land, and by the time the shore was reached they had drifted some distance down-stream.

Grey felt his feet touch bottom, and almost as soon as the trapper had pulled the canoe upon the beach he staggered out of the water with Madeline held tenderly in his arms. At once Dan relieved him of his burden, and carried her up the bank, and laid her upon the ground.

Weak though he was Grey knelt by her side and peered into that drawn, pallid face. No sign of life, however, showed in that drenched form. He called her by name, he pleaded with her to speak, but no response came to his passionate appeal.