Campfire Girls' Lake Camp; or, Searching for New Adventures

by Irene Elliott Benson; Stella M. Francis

It was yet early in the day when the barge turned to the right and entered the broad mouth of the large branch of the James. The sun, shining in a clear sky, moderated the cold, so that with their blankets about their forms the men were comfortable. The two Indians used only the deerskin jackets of covering for the upper part of their bodies. Thus clothed, they would have felt no discomfort had the temperature been at zero. Each had his bow and arrows, the white men being provided with the snaphaunce muskets or old-fashioned flintlocks.

Captain Smith seated himself at the stern, just back of the little cabin, his hand resting on the end of the tiller, which was held between his elbow and side. In this position it was the easiest thing in the world to direct the course of the boat. The others placed themselves as fancy prompted, all ready for any work when called upon.

Seated thus, the explorer was in a good position to study the country as they moved between the banks. The woods had a sameness, though they could never lose their interest to the crew, who knew they were the first of their race to gaze upon the forests, with the matted vines, the trees bending far over the surface, while rotting log, interlocked limbs, and fragments of trunks were mixed in such confusion that the boat had not gone far when the Captain had to change his direct course to a winding one so as to have a clear passage. Looking over the gunwale he saw that in most places the water was clear, though the color of the soil at the bottom gave it a dark appearance. Sometimes this depth was eight or ten feet, and then it became so slight that he was not surprised to feel the process slacken, and then cease so gently that few noticed it. The boat had grounded upon a marshy spot, and the wind could carry it no further.

Captain Smith spoke to his men, and four of them seized each a pole and rose to their feet. When the ends were thrust against the oozy bottom they sank deep into the mud. Instead of trying to push the craft ahead, they shoved so as to drive it back into deeper water. This was not difficult, the chief work being that of withdrawing the ends of the poles from the soft earth, so as not to bring the hull back to its former place. When the depth had increased the boat was steered to one side of the shoal, and the sail not having been lowered, it moved on again, though at so moderate a speed that some minutes passed before even Captain Smith was certain they were really advancing.

All this time the occupants of the barge were on the watch for Indians. Our friends were entering the hunting-grounds of the red men whose tribal name was that which was given to the river, and it was not to be expected that they would long remain ignorant of the coming of the visitors. Nothing would have been easier than for some of these warriors, lurking in the wooded depths along shore, to launch a shower of arrows that would be likely to do harm, even though Smith and those of his race were protected by rude coats of mail. But while this might have guarded their limbs and bodies, their faces were left without any shield whatever.

When the sun was overhead the two men seated nearest the cabin brought out the black, coarse bread and cold venison. With the aid of knives these were cut into rough pieces and divided among all. Butter, pepper, and salt were not thought of, and those who wished to wash down their food did so by dipping up water from the river in the palm of the hand, or, in the case of the Captain, by lifting it in a small tin cup.

About the middle of the afternoon the breeze fell, and the flapping sail told the navigators that they must use the oars. Four were slipped into place, and two pairs of sturdy arms bent to the task, the others awaiting their turn. The Indians who sat near the bow, silent and watchful, were not expected to take part in the labor, for it was of a nature with which they were not familiar. The Captain had told them to use their woodcraft to detect any danger, and the two were scanning the shores as they opened out before them, on the alert for the first warning sign.

Suddenly one of the red men uttered a hissing sound. Faint as it was all heard it. The rowers instantly stopped, and Captain Smith looked inquiringly at the Indians. The one who had emitted the signal pointed in advance and to the right bank. The river at this place was more than two hundred yards broad, the trees growing close to the shore and many in the water itself. Several white oaks curved out almost horizontally over the surface before turning upward and becoming upright. Many interlocking vines showed, but it was the season of the year when the foliage was absent, and only here and there was an evergreen seen.

Not a white man could discover the cause of the warning. So far as they were able to see, they were the only living creatures in the neighborhood. As yet they had not caught sight of a deer, bear, or even a fowl, and more than one began to believe that a disappointment awaited them over the supply of game. That the dusky guard had detected something, however, was certain. In answer to Smith's inquiry he said, speaking in his own tongue, that an Indian was near them on shore. There might be more, but certainly there was one. After a minute's pause the Captain ordered the men at the oars to renew work. As they did so he steered the boat a little to the left, but, like everyone else, kept his attention upon the spot where it looked as if danger was lurking.

The guard was right, for, when nearly opposite the place, all who were on watch saw not one warrior, but two partly hidden, by the trees and undergrowth. Their position was slightly crouching, and their attention was fixed upon the white men. They had the bows and arrows of their people, and one of them seemed to be fixing a missile to the string of his weapon.