Julie made no demur, although she said, warningly, “Don’t let go of the canoe for a second, will you?”
“Of course not! Did you think I wanted to be left on a desert shore?” laughed Joan, climbing out.
She managed to drag the canoe for quite a distance upstream again, while Julie paddled with all her might. At times Joan stepped down in a hole and had to cling to the canoe to save herself. At such times the craft swung back again downstream, making the girls do the same work all over again. Finally Joan’s teeth began chattering and she managed to quiver forth, “The water’s like ice!”
“You’ve been in too long. Now you get in and let me take your place, Jo. Later you can switch off with me again, and in that way we’ll get back to still water opposite camp.”
So Julie jumped out and Joan got in to paddle, but her hands were stiff with the chill and her whole body shaking, hence her paddling was not of much use. Julie was the stronger of the two scouts, so she managed to pull the canoe upstream splendidly, and both girls felt that now their troubles were over. All of a sudden, however, she stumbled over a great submerged stone and fell out flat on the water, face downward.
She had presence of mind to cling to the edge of the canoe with both hands, but Joan stopped paddling in consternation when she saw the accident. Instantly the craft caught in the swift current and shot ahead as an arrow from the bow. Julie floated out behind, on the water, at times completely covered with the swirling waves curled up by the sharp canoe.
At times she lifted her head up and tried to gasp. In one of these desperate efforts, she cried, “Paddle—paddle for the love of Mike!” then she was swept under again.
Before Joan got down to actual work again with the paddle, the canoe was running opposite the creek again, and all the gain the girls had made by wading upstream was lost. Julie was very cold by this time, and the water was so deep that she could not touch bottom, so she climbed back in the canoe.
During the help Joan had to give the half-fainting mariner, the canoe headed straight for a bend in the river. Where they would land neither scout could tell. It might be over the falls—it might be in a mud puddle.
“Can’t you stop it?” screamed Julie, hysterically. “We may run plumb into a cliff and smash to bits!”