“What happened to them?” asked Wally. “Did they go over?”
“Well, they reckoned it wasn’t healthy to remain in the canoe,” said Jim. “It was simply spinning along in the current, and the falls were almost in sight. So they dived in, on opposite sides—the blessed canoe nearly tipped over when they stood up, and only the shock of the cross drive kept her right. Of course the creek’s not so very wide, even farther up beyond the falls, and the force of their spring sent them nearly out of the current. They could both swim well, and after a struggle they got to the banks, just in time to see the canoe whisk over the waterfall!”
“What hard luck!”
“It was rather. They started off down-stream to find it, but for a long way they couldn’t see a trace. Then, right in the calm water, ever so far down, they found it—bit by bit. It was broken into so much matchwood!”
“What did they do?” asked Wally.
“Stood and stared at it from opposite sides, like two wet images,” said Jim, laughing. “It’s lowdown to grin, I suppose, but they must have looked funny. Then one of them swam across and they made their way to our place, and we fixed them up with dry things and drove them home. I don’t think they’ve gone in for canoeing since!” finished Jim reflectively.
“Well, I guess it would discourage them a bit,” Wally agreed. “Getting shipwrecked’s no fun.”
“Ever tried it?”
“Once—in Albert Park Lagoon,” Wally admitted bashfully. “Some of us went out for a sail one Saturday afternoon. We didn’t know much about it, and I really don’t know what it was that tipped the old boat over. I was the smallest, so naturally I wasn’t having any say in managing her.”
“That accounts for it,” said Jim dryly.