And she never did.
Some months later Teddy, who had left his address with the old lady, received a letter from her that really eased his mind greatly, as it did also those of Dolph and Amos, when they came to hear about it.
Sallie was home again, sad, but fully satisfied that she had carried out the last injunction of her mother to stick to her father to the end.
Crawley was no more. He had been killed by a stroke of lightning, and the girl rendered unconscious at the same time. Recovering, little Sallie had made her way to the camp of a party of Chicago people, whom she knew were on the other side of the small lake.
These people had buried Crawley, and seen to it that the wise little girl was put in charge of a conductor on a train who would deliver her to her folks.
Sallie wanted to be remembered too—as if any of them would ever forget her.
Taking their smaller canoes right into the big ones, the boys again shot the rapids and then leisurely made their way down the St. Mary’s River, camping several times and taking their toll of the fierce bass for which certain stretches of this river are noted.
At the mouth of the river they waited for the daily steamboat from the Soo, which took boys and canoes aboard, landing them at Mackinac Island. After a day at this loveliest of all islands, having a week more on their hands, the boys boarded the steamer Islander, which carried them, also their canoes, in among the Snow Islands.
Here they passed the balance of their vacation, devoting some time to fishing, more to taking snap shots, and most of all to satisfying the clamorous demands of their healthy young appetites.