I was only a little way up
on the other hill when there came the sound of two rifle shots from
the lower end of the lake. Evidently the discovery of my,
whereabouts had aroused very spirited movement. On I went, faster
than ever. The flies were desperately thick, and I kept a piece of
spruce bough going constantly over my face and neck to keep them
from devouring me bodily. I could feel my ears and neck wet and
sticky with blood, for some of the bites bleed a good deal. Still
what did flies matter when you were _free_. That afternoon I
should go just as far as I thought I could, and get back to camp by
dark.
To my disappointment, when I reached the top of the ridge I still
could not see the river, for it disappeared between high, rocky
banks, and could only be seen by walking close to the edge. I
decided to go along the ridge as far as I could, and then, slipping
down to the river, to return to camp that way. About two miles out
on the ridge I sat down to rest and look about a little. The rain
passed, and a fine breeze put the flies to rout at this highest
point.
I had been seated there but a little while when, looking back, I
saw one of the men, which proved to be George, running as if for
life along the top of the ridge where they had first seen me. I
could just make him out against the sky. Then he disappeared, I
could not tell where.
After a time I began to hear shots. The sounds were very faint,
but followed each other in quick succession. I laughed, and
thought I knew what was happening where they came from. The shots
seemed to come from the ridge I was on; but for some time I could
not see any one. Finally, I caught sight of one of the men. He
was waving his arms about wildly, and I could hear very faintly the
sound of shouting. Then another figure appeared, and they started
running towards me.
Suddenly I became frightened. Perhaps all the excitement was not
on my account after all, and I began to wonder if something
dreadful had happened. Had any one been hurt, or drowned? I
started quickly towards them, but as soon as they were near enough
for me to see their faces plainly, I knew that I had been the sole
cause of the trouble. It was George and Job. The perspiration was
dripping from their faces, which were pale and filled with an
expression, the funniest mixture of indignant resentment, anxiety,
and relief, that could possibly be imagined.
When they came up I smiled at them, but there was not any answering
smile. Then George began to remonstrate with me. He stood with
folded arms, and serious, reproachful face, and said: "Well, I
guess you very near done it this time."
"Very near done what?" I asked.
"Why, you have just about had us crazy."
"Had you crazy! What about?"
"Why, we thought you were lost."
"Didn't you see me over there on that ridge when I fired those
shots?"
"Yes, we did; and when we got up to the other end of the lake we
fired two shots, and we thought you would come back then. I went
up the ridge to meet you, and when I saw you were not there I was
sure you went down to the rapids. Then I ran down there, and when
I did not find you there I thought you either fell in that rapid,
or got lost."
"But I promised not to go to that rapid."
"Yes, I know you did; but I thought when you went up there on that
mountain may be you would go to that rapid any way."
"Well," I said, "when I got to the end of the lake, and saw you
were not coming, and the thunderstorm was coming on, and the flies
were so bad, I thought I might as well be doing something nice
while the storm was wetting me, and the flies were eating me."
"Yes, that is just what we said. 'Who would ever think of your
going up there in that storm?'"
I laughed again, and George went on still trying to impress on me
the evil of my ways.
"Job, too, he was coming running, and he was sure you were lost.
When I came to meet you, and could not see you on the ridge, and
then went to the rapid and could not see you there, we began to
walk faster and faster, and then to run like crazy people. Poor
Job, he could hardly speak, and neither could I, and out of breath,
and half crying all the time. Oh, we can never trust you to go
away alone agains."
I said: "Very well, George, I'll make a bargain with you. If I can
have some one to go with me whenever I want to climb a mountain, or
do anything else that I think it is necessary to do in my work,
without any fuss about it, I promise not to go away alone again."
So the compact was made.
As we walked back to camp George talked. "And you did it so quick
too. Why I was watching you up on that mountain where you went
this afternoon, and you were so busy and running about up there, as
busy as a Labrador fly. You looked just like a little girl that
was playing at building something, and I thought how you were
enjoying yourself.
