Page:St. Nicholas, vol. 40.1 (1912-1913).djvu/722

488 “All at once, the raft, which had hitherto voyaged with a discreet deliberation, seemed to become agitated. Boiling upthrusts of the current, caused by some hidden unevenness in the bottom, shouldered it horridly from beneath, threatening to tear it apart; and unbridled eddies twisted it this way and that with sickening lurches. The tree was torn from it and snatched off reluctant all by itself, rolling over and over in a fashion that must have made the cub rejoice to think that he had quitted a refuge so unreliable in its behavior. As a matter of fact, the flood was now sweeping the raft over what was, at ordinary times, a series of low falls, a succession of saw-toothed ledges which would have ripped the raft to bits. Now the ledges were buried deep under the immense volume of the freshet. But they were not to be ignored, for all that. And they made their submerged presence felt in a turmoil that became more and more terrifying to the two little passengers on the raft.

“There was just one point in the raft, one only, that was farther away than any other part from those dreadful, seething, crested, black surges, and that was the very center. The little bear backed toward it, whimpering and shivering, from his corner.

“From her corner, directly opposite, the baby, too, backed toward it, hitching herself along, and eying the waves in the silence of her terror. They arrived at the same instant. Each was conscious of something alive, and warm, and soft, and comfortable, with motherly suggestion in the contact. The baby turned, with a sob, and flung her arms about the bear. The bear, snuggling his narrow, black snout under her arm, as if to shut out the fearful sight of the waves, made futile efforts to crawl into a lap that was many sizes too small to accommodate him.

“In some ten minutes more, the wild ledges were past. The surges sank to foaming swirls, and the raft once more journeyed smoothly. The two little voyagers, recovering from their ecstasy of fear, looked at each other in surprise; and the bear, slipping off the baby’s lap, squatted on his furry haunches and eyed her with a sort of guilty apprehension.

“Here it was that the baby showed herself of the dominant breed. The bear was still uneasy and afraid of her. But she, for her part, had no more dread of him whatever. Through all her panic, she had been dimly conscious that he had been in the attitude of seeking her protection. Now she was quite ready to give it, quite ready to take possession of him, in fact, as really a sort of glorified Teddy bear come to life; and she felt her authority complete. Half coaxingly, but quite firmly, and with a note of command in her little voice which the animal instinctively understood, she said: ‘Tum here, Teddy!’ and pulled him back unceremoniously to her lap. The bear, with the influence of her comforting warmth still strong upon him, yielded. It was nice, when one was frightened and had lost one’s mother, to be cuddled so softly by a creature that was evidently friendly in spite of the dreaded man-smell that hung about her. His mother had tried to teach him that that smell was the most dangerous of all the warning smells his nostrils could encounter. But the lesson had been most imperfectly learned, and now was easily forgotten. He was tired, moreover, and wanted to go to sleep. So he snuggled his glossy, roguish face down into the baby’s lap, and shut his eyes. And the baby, filled with delight over such a novel and interesting plaything, shook her yellow hair down over his black fur and crooned to him a soft babble of endearment.

“The swollen flood was comparatively quiet now, rolling full and turbid over the drowned lands, and gleaming sullenly under a blaze of sun. The bear having gone to sleep, the baby presently followed his example, her rosy face falling forward into his woodsy-smelling black fur. At last the raft, catching in the trees of a submerged islet, came softly to a stop, so softly as not to awaken the little pair of sleepers.

“In the meantime, two distraught mothers, quite beside themselves with fear and grief, were hurrying down-stream in search of the runaway raft and its burden.

“The mother of the baby, when she saw the flood sweeping the raft away, was for some moments perilously near to flinging herself in after it. Then her backwoods common sense came to the rescue. She reflected, in time, that she could not swim, while the raft, on the other hand, could and did, and would carry her treasure safely enough for a while. Wading waist-deep through the drowned fields behind the house, she gained the uplands, and rushed, dripping, along the ridge to the next farm, where, as she knew, a boat was kept. This farm-house, perched on a bluff, was safe from all floods; and the farmer was at home, congratulating himself. Before he quite knew what was happening, he found himself being dragged to the boat,—for his neighbor was an energetic woman whom few in the settlement presumed to argue with, and it was plain to him now that she was laboring under an unwonted excitement. It was not until he was in the boat, with the oars in his hands, that he gathered clearly what had happened. Then, however, he bent to the oars with a will which convinced even