Willis Allen - Gulf and Glacier; or, The Percivals in Alaska

The two men from the hotel did not know what to make of it, but Mr. Percival guessed the source of the strange flame in a moment.

“They’ve built a fire,” he said quietly. “Or, at least, Bess has. I don’t believe the minister could do it, this wet night, if he tried!”

He could, though, as Captain Bess soon found out, when he had stopped to rest in the edge of the forest. About fifty feet from the path was a huge bowlder draped with ferns, with the top slightly overhanging its base.

To the shelter of this great rock the young clergyman had borne his charge, placing her on a dry cushion of moss and fir needles, where the faintness soon left her, though the pain did not. He had then busied himself in a wonderfully handy way, collecting dry stuff from beneath the bowlder, and in five minutes had a glorious fire snapping and crackling, right in the midst of the rain.

“That will be a comfort to us,” he remarked, eying the blaze with great satisfaction, “and will signal the party they are sure to send out for us.”

“O, yes!” cried Bess. And then, of course, she had to tell him, often pausing as the sharp twinges of pain shot more and more fiercely through her ankle, all about the lost party in Maine, and the exploit which had earned for her the title of Captain.

She had hardly finished her story when a shout was heard, and presently the relief party came hurrying into the firelit space.

“What is it, dear? Are you hurt?” asked Mr. Percival, hastily kneeling down beside his daughter and throwing his arms around her. He had not realized until that moment how deeply anxious he had been during that dismal walk.

“Only a little, father. It’s just my ankle. I turned it on the rocks.”

“How did you get here?”

“Mr. Selborne – carried me.”

Her father turned and clasped the young man’s hand, saying simply, “I thank you.” But each of the men knew the already strong friendship between them was deepened.

“Now for getting home,” called out Rossiter. “Too bad to leave the fire, though, isn’t it?”

“You can spend the night here if you like,” laughed Bess, rising painfully and clinging to her father’s arm.

It was clear that she could not walk a step.

The fire was cared for; then the two sturdy young backwoodsmen made an arm-chair with their hands and wrists, and tramped off with Bess between them as easily as if she were a kitten.

Very slowly though, and with great skill and care, feeling the ground carefully with their feet at every step. So they made their way back to the hotel, where there was a general jubilee over their return.

The train was side-tracked that night, close by the station. It was great fun for the young people to climb aboard, and, after a good-night sing, clamber into their berths to be lulled to sleep, not by the rumble of iron wheels, but the rushing waters of the Illicilliwaet.

Bessie, it should be said, was carried to the cars by her father. There was a physician in the party, and by his advice the strained ankle received such wise and timely treatment that by bed-time it was far less painful. In two or three days, the doctor said, she could use it again, though care would be necessary for a fortnight or more.

On the following morning the rain was still falling, but by ten o’clock the sky brightened a little, and the Percivals, with the exception of Bess, set out for a walk down the track. There was a long snow shed not far away, from which Tom hoped to get a good operating field for his kodak.

Hardly had they clambered to the top of the structure and “pressed the button” once, when a flying gust of rain, backed by a portentous black cloud, sent them flying down again.

“Let’s come in under the shed,” proposed Tom. This, however, was so cold and damp, that Fred and Randolph, seeing some detached freight cars, a few rods up the track, started off to explore for a better shelter.

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