when stuart arrived at his camp site by the river, he was tired and hot. he put the canoe in the water and was sorry to see that it leaked badly. the birch bark at the stern was held together by a lacing, and the water came in through the seam. in a very few seconds the canoe was half full of water.
“darn it!” said stuart, “i’ve been swindled.” he had paid seventy-six cents for a genuine indian birchbark canoe, only to find that it leaked.
“darn, darn, darn,” he muttered.
then he bailed out his canoe and hauled it up on the beach for repairs. he knew he couldn’t take harriet out in a leaky boat—she wouldn’t like it. tired though he was, he climbed a spruce tree and found some spruce gum. with this he plugged the seam and stopped the leak. even so, the canoe turned out to be a cranky little craft.
if stuart had not had plenty of experience on the water, he would have got into serious trouble with it. it was a tippy boat even for a souvenir. stuart carried stones from the beach down to the water’s edge and ballasted the canoe with the stones until it floated evenly and steadily. he made a back-rest so that harriet would be able to lean back and trail her fingers in the water if she wished. he also made a pillow by tying one of his clean handkerchiefs around some moss. then he went for a paddle to practise his stroke. he was angry that he didn’t have anything better than a paper spoon for a paddle, but he decided that there was nothing he could do about it. he wondered whether harriet would notice that his paddle was really just an ice cream spoon.
all that afternoon stuart worked on the canoe, adjusting ballast, filling seams, and getting everything shipshape for the morrow. he could think of nothing else but his date with harriet. at suppertime he took his ax, felled a dandelion, opened a can of deviled ham, and had a light supper of ham and dandelion milk. after supper, he propped himself up against a fern, bit off some spruce gum for a chew, and lay there on the bank dreaming and chewing gum. in his imagination he went over every detail of tomorrow’s trip with harriet. with his eyes shut he seemed to see the whole occasion plainly—how she would look when she came down the path to the water, how calm and peaceful the river was going to be in the twilight, how graceful the canoe would seem, drawn up on the shore. in imagination he lived every minute of their evening together.
they would paddle to a large water-lily pad upstream, and he would invite harriet to step out on the pad and sit awhile. stuart planned to wear his swimming trunks under his clothes so that he could dive off the lily pad into the cool stream. he would swim the crawl stroke, up and down and all around the lily pad, while harriet watched, admiring his ability as a swimmer. (stuart chewed the spruce gum very rapidly as he thought about this part of the episode.)
suddenly stuart opened his eyes and sat up. he thought about the letter he had sent and he wondered whether it had ever been delivered. it was an unusually small letter, of course, and might have gone unnoticed in the letterbox. this idea filled him with fears and worries. but soon he let his thoughts return to the river, and as he lay there a whippoorwill began to sing on the opposite shore, darkness spread over the land, and stuart dropped off to sleep.
the next day dawned cloudy. stuart had to go up to the village to have the oil changed in his car, so he hid the canoe under some leaves, tied it firmly to a stone, and went off on his errand, still thinking about harriet and wishing it were a nicer day. the sky looked rainy.
stuart returned from the village with a headache, but he hoped that it would be better before five o’clock.
he felt rather nervous, as he had never taken a girl canoeing before. he spent the afternoon lying around camp, trying on different shirts to see which looked best on him and combing his whiskers. he would no sooner get a clean shirt on than he would discover that it was wet under the arms, from nervous perspiration, and he would have to change it for a dry one. he put on a clean shirt at two o’clock, another at three o’clock, and another at quarter past four. this took up most of the afternoon. as five o’clock drew near, stuart grew more and more nervous. he kept looking at his watch, glancing up the path, combing his hair, talking to himself, and fidgeting. the day had turned chilly
and stuart was almost sure that there was going to be rain.he couldn’t imagine what he would do if it should rain just as harriet ames showed up to go canoeing.
at last five o’clock arrived. stuart heard someone coming down the path. it was harriet. she had accepted his invitation. stuart threw himself down against a stump and tried to strike an easy attitude, as though he were accustomed to taking girls out. he waited till harriet was within a few feet of him, then got up.
“hello there,” he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling.
“are you mr. little?” asked harriet.
“yes,” said stuart. “it’s nice of you
to come.”
“well, it was very good of you to ask me,” replied harriet. she was wearing a white sweater, a tweed skirt, short white wool socks, and sneakers. her hair was tied with a bright colored handkerchief, and stuart noticed that she carried a box of peppermints in her hand.
“not at all, glad to do it,” said stuart. “i only wish we had better weather. looks rather sticky, don’t you think?” stuart was trying to make his voice sound as though he had an english accent.
harriet looked at the sky and nodded. “oh, well,” she said, “if it rains, it rains.”
“sure,” repeated stuart, “if it rains, it rains. my canoe is a short distance up the shore. may i help you over the rough places in the path?” stuart was a courteous mouse by nature, but harriet said she didn’t need any help. she was an active girl and not at all inclined to stumble or fall. stuart led the way to where he had hidden the canoe, and harriet followed, but when they reached the spot stuart was horrified to discover that the canoe was not there. it had disappeared.
stuart’s heart sank. he felt like crying.
“the canoe is gone,” he groaned.
then he began racing wildly up and down the bank, looking everywhere. harriet joined in the search, and after a while they found the canoe—but it was a mess. some one had been playing with it. a long piece of heavy string was tied to one end. the ballast rocks were gone. the pillow was gone. the back rest was gone. the spruce gum had come out of the seam. mud was all over everything, and one of the paddles was all bent and twisted. it was just a mess. it looked just the way a birchbark canoe looks after some big boys are finished playing with it.
stuart was heartbroken. he did not know what to do. he sat down on a twig and buried his head in his hands. “oh, gee,” he kept saying, “oh, gee whiz.”
“what’s the trouble?” asked harriet.
“miss ames,” said stuart in a trembling
voice, “i assure you i had everything beautifully arranged—everything. and now look!”
harriet was for fixing the canoe up and going out on the river anyway, but stuart couldn’t stand that idea.
“it’s no use,” he said bitterly, “it wouldn’t be the same.”
“the same as what?” asked harriet.
“the same as the way it was going to be, when i was thinking about it yesterday. i’m afraid a woman can’t understand these things. look at that string!it’s tied on so tight i could never get it off.”
“well,” suggested harriet, “couldn’t we just let it hang over in the water and trail along after us?”
stuart looked at her in despair. “did you ever see an indian paddling along some quiet unspoiled river with a great big piece of rope dragging astern?” he asked.
“we could pretend we were fishing,” said harriet, who didn’t realize that some people are fussy about boats.
“i don’t want to pretend i’m fishing,” cried stuart, desperately. “besides, look at that mud! look at it!” he was screaming now.
harriet sat down on the twig beside stuart. she offered him a peppermint but he shook his head.
“well,” she said, “it’s starting to rain, and i guess i’d better be running along if you are not going to take me paddling in your canoe. i don’t see why you have to sit here and sulk. would you like to come up to my house? after dinner you could take me to the dance at the country club. it might cheer you up.”
“no, thank you,” replied stuart. “i don’t know how to dance. besides, i plan to make an early start in the morning. i’ll probably be on the road at daybreak.”
“are you going to sleep out in all this rain?” asked harriet.
“certainly,” said stuart. “i’ll crawl in under the canoe.”
harriet shrugged her shoulders. “well,” she said, “good-by, mr. little.”
“good-by, miss ames,” said stuart. “i am sorry our evening on the river had to end like this.”
“so am i,” said harriet. and she walked away along the wet path toward tracy’s lane, leaving stuart alone with his broken dreams and his damaged canoe.
