American Agriculturist, June 28, 1924 
Changing- Woods 
By E. J. Rath 
(By arrangement with William Gerard Chapman) 
397 
'T'HE man frowned and winced as he 
1 shifted his body and turned to face 
ihe sound. The crashing in the brush 
puzzled him, because in that country 
people followed the way of the water and 
tia\eled by canoe. \et he knew the 
footsteps to be human; no deer was likely 
to seek the lake at midday. His lips 
framed a call, but he hesitated; to call 
meant the pain again. Besides, the foot¬ 
steps were nearer now; he would know in 
a minute. 
. A early two days, he muttered, as 
his eye roved for an instant over his 
scattered duffel and the canoe half 
drawn from the water, a few- yards away. 
Then he uttered a stifled gasp of surprise. 
It was a girl! She broke into the open 
fifty feet from where he lay, stared at the 
lake for a few seconds, and sank sobbing 
to the ground. Lloyd watched her in 
amazement. She wore a short skirt that 
seemed to be in shreds; her gray flannel 
shirt had a great rent in one sleeve; she 
w r as hatless, and her hair hung in dis¬ 
order to her waist. The man glanced at 
her hobnailed, highlaced boots and read a 
story of bitter travel through the forest. 
Once she lifted her head from her 
hands and stared again dully at the 
shining water before her, then hid her 
face while her shoulders shook in an 
uncontrollable convulsion. For a minute 
more he watched her, then called softly: 
“Don’t cry. It’s all right.” 
She struggled to her feet with a shriek. 
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I’m 
right over here.” 
She saw him then, and stood very still, 
gazing at him, as if in unbelief. 
You 11 have to come over here,” he 
went on. “I can’t get up just now.” 
the woods, to look for a place to cross. 
The stream branched, and finally I got 
over on a log. Then I came to the other 
branch and I got confused. I couldn't 
find the lake again.” 
“You should have followed the cur¬ 
rent,” he commented. 
“I know it now. But I was nervous 
then. I tried what I thought was a short 
cut back to the lake. And then—then I 
was lost. I walked and walked, but I 
couldn’t seem to find anything. Some¬ 
times I rested a little bit, but I was too 
frightened to sit still long. I shouted, 
too; but after it began to get dark I was 
afraid to shout. The walking was very 
rough. \ou can see—” and she ran her 
hands over her tattered skirt. “When it 
got dark I didn t dare walk any more; it 
was so still. I slept after a while. Twice 
I woke while it was still dark; it was 
horrible! The next time it was broad 
daylight, and then I began to walk again. 
Oh, how I have walked—and called!” 
T'HE tears started to her eyes again, 
1 and she said in a stifled voice: “Oh, 
the woods are horrible! Horrible!” 
thing will be all right. Cheer up, little 
sister.” 
In a moment she looked up and smiled 
at him with trembling lips. 
“I 11 stop being a coward now. I’m 
selfish. I was just lost and hungrv. 
But you for two days! Tell me what to 
do. Where can I get somebody? I’ll go 
now.” 
“You mustn’t go just now,” he an¬ 
swered. “There are other things to do 
first. We ve got to get organized. Both 
of us ought to eat. I guess you can cook 
some.” 
“I can cook some things,” she said 
doubtfully. “But your leg — are vou 
suffering?” 
“Not just now. It's waited for two 
days and it can wait till I eat. After 
that I’ll see what we can do about it. 
Are you rested enough to work a bit?” 
“I m ready,” she said, rising. “Tell 
me what to do.” 
“I’d like a little whisky,” he began. 
‘Just dump out that small sack. There’s 
a flask in there with my clothes—that’s it. 
You take some first. You need it as 
much as I.” 
OHE approached slowly, half afraid, 
^ and looked down on him. Then she 
dropped to her knees at his side and 
burst into a fresh storm of tears. He 
reached out with an effort and took one 
of her hands. It was cruelly scratched 
and had been bleeding. 
“I guess you were lost,” said Lloyd 
gently. . “But you’re found now, so the 
worry is all over. Hungry, I guess. 
There’s some pilot bread in the top of 
that nearest sack. Get it—and^will you 
give me a bit of it, too?” 
Without a word she obeyed him, then 
sat and ate with the pathetic hunger of a 
half-starved animal. He nibbled slowly 
at the bread, while he studied her face. 
W hen she had finished two of the big- 
crackers, he told her where to find the 
cup and sent her down to the edge of the 
lake to drink. She came back and sat 
near him, her dark eyes watching him 
with wonder. 
“No fun being lost,” he began. “I 
was lost once myself. It makes you 
hungry, and usually the sleeping’s bad. 
How long since you left your party?” 
“Yesterday morning.” They were the 
first words she had spoken, and they were 
uttered in a whisper. 
His eyes showed pity. “All night in 
the woods—alone,” he said softly. “Poor 
little kid! Where’s your camp?” 
“Round Island Lake.” 
“How in the world—” Lloyd ex¬ 
claimed. “Why, child, that’s eight or 
nine miles, straight through the bush and 
over a height of land! Tell me how it 
happened.” 
I was paddling,” she answered 
slowly. “I took a canoe out before 
breakfast to go down the lake a way. I 
went pretty far, I guess. Then I went 
ashore; I wanted to get some red leaves 
from a maple. But I didn’t fasten the 
canoe securely, and when I got back it 
had drifted out in the lake. I didn’t 
dare swim for it; it was too far, and the 
wind was carrying it. Then it went 
around a point and I didn’t see it again. 
I waited—ever so long—but nobody 
came. Then I started to walk; to follow 
the shore.” 
“I understand,” he nodded. 
. ”1 came to where a stream emptied 
into the lake and I had to walk back into 
Pictures from the Broad Highway Country 
Readers who have followed the 
adventures of Peter and Charmian 
and have thought of this story 
bygone days as pure romance will 
be interested to know that at least 
the background was as accurate as 
if the author described some coun¬ 
try town we all know. These pictures 
of places mentioned in the tale were 
sent us by Mrs. Arthur E. Hopkins 
°f Cortland, N. Y., who writes: 
I have been very much interested 
in the story. The Broad Highway, 
in the American Agriculturist, as I was 
born and brought up in that neighbor¬ 
hood. I have looked through all my 
post-cards but can not find one that 
shows either the Bull or the Forge, 
but they really are there just as the 
story tells. I thought perhaps you 
and your readers might be interested to 
see dear old Cranbrook Church. One 
card shows the very steps that Peter 
walked up in the installment before the 
last one. 
pipe? It’s in the canoe, I think. I have 
the pouch. Thank you—and the matches. 
Now I m fixed. As I was saying, I was 
just unloading the stuff. I slipped with 
the heavy sack and went down with it. 
That stone there did the business—that 
and the^ sack. But let’s talk about 
dinner. The pea soup would do us both 
good. It’s in that oiled paper tube; 
that’s it—the powder.” 
He watched her as she worked under 
his directions. “You're pretty handy,” 
he commented, approvingly. “You ought 
to like the woods.” 
Do you? ’ she said, stopping in her 
work and looking her astonishment. 
“After this?” 
‘Sure! The woods are not to blame 
for this. I don’t hold them any grudge. 
Ill be back just the same next year. 
Soil you. \ou don’t think so now, but 
you will. I can tell. \ou're going to 
make friends with the woods before 
you’re out of here.” 
She laughed doubtfully and began 
stirring the soup. 
Don t be in such a feverish hurry,” 
Lloyd admonished. “Hurrying seldom 
gets you anywhere in camp. Use this 
knife for the bacon.” He tossed his 
clasp-knife toward her. “And you’ll 
have to take tea, or drink plain water. 
I don’t pack coffee.” 
“Poor child!” he said gently, “But 
never mind now. You’re found. Can you 
cook a bit? We’ll have a square meal, if 
you can.” 
“I’m a coward,” she said weakly. 
But I can t help it.” She brushed the 
tears from her eyes and tried to smile. 
Then she bent forward suddenly and 
searched his face with a quick glance. It 
was drawn and haggard, she noticed for 
the first time, and he lay half propped 
against a tree. Lloyd smiled back at her. 
“Are you sick?” she asked, in an awed 
tone. 
He tapped his leg and nodded. “Bro¬ 
ken,” he said. 
“Oh!” she gasped. “And you’re 
alone?” 
Lloyd nodded again, and forced another 
smile to his lips. Impulsively she placed 
a hand on his forehead. 
“That part of it’s better now,” he 
reassured her. “The fever was pretty 
strong yesterday, but it’s gone down a 
lot.” 
“When—when did it happen?” 
“Day before yesterday?” 
And you’ve been here?” she said, in 
slow amazement—“alone! Oh, you poor 
thing! She hid her face again. 
( There, there!” he said, comfortingly. 
“Don’t worry about my troubles. You’re 
found, and so am I. That’s a beginning. 
You need me and I need you, Every- 
But she would not drink until Lloyd 
had put the flask to his lips. 
“Now if you’ll get me a drink of water,” 
he said. She found one of his tin pails, 
filled it to the brim, and brought it to 
him. He drank long and slowly. 
“Gee, but that’s good!” he said, 
smiling. That’s the first since yester¬ 
day-” He caught a look of pain and pity 
in her eyes and added hastily! 6 *Now we 
need a fire. That’s a good enough 
place, right where the ax is lying. You 
won’t need to chop any wood; there are 
plenty of dead sticks.” 
CHE laid a fire under his direction, 
^ Lloyd smiling faintly once or twice 
at her unfamiliarity with the art. Then 
he told her where to find the matches, and 
she uttered a little cry of satisfaction 
when the dry wood blazed up briskly. 
“Now, if you’ll take that ax,”‘ said 
Lloyd, “and cut a couple of sticks with 
forks at one end. I’ll show you how to 
boil the kettle.” 
t . “I know what you mean,” she said. 
“I've seen the guides.” 
“Next there’s the grub sack,” he went 
on, when a pail of water had been swung 
over the blaze. “Over there under the 
dog-tent. I hadn’t got the tent up when 
it happened, you see. It was just a few 
minutes after I came ashore to make 
camp. And, by the way, mav I have mv 
CHE found the tin plates and cups and 
brought the dinner over to where he 
lay. She got the rolled tent and propped 
nun a little higher. He gritted his teeth as 
he moved his body and smothered a groan. 
1 hen they ate in silence, studying each 
other with furtive glances. She could not 
be much over twenty, Lloyd decided, and 
she freshened amazingly with the rest and 
food. 
I can t yet see how you managed, all 
a “-fn- S ^> e sa ^’ w ^ en had finished. 
I didn t naanage much,” he answered. 
When it first happened, I crawled up 
here. I imagine I fainted for a while 
because when I came to it was dark. 
Ihe first night was worse than last, but 
I slept some. Yesterday morning I had 
to get a drink, so I pulled myself down 
there again. Then I let my leg soak for a 
while; that helped the inflammation. I 
crawled back in the afternoon, and then 
I had it out with the lever. I’ve §ot a 
medicine-kit over there, but it hurt too 
much to move, and I didn’t bother. I 
wasn’t hungry, luckily; there was too 
much pain. Just before you found me 
to-day I was figuring on going after 
another drink.” 
“And now what shall I do?” she said 
as he paused. 
“Wash dishes; that’s always the first 
thing. Then fill the biggest pail with 
fresh water.” 
Lloyd lay back with half-closed eyes, 
watching her as she moved swiftly about 
the camp. Now and then a motion of her 
arm disclosed a long and angry scratch 
through the rent in her sleeve. “Poor 
kid!” he murmured. “She sure did have 
a time. But I wonder what she can do 
for us?” 
.‘Do you think you could help a bit 
with this leg? he asked, when she came 
back. 
‘‘J , 11 try— I mean I will,” she answered. 
Good! I don’t know just what can 
be done, but I want to have a look at it 
anyhow.” 
She unlaced his heavy boot with careful 
fingers and drew 7 it off. Then she re- 
moved the thick gray lumberman’s 
stocking. 
“Take the knife and cut the trousers 
away at the knee,” lie directed; and when 
she had finished he bent forward and 
inspected the injured leg. 
“H’s below the knee, you see,” he 
explained. Both bones, I should judge. 
he swelling has gone down considerably. 
It looks fairly straight to me, too. But 
I think a little twisting will make it 
straighter I’m glad I kept that boot on; 
it helped hold it in place. Do you mind 
hfelnincr nnw ? 5> ( __ 
