Читать книгу Tom Thomson's Last Paddle - Larry McCloskey - Страница 9

3 But Not My Daughter

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Each stroke of the paddle sliced into water still and resplendent with summer calm. Snakelike ripples seemed to coil with anger as if to pull the intruder into the depths. Two solitary canoes tentatively glided across black open water. After several minutes’ hesitation, the green canoe followed the red into a channel at the north end of the lake. The canoes’ tentative approach to their destination belied the determination of their fearless leader.

“This way,” Dani called over her shoulder from the stern of the lead canoe.

Perched between father and daughter, Nikki surveyed the lake, looking every bit the captain of the vessel.

“I really don’t know about this,” Dani’s dad said.

Dani sighed. “Dad, you’re not really helping.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Dani. It’s just that I’m a bit worried.”

“Dad, you’ve been encouraging us for a long time to learn outdoor skills—you know, independent stuff,” Dani said, never turning her eyes from the distant shore, never wavering in her determination.

Caitlin, in the bow of the green canoe, never wavered in her thoughts about cherry-chocolate gelato.

“It’s true, John, their enthusiasm for the outdoor experience is kind of our fault,” Bob said.

“Yes, I’m quite happy you girls have decided to take a lesson from the great outdoors and become skilled out-doorswomen, independent and self-reliant. It’s just that…” John’s voice trailed off as he recited the same objection for the umpteenth time.

“There!” Dani’s shout echoed as the canoe rocked and water from her raised paddle soaked Caitlin’s head.

“Where?” John said anxiously.

Dani studied her map again. “Yup, I’m sure this is it.”

“Where?” John repeated.

Dani let the canoe drift to shore as a look of deep satisfaction spread across her face. “Tom Thomson’s favourite campground,” she said proudly.

“Oh,” John said, torn between continued objection and a sense of shared accomplishment.

The second canoe gently came to rest beside the first on sand and small stones. No one spoke or moved from the canoes. The wayward travellers took in the towering white pines, the sound of cascading water from a nearby stream, and the smell of ripe pine needles.

“No wonder this was Tom’s favourite camping spot,” Dani said, stepping from the canoe.

“Oh, it’s Tom now, is it?” John said with a raised eyebrow.

Bob grinned. “So just where is Uncle Tom’s cabin, anyway?”

“Look!” Dani cried. “There’s a fire pit already built. Come on, Caitlin, let’s grab our stuff.”

“Fire!” John leaped out of the canoe as if a fire had suddenly been put under his seat.

“Of course, we’ll need a fire to cook and to tell stories and to read…” Dani said in a rush.

“And to keep bears away,” Caitlin finished with a tad less enthusiasm as she brought up the rear.

John’s eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed like a fishing lure nibbled by rock bass.

Bob smiled. “It’s a pretty safe-looking fire pit, built from stones, no roots showing.”

Nikki liked the fire pit, too. He sniffed furiously around it, his snout moving like a vacuum on a cleaning mission.

“We can pitch our tent here,” Dani said decisively. “The pine needles will make the ground soft for sleeping. These branches hanging overhead will give us cover in case it rains, and even if the seams of our tent leak, we’ll be okay. And we’re about the right distance from the fire, close enough to enjoy it, but far enough for safety. What do you think, Caitlin?”

Caitlin unceremoniously spat out one of her wet French braids and slurped, “Charming, I’m sure.”

Dani’s face reconfigured into a deep frown.

John saw his opening, put one arm around each girl, and said in a fatherly tone. “You know, girls, you really don’t have to do this. Twelve-year-old girls, after all…”

Bob winced and patted his friend on the back. “Good luck, buddy.”

Dani folded her arms in silent protest, while Caitlin looked around nervously for a washroom.

John peered at his daughter. “What?”

“Girls!” Dani stated emphatically.

“Washroom?” Caitlin asked in a softer voice to no one in particular. She vaguely wondered, If you said washroom in the forest and nobody heard it, did you really say it? But simmering campground discussion meant there was no more time for pondering philosophical questions.

“No, no, it’s your age I’m concerned with, not the fact you’re girls… really,” John pleaded to an unsympathetic jury.

Air snorted out of Dani’s nose in not-so-silent protest.

John looked at his determined daughter and her distracted friend and decided he was outnumbered. All at once he let out a great breath of air, his shoulders sagged, and his eyes watered ever so slightly. “Okay, girls, you win. You can camp out tonight.” And then, with his Adam’s apple bobbing, he added, “That is, all night, and you’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

Dani’s flaring nostrils relaxed, while Caitlin’s searching eyes fixed on a pile of pine needles she reluctantly conceded were to become their “natural” washroom.

“Well, John,” Bob began, “maybe we should leave these capable outdoorspersons to prepare their campsite and settle in for the night.”

Panic fluttered across John’s face, but then he calmed himself with a couple of deep breaths and simply said, “Okay”

As the men paddled into the Algonquin sunset, the girls could clearly hear one dad reassuring the other. With each assurance John asked, “But do you think they’ll really be okay, Bob?”

“Dad sure can be a pain sometimes,” Dani said.

“Sure hope my dad’s right,” Caitlin thought out loud.

“Of course he’s right,” Dani asserted, half believing her own words.

“Yeah, I guess,” Caitlin concluded, not believing a word. “What could possibly happen?”

A large raven pierced the summer silence with a shriek as it lifted from the limb of a pine. The girls jumped and laughed nervously as wings flapped overhead.

Dani giggled. “That’s right, Caitlin. What could possibly happen?”

“Oh, only everything,” Caitlin whispered, looking up into the shaking pine branches.

Tom Thomson's Last Paddle

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