Gaut Gurley; Or, the Trappers of Umbagog: A Tale of Border LifeThompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
General
Gaut Gurley; Or, the Trappers of Umbagog: A Tale of Border Life
Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Maine -- Fiction; Trappers -- Fiction
Accordingly he hastily headed round his canoe, and, hazardous as he knew
must be the experiment, sent it surging down the current after his
endangered young friends; for the one, as will soon appear, was no less his
favorite than the other. In the mean time, Claud, in swimming over a sunken
rock, luckily gained a foothold, which enabled him to rise and plunge
forward again with redoubled speed; and, so well-timed and powerful were
his exertions, that he came within reach of the stern of the fugitive canoe
just as it was whirling round sideways in the reflux of the waves caused by
the water dashing against a high rock standing partly in the current. It
was a moment of life or death, both to the man and maiden; for the boat was
on the point of going broadside over the first fall into the wild and
seething waters, seen leaping and roaring in whirlpools and jets of foam
among the intricate passes of the ragged rocks below. Making sure of his
grasp on the end of the canoe that had been thus fortunately thrown within
his reach, the struggling Claud made an effort to draw it from the edge of
the abyss into which it was about to be precipitated; but, with his most
desperate exertions, he was barely enabled to keep it in position, while
his strength was rapidly giving way. The unequal contest was quickly
noticed by the hapless girl; and, after watching a moment, with a troubled
eye, the fruitless efforts and wasting strength of the young man, she
calmly rose to her feet, exhibiting, as she stood upright in the boat, with
the spray dashing over her marble forehead and long flowing hair, in the
faultless symmetry of her person, the beautiful cast of her features, and
the touching eloquence of her speaking countenance, a figure which might
well serve as a subject for the pencil of the artist.
"Let go, brave stranger," she cried, in clear, silvery tones, after
throwing a grateful and admiring glance down upon her gallant rescuer; "let
me go, and save yourself. I can die as befits a daughter of my people."
"Hold on, there, Claud! Courage, girl! I see a way to save you both," at
that critical instant rang above the roar of the waters the sharp voice of
the hunter, who, with wonderful tact and celerity, had shot down obliquely
across the main current, out of it through a narrow side pass, down that
and round the intervening rocks, and was now driving with main strength up
another pass, abreast of the objects of his anxiety. "There: now seize the
head of my canoe, and hold on to both; and, on your life, be quick!" he
continued, shouting to the exhausted young man, while he himself was
struggling with all his might to get and keep his boat in the right
position among the battling currents.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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