The Lake

The Lake By M. F. Merrill The wind harped an ancient melody among the quivering pine and fir boughs, while the lake nestling among the high mountains dimpled and coquetted with the warm August sun. The tiny waves danced merrily toward the shore, swishing among the pebbles of the beach, a wonderful beach, as multi-hued as a rainbow, for among the soft blues and grays of the ordinary pebbles jutted the brilliant red and yellow carnelias like tiny tongues of fire. A gray pall of smoke was creeping over the mountains, down toward the lake; for the dreaded forest fires were raging once again in the Sierras. Where the huge trees lifted their proud heads, to gaze for- ever on the stars, stood a large log cabin. Morning glory and honeysuckle vines rioted over the walls and the tangled tendrils entwined lovingly over the front door. Cats, puppies and chickens slept blissfully together in the dooryard. Two children stood on the rocky shore where a rude wharf extended out into the water, the boy, a sturdy urchin of four- teen, watching the heavy cloud of smoke as it drifted sullenly over the mountains, but the slender girl of twelve was gazing quietly at the ever-changing surface of the lake with tender eyes. "Look at it, Claire," spoke the boy with a certain fierce- ness in his tone. "See, it eats up tree after tree just like some cruel dragon. It is creeping up more and more towards the mountains by the lake, and all the trees and our house will be burned, too." "No, Roy," calmly answered the little girl, "the lake is our friend and will protect us from the wicked fire dragon." "Just like a girl. All you think of is the lake, and the trees and forests that are burning up don't worry you a bit. I hate it; I hate fire, and I wish Daddy would let me help them fight it." "There comes the service launch," answered Claire, "per- haps Daddy will be on board." The two children watched the Gray Goose, the United States Forest Service launch, as it approached from the main station far across the lake. The boy restlessly paced the beach, but the girl, whose eyes were as deep and blue and fathomless as the

616 IMPROVEMENT ERA waters of the lake itself, stood gazing at the glittering wavelets. The old mountaineers who loved the lake with an unspeak* able devotion were wont to say that Claire's eyes changed with every mood of the sparkling waters. When the lake was golden with the morning sun, in Claire's eyes danced shafts of golden light; if the lake lay gray and brooding underneath the dull November sky, the child's eyes were gray and brooding, too; if the waters were calm and still or lashed into black fury by the winds, the girl's eyes reflected the serene blue of the reflected sky, or were dilated and black with repressed passion. The children's father was a forest ranger and it was from him Claire had inherited her intense love for the mountain lake, on whose shores she had been born and her mother had died. Hour after hour she sat gazing far into its mysterious depths and worshiping it every hour of the day, from the moment when the rising sun gilded the surface into a mass of molten gold until the tender moon sent it quivering in silver ripples. For several years she had loved it as one loves that which is wholly and supremely beautiful, a beloved friend and protector. Then one summer a party of campers had spent part of their vacation near their cabin and had become very friendly with the ranger and his two children. The two young boys in the party played frequently with Roy and Claire and the two children were very fond of these new playmates. With much labor they had brought a canoe along and looked forward to spending many hours on the lake. The ranger, however, had warned them not to use it on a mountain lake. "The thunder storms are sudden and fierce," he said, "we never know just what may happen within twenty minutes. The water becomes far too rough for a powerful launch and it would be certain death for anybody inexperienced in such matters to venture out." The two boys were loth to forego their long premediated plans, and after privately deciding that the ranger was "too darn finicky" secretly set out to explore the lake in the canoe. • An hour after their departure a thunder storm sprang up without a moment's warning, changing the gay, sparkling lake into a roaring demon. It was soon over, and the sun shone forth as if nothing had happened, when a white-faced woman tottered to the log cabin. "Oh, Mr. Handy," she implored the ranger, "please find my boys. The canoe is gone, and no one has seen either Harold or Charles since this morning. If, after what you told us, they went out in that awful storm — !" She stopped horror-stricken and began to sob hysterically.

THE LAKE 617 Leaving the frantic woman to the care of the old Indian maid, Mr. Handy had telephoned the main Forestry Office to send out the launch. When it arrived they set out to scour the lake, although these seasoned mountaineers felt that the search was hopeless. After three heart-breaking hours the launch re- turned towing the canoe which they had found floating over- turned far out in the lake. Of the boys there was no trace, for the mountain lake never gives up its victims. That night, Mr. Handy had found Claire gazing somber- eyed upon the placid waters. "What is it, little daughter?" "It's the lake, Daddy. You said the lake was our friend — that it would never hurt us, and now it has taken both Mrs. Raymond's boys. Oh, Daddy, it makes me afraid." The ranger had then drawn the trembling child close in his arms. "The lake will always befriend those who love her, little daughter, for those who love her never break her laws. It is only those who break her commandments that she punishes. Remember that, and do not fear our friend." During the three years following her first tragedy, Claire gradually lost this fear and now as she stood on the wharf waiting with Roy for her beloved father, her gaze lingered lovingly upon the azure water. As the Gray Goose docked, Mr. Handy, worn and grimy with several weeks' constant fire fighting, stepped ashore. He kissed his little daughter and turning to Roy said: "Son, get on your old corduroys and be ready to go back with me in two hours. We are short of fighters and even a fourteen-year-old boy can help a lot." "Hurrah!" shouted Roy. "You bet I'll be ready, Dad. Gee, Sis! won't I work. They'll want me to help again;" and away he dashed. "Must I stay alone, Daddy?" said Claire. "No, dear, Mrs. Forster, the supervisor's wife, will come over before dark to take you back to the station. I'd take you over with me now, but we are not going to stop but go straight across the lake. Are you afraid to stay alone until supper time?" "No, Daddy. I love the lake and I'll sit on the shore and listen to the beautiful secrets sho tells me." "Very well, dear, you will never be lonely with the lake to talk to you. Some day, perhaps, she may reward your love with a beautiful gift. Who knows?" The Gray Goose left in less than two hours, and Claire wan- dered down beside the bright shore.

618 IMPROVEMENT ERA Supper time came but with it no Mrs. Forster; darkness fell but still no shrill whistle broke the silence of the night, only the rustle of the wind in the trees and the ripple of the lake. Claire was not lonely, the lake crooned a lullaby as tenderly as could the mother who had slipped off into the Shadowy Valley so long ago. The little girl said her prayers, whispered good-night to her guardian lake, and was soon asleep. Over the hills crept the cruel red glare, until the great flames turned the lake into an angry crimson, but Claire slept on. Suddenly the wind became stronger and the fire shrieked like a fiend from the infernal regions as one forest giant after another bowed under its scourge. The hills, back of the cabin, blazed fiercely and the choking smoke swirled thicker and thicker. Claire awoke gasping for breath and, leaping out of bed, saw the cabin was nearly surrounded by flames. What could she do, alone and a mere child in the midst of this awful destruc- tion? The only avenue of escape was the lake, but since the tragic death of the Raymond boys Claire had feared to venture in a rowboat or canoe alone! She looked at the hills, a blazing mass, the heat so intense that already she could feel her skin burn with its ferocity and the smoke so thick that she could scarcely breathe; she looked at the lake, cool, in spite of its crimson color on the surface, and hesitated no longer. Seizing a towel and murmuring a frenzied little prayer, the child dashed to the wharf where her father's new boat was tied. Untying the rope Claire shoved out, crawling down in the boat, the damp towel over her face, while the boat drifted off into the darkness. All through that night of terror she lay in the boat, trust- ing herself to the mercy of the friend she had loved and yet feared for so long. Early in the morning, just as dawn was breaking, Claire heard the siren of the Gray Goose. The thick smoke prevented her seeing the launch, and the noise of its machinery drowned her cries. A merciful Providence, however, guided the two boats near together, and soon Claire was clasped tightly within her father's arms. "My dearest," said the man brokenly, "What merciful angel guided you away from the fire?" "It was the lake, Daddy. I just got in the boat and the lake drifted the boat away from the shore right to you. The lake is my friend, and because I love her she saved me from the fire and let me live."