Robert held up his hand and motioned for Kyle to lower the paddle. Speaking in a low, menacing tone through clenched teeth, Robert snarled at Richard, “Don’t do anything stupid like that again, anything that jeopardizes me getting safely back to my family. If you do, I won’t bash your head in with a paddle. We will leave you behind, by yourself, and that’ll be a death sentence for you.”
“I get the message,” mumbled Richard, sheepishly. He looked away, terrified to make eye contact.
Kyle jumped out of the raft and pulled all three, still tethered together, half out of the water. “It is going to take at least two men to carry each raft up the hill and down the road on the other side. Richard, you will never again be left alone with my raft or equipment. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Chapter Four
The men moved their equipment from the road and stood at the bottom of the downstream side of the dam, with their rafts and equipment at their feet. A small sign indicated that they were on Holter Dam Road, and the narrow pavement traveled parallel to the river for a short distance. Their waterway, once past the dam, had changed into a small river and their first lake was behind them now. According to the map, there would be more dams. They discussed the dams and decided the awaiting lakes would become evident to them when the river began to widen and the current slowed down. At that point, it would be prudent to switch from paddling to rowing again. They agreed that it would make good sense, when the current was swift enough, to conserve their energy by minimizing paddling to only what was necessary to maintain navigation. Robert was hesitant about staying close to the dam, the parking lot, and this road. They agreed to float downstream to get further from the spillway and find a place that was more secluded.
About a mile downstream, they came upon a small island in the river. This little island was a few hundred yards long, and at its widest point, half the width of the river. The island’s flora varied from dry grass at the near end to dense tree growth at the far end. This would be a suitable location for their camp. It was not directly connected to the road, and the trees would provide camouflage during both day and night. Before pulling the rafts completely ashore on the little island, Kyle took a quick look around for any surface dangers that could puncture the rafts. None were found. He did notice a sufficient supply of dry driftwood that they could use for a campfire and hopefully to cook something before they left again. Robert and Kyle lifted each of the equipment-filled rafts toward the dense trees. Richard ignored the threat of nighttime hazards and only went a minimal distance from the riverbank. Robert handed Richard his hatchet and told him to gather plenty of wood and start a fire. Robert and Kyle were going to explore the perimeter of the little island and be back to help as soon as they were done. The two men walked to the far end, through the dense trees. In the thick of the wooded area, Robert stopped at an oak tree sapling. He circled the tree looking it up and down. The tree was about fifteen feet tall with a trunk slightly bigger than he could get one hand around.
“What is it?” Kyle inquired.
“What is it going to be,” replied Robert.
Kyle lifted an eyebrow and waited for the answer as Robert slowly caressed the sapling, looking for any imperfections in its trunk.
“This is going to become a bow. My silent killer,” Robert said, as he slapped the tree with the palm of his hand. “Primitive bow making is a hobby of mine.”
“Could you make me one?”
“Yes, find another tree like this one while I get started.” Robert handed Kyle a leaf from a branch of the tree for reference.
Robert withdrew the fixed blade knife from the sheath strapped to his right thigh. Kneeling, he chopped carefully around the circumference near the bottom of the tree, wielding the thick blade until the sapling fell over. Robert estimated a distance of six feet from the bottom of the freshly cut sapling and hacked through the wood once again. There were no small limbs to remove on the bottom six feet of the trunk. Kyle motioned for Robert to come deeper into the thicket. He had found another sapling. Robert repeated the process on the second sapling, and then they hiked back to Richard, taking the wood with them.
As they walked back toward the front end of the little island, Robert noticed an area between the island and the shore that became marshy and shallow for half the island’s length. It would be possible to walk across to the small road and only get your feet wet for the length of this narrow wetland. He saw many cattails and suspected there would also be frogs. This reminded him that they should set some lines in the river and try to catch some fish.
“Let’s take these saplings back to where we left Richard. They can dry by the fire and then I’ll carve them into bows.” Robert gestured toward the water. “We need to get some lines in the water to catch some fish.”
“We don’t have any bait,” said Kyle.
“I know. Let me dump these saplings by the fire and we’ll get started.”
Robert and Kyle continued toward the camp. They saw some driftwood in a pile with a few hatchet marks. There appeared to have been a feeble attempt to chop and split the wood into smaller pieces. Richard was smoking, standing with his back toward them.
“Nice fire, asshole,” Kyle said, loud enough to startle Richard and make him jump to attention.
“Don’t burn this wood,” Robert said, as he placed the two saplings on the ground an obvious distance from Richard’s pile of driftwood.
Robert told Kyle that he heard frogs in the marshy water. He wanted to get the frogs, use their entrails as bait, and eat the legs. They approached the marsh as silently as pumas in a nighttime jungle. Robert hoped the water was cool enough to slow down the cold-blooded amphibians. The frogs were well camouflaged, and the men’s grab-and-snatch technique yielded few results. They finished the frog hunt by chasing some of the remaining frogs from the marsh onto the grassy area and grabbing them on dry ground. After they caught about a dozen frogs, Robert bound their small ankles together using a long flexible grassy weed. Robert then directed his attention toward the cattails in the shallow water. He guided Kyle back into the swampy area to harvest the marshy plant. Robert used his knife and they each harvested a full armload. Kyle grabbed the frogs and they walked back toward Richard with the soon-to-be entrees of frog legs and cattail salad.
Richard was fumbling with scraps of wood and his lighter. There was still no fire. Robert took the hand axe and split some of the dry driftwood into small splinters. Then he took his knife and made a little pile of fine shavings from the driftwood. Around this, he placed small twigs, and nearby placed some larger branches waiting to be fed to the fire. Richard handed his lighter to Robert, and with a few sparks from the flint, the small bird’s nest of wood shavings began to smoke. Robert gently blew on the base of the smoking pile and a tiny flame appeared. He sprinkled more wood shavings on the flames, and added small twigs as the fire grew. After the twigs began to burn, he added a few larger branches to the fire. He then placed two big pieces of driftwood over the flames and, with a sigh of relief, considered his work with the fire complete.
“Cut the frogs’ legs off, but leave them bundled together,” said Robert, as he handed his knife to Kyle. “When I get some red hot coals, I’ll roast them for us over the embers. Take the frogs’ entrails and use them for bait. Throw some lines in the water and hopefully we’ll have some fish for breakfast. I’ll peel the skins off the cattails and split up some of the food from the rafts.”