He ran around in a circle a few times; then, seeing my whip, which I had thrown beside the wagon when I unhitched the team at noon, he pounced upon that and carried it proudly in his mouth to my side and dropped it.
“No, no,” I cried, “go back. The ax, Jim—fetch it, good dog!”
Away he trotted again and returned with one of my gauntlets, which lay right on the ax-handle. I sent him back again with a cuff on the ear; he took the ax-handle between his teeth and dragged it a little way dropped it and came bounding back with the other gauntlet.
I was so disappointed that I hit the poor animal over the head with the butt of the whip. He gave a little howl of pain, and retreating some distance, sat down with a reproachful look toward me that cut me to the heart. Then I called him to me again, petted and stroked him for a while, and went through the motions of chopping with an ax, but for a long time he did not seem to understand. I kept pointing and shouting: “The ax—fetch it,” when all of a sudden he bounded away with a loud bark, seized the ax-handle with his teeth, and dragging it inch by inch, dropped it at my feet.
Getting to a sitting posture I soon made the chips fly, while Jim danced around me barking with delight. It was not long before I had cut the log in two, as near my imprisoned leg as I dared, and it was then an easy matter, using the ax-handle as a lever, to pry it free. But my plight was still a desperate one, for when I tried to move, I found, as I expected, that my leg was broken a little above the ankle.
I had a smattering of surgery, having been instructed in “first aid to the wounded,” which is part of the education of a Mounted Policeman; this stood me in good stead in this emergency. Having the ax, I was able to fashion a few rude splints with which, by the aid of strips torn from my shirt, I contrived to set and bandage the fracture.
This having been accomplished, I essayed to crawl toward the shack, which stood at no great distance; but the pain I endured in the passage forced many a groan from between my set teeth—Jim licking my hands and face every time I was forced to stop from pain and exhaustion. At last, however, I managed to reach the door and crawled within. My cot was a low wire spring affair, and I just managed to drag myself to it when, for the first time in my life, I fainted....
How long I remained unconscious I do not know. When I awoke, the moon was shining in at my open door, and Jim lay asleep by my side. It must have been cold with the door wide open, but as I did not feel it, I must have been very feverish. I know I longed for a drink of water but was quite unable to move. My leg felt as if paralyzed and I lay there on my back until daylight trying to figure a way out. I must have help or I should undoubtedly cash in, as they say in the West. For that purpose it was necessary to get word to town, or to someone who could come to my assistance; but how was I to send word? That was the puzzle, and again I felt that it was not good for man to be alone.
Then I thought of the dog. Jim had already saved my life once; could he do so again? I resolved to try him—it was my one and only chance; and so, when it was light enough to see, I found the back of an old letter and the stump of a carpenter’s pencil in my waistcoat pocket, for I had not been able to remove my clothes. I managed to write and sign an appeal for help, describing my condition and the location of my homestead. This I wrapped in a piece of my torn shirt and tied the packet around Jim’s neck, fastening it to his collar in such a way as would readily attract attention, yet at the same time not be likely to come loose. In such an event, though, I believed the intelligent brute would have taken the packet in his mouth and laid it at the feet of the first person he met.