Of what use had been all my trials my hard, weary tramping, and my strivings to reach my fellow-men? Of what avail my brave conquering of nature and my struggle to live? Caught like a rat in a trap, I would die by inches here by the borders of the lake and years later some wandering hunter would find my whitened bones and in them read the story of my awful fate. Better by far if I had shared Joe’s death in the swirling waters of the river. Half-crazed by pain and maddened to think of my helplessness, I gathered all my strength, gritted my teeth, and with a last despairing effort threw myself sideways and shoved with my free foot upon the log. My foot seemed torn from the ankle, and my whole spine seemed seared with red-hot iron, but despite the agony I knew that I was free; I rolled forward on my face and mercifully lost consciousness.
CHAPTER VII
CRIPPLED
I opened my eyes to find that night had fallen. My first sensations were of unutterable pain; I was chilled through, racked with agony, and weak and faint from my injuries, and my first thought was to strive to reach my camp. Groaning at each motion, I dragged myself forward a few inches, but could scarce move a yard before I was compelled to sink again to the earth, for the torture of dragging my wounded foot through the brush and over the rough earth was more than I could bear.
Thinking to allay the pain somewhat, I sat up, tore off the rags of my shirt, and started to bind this about my foot, but with every motion and with each touch I cried aloud, and only by gritting my teeth and by frequently stopping to rest was I at last able to wrap the cloth about my ankle. I judged that it was crushed and broken, but in the darkness I could not tell the extent of the injury, and merely knew that the pain was excruciating and that the leg and ankle were terribly swollen and caked with blood.
With the wrapping protecting the foot, I found it pained me less as I dragged myself along, but even then the suffering it caused was more than flesh and blood could stand, and before I had covered half the distance to my camp I fainted.
When I once more regained consciousness the sun was rising above the dark forest beyond the lake and a dull numbness had taken the place of the pain in my leg and foot. I was burning with fever. I rolled and dragged myself to the edge of the lake, where I drank and bathed hands and face, and then lay there with my wounded leg soaking in the cold water.
The shock of the cold revived me wonderfully, and as there was now no sensation whatever in my foot or leg I again started toward the camp. I had crawled but a few feet when it occurred to me that a crutch might enable me to walk, and I soon found a stout stick with a fork near one end, which I thought would serve my purpose. Pulling myself up beside a sapling, I placed the stick beneath my arm and, much to my delight, found that I could hobble along far more rapidly and with less exertion than by crawling on all-fours.
In this manner I reached the camp, but the fire had long since burned out and it was some time before I could gather sufficient strength to start a new one.
When at last the fire was blazing and I had cooked and eaten some food, I felt much better, but I realized that something must be done for my foot at once. To neglect it might result in blood-poisoning and death, and even if this did not occur I would be disabled and prevented from escaping from the forest before winter set in unless a rapid recovery was assured.
Even now I thought it might be too late, for, after lying on the damp ground all night with the foot left to itself, I feared that cold might have settled in the wound or that dangerous inflammation might have set in.