Marooned in the Forest: The Story of a Primitive Fight for Life

by A. Hyatt Verrill

At last I calmed down and examined my quarry with vast satisfaction. Here was food, warmth, and clothing, and I patted the rude spear which had enabled me to secure them. It would be a hard job to skin the beast and to carry the hide and meat to my hut, I knew, but in view of the comfort it would bring and its value to me the thought of the labor troubled me little.

Although I had not breakfasted and was very hungry, I determined to lose no time, and started in to skin the bear at once. It was a far harder job than I had counted on, for the creature weighed three or four hundred pounds. After I had stripped the hide from one side I was obliged to turn the carcass over, and this, with only sticks to aid me and with the handicap of my crippled foot, proved a difficult task. Luckily, there was a slight slope where the bear had fallen and this helped me a great deal. By prying up the bear with a pole on one side, until his legs were uppermost, and then by hauling on withes attached to his feet, I at last toppled him over. I now returned to camp for breakfast and took with me a good-sized steak cut from the bear. The meat was excellent. Refreshed and strengthened by my meal, I returned to the bear’s carcass.

By noon I had finished skinning the creature and, with a vast amount of labor, I dragged the hide to the cabin. Two more trips were made to secure a supply of meat, and then, completely exhausted by my hard day’s work, I ate my evening meal, threw myself into my bunk, and slept soundly until the next morning.

To tan this great, shaggy skin was, I knew, quite beyond my powers, for I had no receptacle in which to place it, and I therefore decided to scrape it clean and dry it carefully, so that it would serve as a robe or covering, even though it was stiff and hard. I was determined, however, to use some of it for clothing, and for this purpose I cut off a good-sized piece and put it in the tanning liquor with the hair on. Eventually this was made into a shirt-like coat, which proved wonderfully warm and comfortable, although it was a most shapeless, ill-made affair. The bear furnished far more meat than I could eat for a long time, and I made up my mind to try to preserve a portion of it by drying. My experiments with the beaver meat and fish had been a failure, but, nevertheless, I decided to try once more, and this time I hung the strips of meat in the chimney of the cabin to smoke. I cannot say that the result of this method of preserving meat was a huge success, for the flesh was hard, dry, and smoky in flavor, but it was far better than nothing. After being soaked in water it was edible, and I knew that with a supply on hand I could not starve.

Very soon after I had killed the bear my foot became worse and I was obliged to spend most of my time in bed, for even the exertion of walking on a crutch caused me agony. I did not know, at the time, what caused the foot to become worse, but thought very likely I had struck or pressed upon it while trailing or working at the bear, or that perhaps the hard labor of those few days was too great. At any rate, the swelling recommenced, the leg became inflamed and pained me horribly, and I was fearful that blood-poisoning or gangrene had set in. I kept it constantly poulticed with the arnica and, despite the agony it caused, rubbed it with bear’s grease. But while it grew no worse, it showed no signs of getting better.

The weather had now become very cold, ice formed about the borders of the lake at night, the sky was gray and lowering, the chill north winds swept the few remaining leaves from the trees, and I realized that I could not hope to escape from the forest before winter set in.

Day after day I lay upon my bunk, only moving forth to obtain water or fire-wood. Miserable as I was, I was thankful indeed for the comfortable bear-skin which covered me, the supply of rank, smoked meat which I had provided, and, above all else, for the stout log cabin which I had so fortunately discovered.

Although I had no comforts or luxuries, yet I had all of the real necessities of life, and, had my foot been strong and well, I could have looked forward to spending a winter in the woods without great foreboding. But with my bad foot I was in a desperate situation, for the supply of bear meat was diminishing rapidly and I could not go forth to hunt for other food. At last, however, there seemed to be a change for the better in my foot and then an abscess began to form. When this at last broke and I drew forth a large sliver of wood from the wound, I felt immediate relief and realized why the injury had proved so troublesome.

As soon as the splinter was removed the ankle and foot commenced to recover rapidly, and within a week the pain had left it and, much to my joy, I found that I could move the foot and could even rest some weight upon it. But I realized that it would take time for my foot to regain its full strength and that to use it too soon would only result in further trouble, and I nursed it with every possible care. Day by day it became stronger and soon I was able to limp about the cabin, although I still used a crutch when out of doors. I began to plan for my tramp toward the settlements and to hope for an escape from the forest very soon.

Then one morning I awoke to find snow drifting through the crevices of my cabin. Opening the door, I looked forth upon a strange world of white. Already the snow was ankle-deep upon the earth, the evergreens drooped under its weight, the lake gleamed black and sullen in the midst of the vast white landscape. Ceaselessly, silently, the flakes fell from the leaden sky, shutting off the farther shores and the interminable forests as with a dense, white curtain.