“Perhaps you had better go on alone.”
“No, I shan’t leave you, Dave—it wouldn’t be human.”
“Yes, but—but we left Henry,” said the young soldier bluntly.
“That was in the midst of a fight and a different thing altogether. If you can’t walk, can you climb yonder tree, do you think?”
“Perhaps, with your help.”
“Then let us both get up. The bear can’t climb with a wounded leg, and if she does I can give her a shot right in the head when she comes up,” went on the backwoodsman.
He picked the youth up in his arms and walked over to the tree he had pointed out. The darkness of night had now settled down, and it was with difficulty that they made their way among the lower limbs. Dave wanted to shriek with pain, but gritted his teeth and kept silent.
It was a lonely and never-to-be-forgotten night. In an hour or two the wind went down and it began to rain steadily. Dave did not feel like stirring, and all he could do was to rub the cords of his limb that had become so sadly twisted. Raymond remained on guard, but neither the bear nor anything else came to disturb them.
At daybreak it was still raining, but the clouds showed signs of breaking away, and before nine o’clock the hot midsummer sun shone as brightly as ever.
“We are in a bad plight, no two ways about it,” said the backwoodsman. “What is best to do I must say I don’t know.”