“Oh, what a tumble!” he muttered, when he could get back his wind. He arose slowly, and after that walked with care.
But luck was against poor Harry that day, and only two rabbits appeared in sight. One disappeared before he could take aim, and the other he missed entirely.
“Just so much powder and shot wasted,” he thought. “Reckon I had better go home.”
The winter day was drawing to a close, and there was a dampness in the air that made him shiver. Several times he had to slap his hands together to get them warm, but after that he grew colder and colder.
“Wish I was back home in front of the fire,” he said to himself. “There is no fun in hunting or fishing alone, anyhow.”
In the semi-darkness he stumbled along in the direction of the cabin. A light fall of snow had started, and this kept growing heavier and heavier. The snow made it darker than ever, and he could see his way only with difficulty.
Harry reached the pond to find the surface covered with the flying flakes. Instead of going around he started to cross the ice.
When in the very middle of the pond, the next misfortune of the outing came upon him. Down went one foot into the hole he had cut a short while before, and ere he could save himself he received a wetting up to the knee.
“What an all-around fool I am making of myself!” he cried, half aloud. “To cut the hole in the first place, and then step into it afterward! How Joe will laugh at me if I tell him. But I just won’t open my mouth about it.”
The wet leg and foot grew colder rapidly, until Harry was afraid both would freeze. He stamped on the foot many times, and then started onward again.