CHAPTER XV
A NARROW ESCAPE
As usual Dave Connors awoke to find himself alone in camp that morning. Jack and Bart, his camping companions, had left at dawn and gone out partridge hunting exactly as they had done every day since Dave fell down into the gully and twisted his ankle. They were thoughtful enough to leave the coffee pot within reach of Dave's cot, however, along with some fried strips of bacon, bread and butter and a couple of boiled eggs, so that the injured man did not have to hobble about to get his own breakfast.
Dave dashed a cup of water over his hands and splashed a little in his face by way of performing his toilet and then sitting on the edge of his cot, proceeded to devour what was before him eagerly, for, although his foot was injured, his appetite was entirely healthy.
"Um—m—m that was good," he muttered as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked down at his bandaged foot.
"Now if my old kick was in good order I'd go for a long tramp with a gun but—Ah,—ouch—still sore and swollen. Guess I won't be able to hobble about for a couple of days yet," he reflected as he felt of the injured member.
Then steadying himself on the edge of the cot with the assistance of a cane that Jack cut for him three days before, he hobbled to the tent doorway and looked out.
"Jove, what a corking day! It's a shame I had to get laid up right at the beginning of the trip. But I'll be all right in a couple of days and I suppose I can stand it as long as my books hold out. But, blame it all, look at this camp. Jack and Bart are the sloppiest fellows I ever saw. Look at the blankets on the ground again and the papers scattered everywhere. And look at the big fire they've left. What for, I wonder? I wish I could get out there and clean up the place. I'll speak to them to-night. I don't think such conditions are sanitary. I—I—ouch, blast it, I can't clean up the place," and with a look of disgust the man from Boston limped over to his camp chair and picked up the book that had held his interest the day before.
How long he had been reading he did not know; perhaps an hour, perhaps two. But suddenly he was aroused by a strange, unnatural cracking sound. He looked up with a start, and his eyes dilated with horror at what he saw.
There, not ten feet from him, creeping and writhing through the dried grass and leaves and darting long yellow tongues toward him menacingly, wormed a streak of fire.