“This is better! I’m off the flat of my back—half-way upon my feet. After a short rest I’ll make a further effort. What should I have done without my faithful dog?”
In attempting to shift himself to an easier position, he placed his hand upon his gun, which was lying where he had dropped it. With a joyful exclamation, he caught it up and feebly dragged it across his lap. Then, taking the skirt of his hunting-shirt, he carefully wiped and dried the weapon, remarking to himself as he did so:
“I have a gun—I have ammunition—I have flint and steel. If I can manage to light a fire, I shall be in no danger of freezing. Then, perhaps, I may be able to shoot some animal for food—provided it comes near my camp. I must have something to eat.”
He sighed breathlessly. Then drawing his legs well under him and using his gun as an aid, he commenced slowly to arise to a standing posture, all the time keeping his back firmly pressed against the tree-trunk. The task was a herculean one; but after several failures he succeeded. Duke simply went wild with delight, rolling over and over in the snow and barking frantically.
After resting a few minutes, Douglas, leaning heavily upon his rifle, tried to take a few steps. His legs trembled and threatened to give way under him, and every fiber in his body ached and quivered; but he resolutely put out one foot after the other. His head swam, and he reeled and tottered like an infant. But he succeeded in making his way to another tree, against which he leaned, gasping for breath. Standing there, he tremblingly reloaded his rifle.
“Better than I expected!” he whispered with bloodless lips. “Much better! Now I shall seek a sheltered spot and build a fire.”
Putting his resolution into action, he slowly and painfully worked his way to a small depression, a short distance from the scene of conflict. It was half-filled with drifted leaves and snow, and almost surrounded by bushes and briers. Near it were the dead and dry limbs of a fallen tree.
Staggering into this natural shelter, Ross dropped upon the ground. Duke accompanied him. The wounded man laboriously cleared the cave of the accumulated mass of snow and leaves. When he had finished his hard task, he took out his flint and steel, and, after several discouraging failures, succeeded in starting a fire. Upon the tiny flame he piled sticks from the fallen tree-tops, which soon were ablaze. With a sigh of relief and comfort, he fell back and closed his eyes.
After a time, however, the genial warmth penetrated his chilled and stiffened frame and aroused him from the partial swoon into which he had fallen. Sitting erect, he held out his hands to the welcome blaze and murmured tremulously:
“What a man can do! Oh, this cough! It almost strangles me; and the pain is awful. Still I’m better off than I was—much better. I shall not freeze, at any rate. But I must have food. I am so weak. Let me see,”—rolling his eyes heavenward,—“the stars indicate that it’s after midnight. I’ll rest by the fire until morning; then I’ll do what I can to procure something to eat.”