Having obtained a full load of pelts it was decided to remain in the dug-out which they had constructed until the beginning of spring, when the return trip could be made without dangerous exposure.
During the period of waiting the two occupied much of their time shooting elk, large numbers of which were roaming constantly within convenient proximity. On one occasion while out hunting and in pursuit of a large herd of elk, while passing around a large rock projecting over a small ravine, Billy made a false step and was precipitated onto the rocks below, the fall breaking his leg between the knee and ankle. This accident, always serious, was doubly so under the circumstances, when no surgical aid could be had, nor any but a miserably insufficient attention could be given to mitigate the injury. To add still further to the misfortunes of the suffering boy, only a few days before this accident one of the oxen had broken a leg and Harrington had been compelled to shoot the animal. Here the two trappers were, in the midst of winter storms, without a team, and Billy rolling in an agony which his partner was unable to relieve.
After discussing the situation for some time, Harrington said:
“Well, Billy, this is a bad box, and the only way to get out is for me to reach the nearest settlement and get a team to haul you home.”
The poor boy, though he well knew that the nearest place from which succor could be obtained was fully 125 miles distant, and appreciated all the terrors of a long and painful waiting alone among the hungry wolves and bands of equally ferocious Indians, told Harrington to do as he thought best about making the trip.
It is no less pathetic than astonishing the devotion which is so often found among the Western pioneers, whose uncouth language and grizzly garb, if taken as an index to their true character, would lead to the inference that they are destitute of that human kindness which redeems mankind and compensates our vices.
Brave Dave Harrington, just like Cody himself, big-hearted, noble, generous, self-sacrificing, immediately prepared for the tedious winter journey. Collecting about and within convenient reach of Billy plenty of dried beef, water, and other provisions needful for the sufferer’s subsistence, Dave set out on the long trip, bidding his companion to be cheerful and expect his return in twenty-one days.
Finding himself utterly alone, poor Billy—I say “poor” because the facts can not fail to arouse the deepest pity and make us sympathize with him even now in remembrance, because sensibly affected by the realization of his terrible situation, Billy lay on his rude bed, nursing the inflamed and painful fracture, nothing to relieve his lonesomeness save the howl of prowling wolves peering through the mud and sticks and under the door. Ten days passed, when one evening Billy was aroused by a singular noise outside the door. He heard voices, and his experienced ear told him they were Indians. Suddenly a dozen Sioux, led by Chief Rain-In-The-Face, broke into the dug-out. Billy rose up from his pallet and faced them as well as he could, expecting instant death; but fortune favored him, as the chief recognized Billy, having met him often at Laramie. The chief at once told Billy that his life was safe; but the Indians remained all night, feasting on the provisions found there, and when they left in the morning carried away his weapons.
To add to his suffering a terrible snow-storm began, and Billy knew that it would retard the coming of Harrington. Starvation now threatened, and his leg became more painful each day. At last the twenty-first day dawned; the fuel had burned out; the suffering boy was forced to gnaw chunks of frozen venison.