We had the good fortune, about two hours before noon, to find the house of a farmer, who sold us some food, and cared not whether we were American or British, Tory or nothing, so long as we were good pay.
A half hour after leaving this place I decided that we ought to recross the river. Chudleigh offered no objection, knowing that he had no right to do so, being a prisoner. I had no mind to take another swim, so I made search along the bank for something that would serve as a raft, and was not long in finding it.
Having proved to Chudleigh that it was as much to his benefit as to mine to help me, we rolled a small tree that had fallen near the water’s edge into the river, and, sitting astride it, began our ride toward the farther shore. I had a pole with which I could direct the course of our raft, and with these aids it seemed rather an easy matter to cross. I allowed the tree to drift partly with the current, but all the time gently urged it toward the farther shore.
We floated along quite peacefully. So far as we could see we were alone upon the broad surface of the river, and the shores too were deserted. I remarked upon the loneliness of it all to Chudleigh, and he seemed impressed.
“Chudleigh,” I said, “we’re having an easier time recrossing the river than we had crossing it.”
“So it would seem,” he replied, “but we won’t unless you look out for the current and those rocks there.”
I had twisted my face about while speaking to Chudleigh, and in consequence neglected the outlook ahead. We had reached a shallow place in the river where some sharp rocks stuck up, and the water eddied about them in manner most spirited. The front end of our log was caught in one of these eddies and whirled about with violence. I was thrown off, and though I grasped at the log it slipped away from me. I whirled about to recover myself, but the fierce current picked me up and dashed me against one of the projecting rocks. With a backward twist I was able to save myself a little, but my head struck the cruel stone with grievous force.
I saw many stars appear suddenly in the full day. Chudleigh and the log vanished, and I was drifting away through the atmosphere. I was not wholly unconscious, and through the instinct of an old swimmer made some motions which kept me afloat a little while with the current.
I had too little mind left to command my nerves and muscles, but enough to know that I was very near death. In a dazed and bewildered sort of way I expected the end, and was loath to meet it.
The blue sky was rapidly fading into nothing, when some voice from a point a thousand miles away called to me to hold up a little longer. The voice was so sharp and imperious that it acted like a tonic upon me, and brain resumed a little control over body. I tried to swim, but I was too weak to do more than paddle a little. The voice shouted again, and encouraged me to persevere.