“Night came on, and I was as hungry as a hunter—being a hunter, I knew just how hungry that is. I hadn’t anything to eat except raw fish, and I wasn’t quite equal to that yet. I had only one pipe of tobacco too, and you may be sure I made the most of that, I smoked it very, very slowly, and I wouldn’t like to say how long it lasted.
“From time to time I made fresh attempts to release my foot—all unavailing, and all the more maddening because I could feel that my foot wasn’t much caught—only just enough to hold it. But enough is as good as a feast! I felt that if I could get a straight pull at it I might get it out, and several times I nearly went head first into the water, overbalancing myself in the effort to get that straight pull. That wasn’t a pleasant sensation—not so bad, indeed, if one had got as far as the water. But I pictured myself hanging from the log with a dislocated ankle, and the prospect was not inviting.
“So the night crept on. I grew deadly sleepy, but of course I did not care to let myself go to sleep; but worse than that was the stiffness, and the cramp that tortured the imprisoned leg. You know how you want to jump when you’ve got cramp? Well, I wanted to jump at intervals of about a minute all through that night, and instead, I was more securely hobbled than any old horse I ever saw. The mosquitoes worried me too. Altogether it was not the sort of entertainment you would select from choice!
“And then, just as day began to dawn, the sleepiness got the better of me. I fought it unavailingly; but at last I knew I could keep awake no longer, and I shut my eyes.
“I don’t know how long I slept—it couldn’t have been for any time, for it was not broad daylight when I opened my eyes again. Besides, the circumstances weren’t the kind to induce calm and peaceful slumber.
“I woke up with a start, and in my dreams I seemed to hear myself crying out with pain—for a spasm of cramp had seized me, and it was like a red-hot iron thrust up my leg. I was only half awake—not realizing my position a bit. I made a sudden spring, and the next moment off I went, headlong!
“I don’t suppose,” said the Hermit reflectively, poking a stem of grass down his pipe, “that I’ll ever lose the memory of the sudden, abject terror of that moment. They say ‘as easy as falling off a log,’ and it certainly doesn’t take an able-bodied man long to fall off one, as a rule; but it seemed to me that I was hours and years waiting for the jerk to come on my imprisoned foot. I’m sure I lived through half a lifetime before it really came.
“Then it came—and I hardly felt it! There was just a sudden pull—scarcely enough to hurt very much, and the old boot yielded. Sole from upper, it came clean away, and the pressure on my foot alone wasn’t enough to hold me. It was so unexpected that I didn’t realize I was free until I struck the water, and went down right into the mud at the bottom of the creek.
“That woke me up, I can assure you. I came up choking and spluttering, and blinded with the mud—I wouldn’t like to tell you for a moment that it was pleasant, but I can truthfully say I never was more relieved in my life. I struck out for the bank, and got out of the water, and then sat down on the grass and wondered why on earth I hadn’t made up my mind to jump off that log before.
“I hadn’t any boot left—the remainder had been kicked off as I swam ashore. I made my way along the log that had held me so fast all night, and there, wedged as tight as ever in the crack, was my old sole! It’s there still—unless the mosquitoes have eaten it. I limped home with my fish, cleaned them, had a meal and went to bed—and I didn’t get up until next day, either!