CHAPTER VIICRIPPLEDI opened my eyes to find that night had fallen. My first sensations were of unutterable pain; I was chilled through, racked with agony, and weak and faint from my injuries, and my first thought was to strive to reach my camp. Groaning at each motion, I dragged myself forward a few inches, but could scarce move a yard before I was compelled to sink again to the earth, for the torture of dragging my wounded foot through the brush and over the rough earth was more than I could bear.Thinking to allay the pain somewhat, I sat up, tore off the rags of my shirt, and started to bind this about my foot, but with every motion and with each touch I cried aloud, and only by gritting my teeth and by frequently stopping to rest was I at last able to wrap the cloth about my ankle. I judged that it was crushed and broken, but in the darkness I could not tell the extent of the injury, and merely knew that the pain was excruciating and that the leg and ankle were terribly swollen and caked with blood.With the wrapping protecting the foot, I found it pained me less as I dragged myself along, but even then the suffering it caused was more than flesh and blood could stand, and before I had covered half the distance to my camp I fainted.When I once more regained consciousness the sun was rising above the dark forest beyond the lake and a dull numbness had taken the place of the pain in my leg and foot. I was burning with fever. I rolled and dragged myself to the edge of the lake, where I drank and bathed hands and face, and then lay there with my wounded leg soaking in the cold water.The shock of the cold revived me wonderfully, and as there was now no sensation whatever in my foot or leg I again started toward the camp. I had crawled but a few feet when it occurred to me that a crutch might enable me to walk, and I soon found a stout stick with a fork near one end, which I thought would serve my purpose. Pulling myself up beside a sapling, I placed the stick beneath my arm and, much to my delight, found that I could hobble along far more rapidly and with less exertion than by crawling on all-fours.In this manner I reached the camp, but the fire had long since burned out and it was some time before I could gather sufficient strength to start a new one.When at last the fire was blazing and I had cooked and eaten some food, I felt much better, but I realized that something must be done for my foot at once. To neglect it might result in blood-poisoning and death, and even if this did not occur I would be disabled and prevented from escaping from the forest before winter set in unless a rapid recovery was assured.Even now I thought it might be too late, for, after lying on the damp ground all night with the foot left to itself, I feared that cold might have settled in the wound or that dangerous inflammation might have set in.My first care, then, must be to make an attempt to reduce the swelling and bind up the wound with some pain-allaying and healing substance, and here again my lack of knowledge of woodcraft and forest resources made me pitiably hopeless. I tried to remember any scraps of conversation or any incidents which I had heard or seen in the woods and which might help me, and at last Ididsucceed in bringing to mind two instances in which my guides had made use of nature’s remedies in curing wounds. On one occasion Joe had applied bear’s grease to a cut upon his hand, and at another time he had gathered some herbs as we passed through a little glade and to my questions had replied that it was arnica and was used in curing bruises and sprains.I had no bear’s grease and I did not know if arnica was found in the neighborhood, but I decided that the wound must be cleansed and bandaged, at any rate, and that the sooner it was done the better, for the numbness was now passing off and the leg was commencing to pain again.Carefully I unrolled the shirt, and as I exposed the limb I grew sick at the sight, for leg and ankle were black with congested blood, terribly swollen and misshapen, and with the flesh and skin deeply torn and cut. I could not tell whether it was dislocated or broken; although when I felt of it and moved it carefully with my hand it seemed so loose and caused me such agony that I feared the worst.It was a long, tedious, and torturing operation to bathe the foot and ankle, wash out the cuts, and bind up the limb anew, but at last it was accomplished, and with sticks bound about it as splints to protect it, I determined to hobble about and try to discover some arnica plants before I became unable to move.By means of a crutch I could travel fairly easily over the more open ground near the lake, and I made my way slowly and painfully toward a little open spot I had noticed a few days before. Here rank weeds and plants grew in abundance, and after searching for some time I discovered a clump of herbs which I felt sure were the same as those I had seen Joe gather.While searching for the arnica I had wandered to the farther side of the glade, and as I glanced about to get my bearings my eyes fell upon a well-marked opening or trail leading into the woods close at hand. Filled with wonder at this, for I knew that the trail must have been made by human hands, I examined it intently. Yes, there could be no doubt of it. There were lichen-covered stumps showing the ax-marks and I realized that by chance I had stumbled upon an old wood road. Thrilled with excitement and almost forgetting the pain in my injured leg, I hobbled forward along the old road, for I knew that it must lead to some definite goal.I was too overcome with my discovery to think that the road might lead for miles through the woods and that in my injured and weakened condition I was running a grave risk in following it away from my camp, and it was fortunate for me that the end came so quickly.Hardly had I hobbled forward for a dozen rods along the road when a turn ahead disclosed a broad, sunlit clearing and in its center a house!For an instant I was so utterly dumfounded that I could scarce believe my eyes, for to find a human dwelling here in the forest and within a few rods of my own camp seemed absolutely incredible. But there it stood, a tiny log cabin basking in the sunshine of the clearing, and with a glad shout, and quite forgetting my injured leg, I hurried forward as fast as my condition enabled me.No voice replied to my cry, and as I reached the open doorway I realized that the hut had been long deserted and my heart sank. Across the floor dead leaves had drifted ankle-deep; moss grew upon the threshold; lichens covered the walls; sunlight streamed through many a hole and crevice in the roof, and a squirrel scampered into the fireplace and up the chimney as I stepped within the door. Along one side of the cabin extended a rude bunk, a table of slabs stood near the open fireplace, some moldy, cobwebbed fragments of clothing hung from pegs driven in the walls, a rusty iron pot stood upside down beside the hearth, and a small grindstone was propped against one wall.It was a curious sensation to stand once more within the four walls of a building, small and rude as it was, and I realized instantly how far superior it was to the best lean-to which I could build.With my injured leg I would need rest and shelter, and here was a building provided as if by a miracle for my needs.Throwing down my bundle of arnica, I made my way back to camp, gathered up my few simple belongings, and carried them to the cabin. Then, despite my disabled condition, I made another trip and brought over some blazing brands to kindle a fire in my new home, for the trip of a few score yards was less arduous than the labor of starting a new fire with my crude appliances.My first care was to make use of the arnica, for my leg was again torturing me, and while I knew nothing of the method of using the herb, I assumed that it should be steeped or boiled and used as a compress, or poultice, and I soon had the freshly plucked plants simmering over the fire in the old iron pot.Meanwhile I examined the interior of the hut with more care and found that none of the openings in the roof were directly over the bunk, so that I could be reasonably sure of protection from rain until I was able to repair the leaks. The leaves which had sifted within the door were soft, clean, and dry, and I piled a great mass of these upon the bunk. Upon them I placed soft balsam-fir twigs and thus secured a bed which was luxurious and comfortable indeed compared with the crude makeshifts to which I had become accustomed.By the time the bed was prepared and the hut cleaned out the herbs in the pot were thoroughly steeped, and as soon as the brew was sufficiently cooled I proceeded to place a dressing on my foot.The swelling had not decreased, but the discoloration and angry appearance of the wound were less, and while the pain was still intense, I found it more bearable than when I had first bandaged it. The soggy, boiled leaves and stems of the arnica I used as a sort of poultice, binding them upon the injured parts with strips of my rags soaked in the liquor, and then, quite exhausted with my efforts in my crippled condition and the pain in my limb, I crawled into the bunk and at once fell asleep.I awoke much refreshed and very hungry, and to my great relief I found the pain in my foot had grown less and that the inflammation had not increased or spread.As I cooked my meal over the fire in the hearth I planned for the future, for my good fortune in finding the cabin had caused my spirits to rise and I cast aside the doleful forebodings of dying slowly from my wound, which had possessed me.That I must remain in the hut until my leg and foot had completely recovered was certain, for to attempt to cross the lake by raft, or to undertake any hard labor, with my foot in its present condition, would merely result in more trouble and longer delay. And then a sudden light dawned upon me, and, had I been able, I would have danced for joy as I realized that the presence of the cabin proved that it would not be necessary to cross the lake, after all. Strange that it had not occurred to me before; for everything about the place spoke of its occupancy by white men, probably gum-gatherers, trappers, or lumbermen, and beyond a doubt it was on a well-marked trail to the settlements, for, had its occupants come hither by canoe across the lake, the cabin would have been built close to shore and the trail would have led to the water’s edge instead of into the forest.As I reasoned this out my mind was immensely relieved, for I felt that as soon as my foot would enable me to proceed I could follow the trail and reach the settlements in comparative ease.But as I must remain a virtual prisoner in the cabin for the present, I determined to make the hut as comfortable as possible and then conserve all my strength and nurse my foot back to usefulness; and, having eaten, I proceeded to put my house in order.To repair the leaks in the roof would, I felt, be a difficult matter with my disabled leg, for I would be obliged to climb upon the roof from outside, and this I did not dare attempt. It occurred to me, however, that by placing layers of evergreen branches over the roof a great deal of the rain might be kept out, and this I was able to do by means of a forked pole. The branches, I felt, would blow off with the first wind, and to secure them in position I laid long, light poles diagonally over them, digging the upper ends of the poles into the old roof and lashing the ends at the eaves to the walls of the hut.This simple matter occupied me until dark and proved a tremendous task, for I could use but one hand when hobbling about on my crutch and my progress back and forth from the neighboring woods was slow and painful. When the roof was at last finished I was utterly exhausted, and as soon as I had eaten and had placed a fresh poultice on my foot I crawled into my bunk. The door was still open, I had no coverings, and the night was cold, but the fire on the hearth warmed the interior of the cabin and I felt little discomfort from the chill; in fact, I slept better and felt warmer than I had for many nights, even though my shirt had been sacrificed to make bandages.For several days thereafter I busied myself about the cabin, caught trout for my food, and nursed my wounds, and, much to my satisfaction, I found the ankle was growing no worse and that much of the pain had left it. Still, it did not recover as rapidly as I had hoped and I began to fear that it would be a long time before I would be able to use it again, or that it might heal badly and become useless forever. In rummaging about the cabin I found several articles left by the former owners, such as a couple of empty bottles, some old tin cans, and a rusty old steel file.The bottles proved useful for storing my arnica brew and the cans I used in cooking, but the file seemed of no value. The clothes which I had seen hanging upon the walls were far too rotten to be of any use as clothing—no doubt they were cast aside as worthless by their former owners—but they were better than nothing as coverings at night, and by piecing them together with hemlock roots I managed to form a ludicrous sort of patchwork quilt which was a real comfort.I had been at the cabin for about a week when I was aroused one night by a strange sound. Some one or something was moving across the floor. At first I was startled. I had been so long accustomed to solitude that the presence of another alarmed me. Then it flashed upon me that perhaps a former occupant of the cabin had returned and had entered, unsuspecting my presence. Overjoyed at the thought and without stopping to consider the consequences, I called out, “Hello!” and rose up in bed.At the sound of my voice the footsteps ceased, there was a strange guttural reply from near the fireplace, and a queer rattling sound as of some one crumpling paper.Puzzled, and now rather alarmed, I spoke again, and instantly the grunt was repeated and I heard the sound of shuffling footsteps hurriedly approaching my bed. Terrified, I shrank back, peering into the gloom of the cabin in an endeavor to discern the outlines of my mysterious visitor. The fire had died down, but a few red embers still gleamed upon the hearth and cast a faint glow in the immediate vicinity. At the very edge of this dim light I thought I saw a moving shadow—a great, bulky, shapeless form, crouched low, and stealing toward me. My nerves were on edge, and at the sight of this mysterious, formless, threatening figure I uttered a scream of mortal terror. With a sudden sideways motion the shadowy something stepped within the glow of the fire, and then I broke into a roar of laughter.
I opened my eyes to find that night had fallen. My first sensations were of unutterable pain; I was chilled through, racked with agony, and weak and faint from my injuries, and my first thought was to strive to reach my camp. Groaning at each motion, I dragged myself forward a few inches, but could scarce move a yard before I was compelled to sink again to the earth, for the torture of dragging my wounded foot through the brush and over the rough earth was more than I could bear.
Thinking to allay the pain somewhat, I sat up, tore off the rags of my shirt, and started to bind this about my foot, but with every motion and with each touch I cried aloud, and only by gritting my teeth and by frequently stopping to rest was I at last able to wrap the cloth about my ankle. I judged that it was crushed and broken, but in the darkness I could not tell the extent of the injury, and merely knew that the pain was excruciating and that the leg and ankle were terribly swollen and caked with blood.
With the wrapping protecting the foot, I found it pained me less as I dragged myself along, but even then the suffering it caused was more than flesh and blood could stand, and before I had covered half the distance to my camp I fainted.
When I once more regained consciousness the sun was rising above the dark forest beyond the lake and a dull numbness had taken the place of the pain in my leg and foot. I was burning with fever. I rolled and dragged myself to the edge of the lake, where I drank and bathed hands and face, and then lay there with my wounded leg soaking in the cold water.
The shock of the cold revived me wonderfully, and as there was now no sensation whatever in my foot or leg I again started toward the camp. I had crawled but a few feet when it occurred to me that a crutch might enable me to walk, and I soon found a stout stick with a fork near one end, which I thought would serve my purpose. Pulling myself up beside a sapling, I placed the stick beneath my arm and, much to my delight, found that I could hobble along far more rapidly and with less exertion than by crawling on all-fours.
In this manner I reached the camp, but the fire had long since burned out and it was some time before I could gather sufficient strength to start a new one.
When at last the fire was blazing and I had cooked and eaten some food, I felt much better, but I realized that something must be done for my foot at once. To neglect it might result in blood-poisoning and death, and even if this did not occur I would be disabled and prevented from escaping from the forest before winter set in unless a rapid recovery was assured.
Even now I thought it might be too late, for, after lying on the damp ground all night with the foot left to itself, I feared that cold might have settled in the wound or that dangerous inflammation might have set in.
My first care, then, must be to make an attempt to reduce the swelling and bind up the wound with some pain-allaying and healing substance, and here again my lack of knowledge of woodcraft and forest resources made me pitiably hopeless. I tried to remember any scraps of conversation or any incidents which I had heard or seen in the woods and which might help me, and at last Ididsucceed in bringing to mind two instances in which my guides had made use of nature’s remedies in curing wounds. On one occasion Joe had applied bear’s grease to a cut upon his hand, and at another time he had gathered some herbs as we passed through a little glade and to my questions had replied that it was arnica and was used in curing bruises and sprains.
I had no bear’s grease and I did not know if arnica was found in the neighborhood, but I decided that the wound must be cleansed and bandaged, at any rate, and that the sooner it was done the better, for the numbness was now passing off and the leg was commencing to pain again.
Carefully I unrolled the shirt, and as I exposed the limb I grew sick at the sight, for leg and ankle were black with congested blood, terribly swollen and misshapen, and with the flesh and skin deeply torn and cut. I could not tell whether it was dislocated or broken; although when I felt of it and moved it carefully with my hand it seemed so loose and caused me such agony that I feared the worst.
It was a long, tedious, and torturing operation to bathe the foot and ankle, wash out the cuts, and bind up the limb anew, but at last it was accomplished, and with sticks bound about it as splints to protect it, I determined to hobble about and try to discover some arnica plants before I became unable to move.
By means of a crutch I could travel fairly easily over the more open ground near the lake, and I made my way slowly and painfully toward a little open spot I had noticed a few days before. Here rank weeds and plants grew in abundance, and after searching for some time I discovered a clump of herbs which I felt sure were the same as those I had seen Joe gather.
While searching for the arnica I had wandered to the farther side of the glade, and as I glanced about to get my bearings my eyes fell upon a well-marked opening or trail leading into the woods close at hand. Filled with wonder at this, for I knew that the trail must have been made by human hands, I examined it intently. Yes, there could be no doubt of it. There were lichen-covered stumps showing the ax-marks and I realized that by chance I had stumbled upon an old wood road. Thrilled with excitement and almost forgetting the pain in my injured leg, I hobbled forward along the old road, for I knew that it must lead to some definite goal.
I was too overcome with my discovery to think that the road might lead for miles through the woods and that in my injured and weakened condition I was running a grave risk in following it away from my camp, and it was fortunate for me that the end came so quickly.
Hardly had I hobbled forward for a dozen rods along the road when a turn ahead disclosed a broad, sunlit clearing and in its center a house!
For an instant I was so utterly dumfounded that I could scarce believe my eyes, for to find a human dwelling here in the forest and within a few rods of my own camp seemed absolutely incredible. But there it stood, a tiny log cabin basking in the sunshine of the clearing, and with a glad shout, and quite forgetting my injured leg, I hurried forward as fast as my condition enabled me.
No voice replied to my cry, and as I reached the open doorway I realized that the hut had been long deserted and my heart sank. Across the floor dead leaves had drifted ankle-deep; moss grew upon the threshold; lichens covered the walls; sunlight streamed through many a hole and crevice in the roof, and a squirrel scampered into the fireplace and up the chimney as I stepped within the door. Along one side of the cabin extended a rude bunk, a table of slabs stood near the open fireplace, some moldy, cobwebbed fragments of clothing hung from pegs driven in the walls, a rusty iron pot stood upside down beside the hearth, and a small grindstone was propped against one wall.
It was a curious sensation to stand once more within the four walls of a building, small and rude as it was, and I realized instantly how far superior it was to the best lean-to which I could build.
With my injured leg I would need rest and shelter, and here was a building provided as if by a miracle for my needs.
Throwing down my bundle of arnica, I made my way back to camp, gathered up my few simple belongings, and carried them to the cabin. Then, despite my disabled condition, I made another trip and brought over some blazing brands to kindle a fire in my new home, for the trip of a few score yards was less arduous than the labor of starting a new fire with my crude appliances.
My first care was to make use of the arnica, for my leg was again torturing me, and while I knew nothing of the method of using the herb, I assumed that it should be steeped or boiled and used as a compress, or poultice, and I soon had the freshly plucked plants simmering over the fire in the old iron pot.
Meanwhile I examined the interior of the hut with more care and found that none of the openings in the roof were directly over the bunk, so that I could be reasonably sure of protection from rain until I was able to repair the leaks. The leaves which had sifted within the door were soft, clean, and dry, and I piled a great mass of these upon the bunk. Upon them I placed soft balsam-fir twigs and thus secured a bed which was luxurious and comfortable indeed compared with the crude makeshifts to which I had become accustomed.
By the time the bed was prepared and the hut cleaned out the herbs in the pot were thoroughly steeped, and as soon as the brew was sufficiently cooled I proceeded to place a dressing on my foot.
The swelling had not decreased, but the discoloration and angry appearance of the wound were less, and while the pain was still intense, I found it more bearable than when I had first bandaged it. The soggy, boiled leaves and stems of the arnica I used as a sort of poultice, binding them upon the injured parts with strips of my rags soaked in the liquor, and then, quite exhausted with my efforts in my crippled condition and the pain in my limb, I crawled into the bunk and at once fell asleep.
I awoke much refreshed and very hungry, and to my great relief I found the pain in my foot had grown less and that the inflammation had not increased or spread.
As I cooked my meal over the fire in the hearth I planned for the future, for my good fortune in finding the cabin had caused my spirits to rise and I cast aside the doleful forebodings of dying slowly from my wound, which had possessed me.
That I must remain in the hut until my leg and foot had completely recovered was certain, for to attempt to cross the lake by raft, or to undertake any hard labor, with my foot in its present condition, would merely result in more trouble and longer delay. And then a sudden light dawned upon me, and, had I been able, I would have danced for joy as I realized that the presence of the cabin proved that it would not be necessary to cross the lake, after all. Strange that it had not occurred to me before; for everything about the place spoke of its occupancy by white men, probably gum-gatherers, trappers, or lumbermen, and beyond a doubt it was on a well-marked trail to the settlements, for, had its occupants come hither by canoe across the lake, the cabin would have been built close to shore and the trail would have led to the water’s edge instead of into the forest.
As I reasoned this out my mind was immensely relieved, for I felt that as soon as my foot would enable me to proceed I could follow the trail and reach the settlements in comparative ease.
But as I must remain a virtual prisoner in the cabin for the present, I determined to make the hut as comfortable as possible and then conserve all my strength and nurse my foot back to usefulness; and, having eaten, I proceeded to put my house in order.
To repair the leaks in the roof would, I felt, be a difficult matter with my disabled leg, for I would be obliged to climb upon the roof from outside, and this I did not dare attempt. It occurred to me, however, that by placing layers of evergreen branches over the roof a great deal of the rain might be kept out, and this I was able to do by means of a forked pole. The branches, I felt, would blow off with the first wind, and to secure them in position I laid long, light poles diagonally over them, digging the upper ends of the poles into the old roof and lashing the ends at the eaves to the walls of the hut.
This simple matter occupied me until dark and proved a tremendous task, for I could use but one hand when hobbling about on my crutch and my progress back and forth from the neighboring woods was slow and painful. When the roof was at last finished I was utterly exhausted, and as soon as I had eaten and had placed a fresh poultice on my foot I crawled into my bunk. The door was still open, I had no coverings, and the night was cold, but the fire on the hearth warmed the interior of the cabin and I felt little discomfort from the chill; in fact, I slept better and felt warmer than I had for many nights, even though my shirt had been sacrificed to make bandages.
For several days thereafter I busied myself about the cabin, caught trout for my food, and nursed my wounds, and, much to my satisfaction, I found the ankle was growing no worse and that much of the pain had left it. Still, it did not recover as rapidly as I had hoped and I began to fear that it would be a long time before I would be able to use it again, or that it might heal badly and become useless forever. In rummaging about the cabin I found several articles left by the former owners, such as a couple of empty bottles, some old tin cans, and a rusty old steel file.
The bottles proved useful for storing my arnica brew and the cans I used in cooking, but the file seemed of no value. The clothes which I had seen hanging upon the walls were far too rotten to be of any use as clothing—no doubt they were cast aside as worthless by their former owners—but they were better than nothing as coverings at night, and by piecing them together with hemlock roots I managed to form a ludicrous sort of patchwork quilt which was a real comfort.
I had been at the cabin for about a week when I was aroused one night by a strange sound. Some one or something was moving across the floor. At first I was startled. I had been so long accustomed to solitude that the presence of another alarmed me. Then it flashed upon me that perhaps a former occupant of the cabin had returned and had entered, unsuspecting my presence. Overjoyed at the thought and without stopping to consider the consequences, I called out, “Hello!” and rose up in bed.
At the sound of my voice the footsteps ceased, there was a strange guttural reply from near the fireplace, and a queer rattling sound as of some one crumpling paper.
Puzzled, and now rather alarmed, I spoke again, and instantly the grunt was repeated and I heard the sound of shuffling footsteps hurriedly approaching my bed. Terrified, I shrank back, peering into the gloom of the cabin in an endeavor to discern the outlines of my mysterious visitor. The fire had died down, but a few red embers still gleamed upon the hearth and cast a faint glow in the immediate vicinity. At the very edge of this dim light I thought I saw a moving shadow—a great, bulky, shapeless form, crouched low, and stealing toward me. My nerves were on edge, and at the sight of this mysterious, formless, threatening figure I uttered a scream of mortal terror. With a sudden sideways motion the shadowy something stepped within the glow of the fire, and then I broke into a roar of laughter.