CRIPPLED
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 I _did_ succeed 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.