The wall ran away for miles, and the Iroquois could not
reach him by any easier path. He tried to make out figures on
the brink looking down at him, but it was too far away, and he
saw only a black line.
He tightened the loose shoe and struck out across the lake. He
was far away from "The Alcove," and he did not intend to go
there, lest the Iroquois, by chance, come upon his trail and
follow it to the refuge. But as it was no more than two miles
across the lake at that point, and the Iroquois would have to
make a great curve to reach the other side, he felt perfectly
safe. He walked slowly across, conscious all the time of an
increasing pain in his left ankle, which must now be badly
swollen, and he did not stop until he penetrated some distance
among low bills. Here, under an overhanging cliff with thick
bushes in front, he found a partial shelter, which he cleared
out yet further. Then with infinite patience he built a fire
with splinters that he cut from dead boughs, hung his blanket in
front of it on two sticks that the flame might not be seen, took
off his snowshoes, leggins, and socks, and bared his ankles.
Both were swollen, but the left much more badly than the other.
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