As he bad
feared, it had swollen badly during the night, and he could not
walk.
In this emergency Henry displayed no petulance, no striving
against unchangeable circumstance. He drew up more wood, which
he had stacked against the cliff, and put it on the coals. He
hung up the blanket once more in order that it might hide the
fire, stretched out his lame leg, and calmly made a breakfast off
the last of his venison. He knew be was in a plight that
might appall the bravest, but be kept himself in hand. It was
likely that the Iroquois thought him dead, crushed into a
shapeless mass by his frightful slide of fifteen hundred feet,
and he had little fear of them, but to be unable to walk and
alone in an icy wilderness without food was sufficient in itself.
He calculated that it was at least a dozen miles to "The Alcove,"
and the chances were a hundred to one against any of his comrades
wandering his way. He looked once more at his swollen left
ankle, and he made a close calculation. It would be three days,
more likely four, before he could walk upon it. Could he endure
hunger that long? He could. He would! Crouched in his nest
with his back to the cliff, he had defense against any enemy in
his rifle and pistol.
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