This page has been validated.
ATTACKED IN THE CANYON.
95

I arose to my feet to make a disheartening discovery. My left ankle was badly wrenched and much swollen, and to walk on it was out of the question. Here was a new difficulty, and I must confess that I could scarcely hold back the tears as I felt my helplessness. Perhaps this may seem childish to some of my readers, but they must remember that it is no fun to be cast away in a savage land, away from your friends, and in the condition in which I found myself.

Not without considerable pain and exertion, I dragged myself to a place of shelter beneath the overhanging rocks of the canyon. Here it was dry, and the winds had swept in a quantity of dried leaves which made a fairly comfortable couch. The exertion necessary to reach this place caused me to swoon.

When I was again myself, it was daylight, but still raining—a fine drizzle that was little more than a mist. Looking at my ankle I saw that the swelling had gone down a bit, and I presently found that I could stand upon it, although the operation was far from a pleasure. The rain had collected in a hollow close at hand, and here I got a drink and bathed my bruised head and lower extremity. I might have eaten some light food, but nothing was at hand, excepting some berries which were strange to me, and which I did not dare to touch for fear they might prove poisonous.