We then discovered that his left leg was virtually useless, and
that in general he was in a bad plight. He had been there for eight days
in that condition, crawling round on one knee and his hands to keep a
fire and to cook his food.
"But how did you get hurt?" Addison asked.
"That Alf did it!" Halstead cried; and then, with tears still flowing,
he went on to tell the story--his side of it.
While getting their breakfast on the third morning after they had
reached the camp, they had had a dispute about making their coffee; hard
names had followed, and at last, in high temper, Alfred had sprung up
declaring that he would not camp with Halstead another hour. Grabbing
the gun, he had started off.
"That's my gun! Leave it here! Drop it!" Halstead had shouted angrily
and had run after him.
Down near the bank of the stream, Halstead had overtaken him and had
tried to wrest the gun from him. Alfred had turned, struck him, and then
given him so hard a push that he had fallen over sidewise with his foot
down between two logs. Alfred had run on without even looking back.
The story did not astonish us. For the time being, however, we were
chiefly concerned to find out how badly Halstead was injured, with a
view to getting him home.
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