DETERMINED STRUGGLE. 131 



rolled on the ground together I remembered my 

 butcher-knife which hung in my belt. If I could only 

 get at it there was yet time to turn the tide of battle. 

 I made several efforts for this purpose, but I was 

 doubled up so that my hand could not reach it. At 

 length I seized it, and the broad, flat, long blade was 

 never drawn with greater pleasure. The touch of the 

 heft as I laid my hand upon it was more welcome 

 than the shake of a long-lost chum's hand ; and it 

 stood a friend to me, for it saved my life. The better 

 to free my arm for use, I made a determined struggle. 

 The foe bit deeper into my poor shoulder, at the 

 same time drawing his paw across my face, but the 

 effort did my work, and I buried the knife to the 

 handle in the stomach of the savage. Again and 

 again I repeated the blows, but human nature could 

 stand no more, and I fainted. 



' The sun was gilding with his last rays the scarlet 

 leaves of the maple when I awoke, as if from a fearful 

 dream. I felt stiff and sore, and the blood still 

 trickled from my shoulder. Dead as a stone, lying 

 partially on me, was the cause of my present helpless 

 condition. I lay there all that night, and it was cold, 

 bitter cold. Day at length broke, but what was the 

 value of its return without human aid ? I was lost ; 

 left to die a far worse death than the one I had 

 escaped. Again and again I made efforts to rise, 

 but I was paralysed. I attempted then to scream, 

 when nothing but a guttural rattle proceeded from 

 my parched throat. I thought my last day was come, 



