He studied the little mare a moment.

"Trixy! Get up!" he commanded suspiciously.

She lifted her head higher, made a desperate effort to rise, sank
back, and whinnied piteously.

"So! Yours too, eh! Nice fix, Trixy!"

He surveyed the scene. They were in a bright green meadow about two
hundred yards in width and perhaps half a mile in length. Across the
meadow from where he lay the black forest mounted toward the sky. At
one end the vale narrowed into a mere ravine, which vanished upward in
deep woods; at the other it widened to the forest, and by the way the
pine-masses came down to this spot from both sides he knew that there
the trail ran down the mountain toward the Black Lake country. The
vale was very still under the bright blue sky; there was just a murmur
in the forest; and no sound of birds came to his ears.

"A beautiful site--for a graveyard!" he said aloud, and smiled.

The blood still trickled into his eyes, and annoyed him greatly. It
must be stopped, or he could do nothing that needed to be done. In an
inside pocket of his coat he found a handkerchief, which he bound
around his head, after he had wiped his face once more. The pain in
his head had subsided to a dull throbbing, which did not matter.
But--

"God! I'm thirsty!" he muttered.

He looked again across the meadow. The thread of water that he had
seen from the top of the cliff was a considerable brook that ran
silently through about the middle of the green. He measured the
distance,--fifty or sixty yards, maybe seventy, or more. He could do
it, by dragging himself along the ground, he thought. But was it worth
the effort, and the pain? It would hurt him like the devil--that
broken leg. Never did like pain; would probably howl; and that would
not be nice, even with no creature but Trixy to hear him. No; he would
stay where he was. Then suddenly he thought of Pete's whisky, and
thrust his hand into his pocket, only to encounter fragments of
glass.

"That's a lesson," he thought grimly. "Never carry whisky in glass
bottles."

And now his roving eyes lighted once more on Trixy. No good letting
her suffer. He would send her away first. On the thought, his hand
went back to the holster at his hip; and stayed there, while his
heart stood still, and a chill went over him, and thought ceased. The
holster was empty.

After a while he was able to think about it. One of two things would
happen to him. There were, very probably, mountain lions in