A few minutes convinced him that none of his bones was broken, although
he afterward declared that he suspected his head had been fractured.
He now looked about for his gun and found it within a short distance,
much scratched by the hard treatment it had received, but without any
real injury.
Throwing the weapon over his shoulder, he started in the direction of
the appointed rendezvous, and, as he did so, observed that it was
already grown dark in the woods. Night had come, and he had quite a long
distance to walk.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE CAMP FIRE.
But Nick Ribsam was full of grit, and, though every step he took caused
him pain, he persevered with that grim resolution that was a part of his
nature from his very birth.
After walking some distance he found the soreness and stiffness leaving
him, and he straightened up with something of his natural vim and
elasticity of spirits.
"There's one thing certain," he added, recalling his encounter with the
buck, "I didn't have any one to help me out of that scrape, except the
One who always helps him that helps himself; but I never wanted a friend
more than then, and, if it hadn't been for that oak, it would have been
the last of Nicholas Ribsam."
"There is another thing I have learned," he added, with that glimmer of
humor which was sure to show itself, "I know considerable more than I
did yesterday; I have a good idea of how it feels when a wounded buck
_raises_ you, and, after this, I won't shoot one of the creatures unless
I'm sure of making a better shot than I did a while ago--hallo!"
Well might he utter the last exclamation, for at that moment he came
upon the dead body of the buck, lying as he had fallen on the earth,
when at last he succumbed to the wound received at the hands of Nick
himself.
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