In I Dashed; And A Single
Spurt Carried Me To The Shore.
I fell on my knees, and with
a grateful heart poured out gratitude for my deliverance.
. . . . . . .
'I was on the wrong side, the side from which we started.
The river was yet to cross. I had not tasted food since our
early meal. How long I had been swimming I know not, but it
was dark now, starlight at least. The nights were bitterly
cold, and my only clothing a wet flannel shirt. And oh! the
craving for companionship, someone to talk to - even Samson.
This was a stronger need than warmth, or food, or clothing;
so strong that it impelled me to try again.
'The poor sandy soil grew nothing but briars and small
cactuses. In the dark I kept treading on the little prickly
plants, but I hurried on till I came in sight of Samson's
fire. I could see his huge form as it intercepted the
comfortable blaze. I pictured him making his tea, broiling
some of William's trout, and spreading his things before the
fire to dry. I could see the animals moving around the glow.
It was my home. How I yearned for it! How should I reach
it, if ever? In this frame of mind the attempt was
irresistible. I started as near as I could from opposite the
two islands. As on horseback, I got pretty easily to the
first island. Beyond this I was taken off my feet by the
stream; and only with difficulty did I once more regain the
land.
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