For a moment he struggled with the odds and ends
of memory, then he recalled the fight at the tavern, the sudden
murderous attack, the fierce blows Slosson had dealt him, the
knife thrust which had ended the struggle. Therefore, the
bandages that now swathed his head and shoulders; therefore, the
need that he should be up and doing--for where was Hannibal?
He sought to lift himself on his elbow, but the effort sent
shafts of pain through him; his head seemed of vast size and
endowed with a weight he could not support. He sank back
groaning, and closed his eyes. After a little interval he opened
them again and stared about him. There was the breath of dawn in
the air; he heard a rooster crow, and the contented grunting of a
pig close at hand. He was resting under a rude shelter of poles
and bark. Presently he became aware of a slow gliding movement,
and the silvery ripple of water. Clearly he was no longer at the
tavern, and clearly some one had taken the trouble to bandage his
hurts.
At length his eyes rolling from side to side focused themselves
on a low opening near the foot of his shakedown bed. Beyond this
opening, and at some little distance, he saw a sunbonneted woman
of a plump and comfortable presence. She was leaning against a
tub which rested on a rude bench. At her back was another bark
shanty similar to the one that sheltered himself, while on either
hand a shoreless expanse of water danced and sparkled under the
rays of the newly risen sun.
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