It was getting dark now. The sun was setting in glorious red and gold. I noticed this, noticed the salmon rolling like porpoises around me, and thought of William with his rod.
Strangest of all, for I had not noticed her before, little Cream was still struggling for dear life not a hundred yards below me; sometimes sinking, sometimes reappearing, but on her way to join her master, as surely as I thought that I was.
'In my distress, the predominant thought was the loneliness of my fate, the loneliness of my body after death. There was not a living thing to see me die.
'For the first time I felt, not fear, but loss of hope. I could only beat the water with feeble and futile splashes. I was completely at its mercy. And - as we all then do - I prayed - prayed for strength, prayed that I might be spared.
But my strength was gone. My legs dropped powerless in the water. I could but just keep my nose or mouth above it. My legs sank, and my feet - touched bottom.
'In an instant, as if from an electric shock, a flush of energy suffused my brain and limbs. I stood upright in an almost tranquil pool. An eddy had lodged me on a sandbank.
Between it and the land was scarcely twenty yards. Through this gap the stream ran strong as ever. I did not want to rest; I did not pause to think. 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.
My next object was to communicate with Samson. By putting both hands to my mouth and shouting with all my force I made him hear. I could see him get up and come to the water's edge; though he could not see me, his stentorian voice reached me plainly. His first words were:
'"Is that you, William? Coke is drowned."
'I corrected him, and thus replied:
'"Do you remember a bend near some willows, where you wanted to cross yesterday?"
'"Yes."
'"About two hours higher up the river?"
'"I remember."
'"Would you know the place again?"
'"Yes."
'"Are you sure?
'"Yes, yes."
'"You will see me by daylight in the morning. When I start, you will take my mare, my clothes, and some food; make for that place and wait till I come. I will cross there."
'"All right."
'"Keep me in sight as long as you can. Don't forget the food."
'It will be gathered from my words that definite instructions were deemed necessary; and the inference - at least it was mine - will follow, that if a mistake were possible Samson would avail himself of it. The night was before me. The river had yet to be crossed. But, strange as it now seems to me, I had no misgivings! My heart never failed me. My prayer had been heard. I had been saved. How, I knew not.
But this I knew, my trust was complete. I record this as a curious psychological occurrence; for it supported me with unfailing energy through the severe trial which I had yet to undergo.'
