I left my
mule and commenced to reconnoitre along the side, when I came to what
had been a bridge, but which was partly washed away, leaving a gap of
about four feet in the middle, as far as I could judge in the uncertain
light, and over which it was impossible for a mule to go. Leaving my
mule, I made a good jump, and, fortunately, got over all right, but,
after all, I did not know in the least where I was, and, before
attempting to return to my animal, I started to go forward in the hope
of at least striking some sheltered spot where I might pass the night.
Meantime, however, I heard a crash, and, as it turned out, away had gone
the remainder of the bridge, leaving me on one side, and now completely
isolated from my mule and saddle-bags. There was no use fretting, so I
continued moving on--it was now dark--feeling my way, and keeping very
carefully away from the river. I had not proceeded very far before my
progress was all too suddenly arrested. I did not until the next morning
know what actually did take place, but the facts are as follows: In
groping my way along I had actually been walking on the very edge of a
sort of precipice, and apparently had simply stepped over the side. At
any rate, I rolled to the bottom, which, luckily for me, was only about
fifteen feet; but it was quite a bump, and I wondered where I had
actually landed.
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