I heard a whistle from the woods and looked up in time to see Tim appearing. In addition to the paddle, he carried two half-grown gray partridges. He was grinning.

“I didn’t have any luck hitting them with rocks,” he said. “But once I found the paddle, it was easy to hit them in the neck with the blade. They didn’t seem to have any fear of people this far in the woods.”

“How did you get on the other side of the creek?” I asked. “Father didn’t want us to go over there.”

“I found a shallow place and waded across. From the way the water ran, it seemed that at least one of the paddles ought to have been there—and it was.”

He bent over and sniffed at the pot. “Smells good,” he said. “What is it?”

“Turtle and beans,” I said, deciding not to mention the snails.

“Turtle’s good to eat. Did Dad shoot it?”

“If he had,” I said, “you’d have heard the shot. I caught it by the creek.”

“Well, how about that?”

When he woke, my father had Tim hang the birds from a tree branch to keep ants and small animals away from them. “We’ll have a partridge breakfast,” he said. “And then we’ll make an early start.”

We were eating beans from our tin plates. They were slightly underdone but good nevertheless. The turtle tasted just like any other meat, and if I bit into any of the snails, I did not allow myself to think of it.

“Are you well enough to travel?” I asked, worried.

“Both of you listen to me,” said my father. “A broken leg’s not something you can fix in the woods. We’ve got to find a road. Our best bet is still to float downstream, but this time we’ve got to watch out for rapids. We’ll cut long poles for both of you. When you are in the woods, you can only afford to make one mistake, and we’ve already made ours. Now we’re at the mercy of the weather. And we won’t be able to find food. We must get out as soon as humanly possible.”

“I looked for the map,” I said, “but couldn’t find it.”

“It was in my pack,” my father said. “Don’t worry, we won’t get lost. We’ve got to keep our heads and think out each step before we take it. We’ll be all right. Both of you are good in the woods, and that’s a blessing now. We must avoid being separated, but in case that should happen, remember, just keep going downstream. Sooner or later this creek will run into the Cold River, and I know several trapper’s camps there and at least two trails cutting the river.”

“How will you be able to paddle?” I said.

“We’ll improvise a back rest,” he said. “I’ll stretch my legs out and manage all right.”