There was a strange faint sensation, and my
whole energy seemed centered in the two ideas--to strike and to
keep my knees up. I knew that I was getting faint, but I was dimly
conscious that his efforts, too, were relaxing. His weight on me
seemed to increase enormously, and the last idea that flashed across
me was that it was a drawn fight.
"The next idea of which I was conscious was that I was being
carried. I seemed to be swinging about, and I thought I was at sea.
Then there was a little jolt and a sense of pain. 'A collision,'
I muttered, and opened my eyes. Beyond the fact that I seemed in
a yellow world--a bright orange yellow--my eyes did not help
me, and I lay vaguely wondering about it all, till the rocking
ceased. There was another bump, and then the yellow world seemed to
come to an end; and as the daylight streamed in upon me I fainted
again. This time, when I awoke to consciousness, things were clearer.
I was stretched by a little stream. A native woman was sprinkling
my face and washing the blood from my wounds; while another, who had
with my own knife cut off my coat and shirt, was tearing the latter
into strips to bandage my wounds. The yellow world was explained.
I was lying on the yellow robe of one of the women. They had tied
the ends together, placed a long stick through them, and carried
me in the bag-like hammock.
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