Lost on a Mountain in Maine by Donn Fendler Read Free Book Online

prayers. I prayed hard, too, and I felt that God wanted me to get out—but He wanted me to do it on my own legs. I prayed and cried and hollered for food but nothing happened, so I figured food wasn’t so important, after all. I’d find some more strawberries and they would be enough. After a while, the tote road went up on a higher level and I did find berries in a little open space—a few—and I spent a long time picking and eating them.
    After I had eaten all I could find, I went on for a long way. There were high trees overhead most of the time. I was down on my stomach getting a drink from the stream when I heard a low hum. I listened. It sounded to me like an airplane, but Christmas, no airplane would fly over that timber. What for ? The humming grew into a roar. I tried to find an open spot. Maybe, if I could see that plane, the pilot could see me . I ran and ran. I stumbled on the logs laid across the road and fell. Then I went lame and could only hop along on one foot.
    Pretty soon I knew I couldn’t find any place where I could see that plane, so I stopped hopping and listened. That plane just zoomed right over my head and died away across the trees. I knew then that Dad was looking for me. Things must be pretty bad when they had to get planes. I sat down beside a tree and cried.
    I must be lost for sure, when even a plane couldn’t find me. Maybe it was no use to go on. Maybe there wasn’t any camp for miles and miles. Maybe that telephone wire didn’t go any place, after all. Maybe I was following it the wrong way, to another abandoned camp. After I’d cried a while, I knelt down and prayed. I wanted the plane to come back. I wanted to hear the noise of its motors—but it didn’t come back. I got up and went on,still a little lame. Now and then I could see the sky. Clouds were piling up and I felt it was going to storm.
    I picked up the blanket. It was awfully heavy. It made me stagger. One end slipped down and I stepped on it and it tripped me up. I fell and hurt myself. I left the blanket where it dropped and went on. I had to find a camp that day—I had to find it. I had to find it. I knew I had to find it because my legs were stiffening up. I walked on like a man on two wooden legs, just one leg out and then the other, one leg and then the other. 21 Something was happening in my head—something terrible. I was falling from somewhere into a black pit, between jagged rocks, with millions and millions of blue streaks going past me like shooting stars. I was trying to call someone but couldn’t make a sound—just falling and falling.
    The next thing I knew I woke up and it was getting dark.
    I was sitting on a rock looking at my feet. They didn’t seem to belong to me at first. They were the feet of someone else. The toenails were all broken and bleeding and there were thorns in the middle of the soles. I cried a little as I tried to get out those thorns. They were in deep and broken off. I wondered why they didn’t hurt more, but when I felt my toes, I knew—those toes were hard and stiff and had scarcely any feeling in them. The part next to the big toe was like leather. I tried to pinch it, but couldn’t feel anything.
    My head ached and I didn’t want to move, but night was falling and I had to go on, at least as far as some big tree. I got to my feet. Was that hard! I could scarcely bend my knees, and my head was so dizzy, I staggered. I had to go across an open space to the stream, and as I went along, I saw a big bear, just ahead of me. Christmas, he was big—big as a house, I thought—but I wasn’t a bit scared—not a single bit. I was glad to see him.
    When he got nearer, I knew he didn’t see me, so I crouched down a little behind some bushes—but kept my head up so that I could watch him . I didn’t want him to run right into me. He ate berries as he went along. He’d swing his head and nip