Don thanked her for her kindness as he was leaving the house, and soon he was hurrying on his way toward Boston. From Glen Drake he had learned many of the secrets of woodcraft and had little trouble in making his way through the thickets in the vicinity of Fresh Pond. But mishaps will sometimes overtake the best of woodsmen. As Don was descending a slope on the western side of the pond he stepped on a loose stone, which turned under his weight and sent him crashing headlong to the bottom. He lay there with teeth set and both hands clenched; a sharp pain was throbbing and pounding in his right ankle. Little drops of perspiration stood out like beads on his forehead. For several minutes he lay there; then as the pain decreased in violence he sat up. But later when he rose he found that he dared not put any weight at all on his right foot. Here was a predicament! There was not a house in sight; he was a long way from the nearest road; and night was coming on. He tried to climb the slope down which he had slid, but the effort only sent sharp pains shooting up his leg. Even when he crawled for only a dozen yards or so on his hands and knees the pain would force him to stop; it seemed that he could not move without giving the ankle a painful wrench. Several times he shouted for help, but he had little hope that anybody would be in that vicinity to hear him. So at last he dragged himself to a little cove that was overgrown with birches and willows; there he loosened his shoe and rubbed his swollen ankle. “Well,” he said to himself, “I’ve got to stay here all night, and I haven’t a thing except my knife and----” He interrupted himself with an exclamation; his knife was not in his pocket. Then he remembered that he had left it at his Cousin Deborah’s. The missing knife made his situation even more desperate than he had supposed it was. With a knife he might have fashioned a bow such as he had once seen Glen Drake use for lighting a fire; as it was, he should have to keep warm as best he could. The first thing he did was to choose a convenient hollow that was protected at the back by the hill and on the sides by birches and the willows. Then, breaking off a quantity of branches, he fashioned a rude but effective windbreak for the front. By the time he had finished doing that work it was twilight, and a cool wind was blowing across the pond. Don opened the package of food that the good lady at the farmhouse had given him. There were bread and cheese and three small ginger cakes; and when he had eaten half the food and put the rest by till morning he felt a good deal better. Pulling his coat up round his neck, he snuggled down on the light branches with which he had carpeted the floor of his bower and prepared to wait for morning. All light had faded from the sky, and the wind was rising steadily. Loose twigs all round him tapped incessantly against one another in tune with the wind. Don shivered and forgot the dull pain in his ankle.