After our first conversation we did not meet again for three years,
and then by the merest accident. I had been out for a whole afternoon,
hunting an elderly goat that had grown childish and irresponsible. He
had wandered away and for several days I had been unable to find him. So
I sought for him till darkness found me several miles from my cabin. I
realized at once that I must hurry back, or lose my way and spend the
night in the mountains. The darkness became more rapidly obvious. My way
became more and more uncertain.
Finally I fell down an old prospect shaft. I then resolved to remain
where I was until I could decide what was best to be done. If I had
known that the prospect shaft was there, I would have gone another way.
There was another way that I could have gone, but it did not occur to me
until too late.
I hated to spend the next few weeks in the shaft, for I had not locked
up my cabin when I left, and I feared that some one might get in while I
was absent and play on the piano. I had also set a batch of bread and
two hens that morning, and all of these would be in sad knead of me
before I could get my business into such shape that I could return.
I could not tell accurately how long I had been in the shaft, for I had
no matches by which to see my watch. I also had no watch.
All at once, some one fell down the shaft. I knew it was a woman,
because she did not swear when she landed at the bottom. Still, this
could be accounted for in another way. She was unconscious when I picked
her up.
I did not know what to do. I was perfectly beside myself, and so was
she. I had read in novels that when a woman became unconscious people
generally chafed her hands, but I did not know whether I ought to chafe
the hands of a person to whom I had never been introduced.
I could have administered alcoholic stimulants to her, but I had
neglected to provide myself with them when I fell down the shaft. This
should be a warning to people who habitually go around the country
without alcoholic stimulants.
Finally she breathed a long sigh and murmured, "Where am I?" I told her
that I did not know, but wherever it might be, we were safe, and that
whatever she might say to me, I would promise her, should go no farther.
Then there was a long pause.
To encourage further conversation I asked her if she did not think
we had been having a rather backward spring. She said we had, but she
prophesied a long, open fall.
Then there was another pause, after which I offered her a seat on an old
red empty powder can. Still, she seemed shy and reserved. I would make a
remark to which she would reply briefly, and then there would be a pause
of a little over an hour. Still it seemed longer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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