CHAPTER IV An injured knee—The "Laird"—Kit destroyed by fire—Hunting round Strathclair—Trapping—“Batching.” I may here record a little experience I had in Calgary, which, while it turned out all right in the end, caused me considerable excitement at the time. I and George Berney were batching at the out-ranch on Pine Creek, getting out black poplar posts for a fence we were building at the home ranch. We used to take it in turns every couple of weeks to go into town with the wagon for the mail and provisions, taking in a load of posts at the same time. On one of these occasions, when it was George’s turn to go, he told me he was going to stay in town for a couple of days to go to some entertainment or other that was coming on. He left at dawn, and I took my broad-axe and went out to square up some logs we were dressing for a grain-house we were going to build. After I had been working some little time my axe glanced off a small knot, and the heel of the blade went into the hollow inside the left knee, just below the knee-cap. I must mention that I am a left-handed chopper—that is, I hold the butt of the axe-handle in my left hand, and so work on the left side of the log I am standing over. The cut was not very serious, though for a moment it numbed my leg. However, I went over to the house and bound it up, and stopped my chopping for the time being. In a couple of hours my leg had swollen to twice its normal size and throbbed furiously, and by noon I could not walk without considerable trouble. By afternoon I was considerably worried, being young and inexperienced at the time, as I could not expect George back till about the evening of the fourth day, and my nearest neighbours were two miles away; and by night I had it all figured out that I was due to cash in my checks. That night and the next morning I used my gun to try and attract attention, but no one heard me. But about four o’clock in the afternoon I heard a wagon coming up our trail, and soon was delighted to recognise our own horses, and George driving. Some matter of importance in connection with the sale of some horses had turned up, and his father had bundled him back to attend to it. The team was too tired (having done seventy-six miles, half of the way loaded, in two days) to make the return trip that night. I would not wait till morning; and as we had no other driving team, George caught my horse and saddled him, and, by dint of wrapping and rolling my leg up in plenty of cloth and slipping on my leather “chapps,” I made the thirty-eight miles into town to Dr. George, who soon had me up and around again.