A moan of pain escaped him, and he sat down suddenly, his hand twitching to his right ankle. Broken? He moved the foot carefully, and, although the effort was agony, he found that it was just a little sprained. Well, he’d have to take it easy. A sprain was bad while it lasted, but it would mend itself. There was no need of setting it, like a fracture. Again he arose, gently this time, and it was a relief to discover that by favoring the injured ankle he could move about slowly. Without knowing exactly where he was going, except that it was warmer in the sun, he limped forward. The liquid murmur he had heard before grew louder as he moved toward it, and presently he came in sight of a river. It recalled nothing to him beyond the fact that he was very thirsty, and, making his way to the bank, he threw himself face downward and drank. Refreshed, he arose once more and looked about him. The opposite side of the stream was about four hundred yards away, with no sign of help there. Turning to the left, he limped along the shore, and found that the river broadened greatly just below him. Following the shore line he made another discovery--that he was on an island! As his eye followed the rim of land he saw that it swept about in a half circle, the other half of the ring being behind him. Again he put his hand to his head, this time in wondering amazement. An island! How did he get here? The river! Undoubtedly that was the cause of his saturated clothing. But why had he gone in the water with his clothes on? Desperately he tried to concentrate, to remember. He closed his eyes and lashed his memory cruelly. Think! Think! A black shape in front. Darkness. A flash of fire, blinding in its intensity. His fingers reaching out for that black shape, seeking to cling to it, to draw him up. Water roaring in his ears. The rock! Now it was coming. He must not break the thread. He must follow it to the end. The rock. A cry, in some well-remembered voice, calling to him to “hang on.” His arms straining to retain their hold. Then oblivion. But what had gone before? Had he been in a boat and fallen overboard? That was it! The canoe! Teddy! Pop! Now memory came to him in a flood, sweeping over him, leaving him weak and gasping for breath. He recalled the launching of the craft in the night and the effort to catch the rustlers they had heard planning to steal their cattle. Then the current had seized them and his paddle had broken. Then the rock, and after that--nothing. Now this--the island, and he, wet and shivering, with his head cut and his ankle sprained, limping about aimlessly!