“Heel, Nixie.”
An indefinitely long time later Charlie put Hans down on the ground in a fairly open place. It had taken only a few minutes of struggle to convince him that he could not carry Hans along the bank of the stream. A man might have been able to carve his way through with a machete — but while Charlie had two machetes he could not swing them and carry Hans as well. After giving that route up, he abandoned one machete by the waterfall, thinking that Hans could find it there some other day. He was tempted to abandon both, for the one on his belt was heavy and got in his way, but he decided that he might have to have it; they had done plenty of chopping in getting here.
So he set out again, this time trying to retrace their steps through the bush, hoping to spot the places they had chopped to help him find his way.
He never — spotted such — a sign; the living green maze swallowed all such puny marks.
After a long time he decided to go back to the familiar waterfall — he would stay there, nurse Hans, filter water for them all, and wait. Surely Mr. Kuppenheimer would eventually think of the waterfall!
So he turned back…and could not find the waterfall. Not even the stream.
He walked through something. He couldn’t see — it, there were branches in his face. Whatever it was it clung to his legs like red-hot wires; he stumbled and almost dropped Hans getting free of it. Then his leg did not stop paining him. The fiery burning dropped off a little but a numbness crept up his right leg.
He was glad indeed to put Hans on the ground at the first fairly open place he came to. He sat down and rubbed his leg, then checked Hans — still breathing, heart still beating…but out like a light.
Nixie sniffed Hans again, then looked up and whined inquiringly. “I can’t help it,” Charlie said to him. “He’s a mess. I’m a mess. You’re a mess, too.”
Nixie barked.
“I will, I will…just as soon as I can move. Don’t hurry me. How would you like to carry him for a while?”
Charlie continued to rub his leg. The pain was going away but the numbness was worse. At last he said to Nixie, “I guess we ought to try it, pal. Wait a second while I look for a compass bug — the way I f~gure it, we came mostly base, so I guess we ought to try to head reverse.” He glanced at his wrist to see what time it was.
His watch had stopped.
But jt couldn’t stop — it was self-winding.
Nevertheless it had. Perhaps he had banged it in the bush, perhaps…no matter, it had stopped. He looked. for Hans’ watch, thinking that its twenty-four-hour face was easier to use as a compass dial anyhow.
But Hans was not wearing his watch, nor was it in any of his pockets. Whether he had left it at the house, along with his polarizer and duffel bag, or whether it had dropped off while Charlie was carrying him, did not matter. They had no watch between them and Charlie did not know what time it was, not even approximately. It seemed to him that he had been carrying Hans, fighting this dreary bush, for a week.
So a compass bug couldn’t tell him anything.
He almost felt defeated at that moment. But he rallied, telling himself that if he went downhill he was bound to find that stream…then he would either find the ford or the waterfall, one or the other. He hauled himself around into position to lift Hans, favoring his right leg.
He need not have bothered; his right leg was not working.
The “pins and needles” in it were almost unbearable, as if he had sat much too long in a cramped position. But they would not go away as they always had in the past; nothing he could do would make that leg obey his orders. — He lowered his head against Hans and bawled.
He became aware that Nixie was licking his face and whining. He stopped his useless blubbering and raised his head. “It’s all right, fellow. Don’t you worry.”