Mists of Dawn (45 page)

Tlaxcan’s
shoulder
was
bleeding
again,
but
that couldn’t
be
helped.
A
little
bleeding
wouldn’t
hurt, probably,
and
would
even
assist
in
cleaning
the
wound. Mark
carefully
washed
it
out
with
the
ice-cold
water, which
stopped
the
bleeding
in
short
order,
as
the
veins and
muscles
contracted
with
the
cold,
permitting
the blood
to
coagulate.
He
took
out
his
handkerchief, which
was
still
clean,
and
folded
it
into
a
bandage which
he
placed
over
the
wounded
shoulder.
Then
he tore
a
long
strip
from
his
shirttail,
and
after
some
difficulty,
tied
the
bandage
in
place.

It
was
now
early
afternoon,
and
Mark
judged
that it
would
be
unwise
to
try
to
move
farther
that
day.
He spent
the
afternoon
in
rigging
a
lean-to
shelter
and building
a
fire,
and
then
sat
down
by
Tlaxcan’s
side. Tlaxcan
had
not
moved,
but
now
his
color
was
better and
most
of
the
tenseness
had
gone
out
of
his
face.
He dug
into
his
skin
pouch
with
his
good
arm,
took
something
out,
and
handed
it
to
Mark.

For
a
moment,
Mark
did
not
understand
what
the thing
was.
It
was
one
of
those
common,
ordinary
things that
we
become
so
used
to
seeing
in
one
form
that
we do
not
recognize
the
same
article
when
it
is
made
out of
something
else.
It
was
a
length
of
some
sort
of
organic
material,
about
six
feet
long,
with
a
curved
bit of
bone
or
ivory
attached
to
the
end.

Mark
hesitated,
puzzled.
Tlaxcan
pointed
to
the
gurgling
waters
of
the
little
river,
and
then
Mark
got
it. The
thing
was
a
fishing
line!
He
hadn’t
thought
of
fish before,
but
the
streams
must
be
full
of
them.
He
smiled. Fishing
was
something
that
he
was
an
expert
in,
and it
was
nice
to
know
that
there
was
at
least
one
thing
he could
do
as
well
as
a
savage
who
had
had
the
ill
luck to
be
born
many
thousands
of
years
before
the
blessings
of
civilization.

Mark
examined
the
fishhook
and
decided
that
it
was made
of
ivory.
It
was
excellently
constructed,
sharp and
with
a
definite
barb,
and
it
was
fastened
to
the
line by
tying
the
line
through
a
hole
punched
in
the
ivory, in
the
fashion
of
modern
fishhooks.
Mark
looked
at
the soft
river
earth
and
considered
digging
for
worms,
but changed
his
mind
and
caught
a
grasshopper
instead. He
put
the
grasshopper
on
the
ivory
hook
and
wandered
down
the
riverbank
until
he
came
to
a
beautiful dark
pool
behind
a
large
rock
that
blocked
the
current. The
pool
was
clear
and
cold
and
deep,
and
it
had
fish
written
all
over
it
in
letters
that
fishermen
of
any
age could
read
without
difficulty.