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Tue Nov 01, 2011 5:16 pm

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William Thomas Moore had one of those days. Started badly, then proceeded to storm downhill faster than an avalanche. First was the rise of twenty miles from the city to get food for the week. Of course I had to go on foot because the "horse was tired." Then came the incident of the explosion coffee, and now the fingers, broken and poured chile.

He stumbled. I was not sure what he stumbled, he just knew it had fired. As a result of the fall, William was finished with his left hand caught between the counter and the pot. He could not remember the pain very well, but she remembered having seen the boat accident on the floor almost in slow motion. The crack of compacted soil to trigger snapped to reality. William let out a sigh.

William launched a series of curses. The fact that three fingers of his left hand were broken did not matter. The fact that two days of chile Spiller on the ground was disturbed a little. She let out a long sigh. John was not going to be happy about this.

Ablehad John Parker was in the makeshift stall horse feed. I was proud to know that he was in charge of their own small mining operation. He never said anything, but it was obvious he was the boss. The way they walked, talked, and even dresses screamed to the world covered in snow.

William heavily outside the cabin (sprinkled with chile) holding his left hand on the right. He went to the river with a grim look on his face. He crouched on the bank of the river and punched the fans in cold water.

A cry of rage burst from the cabin, which William plumb bob. John must have found the disaster that was lunch. William stood up with a grunt. This whole situation smelled trouble.

William ran to the cabin, hoping to get his ear biting by John to spill the chile. The reality of what happened was far more brutal than I could have imagined. When the room broke into big central surprised to find that apparently empty. And then, a loud cry, a sickening thunk. William's vision was becoming red and black around the edges. The last thing he saw was John, standing over him holding the rifle as a bat.

Greed can make a man do stupid things. John was looking at his companion, apparently dead. He was tempted to shoot William. The gold nugget was found would be a small fortune for a man, but for two that was next to nothing.Slowly raised his gun and pointed it at the top friends. His finger rested on the trigger. He lowered the gun. "No," he muttered, "just take what you can and go." John met no use, including all food and fire wood. He put the piece of gold in his jacket. Then he went south, to his escape.

After what seemed ages William began to stir. Blearily opened one eye and then the other. His vision was still blurred. And he had a headache. What had happened to him? If he had beaten his head against the door frame? No, there was a lump in the back of his skull. Not the front. As I pondered this comes again.

A voice came from the dark cloudy.

"William? William, you have to wake up now."

"Mom?" Muttered William. His words were to speak.

"Yes, Will, it's me. Now you have to wake up!"

He sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings. He was in the large central room of the cabin. Only, as usual. But something seemed wrong. Slowly he stood up, and then promptly vomited. He stumbled to the closet where food is stored normally. Empty, not a crumb in sight. This does not look good.

He staggered out. The fresh mountain air cleared his head. William found that his feet carried him to the barn. Empty, like the closet. Almost at once he realized he was hungry. He looked around the barn. Rope, I needed a rope. And a knife. With a mischievous smile took what he needed and launched.

William wandered through the jungle, marking his way into the trees with his knife. He walked up to the holes through berry bushes. He put the rope like a lasso on one hole then went into hiding and wait. And so, William waited, and waited, and waited. And then there was a bloodcurdling scream. The trap had worked.

It was just a young rabbit, skinny, but the flesh is flesh. William grabbed the rope, the rabbit attached, and the knife, and meandered home. When you get threw the rabbit into the closet, and then went to collect firewood. There were none. "That bastard thought of everything." He thought to himself.

William went out and gathered firewood and some large logs. The wood is stored in the cabin and then went to cut wood. He got the first record almost completely cut into manageable sizes, when a loud noise interrupted his thoughts. It was a bear. A grizzly bear. He dropped the ax in a state of shock. It landed on the square foot.

Williams's vision was becoming red at the edges again. He tried to get a better view of your foot, but found himself looking at the bear, or better said, the bears. She was a mother with her cubs. William's first thought was food, but their survival instincts were screaming louder than your stomach. He grabbed the ax and the records of just as many as he could carry and ran to the cabin.

Once inside William grabbed the largest records and used it to barricade the door. He looked at his injured foot and fell from sight. He was bleeding profusely and four of the toes were missing. After thinking it took what was left of his sock and bandaged the wound, he went to work preparing the rabbit and start a fire.

The rabbit was roasted on the fire, drying his skin beside him. William was huddled by the door waiting to see if the bear was coming after him. Her foot was bleeding, his head was throbbing, his mind was racing. I had done with him? Why do it? Fuzzy memories filled his mind. It was a weapon in question. And where was John?

As William turned the rabbit reflecting on the events of the last day, or is it two? He sighed and shook his head. And then he realized. Fuzzy memory right after being beaten. John, standing beside him, holding the rifle. That act murderer! It was he who took the wood food and fire! It was he who had beaten William! It was he who stole the horse and wagon. "That greedy bastard!" William roared louder than the bear. He was going to kill John.

The rabbit was pleasantly hot over the fire, William, on the other hand was furious. I could not believe that his friend had betrayed him. He had tried to assassinate him.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the south-central Alberta, John A. Parker was walking along with dozens of farmers and traders on their way to the city. His clothes were torn and was thin. The guilt of trying to kill someone was killing him inside. Little is known of hundreds of miles from their intended victim had realized what he had done.

William was sitting eating. The bear family was lost, left him alone. He should come out to cut more wood, but what happened the last time I tried to let him watch what might happen. That was quickly go dark was another factor in his decision. He finished his meal he got under the blanket with a thickness that remained in the cabin.

The next morning William regretted his decision to get some sleep and not do any work. A snowstorm rolled overnight and still snowing heavily. He tried the door and was not surprised to find if stuck. There were a lot of snow. He tried the window, are also blocked. William was trapped inside the cab.

William was making a mental list of what I had and needed. Wood for food, shelter, and the fire that was, the water needed. But food does not last long. His shelter was good, as long as the roof did not collapse. As for the wood, so there was always the furniture. But the water, which could present a problem.

The door handle was held in the open position by a rope. William stood on the other end of the cabin, with a record as a battering ram. He seemed to concentrate. He accused the door, meeting starts slightly ahead of him. He banged the door with a swipe. No one moved. Again and again he tried, each time with the same result. After an hour of this, sat down, exhausted. He was successful only at the door dings.

It snowed more during the night. William was sitting in what was becoming almost a tomb. I needed to leave. He grabbed the ax and walked out the door. There was a mad glint in his eyes. He started swinging wildly. The door of the wine, but not 'mind, he was swinging. Drop the ax on the door until he could not `t move my arms. They had dug a foot on the ice and snow that was blocking the door.

William slumped against the door frame. Dehydration was taking control. Weakly he reached out and grabbed a piece of ice and put it in his mouth. The sensation of cold water running down his throat seemed unknown. He crawled into what your point was melancholy and devoured the rest of the rabbit. Then he fainted on the floor.

When William woke up it felt like a different person. He was ... stronger, healthier, than it had the previous day. Once again, grabbed the ax and walked out the door. Began cutting the ice. Swing after swing. The ice was thinning. And then the light of day! William stood swaying in the ice until there was a hole big enough for him to pass through.

Once out of William made a bee line for the river. Fortunately, there `t freeze during the storm. He stepped to the edge, which collapsed under his weight. There was a sharp pain in his leg broken. He was trapped. He looked up to see what had slipped into. It looked like a shiny metal of some sort. He looked closer. Gold! He had struck gold! But he could not reach it. Once again, he was trapped

That night it rained. It was a nice rain, heat that melted the last of the snow and ice. The rain ran down to the river, dragging the dirt with it, causing a landslide that covered minor gold and pushed William in the river, in effect, that led to his watery fate.

Four months later, John A. Parker returns to find the empty cabin. It searches the area around the cabin even began through the mud and the grass of the riverbank. No sign of William. Bringing together all remaining supplies usable and leaves, taking his friend went to seek a better life.



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