Adventures of Dusty Sourdough

Cautiously, he crawled in the opening, and instantly, he could see nothing. Fumbling in his possible bag he found a lucifer and struck it on the rocky ceiling above his head .... without warning he heard a blood curdling roar, felt a sharp pain start at his head and go all the way down his left side. A pool of blackness started coming over him, he tried to hang on but he felt himself slipping away ... and then nothing.

The current was pulling at Dusty's legs. It was a sucking feeling and he knew that it was about to pull him under. There wasn't a thing he could do to stop it. The cold was numbing and his arms felt like lead. He struggled for one last deep breath as the surging water pulled him down. Down into what he thought would be his watery grave.

The ground violently pitched Dusty about like a rag doll, he grabbed for the log he had been standing close to, but it too was being tossed about. At that instant a cracking, grinding sound came to his ears and a cavernous crack opened at his feet. Looking down, Dusty saw cold murky water and realized the place he had chosen to rest wasn't a clearing at all. -- It was a small lake!

Out of habit Dusty checked his Winchester to make sure a round was in the chamber, and then eased himself forward, keeping out of view of the front window. It was obvious to Dusty, because of the ruckus Little Bear was causing on the porch, that whoever was inside--if anybody--was forewarned, so the element of surprise was not in Dusty's favor. With these thoughts in mind, Dusty said to no one in particular, "Oh well," and he leaped to the porch, with his rifle at the ready. In an instant he was through the partially open door, ready for whatever consequence awaited him inside.