He put the knife between his teeth and gripped the fallen log behind him.
The frontiersman planted one boot against the trap.
“Ready?”
The warrior glared at him.
The frontiersman almost laughed.
“No. Suppose not.”
He pushed.
Nothing happened.
He repositioned himself.
Then he drove his full weight downward.
The rusted spring groaned.
The warrior cried out through clenched teeth.
The iron jaw moved perhaps half an inch.
The frontiersman's arms shook.
“Pull!”
The warrior dragged his leg.
The jaws snapped closed again.
The wounded man screamed.
The sound echoed through the clearing.
The frontiersman fell backward into the snow.
For several seconds neither man moved.
Then the warrior lifted the knife again.
His face was pale with fury.
“You think I enjoyed that?”
The blade remained pointed toward him.
“Fine.”
The frontiersman rose.
He looked at the trap.
Then at the wounded man.
“One more time.”
He wedged the branch deeper.
This time he placed both boots against the lower plate and grabbed the opposite jaw with gloved hands.
He pulled.
The trap resisted.
His shoulders burned.
His back felt as though it were tearing apart.
The metal moved.
The warrior stared at the widening gap.
“Now!”
The wounded man yanked his leg.
The frontiersman roared with effort.
The iron jaw opened farther.
The leg came free.
The warrior collapsed sideways.
The frontiersman let go.
The trap slammed shut with a crack loud enough to frighten birds from the distant trees.
For a few seconds, the frontiersman remained on his knees.
His hands shook.
Then he crawled toward the wounded man.
The knife appeared again.
But weaker now.
“Put that down before you cut yourself.”
The warrior's eyes narrowed.
The frontiersman tore a strip from the lining of his coat.
He reached for the injured leg.
The knife touched his throat.
Both men froze.
Snow drifted between them.
The frontiersman looked directly into the warrior's eyes.
“You can kill me.”
He pointed toward the bloody leg.
“But if I don't bind that, you'll follow me before morning.”
The knife remained against his throat.
Then slowly it moved away.
The frontiersman worked quickly.
He packed clean cloth against the deepest wounds and wrapped the leg tightly.
He used two straight branches to create a crude splint.
When he finished, he sat back.
The warrior looked down.
Then at him.
The distrust remained.
But something else now stood beside it.
Confusion.
The frontiersman handed him the canteen.
This time the warrior drank.
A long while passed before he spoke in rough English.
“Why?”
The frontiersman looked toward the trap.
“Why what?”
“You help.”
The stranger considered the question.