Lost—Deliberations.—Trying to regain the Course.—The Smoke of the Burning.—The stagnant Air.—Onward.—An Opening in the Forest.—Hope and Enthusiasm.—A Rush forward.

"LOST!

Yes, Lost!

Lost in the woods!

It was Bart who first received this idea in its full force in his mind. He stopped abruptly, and looked all around.

“Well,” said he, “it’s my opinion that we’ve been keeping this sort of thing up too long altogether. For my part, I haven’t the faintest idea in the world where we are. One thing is certain: we’re utterly astray in what we may suppose to be our reckoning; and wherever the river may be, it certainly isn’t anywhere near us. And I’m going to knock under for the present.”

With these words, he flung himself down upon a knoll under a neighboring tree, threw off his bag, and pitched it away to some distance from him, and then, drawing his knees up under his chin, he sat gazing fixedly at the ground.

“Well,” said Pat, “I’ve been thinkin that same for the last hour, sure; but, as ye seemed inclined to laid off, an as I hadn’t anythin more to offer, why, I jist follered afther. An sure I think it ain’t a bad idea at all, at all, to sit down, if it’s only to rist ourselves, an take a bite of somethin to ate, an thry to git up some schame for our nixt attimpt.”

With these words, Pat took a seat upon the ground, and Solomon, without any remark, sat down near them.

And there they all sat, silent, with the same thought in all their minds; and that was, that they were utterly, completely, and hopelessly lost in the woods. None of them felt inclined to speak. They felt discomfited, disheartened, mortified. So this was the end of their elaborate plans, so carefully discussed, so carefully followed—that they who came to seek their lost friend should themselves be lost also! They were confident that they had made some mistake somewhere, and at some time, and they were now busily engaged in recalling the different events of their journey, so as to see where and when the mistake had been.

Bart thought that their mistake was in not continuing to leave a trail behind them, after they had made the last change in their course. Up to that time, it seemed to him that all had gone on well, and he lamented that fatal carelessness and over-confidence that had led to this neglect.

Pat’s idea was, that they had not calculated the direction of the river, and that they had somehow missed it.

Solomon declared that, ever since he left the river, he hadn’t had any idea at all of any direction.

“Dat’s so,” he said; “I heerd you go on in dem ar long-winded ’scussions bout right Sections, an poppumdiklars, an rytanglums, an sich, but hadn’t no more notium ob whar we was goin dan a chile. An you hadn’t nudder. Yah! yah! yah!”

Solomon’s idea was, after all, much nearer the truth than the theories of either Bart or Pat. For although these two had supposed all the time that they were carrying in their very clever brains a perfectly distinct plan of their course, yet, in reality, this belief was utterly unfounded, and the supposed plan was a mockery, a delusion, and a snare. Here they were—lost!—that was the end of it.

For, in point of fact, their whole journey had been one constant series of mistakes. From the first step to the last, there had been nothing but self-delusion.

First, they had deluded themselves into the belief that they could go in a straight line. Now, in those woods, there had been incessant obstacles, in the shape of clumps of trees, underbrush, bogs, rocks, fallen timber, and a hundred other things of a similar character, which necessitated a departure from a straight line at every few steps. To suppose that they could walk on, under such circumstances, in a straight line, was absurd. The consequence was, that their course had, all along, been exceedingly crooked, leading them towards all the points of the compass in turns.

Another mistake which they made was, in the supposition that the river had any definite course. They had acted on the theory, not only that their own course was straight, but that the course of the river was straight also. Now, this river, like every other river, had a flow in one general direction, but its actual course was a winding one, and not far below the rock from which they had set out, it turned in a direction which was totally different from the one in which it was flowing when they left it.

Thus they had been wandering in a very irregular course ever since they started. They had gone onward for mile after mile, and every step had carried them farther and farther away from the places in the neighborhood of which they wished to remain, and now, at this bewildered halt, they were in reality far, very far, away from that river which they had believed themselves to be approaching.

Some such conviction as this came to their minds now,—that is to say, the conviction that they had wandered far away from the river,—but they had no idea how far away from it they really were, and they thought—that is to say, Bart and Pat thought—that their wanderings had begun only at their last change of course, near the wooded swamp.

Thus far, the weather had been warm, but not so sultry as on the day before. The air appeared to have become cooled by that gentle breeze which had sprung up in the morning. The sky, however, had been overcast as before, and all the view overhead was covered with those rolling smoke clouds before mentioned. They noticed this now as they sat there, and it seemed to them that the sky was more enveloped with this sombre covering, and that the light was dimmer, and the scene more gloomy. The birds also seemed to have all fled away from that smoky sky.

Their long tramp had sharpened their appetites, and they now began to think of lunch. Fortunately, Solomon, with his usual forethought, had saved the fish that had been left from their repast on the previous day, and these, with some sandwiches, furnished out a meal. They were without anything to drink, however; but a little search in the neighborhood revealed a slender rill of very warm water, which, warm as it was, they were glad to drink. On the whole, this frugal repast refreshed them and invigorated them; and after its conclusion, they began to consider once more the important question of the course which they should take next.

What perplexed them most was the impossibility of knowing anything about the direction in which they ought to go. The points of the compass were all unknown. North, south, east, and west were all alike a mystery. The smoke clouds that covered the whole sky made it impossible even to conjecture, with any approach to accuracy, the possible position of the sun.

Their situation was perplexing in the extreme. In fact, it was a double perplexity. They did not know where Phil was, and they did not know where they themselves were. They wanted to find Phil; but by reason of their loss of all knowledge of locality, they were unable to form even a theory of the particular direction in which it might be best to renew their search after him. And this it was that made any discussion particularly difficult.

Then, again, though they had a distinct remembrance of the river itself, yet they had formed no definite idea about its course. Bart thought it ran north. Pat thought it ran south. Why they thought so, neither could give any reason. But this mattered nothing now. Even if they had known most perfectly the actual course of the river,—nay, even if they had been perfectly acquainted with the geography of the district,—it would have availed them nothing whatever in their present position, nor could they have been in any better position to decide about the best direction which they could take.

“We ought to be moving,” said Bart; “but where? I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Well, thin,” said Pat, “I’ll tell you what it is. Let’s be off, and thrust to luck. Let’s walk ahead anywheres, and we’ll come out somewheres.”

“Can’t we tell something by the clouds?” asked Bart, looking up at the rolling masses overhead.

“Deed an I’ve thought o’ that,” said Pat, “an I’ve been watchin thim; but sorra one o’ me can make out any thin about thim same at all, at all. They’re jist rowlin an tumblin every which way. An that same they were doin this mornin; for I watched thim, an cudn’t make any thin out o’ thim at all, at all, no more’n I can now at this blissed momint. An they won’t be afther tellin you any more’n they towld me, I’ll go bail.”

“It seems to me,” said Bart, “that they are moving in some direction. I remember noticing this morning that they moved, or seemed to move, across the river. Now, if the river ran north—”

“South,” interrupted Pat.

“North,” persisted Bart. “If it ran north, why, these clouds must be moving east.”

“West,” cried Pat.

“East,” persisted Bart. “If I’m certain of anything, I’m certain that they must be going east.”

“Deed an I’m dead sure that they’re a goin west.

“An I’m as likely to be right as you are.”

“O, well,” said Bart, “we can’t come to any decision at all.”

“Surely no; not from thim clouds,” said Pat. “For afther all, I don’t think they’re movin anywheres. They’re jist rowlin round and round. Niver mind thim clouds.”

“But we must go somewhere,” said Bart, impatiently.

“Deed an so we must; an so I say.”

“Then where shall we go?”

“Jist wheriver you say. You laid ahead, an I’ll toiler till the wurruld’s ind, so I will, an that’s all about it.”

Bart now rose, and so did the others; and after a little natural hesitation, they all set out once more upon their journey.

This journey was thus resumed on the principle that it was better to be moving than to sit idle. Something had to be done, but what it was they did not know. Bart had formed some vague idea of his general direction from the clouds, and was trying now to find his way back to the neighborhood at least of the place from which they had set out. At any rate, he thought he would thus be more likely to come upon Phil’s track, for this was still the idea that was uppermost in his mind. The direction in which that place lay seemed to him to be west; and so, with this thought in his mind, he set out and led the way.

Of course, Bart’s idea about going west was of the vaguest possible description. Bart’s west was Pat’s east; and each of them was equally likely to be wrong. For it might have been either north or south; and in addition to this, there was the fact of their circuitous march, which set straight lines at defiance, and bore them along in a winding course, that might lead to every point of the compass in turn. However, there was actually no other course possible, and Bart and Pat were both satisfied; for while Bart thought he was following the course which seemed to him best, Pat thought that they were going in no particular direction at all, but were wandering at random. Of the two, Pat was far more in the right. As to Solomon, it was a matter of indifference to him, so long as Bart led the way, and so long as the aim of their march was a search after Phil.

They walked on now in silence for some hours. The woods were just the same as they had been all along. Sometimes they came to a wide extent of pine trees, where the walking was easy, and they were able to maintain some definite direction. At other times they came to woods filled with hard-wood trees, where the underbrush was thick and the obstacles numerous. Here they were compelled to wind along in a circuitous way, making numerous detours to avoid dense thickets or impassable bogs.

At length the evening drew on, and all of them were nearly worn out. It had been a long and a difficult march. They had exerted themselves severely all that day. Besides, it was not a time that was favorable to severe exertion, for the warmth of the atmosphere affected them all. As the evening approached the warmth increased, for the slight breeze that had been prevailing all the day, and mitigating the sultriness of the weather, now died out, and at once that same oppressiveness of which they had been aware on the preceding day made itself manifest again. Exertion became more and more painful. Their progress became more and more laborious, and they walked with ever-increasing difficulty. At length Bart stopped.

“I won’t go any farther,” said he. “This isn’t much of a place to pass the night in, but I’ve been on the lookout for the last hour, and this is as good as any that I’ve seen. We can’t do any more to-day. So I move that we stop here and rest, and settle down for the night.”

To this the others agreed; and so, flinging down their baskets, they began to make preparations for the night. The preparations were simple enough, consisting in nothing more than a collection of moss and fern leaves, which abounded all around, and of which they soon heaped up a quantity sufficient for their wants. After this they sat down and partook of an evening repast from their rapidly diminishing stock of sandwiches.

“By the powers,” said Pat, “if we’re in the wuds much longer, we’ll have to git howld of a stock of frish provisions, so we will.”

That night they all slept soundly, for they were worn out by their long sleeplessness and by the fatigues of their weary march. In that march they must have traversed many miles, for they had been walking from very early morning till dusk, with only one intermission. Their sleep, therefore, was deep and heavy, and it lasted until comparatively late in the following day.

On awaking they found the air oppressively close and sultry. The smoke clouds were nearer, and appeared to touch the tree-tops. There was also an unpleasant smell of smoke which irritated their nostrils and dried up their throats. One thing only was evident from this, and that was, that the woods were on fire. It also seemed equally evident that they were approaching the scene of conflagration. It was already very oppressive, and how much longer they would be able to maintain their journey was a matter of doubt. Yet there was no desire to give up. The one thought present to all of them was, that Phil was lost; and the rolling smoke clouds now suggested to their minds a danger impending over him of which they had not thought before. Thus far Bart had been more or less subject to fears about the Indian’s being concerned with Phil’s disappearance; but now, as these natural terrors were revealed, his thoughts of the Indian gave place to others of the most painful and harassing character. For if Phil was really lost, it amounted to this—that he was wandering about in a burning forest, far from all hope of human aid. They themselves had suffered, and were suffering, enough to know well what his state must be. The lively imagination of Bart portrayed before his mind in vivid colors the situation of poor Phil, all alone, wandering helpless and despairing, surrounded by smoke and flames, oppressed by the heat, and sinking under the weight of his anxiety and fatigue. His little store of provisions must soon fail—he would not dare to stop to try to catch fish; he would hurry on as long as strength lasted, seeking to escape from the advancing fires. At last all strength and all hope would fail, and a terrific fate would seize upon him.

The others had something of the same feelings about Phil, although less vividly, and were ready to keep up the search after him as long as they could move. So they snatched a hasty breakfast, and at once prepared for the day’s march. That breakfast exhausted the last of their stock of provisions, and they could only hope to reach some brook where they might catch a few fish. At that moment, however, their thoughts about themselves were disregarded in their anxieties about Phil; and so they set out full of eager desire to find him before it might be too late.

Thus far they had continued to shout at certain intervals, and the last thing on the preceding night, and the first thing on this morning, had been a series of loud calls. But the calls had never been answered, and Phil seemed still to be as far away from them as when they first set out. Still it was the only thing that they could do; and so, as they went forward on this day, they kept up, as before, their practice of calling at certain intervals of time.

They wandered on for hour after hour. The air continued close and sultry, and the smoke was most unpleasantly perceptible; but this, instead of deterring them, only nerved them to fresh efforts, since it never ceased to suggest to them the thought of poor Phil’s terrible situation. One thing consoled them; and that was, the discovery that the sultriness and the smoke had grown no worse since they started, but if anything had rather lessened. This they were glad of on Phil’s account; as for themselves, however, it was certainly bad enough, and as the hours passed, their efforts became more and more difficult, and their labors more overpowering.

At last the woods in front of them grew thinner, and through the trees they were able to see more and more of the sky. To emerge from the thick woods into any open place whatever was a pleasant thought to all of them. They wondered what it could be. Solomon thought that it was some barren district bare of trees, and overgrown with low brush, such as sometimes occurs in the forest. Pat thought it was a lake, or a river, or a swamp, or something of that sort. Bart expected to find a clearing in the woods, and his heart beat last with joy at the idea of finding some human being who could tell them where they where. With these various thoughts and feelings they hurried forward.

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