HUNTING A TRAIL IN THE DAEK. 101 



while the occasiouMlly renewed rain-fall added to the general 

 unpleasantness of the situation. We pushed, as we thought, 

 for the trail. After struggling through underbrush and 

 fallen trees awhile Chris, hesitated, went this way and that, 

 while we stood still awaiting developments. He finally 

 said, •' I don't believe I know^ where that path is!" Then 

 he plunged — one leg, crutch, cane and all — into the deeper 

 darkness, and we followed as well as we could, looking 

 hither and thither for some sign of a trail. Then we halted. 

 Even the valiant and skilful old woodsman, of many years' 

 experience, was evidently lost. I ventured to suggest that 

 the shanty was at least dry and would make us comfort- 

 able until morning. 



"I don't believe we can tind that, now," said Chris. ; 

 "I'm blamed if I haven't lost all my reckoning, it's so 

 confounded dark. I'll make one more trial, and if I don't 

 strike the trail we'll get back to the river, somehow, and 

 hunt up the shanty and wait for day-light. Just stand 

 still, all of you, while I make a circuit around here. When 

 I call, you answer me, so's I can tell where I'm going to." 



We stood as directed, and the veteran disappeared. For 

 a time we heard him crashing through the underljrush and 

 fallen liml)s, and swearing away to his heart's content, 

 until he passed out of hearing. We waited several 

 minutes to hear his call, but pride in his woodcraft 

 restrained him, or his not altogether reverent soliloquy 

 pre-occupied him. Fearing he would wander oft" beyond 

 the sound of our voices, we called and called again, but no 

 response came. We were really tdarmed for his safety. 



