LOST IN A FOKEST. 265 



unwarily, the covey flushed, hut flew only a short distance. 

 I thought my chances so remarkably good, that I would 

 make another try, but again the watchfulness of my 

 feathered friends foiled me. With a malediction on my 

 lips, I turned to retrace my steps, but for my life I could 

 not tell in which direction my route lay. To be lost, pooh !' 

 pooh ! what nonsense ! I was not still a schoolboy, and 

 had been too long cut loose from my mother's apron-strings. 

 The whole thing appeared too absurd and ridiculous. Off 

 I went, as I thought, straight back to the place I had left ; 

 I must cross my own path in a few minutes only a few 

 steps farther ! I am certainly close now ! And thus 

 arguing and consoling, I proceeded. By degrees it began 

 to dawn upon me, though much against my inclination, 

 that I was " certain sure out of my reckoning." The more 

 convinced I became of the uncertainty of my position, the 

 more I became excited ; at first I walked faster, talked to 

 myself, and tried, though I fear very indifferently, to treat 

 the whole affair as an admirable joke. But soon my coun- 

 tenance became elongated, and a very gloomy expression 

 usurped the place of my previous smile. For change, I 

 shouted, with the hope some one might hear me a very 

 improbable thing except, perchance, some solitary Indian 

 should be out in attendance on his bear or other traps. At 

 last I became fairly desperate, and broke into a headlong* 

 run ; the pace was too fast to keep up ; fairly blown, 

 wearied, and exhausted, I sat down on the trunk of a fallen 

 tree. The depression I felt will never be forgotten. The 

 terrible loneliness, the perfect solitude and monotony, with 

 the certainty of having to pass the night al fresco, made 



