92 A TRAMP IN THE CATSKILLS 



the leaves. I took it up and set it on the palm of my 

 hand, which it hugged as closely as if still upon the 

 ground. I then put it in my coatsleeve, when it ran 

 and nestled in my armpit. 



When we met at the sign of the smoke, opinions 

 differed as to the most feasible course. There was no 

 doubt but that we could get out of the woods; but we 

 wished to get out speedily, and as near as possible to 

 the point where we had entered. Half ashamed of our 

 timidity and indecision, we finally tramped away 

 back to where we had crossed the line of blazed trees, 

 followed our old trail to the spring on the top of the 

 range, and, after much searching and scouring to the 

 right and left, found ourselves at the very place we 

 had left two hours before. Another deliberation and 

 a divided council. But something must be done. It 

 was then mid-afternoon, and the prospect of spending 

 another night on the mountains, without food or drink, 

 was not pleasant. So we moved down the ridge. Here 

 another line of marked trees was found, the course 

 of which formed an obtuse angle with the one we had 

 followed. It kept on the top of the ridge for perhaps 

 a mile, when it entirely disappeared, and we were as 

 much adrift as ever. Then one of the party swore an 

 oath, and said he was going out of those woods, hit 

 or miss, and, wheeling to the right, instantly plunged 

 over the brink of the mountain. The rest followed, 

 but would fain have paused and ciphered away at 

 their own uncertainties, to see if a certainty could not 

 be arrived at as to where we would come out. But 

 our bold leader was solving the problem in the right 

 way. Down and down and still down we went, as if 

 we were to bring up in the bowels of the earth. It was 



