nce to his compass,
when he had any doubts, he had no fear about making a mistake.

He had ridden on for some distance, when he observed that the sky was
overcast, and the wind began to moan among the trees. Suddenly, with a
spring which would have thrown a worse rider, his horse started at a
vivid flash of lightning which darted from the sky, struck a huge tree
near him, tearing off a large limb, and then ran hissing along the
ground. A crash of thunder, such as he had really heard, followed, and
he found it impossible to prevent his affrighted steed from setting off
at full gallop among the trees. It was with the greatest difficulty
that he could guide the animal, so as to save his legs from being dashed
against the trunks and his head against the branches. Crash succeeded
crash in rapid succession, and at times so vivid was the lightning that
the forest seemed one blaze of fire. In vain he searched for an open
space where he might, at all events, be free from the danger of being
crushed by falling branches. Now he thought he saw an opening on one
side, now on the other; but each time he was disappointed. He
discovered, however, that he had got out of the track, and when he began
to consider in which direction he should go, he was under the somewhat
painful feeling that he had lost his way. He put his hand in his pocket
to examine his compass; it was not there. Again and again he searched
for it; nowhere was it to be found. It had undoubtedly been jerked out
of his pocket during some of the violent springs his steed had made when
frightened by the lightning. He had not the remotest hope of finding it
on the ground, and would therefore not waste time in looking for it.
Just as he had made this disagreeable discovery, the fury of the storm
abated, and he was in hopes that it was about to cease altogether. He
rode forward, he believed, towards the east. If he could get out of the
wood he might still reach a station before dark, considerably short of
the distance he hoped to have made good that day. On he went, his horse
starting and trembling, not having yet recovered from its fright. The
rain was falling in torrents, and he was already wet through--no
uncommon occurrence, however, for a squatter, who is in the saddle many
hours every day of the year. Down it came, harder than ever. Another
vivid flash, followed by a terrific clap of thunder, made his horse
again start forward. He galloped on till an ope