but when he came down among
the green pines, it grew dark, and he often stumbled and fell. Never
minding bumps and bruises, he scrambled over rocks, leaped fallen
trunks, floundered through brooks, and climbed down steep places, till,
with a reckless jump, he went heels over head into a deep hole, and lay
there for a moment stunned by the fall. It was an old bear-trap, long
unused, and fortunately well carpeted with dead leaves, or poor Tommy
would have broken his bones.

When he came to himself he was so used up that he lay still for some
time in a sort of daze, too tired to know or care about anything, only
dimly conscious that somebody was lost in a tree or a well, and that,
on the whole, running away was not all fun.

By and by the sound of a gun roused him; and remembering poor Billy, he
tried to get out of the pit,--for the moon showed him where he was. But
it was too deep, and he was too stiff with weariness and the fall to be
very nimble. So he shouted, and whistled, and raged about very like a
little bear caught in the pit.

It is very difficult to find a lost person on these great mountains, and
many wander for hours not far from help, bewildered by the thick woods,
the deep ravines, and precipices which shut them in. Some have lost
their lives; and as Tommy lay on the leaves used up by his various
struggles, he thought of all the stories he had lately heard at the
farm, and began to wonder how it would feel to starve to death down
there, and to wish poor Billy could come to share his prison, that they
might die together, like the Babes in the Wood, or better still the Boy
Scouts lost on the prairies in that thrilling story, "Bill Boomerang,
the Wild Hunter of the West."

"I guess mother is worried this time, because I never stayed out all
night before, and I never will again without leave. It's rather good
fun, though, if they only find me. I ain't afraid, and it isn't very
cold. I always wanted to sleep out, and now I'm doing it. Wish poor
Billy was safely down and in this good bed with me. Won't he be scared
all alone there? Maybe the belt will break and he get hurt bumping down.
Sorry now I left him, he's such a 'fraid-cat. There's the gun again!
Guess it's that man after us. Hi! hollo! Here I am! Whoop! Hurrah! Hi!
hi! hi!"

Tommy's meditations ended in a series of yells as loud as his shrill
little voice could make them, and he thought some one answered. But it
must have been an echo, for no one c