er. I'll stick to the woods, and if I can't stick to un I'll
have to bide where I is till the snow stops. I wonders now if Doctor
Joe and David is out lookin' for me. I'm not thinkin' they'd bide in
the tent with me lost out here and they not knowin' where I is."

When he was rested a little he arose, took his direction with the
compass, and floundered on through the snow.

"They's sure out somewhere lookin' for me," he thought, "but 'tis
snowin' so hard they never will find me! I'll have to keep goin' till
I finds camp. 'Tis strange now I'm not comin' to the brook, 'tis
wonderful strange. I'm thinkin' though I were crossin' two meshes with
the men in the night, and I've only been crossin' one goin' back
to-day. I'm fearin' I'll never be able to cross un though, when I
comes to the next un."

Presently, as Jamie had thought would be the case, he came to another
marsh. It satisfied him that he was going in the right direction, but
at the same time it lay out before him as a well-nigh impassable
barrier. The wind was driving the snow across it in swirling dense
clouds, and he stood for a little in the shelter of the trees and
viewed it with heavy heart.

"'Tis a bigger mesh than the other," he commented to himself, "but
I'll have to try to cross un. I can't bide here. I'll freeze to death
with no shelter and I has no axe for makin' a shelter. I'm not knowin'
what to do."

For a little while he hesitated, then he plunged out upon the edge of
the marsh. He was nearly swept from his feet, and to recover his
breath he was forced to retreat again to the woods. Three times he
tried to face the storm-swept marsh, but each time was sent staggering
back to shelter. It was a task beyond the strength and endurance of so
young a lad, and utterly exhausted and bitterly disappointed, he sat
down upon the trunk of a fallen tree to rest.

"I never can make un whilst the nasty weather lasts," he acknowledged.
"I'm fair scrammed and I'll have to wait for the wind to ease before I
tries un again."

He could scarce restrain the tears. It was a bitter disappointment. He
was so hungry, and so weary, and wished so hard to reach the safety of
camp and freedom from the still present danger of being recaptured.

"I'll have plenty o' grit and a stout heart like a man," he presently
declared. "I don't mind bein' a bit hungry, and I'll never be givin'
up! I'll never give up whatever! Pop says plenty o' grit'll pull a man
out o' most any fix