ard,
the path grew more faint and uncertain. Elk runs crossed it here and
there, so that often Gordon went astray and had to retrace his steps.

The maddening song of the mosquitoes was always with him. Only when he
slept did he escape from it. The heavy gloves, the netting, the smudge
fires were at best an insufficient protection.

It was the seventh night out that Elliot suspected he was off the trail.
Rain sluiced down in torrents and next day continued to pour from a dun
sky. His own tracks were blotted out and he searched for the trail in
vain. Before the rain stopped, he was thoroughly disturbed in mind. It
would be a serious business if he should be lost in the bad lands of the
bogs. Even though he knew the general direction he must follow, there
was no certainty that he would ever emerge from this swamp into which he
had plunged.

Before he knew it he was entangled in Fifty-Mile. His map showed him the
morass stretched for fifty miles to the south, but he knew that it had
been charted hurriedly by a surveying party which had made no extensive
explorations. A good deal of this country was _terra incognita_. It
ran vaguely into a No Man's Land unknown to the prospector.

The going was heavy. Gordon had to pick his way through the mossy swamp,
leading the pack-horse by the bridle. Sometimes he was ankle-deep in
water of a greenish slime. Again he had to drag the animal from the bog
to a hummock of grass which gave a spongy footing. This would end in
another quagmire of peat through which they must plough with the mud
sucking at their feet. It was hard, wearing toil. There was nothing to
do but keep moving. The young man staggered forward till dusk. Utterly
exhausted, he camped for the night on a hillock of moss that rose like
an island in the swamp.

After he had eaten he fed his fire with green boughs that raised a dense
smoke. He lay on the leeward side where the smoke drifted over him and
fought mosquitoes till a shift of the wind lessened the plague. Toward
midnight he rigged up a net for protection and crawled into his
blankets. Instantly he fell sound asleep.

Elliot traveled next day by the compass. He had food for three days
more, but he knew that no living man had the strength to travel for so
long in such a morass. It was near midday when he lost his horse. The
animal had bogged down several times and Gordon had wasted much time and
spent a good deal of needed energy in dragging it to firmer footing