ning woods,
rapidly put a safe distance between the traveller and the random
highwayman who had shot at him. At any rate, Arlington decided to
dismount and take the chances. He tethered the animal, ate a dodger,
and slept on his arms.

On the following morning new cause for anxiety arose. The bridle path
was not to be found. In galloping away to avoid bullets, Chester had
swerved much to the westward, and far from the obscure and crooked
"trace." For a whole day he wandered circuitously, in vain search for
the beaten course. The more stubbornly he resolved to keep "calm,
cool, and collected," the worse confused were his calculations. He
experienced sensations unlike any he had ever before felt. It vexed
him to confess to himself that his usually clear brain was a muddle.
He seemed not only to have missed the way, but had also lost the
faculty of self-direction.

The night was again coming on. Now, Arlington regretted his obstinacy
in refusing the service of a guide. Danger for danger's sake was
playing ironically with him. He reflected that the wisest thing for
him to do was to save his strength, recover his wandering wits, and
start afresh the next morning. Luckily his saddle-bags were stored
with a good stock of rations. He tied his jaded horse to a
cypress-tree, and sat down on the ground to endure as patiently as he
could the long dark hours. "A prince's bed in Chin's loft," thought
he, "is luxury compared with this. All comfort is relative. I will
sleep if I can. I shall need myself to-morrow."

The croaking of frogs in the swamp and the shrill trumpeting of the
mosquito army attacking his face and hands were not agreeable
lullabies. As the darkness deepened, a medley of doleful noises
pervaded the horrible wilderness. An unearthly gabble of strange
water-fowl broke out suddenly, was kept up for a few seconds only, and
then ceased. Only once in the night did Arlington hear that demoniac
gabble; but he lay awake for hours expecting and dreading to hear it
again. The owls were not so sparing of their vocal performances,
scores of them joining in concert to serenade the lost man. Sometimes
their prolonged notes sounded like the wail of a deserted babe,
sometimes like mocking laughter, and again like a deep guttural snore.
Nothing worse than mosquitos, dismal sounds, and the dank vapor of the
swamp afflicted the weary man, who, falling asleep at midnight, slept
so soundly that on waking late next morning he reproac