ollow it
until the stream or his provisions gave out, and then----Well, that
hadn't happened yet, and wouldn't happen till he was where he could get
more provisions. He must reach the house or he would lose his horse and
$150 in money. He went into camp at a solitary place that night, and,
for a wonder, slept soundly.

The next morning he was up bright and early, but he did not seem to have
much appetite for breakfast. And it was so every day until a week had
passed, and still no change for the better. He was so impatient that he
could scarcely go into camp. He was impatient to be journeying along
that little stream that seemed to lead him toward the prairie, but every
time he looked up and tried to wonder where he was, there were the same
gloomy mountains stretched away before him that he had at first seen in
the pocket where he had lost his horse. Tom took no note of the fact
that his wearing apparel was getting the worse for wear, or that he had
left his blanket back at his last camping-place, but he did take notice
that his mind was filled with gloomy forebodings. Why could he not climb
that mountain on his left and see what was ahead of him? The thought no
sooner came into his mind than he banished it, took a drink of fresh
water, and started out at a more moderate pace.

"I'm lost," said he, with a sinking at his heart to which he was an
entire stranger; "and if I give way to those thoughts, I shall be lost
utterly. Why did I not think of my gun?"

Tom dropped his pack by his side and fired and loaded three times as
fast as he could make his fingers move. Then he waited again and fired
three more; and scarcely had the echoes of the last report died away
among the mountains when he heard a faint reply, though it came from so
many directions that he couldn't tell from which way it sounded. But he
took it to come from down the stream, and, leaving his bundle behind, he
started in that direction, raising a shout which, to save his life, he
could not utter above a whisper. He ran until he thought he ought to be
about where the sound came from, then stopped and fired his gun again,
and this time met with an immediate response. It was down the stream,
and there was no doubt about it.

"Who-whoop! Where are you?" shouted Tom, so impatient he could scarcely
stand still. "I am lost!"

"Follow the stream and you'll strike me," said a voice, and Tom noticed
that for a backwoods fellow he talked remarkably plain.

It wa