to come this way anyhow."

"Neither did I," asserted Tom, a bit nettled.

In a short time they had several improvised torches, made of bark, and,
each one lighting his own, and holding it down close to the ground,
they started off again.

"Here comes a shower!" exclaimed Tom, as he felt the first drops of a
September storm. "Lucky we got the dry bark in time."

"Say, but this is punk!" grumbled Bert, as he stumbled on in the
half-darkness.

By carefully noting the path, and keeping to it, they managed to avoid
going in a circle again. Their torches smoked and spluttered, as the
rain increased, and, though they were under the shelter of trees, they
soon were quite wet.

"Cross-country runs!" murmured Jack, as he stepped into a bog-hole up
to his ankles. "No more for yours truly!"

"It's all in the game," said Tom, with a laugh. "We'll soon be out of
it."

"We're out of it now," snapped Bert, looking at his watch. "We've got
half an hour to make the gym, for it's half-past seven now, and I'll
wager a can of beans that we're five miles from it."

"Not as bad as that," asserted Tom. "We may make it yet, if we can
strike a good road. This looks like something here, fellows," he
added, as he emerged from the woodland path upon a firm footing. "It
is!" he cried a moment later. "I guess we can make it now! Come on!"

Holding his torch of bark above his head, Tom led the way. He was
quite sure of himself now, even though he did not know just where the
path was coming out. It was broadening as he advanced, and he was
positive it did not lead deeper into the woods.

"Ugh!" suddenly grunted Tom, as he came to an abrupt halt.

"What's wrong?" asked Jack.

"I ran into a fence, or something. Yes, It's a fence," Tom went on.
"We must have struck some sort of a farm."

"I wish it was the one where that fellow works," put in Jack. "I'd
like to rub his nose in the mud for sending us on the wrong path."

"There's a light over there!" cried Bert, as he and the others came up
to where Tom had come to a halt at the barrier. It was a rail fence of
the "snake" variety, and Tom had run full tilt into it in the darkness,
his torch having burned out.

"A light!" cried Bert. "That means a house, or some sort of human
habitation. Let's head for it, fellows, and maybe we can get on the
right road."

"Over the fence is out!" cried Jack, as he leaped the barrier. "Come
on, fellows!"

The others followed him, t