proof that I was wrong.

Returning to the starting-place was best, and each time I soon realised
where I had strayed from the right track, and went on afresh.

But these wanderings took up time, and evening was setting in as I
reached the great patch of wood where the trees were blazed, and under
the shade of these great pines it was twilight at once, and soon after,
to my dismay, I found that it was quite dark. Still I knew the
direction in which I ought to go, and pressed on as fast as I could,
trusting to get through the forest; and then the four miles or so out in
the open could soon be got over. So I thought, but if you try to
realise my position it will be easy to understand how difficult it is to
keep to a certain direction, when one has constantly to turn to right or
left to pass round some big tree.

Not very difficult, you may say. Trees are not so big as that. But
they are out there. Just picture to yourself one of our pines starting
from the ground with a beautiful curve, before growing up straight as an
arrow, and so far round that I have seen them, when lying on the ground
felled by the axe, about ten feet up from the roots, where they would
not be so big, with the butt where it was cut, ten feet across or thirty
feet round, while, down at the level of the ground, it would be a long
way on to double that thickness.

To walk round such trees as that, and avoid the great roots, means
taking a good many steps, and when this is done again and again, in a
place where there is no beaten track, it is very easy to go astray.

It was so with me in the darkness of that forest, and I began to repent
bitterly now of my determination, for I had volunteered to come, feeling
positive of being able to find my way, while the more I tried to see,
the more confused I grew; till, hot, panting, and weary, I came to a
dead stand.

The silence was terrible, for there was not so much as a whisper in the
tops of the pines. The darkness had increased so that I had to feel my
way, and in a hopeless state of misery I leaned against a tree, fancying
I heard steps; then the heavy breathing of some huge beast; and at last,
asked myself if I was to wander about there till I fell down and died of
exhaustion and want of food.

CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

I MAKE A DISCOVERY.

All this was very cowardly no doubt, but circumstances alter cases, and
it is only those who have lost their way in some wild solitude who can
realise t