So he concluded that the safest way for him would be to retrace his steps as carefully as possible.
Back he went, and managed to recover his track, but lost sight of it again, and found himself once more completely at a loss.
Turning on his own track in this way had only severed him utterly from the last faint hold which he had on the possible direction of the lake.
Once more he stood and considered, and finally after making up his mind as to the probable position of the lake, he started again with the determination to keep on in as straight a line as possible in that one direction.
His course was rough and toilsome in the extreme. Swamps, bogs, thick ferns, dense underbrush, tangled alders, fallen forest trees, huge rocks, all came by turns before his path, and all had by turns to be passed through or surmounted. Paul's city life had not fitted him for a task like this; but despair gave him strength.
Hours passed. Every hour brought fresh difficulties. His strength and resolution gradually gave way. No signs of escape had shown themselves. No sounds had come to his ears which promised help. He felt himself alone; alone to struggle with his dismal fate.
At last he reached rising ground. Here the woods were clear. The trees stood far apart, and the walking was easy. Utterly worn out, he toiled on and at length reached the crest of the hill.
Scarcely had he done so than an exclamation burst from him. Immediately below lay a broad sheet of water. He hurried down to the margin, and looked anxiously around in all directions.
There was nothing, however, but a sheet of water surrounded by woods. Whether this was the lake which he had left, or some other one, he could not tell. At any rate he was too fatigued to make any further exertion, so he flung himself upon the ground to rest.
Gradually sleep overtook him, and his slumber was so sound that he actually did not awake till the following day. On rousing himself he heard the birds singing, and felt the fresh, cool air of the morning.