“Fellows, I’m sorry, but I don’t know where we are.”
“Lost again, do you mean?” asked Ned.
“I don’t believe we’ve been un-lost, if that’s the proper term,” went on Bart. “I guess we haven’t been on the right path since last night.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Frank, helplessly. “I’m as hungry as a bear.”
“And I’m almost frozen,” added Bart, with a shiver, “so you’re no worse off than the rest of us,” and there was a note of impatience in his voice.
The chums looked at each other. Their plight was disagreeable, not to say desperate. They knew that the forest in which they had encamped was large in extent, and was seldom visited. If they had to spend another night and day in it the consequences might be serious.
“Well,” began Bart, “I suppose the only thing to do is to keep on. We may strike the right path. There are several trails around here.”
He was about to start off again, when they were all startled by hearing a crackling in the underbrush. It seemed to come from their left.
“Get your gun ready, Bart,” whispered Fenn. “Maybe it’s a deer.”