Dick stopped again, a horrible fear coming over him.
“I’m lost already. That’s what’s the matter,” he muttered. “What in the world am I to do?”
And, indeed, the situation was anything but pleasant.
The little moonlight which found its way down into the canyon did no more than to enable Dick to keep from stumbling.
The entrances to all the cross canyons looked alike. It was the easiest thing in the world to mistake one for the other and Dick knew that this was just what he must have done.
He hurriedly retraced his steps, trying to determine which of the many openings was the correct one and at last settled upon one a little wider than the rest and undertook to follow that.
He was doomed to disappointment, however, for after going a short distance down on the down grade the trail through the canyon suddenly began to ascend, growing steeper and steeper every moment, but Dick continued to follow it, for he could see more light ahead and a cold damp wind came rushing down the canyon and both of these signs made him fancy that he must be pretty close to the lake.
“If I can only strike it I don’t want anything better,” he thought; “then all I’ve got to do is to follow the shore around till I come to the camp.”
He had not far to go before he knew that he was right, for suddenly he passed out of the canyon and came upon the shore of the lake.
Within a few rods of the end of the canyon stood an old, ruinous log hut, in the window of which a light burned.