“Let’s go back to where we left the deer and begin over,” proposed Jack.
They started, but the sawtooth peaks seemed to multiply. They turned this way and that, but could not find the place where they had made their first kill.
“Jack,” said Nat at length, “do you know it’s getting late?”
“It sure is,” admitted his chum.
The sun was low in the western sky. The two boys stared about them. On every side were the peculiar peaks of the bad lands. Jack turned around in a circle. He was trying to see some landmark, by which he could tell whether they had passed that spot before. He saw none.
“Nat,” he said finally, “we’re lost.”
CHAPTER XIX
A PERILOUS SLIDE
For a few seconds after Jack’s announcement Nat stared at his chum.