A VIEW OF GOLDEN GLOW
For a moment Jack's words struck a chill to the hearts of his companions. The fog seemed to wrap around them like an impenetrable blanket, from which they sought in vain to escape. A little breeze stirred the wreaths of vapor, but did not disperse them.
"Lost!" repeated Nat, as if he could not believe it.
"I guess you're right," admitted John. "Now wait a minute. Where's the compass?"
"Here," spoke Jack, feeling in his pocket for it. A blank look came over his face. He hurriedly looked through several pockets. "I've lost it!" he exclaimed.
"Well, never mind," John went on calmly. He seemed to rise to the emergency, and become collected in the face of the danger that confronted them. "I guess I haven't got Indian blood in me for nothing. I can tell which way is north, anyhow."
"You can?" asked Nat. "How, in all this fog?"
"There's more moss on the north side of a tree than on any other," John replied. "We were going in a northerly direction so, all we have to do is to keep on, stopping once in a while to see how the moss is."
It sounded like good advice, and Nat and Jack felt better after hearing it. They started off again, more hopeful, and went slowly for a while, stopping now and then, to see about the moss, or "nature's compass," as Jack called it.
They must have traveled a number of miles, when they decided it was time to camp and eat something. They looked around for some dry wood for a fire, seeking for it under overhanging rocks as Jim had showed them how to do. They managed to start a blaze, and John was frying some bacon, incidentally trying to keep the smoke from his eyes, when Nat, who had gone a short distance off the trail, exclaimed: