It was no very cheerful meal, and they were three very much worried boys. They said little while partaking of the bacon, bread and coffee, the horses cropping the sparse grass near by. But, in a little while, Jack laughed.
"What's the use of feeling blue?" he asked. "We're lost, that's sure enough, but we're in a civilized country, and we'll get home, or somewhere, sooner or later. Come on, let's have another try."
"Then you can lead the way, I'll not," spoke John a little sharply.
"I'm not going to be blamed again."
"Oh, come now!" exclaimed Jack. "Don't mind what we said. Of course it wasn't your fault. It would happen to any one!"
All that afternoon they traveled, until it was hard work to urge the horses on, as they were becoming tired. The boys spoke but seldom, and John seemed more glum than ever. Once or twice Jack tried to joke with him, but it was a failure. The half Indian lad was exhibiting some of the traits of his ancestors.
Gradually it grew darker, until, with the thick fog, and the overhanging trees, it was almost like twilight.
"How much further?" asked Nat.
"I guess we can camp any time you want to," Jack said.
"Do you think we are any further along the trail, or have we just traveled in a bigger circle?" Nat inquired.
"Hard to say," replied Jack. "At any rate I don't see our old friend the queer tree. We must have ascended some for it's been up hill the last two hours."