"I think this is the trail, Phil, don't you?" and Dave pointed with his finger to a deep rut in the soil.
"Yes. But that doesn't make it right," and Phil gazed around in some perplexity.
"What do you mean? This is the only trail around here."
"So I see. But, somehow, this edge of the woods doesn't look familiar to me. I thought we entered at a point where I saw a clump of four trees on the left."
"Hum! I rather think I saw those trees myself," mused Dave. "But I don't see them now."
"Neither do I, and that makes me think that perhaps we came out of the woods at the wrong spot."
Much perplexed, the two lads walked around the edge of the woods for a considerable distance. But they saw nothing of any other trail and so came back to the point from which they had started.
"This must be right, after all," was Phil's comment. "Anyway, it's the only trail here, so we may as well follow it."
They hurried on, the halt under the rocks having rested them a good deal. Out on the prairie the trail grew a bit drier, for which they were thankful. They got into their dog-trot once more, and thus covered all of two miles in a short space of time. Then, of a sudden, both came to a halt in dismay.
"Which one?" asked Phil, laconically.