CHAPTER XXV.
TRYING TO GET HOME.
Not far from where he had been resting Joe found a small watercourse, where he obtained a much-needed drink. By following the watercourse for a distance of half a dozen rods he came in sight of the lake, at a point near the southern extremity of Pine Island.
"Well, I've located myself," he told himself, "and that is something. I wonder if Fred can be anywhere around?"
Knowing where he was, he was now able to define the position of the sun and rightfully reasoned that it was about nine o'clock in the morning.
"That proves that I slept all night," he said, half aloud. "Wonder what the folks at home think of my absence? Mother must be dreadfully worried."
Joe had not forgotten his old-time whistle, which had been used so many times when out hunting. Now he whistled several times, as loud as he could.
At first no answer came back, but presently, from up the western shore of the island, a faint whistle came in return.
"It must be Fred," he cried, joyously, and started in the direction as rapidly as his rather stiff limbs would permit. Then he whistled again and now the answering signal came back quite plainly.
"Fred, where are you?" he called out.