Beyond a rude shaking up, he was not hurt in the least; and as soon as he could catch his breath he picked himself up and tried to climb out of the hollow. All was pitch dark around him.
"This is a pickle, truly," he groaned. "I might better have remained with Bob and Danny."
But now was no time "to cry over spilt milk," as the popular saying is. He must get back to the trail somehow.
But getting back was not so easy. On leaving the hollow he became turned around in the darkness, and it was not long before he was hopelessly mixed up. In his endeavor to pick his way up the mountainside, he plunged deeper and deeper into the forest, until all at once the full realization of his situation burst upon him like a flash.
He was lost!
Lost in that veritable jungle, which appeared to stretch out for miles on every side of him. The tall tropical trees were everywhere, festooned with monstrous vines, while below grew the dank moss and fungi, the home of countless beetles, ants, spiders and other insects. No wonder Dick shivered. It was a situation to make any heart quail.
"If it was only daylight," he thought. "But it's as black as ink, and I haven't got so much as a lantern."
He felt in his pocket. He had still two matches left and he drew them forth. Trying one, he found it had no head.
"Only one match that is good," he said, half aloud. "I had better find the driest kind of wood before I strike it."
He searched around for several minutes, for dry wood was scarce in a spot where all seemed so damp for the want of sunshine. At last he struck the match on a stone.