“We shall need about all our time to get back, so we had better start at once.”
“It would be a joke now if we couldn’t find our way,” laughed Harry, as they wheeled about and started back with a little more assurance than had marked their steps so far.
“Not much of a joke,” replied Little Rifle, who was sensible of a thrill of fear, excited by the words of the boy. “I have been lost once or twice in the woods, and if you have ever been in that fix, you know how bad you feel.”
“I’ll bet I do, for I’ve been there.”
“Think then how much worse it must be to get astray in a place like this, where it is always dark. Did you ever hear of any one being lost in the Mammoth Cave?”
“Yes; they have found their bones there, and nobody dare go very far into it, without a guide and plenty of torches.”
“If they get lost, when they have torches to guide them, how much less is our chance of finding our way back again, when we haven’t any thing of the kind!”
The words and the tone in which this was uttered produced its effect upon Harry, but it could not dissipate entirely that flow of spirits which seemed natural to him.
“But they lose their way there only when they have penetrated to a much greater distance than we; and then we have a few matches left, and can direct our steps by the sound of the waterfall. See how much the advantage we have!”
“Hark!”