Little Rifle laughed at the words of his friend, and he hastened to say:
“We’ll never give up till we have to do so. Now, let us see; we have turned square around, and suppose we are facing the falls. Let me take your hand, and we will keep our faces this way as well as we can. If we are right, we shall soon hear the sound of the waters, and, if we are wrong it won’t be long before we shall find it out. Come on!”
And, hand in hand, they began walking forward in silence, and each endeavoring by the feeling of the floor beneath them to tell whether they were pursuing the right path or not. This was out of the question, and they were not long in discovering it.
Some fifteen or twenty minutes were passed in this way, and the conviction was gradually stealing over Little Rifle that they were lost, when the hearts of both were thrilled at the unmistakable roar of waters which burst upon their ear with startling suddenness.
“Hurrah!” exclaimed the joyous Harry, “we are upon the right track. Shall I start and run?”
And in the exuberance of his joy, he let go of the hand of his friend, and was in the act of bounding off like a deer, when Little Rifle caught his arm.
“Don’t bid good-by to your common sense,” he said, earnestly. “If we are on the right track, we’ve got plenty of time, without running the risk of breaking our necks!”
Harry took the proffered hand again, with an apology for his rashness, and they progressed slowly and deliberately, but with a much more confident air than heretofore.
“Don’t you hear how much louder it grows every minute?” asked the impulsive lad, almost dragging his friend after him. “We have been over this ground before, and what is the need of such tardiness? We were glad enough to get away from the falls, but we will be gladder still to get back to them again.”
But Little Rifle was not to be moved from his deliberate tread, and he compelled Harry to keep pace with him, though it was hard work to restrain him.