“Oh! we’ll get there soon, now.”
Presently things began to look familiar. There was one curiously shaped, lightning-riven pine, standing high above its fellows, that appeared like an old friend.
“Why, what’s this? Can there be two trees, exactly alike, within a half-day’s rowing? I’ve certainly sketched that old landmark from every side, and—— Hello! yonder’s my group of white-birches or I’m blind. How queer!”
A few more sweeps and the remains of the camp they had that morning left were before them, and Pierre could no longer repress his glee.
“Good guide, you! Trust a know-it-all for making mistakes.”
“What does it mean?” demanded Adrian, angrily.
“Nothing. Only you picked out a run-about, a little branch of river, that wanders out of course and then comes home again. Begins and ends the same. Oh! you’re wise, you are.”
“Would the other lead us right?”
“Yes.”