“I’m agreeable,” assented his lively comrade. “We’re bound to land somewhere.”
The two youths were in fine spirit, and chatted animatedly until noon. There was so much to think of—the successful trip, the return home, the possible prize. A shower came up, and in seeking shelter they wandered away from the river. They could not locate it again after a two hours’ search, and night came on, finding them in a deep gully shut in by high frowning walls of rock.
Ben, somewhat subdued, set about arranging some boulders to protect the opening of a cave-like depression where they had decided to spend the night.
“I say, Ben,” observed Bob, “there’s just about two more meals left in the bag—light ones, too.”
“Oh, well, this won’t last,” declared Ben hopefully. “We found some berries and nuts to-day, and maybe with grubbing we might discover something else that would tide us over.”
“Yes, that’s so,” assented Bob, but not at all enthusiastically. “It don’t change a pretty serious situation, though.”
“How is that?”
“Well, we’re in a howling wilderness, aren’t we?”
“It’s the wilderness all right,” assented Ben.
“And we face two sure conclusions,” went on Bob Dallow, “we’ve lost the Dart and can’t find it, and we’re lost ourselves.”