The place did not seem so desolate and horrible in the bright morning light; and after we had bathed our faces in water brought for us by our host, who also produced some homely cakes, and the lotah full of clear water for us to drink, I felt refreshed and bright, and so, I thought, did Brace; but the stern, hard look came into his face again as soon as he had recompensed our host and we stood outside the house, seeing above the mist the tops of the trees of the tope where our men lay, and as I saw them standing up apparently so near, I wondered how we could have had so much difficulty in finding our way, and said so.
“No cause for wonder, Gil,” said Brace, quietly. “Once you go astray in the dark or in a mist, every struggle makes you more confused. Why, Gil, lad, I once got out of bed in the dark, and lost myself in my own room.”
I looked at him wonderingly, for his face once more looked pleasant and smiling, but it was dark the moment after, as we crossed the track of the guns, and, trying to make out our past night’s course, started at once for the tope.
“They will think us prisoners or dead, Gil. Let’s get back.”
“And what next?” I said.
He turned and pointed to the deep marks made by our horses and guns, and I had no occasion to ask more.
We both agreed that it was no wonder that we had lost our way in the black darkness of the night, and been wandering about in the most erratic manner, for it was difficult enough to keep in a straight line for the tope where the mist was most dense in the lower ground.
But we reached our temporary shelter at last, were challenged by the sentries, and before we had gone many steps among the trees, the doctor rushed at us, closely followed by Dost.
“My dear Brace!” he cried; “my dear boy!” and he wrung our hands warmly. “I thought—oh, I don’t know what I did not think.”
“Why, doctor,” said Brace, warmly, “I did not think we were of so much consequence to you.”