Poor Archie! His pride had received quite a series of ugly falls since morning, but this was the worst come last. He felt a very crestfallen cavalier indeed.
It did not tend to raise his spirits a bit to be told that if Gentleman Craig were here, he would find the blazed-tree line in a very short time.
But things took a more cheerful aspect when out from a clump of trees rode a rough-looking stockman, mounted on a sackful of bones in the shape of an aged white horse.
He stopped right in front of them.
"Hillo, younkers! Whither away? Can't be sun-downers, sure—ly!"
"No," said Archie; "we are not sundowners. We are riding straight home to Burley New Farm."
"'Xcuse me for contradicting you flat, my boy. It strikes me ye ain't boss o' the sitivation. Feel a kind o' bushed, don't ye?"
Archie was fain to confess it.
"Well, I know the tracks, and if ye stump it along o' me, ye won't have to play at babes o' the wood to-night."
They did "stump it along o' him," and before very long found themselves in the farm pasture lands.