"Ye'll not be blamin' me, sure!" spoke the old fellow. His very voice showed that he was indeed tired to the verge of fainting; but his manner was as mild and child-like as his words.
Language could not express Dave's feelings. In mute contempt, anger, weariness and a certain deep curiosity mingled, he dropped to the ground.
"I wouldn't blame you, mister," said the boy at last, "but I set out to do you a friendly turn and you get me into this pickle as a result and still give me no satisfaction as to where you belong or where you want to get to."
"Jawn Smith"–and it plainly was not his name–made no answer for a long time. Meanwhile David expressed himself pretty freely to the effect that there was but one course to pursue and that was to stay right where they were until morning. "And when daylight comes we'll head straight for the lake," said he.
"It's no odds who I be," said the stranger finally. "If I be not a real sivy-ear, I'm the likes of one, a peekin' and peekin'. Which is for why I can't be gossipin' about matters that means a great deal to them that I would be befriendin'. Come mornin', we'll see."
"Humph! Hope we may see more than we do this minute," Dave answered. For although the two had been so long in the darkness that they could make out trees and other objects well enough to avoid them, it had been a very hard as well as a long tramp and the more so because of the gloom of night.
His head pillowed on his arm Dave fell asleep, at last, regardless of the many things that vexed and worried him. His queer companion slept also and so did the daylight find them sore and hungry. The sun's rays brightened their spirits, but "you can't eat sunbeams," as MacLester rather gloomily remarked. The first excitement of the adventure had subsided now and he was quite inclined to despondency.
On the strength of the stranger's statement that his camp and baggage and food he carried could be found in a short time Dave again let him lead the way. A long walk in one direction was followed by a tramp of a still greater distance in another with no apparent intention of arriving anywhere.
And both MacLester and the stranger were suffering for water. They had crossed a small stream where there were still pools of good water, notwithstanding the severe drouth, early in the morning. It was decided to revisit it before starting for the lake. But here, too, long-continued efforts were a flat failure.
It is a dreadful feeling to realize that you know not which way to turn to reach any given point. Lost! It is a word whose terrors must be experienced to be fully understood.