Fire in the Woods / Illustrated

by James De Mille

“No,” said Bart. “This is a wild, unfrequented place, and the woods are unbroken for an immense distance. If Phil has got among them he will wander on till—till he drops.”

“Ah, come now, none of that. Sure, what do ye think of Phil? Do ye think now that Phil’s an idiot? Sure now, what’d ye do yerself if it was you that was lost instead of Phil? Do you think that you’d wandher about till you dropped, or do ye think ye’d work yer way out somewheres? Come now, ye know ye’d work yer way out, so you would. And so would I. And so will Phil, so he will.”

This process of reasoning struck Bart so forcibly that he had not a word to say. Pat in fact was right in his estimate of Bart’s confidence in himself. Bart really did feel sure that if he were lost in the woods he’d get out.

“Sure now imagine yerself in Phil’s place,” continued Pat, cheerily. “What’d you do? I’ll tell you what you’d do. Whin ye found yerself lost, ye’d thry, of coorse, to git back. Well, thin, ye’d go wandherin about. Very well. Ye’d sit down an rist, and think what ye’d best do nixt. Then ye’d start off afrish. Maybe ye’d climb a tray to see if ye cud see anythin. At any rate ye’d work away as long as the daylight lasted. At steeted intervals ye’d let off howls as loud as ye cud howl. Well, thin, it’ud grow dark, an so ye’d go to work an make up your mind to pass the night here, an ye’d thry, of coorse, to make yerself as comfortable as possible. So ye’d collect any quantity of moss an ferns, an spread them out—perhaps ye’d make a fire—but that’s neither here nor there; anyhow, ye’d make a comfortable bid for yerself, an thin ye’d take a bite of somethin to ate, and thin ye’d lie doun an doze off into the comfortablest slape ye ever knew. That’s what ye’d do—an ye know it, so ye do. Now wouldn’t ye? Answer me that. Isn’t that jist what ye wud do?”

“Well, I suppose I would,” said Bart; “but perhaps the Indian has had something to do.”

“The Injin. O, bah! Bother the Injin. That does to spake of in the middle of a dark night, but not undher the bright daylight. That Injin’s safe in his own camp by noo, I’ll warrant ye.”

By this time they were ready to start, and accordingly they set out on their way down the stream to the rock already mentioned. It was not quite day when they started, but by the time they reached the rock it was full day, so that they would be able to detect any trace of Phil’s pathway if any such trace might remain. The rock was about thirty or forty feet high, and rose upon the edge of the river which flowed along its base. Phil might have crossed the river, and gone down, as Pat did, on the other side; but he chose this, probably thinking that it was only a few steps. On reaching this place Pat was able to point out pretty nearly the spot where he saw Phil mount the bank. Here the underbrush seemed to show signs of having been trampled upon, and they at once ascended the bank in this direction. For some distance the marks continued, and they followed very carefully. At last, shortly after they reached the top of the bank, these faint marks died out utterly, and there remained no trace whatever of any footsteps that was discernible to their eyes. Here, then, they paused, and again considered what they should do.

After careful consideration of everything, it seemed to them that the best thing for them now to do was to advance from the river bank directly into the woods in as straight a line as possible. If they were to do this for several miles, they might get upon the wanderer’s track. They therefore set out, walking away from the river, trying by every possible means to make their course a straight line. They also tore off twigs from the trees as they went and strewed them behind them to leave a trail. Thus they went for about half an hour. Then they began to shout, and still going onward for another half hour, they continued their shouts. But at the end of this time and these efforts they were no better off than at the beginning, and to all their cries there came no response whatever.

Here another discussion took place. It seemed to Pat that Phil must have wandered down the stream, how far he did not know, but perhaps miles, and that on his return he had left the river at some point, and thus been lost. If this were so, it followed that the best place to search for him would be the woods lying on a line with the river, and extending along its banks. If they were now to turn to the right, they would be going in a course parallel to the river, and through those very woods in which it was most likely that Phil might be. Pat’s statement and argument seemed so reasonable that Bart at once adopted it; and so, with the utmost care, they took up a course which seemed as near as possible at right angles with their former one, and consequently as nearly as possible parallel with the flow of the river. In this direction they now went, trying as before to keep a straight course, and to leave a trail behind them. Above all, they kept shouting and calling all the time.

They went on in this course for as much as two hours with no more success than before. They came to woods where the underbrush was so thick, and the ground so swampy, that further progress was out of the question. Here, then, they once more deliberated as to what they should do. To go back seemed inexpressibly irksome, as well as useless. It seemed better to change their course in some new direction, which might be favorable to their hopes. On the whole it now seemed best to get back to the river. Phil might be there somewhere along its banks. In the evening they could go back to their former stopping-place by ascending the course of the river. So they took up a new line of march, which seemed to be exactly at right angles with their last one, and thus went on.