"Then we are lost."
"I don't like to say that."
"But we are far out of our way?"
"No question of it."
"How far?"
"I have no idea. It's a nasty predicament, Jack, but we'll get out of it, don't worry."
"But you haven't any idea in which direction to go?"
"No; we must scout around and try to get our bearings. I would suggest that we strike out for that high hill yonder that will place a ridge between us and the pyrites cliffs, and perhaps the compass will behave normally."
They struck off in the direction that Tom indicated. But it was hard traveling in that broken, uncanny country into which they had wandered in such a strange manner. The hill, too, was further than they thought, the clear air being deceptive. But dripping with perspiration and not a little anxious at heart, they gained it at last.
As Tom placed his hand in his pocket to draw out the compass, he almost let the instrument drop to the ground.