When he had gone up and down the creek several times, hunting for some trace of a settlement, and finding none, he reflected that Fuller’s house was on the side of the stream, to the west. It was a very crooked stream, and he was not sure, in the darkness, which was west and which was east. But he boldly plunged into the creek, mounting his horse, and urging the unwilling beast across. Once over, he explored that side of the stream, hither and yon, in vain. Again he crossed, and so many times did he cross and recross that he finally had no idea where he was. Then the conviction came fully into his mind: He was lost.
The disconsolate boy sat down on a fallen tree and meditated. It was useless to go farther. He was tired in every limb and very, very hungry. He bethought himself of the soda-biscuits in his sack. He need not starve, at any rate. Dobbin was grazing contentedly while the lad meditated, so slipping off the saddle and the package attached to it, Sandy prepared to satisfy his hunger with what little provisions he had at hand. How queerly the biscuits tasted! Jolting up and down on the horse’s back, they were well broken up. But what was this so hot in the mouth? Ginger? Sure enough, it was ginger. The pounding that had crushed the biscuits had broken open the package of ginger, and that spicy stuff was plentifully sprinkled all over the contents of the sack.
“Gingerbread,” muttered Sandy, grimly, as he 148 blew out of his mouth some of the powdery spice. “Faugh! Tobacco!” he cried next. His father’s package of smoking-tobacco had shared the fate of the ginger. Sandy’s supper was spoiled; and resigning himself to spending the night hungry in the wilderness, he tethered the horse to a tree, put the saddle-blanket on the ground, arranged the saddle for a pillow, and, having cut a few leafy boughs from the alders, stuck them into the turf so as to form a shelter around his head, and lay down to pleasant dreams.
“And this is Saturday night, too,” thought the lost boy. “They are having beans baked in the ground-oven at home in the cabin. They are wondering where I am. What would mother say if she knew I was lost out here on Flyaway Creek?” And the boy’s heart swelled a little, and a few drops of water stood in his eyes, for he had never been lost before in his life. He looked up at the leaden sky, now overcast, and wondered if God saw this lost boy. A few drops fell on his cheek. Tears? No; worse than that; it was rain.
“Well, this is a little too much,” said Sandy, stoutly. “Here goes for one more trial.” So saying, he saddled and mounted his patient steed, and, at a venture, took a new direction around a bend in the creek. As he rounded the bend, the bark of a dog suddenly rung from a mass of gloom and darkness. How sweet the sound! Regardless of the animal’s angry challenge, he pressed on. 149 That mass of blackness was a log-barn, and near by was a corral with cows therein. Then a light shone from the log-cabin, and a man’s voice was heard calling the dog.
Fuller’s!
The good man of the house received the lad with open arms, and cared for his horse; inside the cabin, Mrs. Fuller, who had heard the conversation without, had made ready a great pan of milk and a loaf of bread, having risen from her bed to care for the young wanderer. Never did bread and milk taste so deliciously to weary traveller as this! Full-fed, Sandy looked at the clock on the wall, and marked with wondering eye that it was past midnight. He had recounted his trials as he ate, and the sympathizing couple had assured him that he had been deceived by the sheep-driver. It was very unlikely that he was driving his flock to California. And it was probable that, coming to some place affording food and water, the sheep had left the main road and had camped down in one of the ravines out of sight.
As Sandy composed his weary limbs in a blanket-lined bunk opposite that occupied by Fuller and his wife, he was conscious that he gave a long, long sigh as if in his sleep. And, as he drifted off into slumber-land, he heard the good woman say, “Well, he’s out of his troubles, poor boy!” Sandy chuckled to himself and slept.