It seemed that they had been walking a long time and Westy looked frankly puzzled.
“Do I imagine it, or are the trees thicker than when we came this way hunting for the berries? It looks different to me somehow, don’t you think so?”
“Sure it does, Wes. This isn’t the way we came at all—I can’t see our tracks now at all!”
“You’re right! Let’s go back a bit.”
They went back, but looking for their footprints became a decided search.
“We might as well go right on until we find them,” Westy said, as puzzled as ever.
“Yeh, let’s keep strict watch this time!”
On they went, eyes fixed on the ground and at the same time victims to the overhanging branches and thick thorny brush. Their faces and arms were scratched almost beyond recognition.
Hour after hour passed.
They were getting hungry again; in fact, they had been that way for a long while and their thirst was acute. No water had they spied yet, and after devouring some more berries in resignation, they rested a little and then went on.