“Hullo! where am I going?” he asked himself, and brought his steed to a halt. Then he gazed around in perplexity. “I declare I must be lost!”
With the memory of what had happened when he had been lost before, Jack lost no time in turning back. But soon he became bewildered, and brought his steed to a standstill a second time.
“What does this mean, Firefly?” he asked of the pony, but the animal could not answer.
Jack heaved a sigh and then drew a pistol he carried.
“I’ll fire a shot--that will attract the attention of the others,” he reasoned. “What a dunce I was to get lost! I surely make a fine leader!” Throwing up the pistol he discharged it. Hardly had he done so when his pony started to bolt. Away dashed the steed under some trees and then through a mass of vines, and Jack was thrown to the ground, striking on his head as he fell,--and then his senses forsook him.
How long he laid where he had fallen he did not know exactly but when he came to his senses, it was to find darkness around him. There was no rain, but heavy clouds filled the air and a heavy breeze filled the woods around him. He got up slowly, to make certain that no bones were broken, and then looked around for his pony. The animal had disappeared and could not be found. His pistol was also gone.
“Now I am surely in a pickle,” reasoned Jack. “The question is, what am I to do next?”
He knew his party must have gone on long before this. He would have to find them in some way. But how?
Not relishing a stay in the bushes he started for higher ground. He had not gone a dozen rods when he found himself at the edge of a ravine, lined with tall trees and vines.
“I certainly did not come that way,” he said to himself. “But beyond is higher ground and I had better go up than down.”