“Blind luck!” he cried. “And I thought it was a wild beast! How foolish I was not to come down and take a look!”
Not to scare the pony, Jack called out softly, at which the steed pricked up its ears. Then our hero slid down the tree to the ground and caught the pony by the head. It did not offer to run away, but whinnied with evident satisfaction.
It gave Jack great pleasure to find the pony again, and he felt far less lonely than he had during the night. He mounted into the saddle, and, guided by the sun turned in the direction where he thought the mountain trail might lie.
It was a dull day, a peculiar smoky air filling the jungle.
From a distance came the cry of wild birds, but that was all.
Jack journeyed for a good two hours, and then came to what looked like another ravine. But the banks were not so steep as before and he had but little difficulty in going down one side and getting up the other.
“Well, I never!”
This was the cry that burst from his lips half an hour later. A moment before he had realized that the surroundings looked familiar. Now, on the ground before him, he saw his lost pistol, shining among the grass and leaves.
He lost no time in securing the weapon. It was ready for use and with great satisfaction he placed it in his pocket.
“Now I’ve got something with which to defend myself,” he reasoned. “It may not be as good as a gun, but it is better than nothing.”