"So I think," replied Willis, stopping to look about.
"I think we're heading off too far toward Stoss Pond," said I.
"Oh no, we're not!" cried Willis. "Come on!"
Gripping our strings of fish, we ran on again, but presently we were perplexed to discern the side of a mountain looking up directly ahead.
"There, now, what did I tell you?" said I. "That's Stoss Pond mountain."
Thereupon we tacked again, and ran on.
The storm thickened and the forest darkened, but on we went through brush and thicket till we came to the bank of a large brook.
"We didn't cross any such brook as this on our way up!" John exclaimed.
"We're away down on Stoss Pond brook," said Willis. "We've come wrong! If you both think you know more than I, keep on; I'm going in this other direction," and Willis set off to run again. John and I followed him. In the course of five minutes we came suddenly out into cleared land.
"There! What did I tell you?" cried Willis. "This is Wilbur's pasture. We're almost home now."