All lost—The gathering Gloom of Fog and of Night—Sudden Discovery.—The lost One found.—A Turkey with four Legs.—A cheerful Discussion.—Five Hours of Wandering.—When will it end?—Once more upon the Tramp.

THEY went on.

The shades of evening were now coming down rapidly, and these were all intensified by the dense fog that hung around them. The woods grew more and more obscure, and the gloom that prevailed here was added to that of the twilight and the fog. It was evident that they could not go on much longer.

Fortunately, it was not so difficult now as it had been previously. The trees stood farther apart than usual. There was but little underbrush. The ground was covered with moss, but it was quite dry. This was encouraging, for if they tried to pass the night in the woods, they could not find a better place than the one which they were traversing. They would probably have given up, and decided upon making preparations for the night, had it not been for their desire to find Pat. If he had been with them, their journey for that night would have ended. But they did not like to think of him alone, severed from them, and wandering in the woods. So they kept on their way; and still, as they went along, they shouted occasionally, with some vague hope that their cry might come to the ears of the wanderer.

It grew darker and darker.

At last they began to think of halting for the night. Pat was given up. They comforted themselves with the thought that he was hardy, and fearless, and self-reliant; that the nights were mild; and that spruce boughs abounded, together with ferns and moss, on which one might sleep peacefully and pleasantly. So, as it grew darker, they talked of stopping, and making their preparations for the night before it grew too dark.

Suddenly, as they were talking over these things, they saw before them through the trees, yet not more than a dozen paces distant, a very familiar form. It was a “snake fence,”—that is to say, a fence formed of poles, built in such a way that it runs in a zigzag direction. At once the thought flashed upon them that they were near some farmhouse, perhaps some settlement; and then arose the hope of a better night’s rest than could be afforded by the woods with their damp and foggy atmosphere. With a cry of joy they rushed forward. They reached it. They looked over. In a moment the cry of joy was succeeded by one of surprise.

It was a road which lay before them.

Yes, a road, wide and well travelled,—not a private path to some small cottage, not an ox-path through dense woods, but a regular road fit for carriages, and evidently leading to some settlement.

But what settlement?

In a moment they had clambered over the fence, and stood in the road with one common determination in all of them not to leave it again for any woods whatsoever.

Yet what road was this? and where did it go?

This was the question.

And this question it was not possible to answer.

Had they continued on uninterruptedly, Bruce would have been convinced that it was the Scott’s Bay road. But their digression after Pat had led them such a journey, that he was not by any means sure; nor were any of the others. All felt that they had been wandering blindly, that after leaving the cliff they had no certainty as to their destination. This uncertainty had been increased by Pat’s leadership with the pole, and had been turned into utter and hopeless perplexity by their last pursuit of him. They had been wandering now, since they parted with Dr. Porter, for more than four hours. That gave time enough for them to get anywhere. It might be the road to Hall’s Harbor in which they now found themselves.

In this state of uncertainty they remained for some time.

“Well, boys,” said Bruce, at last, “it’s impossible to tell where we are; but, in my opinion, we’d better take it for granted that this is the Scott’s Bay road. It’s more likely, after all, to be that than the Hall’s Harbor road. If it is, we have to find our way back to where the wagons are, according to the doctor’s directions, and wait there for him. Now, if this is the Scott’s Bay road, we must turn to the right, in order to go back, for on the left it goes to Scott’s Bay. So, I say, let’s turn up the road to the right, and walk back to the wagons.”

Bruce’s opinion was accepted by the others, and his decision at once adopted. They all turned up the road to the right, and walked onward, not knowing how far they would have to walk, yet feeling greatly inspirited by the mere fact that they were out of the woods.

As they went on, it grew darker and darker at every step. The sun had gone down, the shadows of night were descending, and these shadows were all deepened by the universal fog which covered all things. The deepening gloom made their own escape from the woods appear all the more fortunate. True, they might have built a fire there, to cheer themselves by its light, and spread soft beds of moss and fern around it, and thus, even amid the forest, they could have risen superior to their dismal surroundings; but still there was a very great relief, which was felt by all, at their gaining a road which might lead them to some human abode. Besides, they were hungry. They had eaten all their sandwiches, and were eager for something to assuage their ravenous appetites.

One thing there was, however, which greatly marred their joy, and that was the thought of poor Pat. Perhaps he still was wandering in the woods, having given up his chase, calling for them, and thinking that they had deserted him. The thought of poor Pat’s lonelin............