the hot south wind swept our faces, passing among the tree-tops with a sighing which foretold the approaching storm.
“It is certainly going to rain,” said Maurice anxiously, “and it will be dark in next to no time. I wish we were at the place where we turned off.”
“It is dark now,” I answered, as even the trifle of light remaining grew suddenly less, and the deepening shadows told me that the sun was down at last.
Philpot peered about anxiously.
“Plague take the fork in the path—where is it?” he exclaimed. “Do you know what I begin to fear?”
“That we have been going wrong again?” I asked.
“That’s about the size of it.”
It would not surprise me. Who said this was the same trail? I declare I saw the path and just followed it—that is about all.”
“What? Do you mean to tell me that! By Jove, man! I’ve been following you!”
“And I,” added Maurice “have been tamely following both of you.”
“Blind, leading the blind,” cried the Doctor. “Look here, if we don’t strike the junction soon, we’re in for a night of it, and had better return to the wood-cutters’ camp before it’s too dark to find the way.”
“And have our throats cut before morning?” retorted Maurice. “No, thank you. I don’t pretend to the knowledge of the Siamese character that you claim, but catch me running my neck into any such noose as that.”
That the situation was becoming serious there was no denying. We plunged on, the ground growing low and marshy as we advanced. A bad indication. We had passed through nothing of the sort on our way to the woodcutters’ camp.
Now the wind began to moan more ominously, and the darkness increased to that extent that we could no longer see our way.
“Delightful, ain’t it?” sneered Philpot. “Heavens! I’m in water up to my knees.”
He was only a few yards ahead of us, but we could no longer see him.
“Give me a hand boys, or I’m stuck! ” he called. “I’m slowly sinking, Lord knows where!”
We pulled him out with considerable difficulty, all retreating a few steps to more solid ground.
