All unconscious that they had been wrongly directed by Jim Jones, the Rover boys and their chums continued their journey. When they reached the hemlock that had been struck by lightning, they took to the other path as directed.
"I am sorry I didn't ask how far that town was," said Dick. "For all we know, we may be miles away from it."
"If it gets too late, we had better go into camp for the night," suggested Songbird, and so it was agreed.
The coming of night found them in something of a hollow between two ranges of hills. The trail was soft and spongy, and the horses frequently sank in over their hoofs.
"This is something I didn't bargain for," observed Songbird. "I trust we don't get stuck and have to go back."
"That cowboy said the trail would be poor for a while," came from Fred.
They continued to go forward, on the lookout for some suitable spot where they might camp for the night. The thought of reaching a town had faded away an hour before.
"Gosh! this is getting worse!" cried Tom. "Be careful, Hans!" he called to the German youth, who was ahead.
"Vot's dot?" sang out the other.
