dead tree at any moment.
Finally he stopped altogether.

"See here, Bert; I guess we're on the wrong track," said he, coolly.
"I've missed the tree somehow, and it's getting late, so we'd better
make for home. We'll have a try some other day."

Poor little Bert, by this time thoroughly weary, was only too glad to
turn homeward, and the relief at doing this gave him new strength for a
while. But it did not last very long, and soon, footsore and exhausted,
he dropped down upon a bank of moss, and burst into tears.

"Oh, Charlie, I wish we were home," he sobbed. "I'm so tired, and
hungry, too."

Charlie did not know just what to do. It was getting on toward sundown;
he had quite lost his way, and might be a good while finding it again,
and he felt pretty well tired himself. But he put on a brave face and
tried to be very cheerful, as he said:

"Don't cry, Bert. Cheer up, my boy, and we'll soon get home."

It was all very well to say "cheer up," but it was another thing to do
it. As for getting home soon, if there were no other way for Bert to get
home than by walking the whole way, there was little chance of his
sleeping in his own bed that night.

How thoroughly miserable he did feel! His conscience, his legs, and his
stomach, were all paining him at once. He bitterly repented of his
disobedience, and vowed he would never err in the same way again. But
that, while it was all very right and proper, did not help him homeward.

At length Charlie grew desperate. He had no idea of spending the night
in the woods if he could possibly help it, so he proposed a plan to
Bert:

"See here, Bert," said he, "you're too played out to walk any more. Now,
I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll run home as fast as I can, and saddle
the old mare and bring her here, and then we'll ride back again
together. What do you say?"

"Oh, don't leave me here alone?" pleaded Bert. "I'll be awfully
frightened."

"Chut! Bert. There's nothing to frighten you but some old crows. Stay
just where you are, and I'll be back inside of an hour." And without
waiting to argue the point, Charlie dashed off into the woods in the
direction he thought nearest home; while Bert, after crying out in vain
for him to come back, buried his face in the moss and gave himself up to
tears.

One hour, two hours, three hours passed, and still Bert was alone. The
sun had set, the gloaming well-nigh passed, and the shadows of night
drew near. All kinds of queer noises f