ger and called for help. It was
the fulfilment of the greatest wish of Eustace's life to serve
Bob.

CHAPTER XI.

BLACK-FELLOWS.

In the exultation of the thought Eustace plunged into the scrub and
rode on and on unheedingly, lost in dreams of the adventure before
him. Always he found Bob, always he rescued him, sometimes with the
most thrilling hair-breadth escapes.

The wood was not dark but densely shady, with black distances. It
presently began to worry Eustace that it was impossible to keep a
straight line for the direction whence the answering cry had come;
it was often necessary to wind in and out of the close-growing tree
stems to find a passage for himself and Bolter. There was no road,
path, or even track to follow.

"This will get muddling," he thought, when he had been twisting and
turning, doubling back on his route, for about half an hour. "I
guess I ought to have marked the trees with notches as I came
along. I'll go back and start again."

He pulled Bolter up, sat back on his saddle, and looked round for
the gleam of light through the trunks of the trees that would guide
him back to the open; but there was none--nothing but an even
monotony of dense distance, no matter where he turned.

The boy's heart stood still in the unpleasant shock of surprise.
Which way had he come? He had not the slightest notion, for each
way looked so exactly the same as the other. He realized with
sickening intensity that he had lost his bearings.

"But I must find my way out, of course," he said, addressing
Bolter's glossy ears. "I'll try each way in turn till I see the
light. There is nothing to be scared about."

He felt quite angry with himself for his momentary panic; it was
stupid and babyish. Of course fellows had been lost in the Bush,
but they couldn't have been such a short way in as he must be by
now. True, he had heard a story of a chap who had gone round and
round like a squirrel in a cage not a mile from the outskirts of
the scrub. He was "bushed," and found dead.

The boy shuddered, then literally shook himself as he urged Bolter
on again to begin investigations.

"I won't think about it," he said, setting his teeth. "I must get
out, and begin again; I must."

In and out of the trees he wound, trying his utmost to retrace his
steps; but he had noticed nothing on the way in, and he had no
landmarks to guide him. This went on so long that, fight as he
would with the fear at his heart, it