ad their way through the trees,
following where in front the rabbit led the way, its stumpy whitish
tail turned up like a beckoning signal-flag. Still they struggled and
stumbled on and on, in and out, until they stopped for want of breath in
what seemed the very heart of the wood. Their prey had escaped into the
shelter of a burrow, and the hunters gazed blankly at the spot where it
had disappeared. Then they turned to each other in discomfiture and
disappointment. Afterwards they looked about them, and were filled with
confusion and affright, for the pathway was nowhere to be seen.

"The eggs, Darby!" cried Joan, suddenly conscious, now that the play was
played out, of what had been, what was, and what might be. "Let us go
back diwectly and get Aunt Catharine's basket of eggs."

"Yes, of course, that's what we shall do; but don't be in such a hurry.
You only confuse a fellow," answered Darby, trying to speak lightly,
although his lips were quivering. He had sought up and down, backwards,
forwards, and roundabout, but still could see neither track nor
footmark--just trees, tall trees everywhere, one seeming the exact
counterpart of the other.

Joan, however, was quick to catch his expression of bewilderment, which
so sadly belied his brave words, and she began to sob weakly. She
always cried easily, and seemed sometimes to enjoy it; at least Darby
thought so privately.

"Be quiet, can't you! There's nothing for you to cry about," he said, in
a tone of easy assurance; "at least not yet--not until after we get
home," he added comically. "I do hope Aunt Catharine will be in the
drawing-room, or out to dinner, or--or--something when we arrive. If she
sees us like this, she'll be certain sure to put us to bed at once,"
continued Darby, with sad conviction, glancing anxiously at his soiled
sailor suit, which a few hours before was white, his straw hat with the
brim dangling by a thread; and, worst of all, at Joan's torn pinafore,
scratched legs, and shoeless foot--for in the flurry and fervour of the
chase one small slipper had somehow been left behind.

Joan still sobbed.

"Hush, Joan! don't cry any more, like a good girl," said the little lad
soothingly. "We shall be sure to find the way out very soon now. We left
the basket at the edge of the wood; I don't think any one will have
taken it away. And when we get it, we shan't be hardly any time going
down the hill. We'll slip in softly, softly, and find Auntie Alice