to you like what we have read of,
about men being lost in the Australian bush?"

"But this isn't the Australian bush."

"No, it's bigger--as much bigger as those trees are than the Australian
bushes."

"Well, you are a nice comfortable fellow, Mark, to come out with!"

"Yes, I am, aren't I? It was stupid of me. But there, I am going to be
plucky now. Let's have another try."

"Yes, try again," said Dean; "but it seems stupid, and may mean getting
farther and farther and more hopelessly lost."

"It can't be, and it shan't be!" cried Mark. "Oh, what stuff! Let's
shout again--shout till we make Mak hear us and come to our help. Now
then, both together. What shall we cry?"

"Cooey, of course," cried Dean; and joining their voices they called at
close intervals again and again till they were hoarse, while at every
shout it seemed as if their voices rebounded from the solid surfaces of
the trees instead of penetrating or running between them. And then as
their voices failed they started off again in and out amongst the
natural pillars, growing more and more excited and dismayed, till they
felt that they could go no farther--absolutely lost, and not knowing
which way to turn, while the darkness above them seemed blacker than
ever and the dimly-seen trees that closed them in on every side began to
wear the appearance of an impenetrable wall.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

AMONG THE PIGMIES.

In utter weariness the two boys now stood their guns up against the
nearest trees and let themselves sink together upon the thin bed of
moist leaves that had not been eaten up, as it were, by the root action
of the trees, glad of the relief to their now weary limbs, and for some
time they sat in the silent darkness, utterly stunned--minutes and
minutes, possibly half an hour, before Mark started to his feet, and,
nerved by his cousin's movement, Dean followed his example.

"Hear someone coming?" he cried, in a hoarse whisper.

"No!" raged out Mark.

"What are you going to do, then?"

"What we ought to have done hours ago. We must have been asleep."

"Asleep! No."

"Well, our brains must have been. There, catch hold of your gun."

As the boy spoke he seized his own by the stock, held it up with one
hand as high as he could, and fired, with the sound thrown back as their
voices had been by the trees. Then they sat and listened.

"Shall I fire?" asked Dean, at last.

"No; wait a few minutes;" and Mark rested his p