he had gone up and down the creek several times, hunting for some
trace of a settlement, and finding none, he reflected that Fuller's
house was on the side of the stream, to the west. It was a very
crooked stream, and he was not sure, in the darkness, which was west
and which was east. But he boldly plunged into the creek, mounting his
horse, and urging the unwilling beast across. Once over, he explored
that side of the stream, hither and yon, in vain. Again he crossed,
and so many times did he cross and recross that he finally had no idea
where he was. Then the conviction came fully into his mind: He was
lost.

The disconsolate boy sat down on a fallen tree and meditated. It was
useless to go farther. He was tired in every limb and very, very
hungry. He bethought himself of the soda-biscuits in his sack. He need
not starve, at any rate. Dobbin was grazing contentedly while the lad
meditated, so slipping off the saddle and the package attached to it,
Sandy prepared to satisfy his hunger with what little provisions he
had at hand. How queerly the biscuits tasted! Jolting up and down on
the horse's back, they were well broken up. But what was this so hot
in the mouth? Ginger? Sure enough, it was ginger. The pounding that
had crushed the biscuits had broken open the package of ginger, and
that spicy stuff was plentifully sprinkled all over the contents of
the sack.

"Gingerbread," muttered Sandy, grimly, as he blew out of his mouth
some of the powdery spice. "Faugh! Tobacco!" he cried next. His
father's package of smoking-tobacco had shared the fate of the ginger.
Sandy's supper was spoiled; and resigning himself to spending the
night hungry in the wilderness, he tethered the horse to a tree, put
the saddle-blanket on the ground, arranged the saddle for a pillow,
and, having cut a few leafy boughs from the alders, stuck them into
the turf so as to form a shelter around his head, and lay down to
pleasant dreams.

"And this is Saturday night, too," thought the lost boy. "They are
having beans baked in the ground-oven at home in the cabin. They are
wondering where I am. What would mother say if she knew I was lost out
here on Flyaway Creek?" And the boy's heart swelled a little, and a
few drops of water stood in his eyes, for he had never been lost
before in his life. He looked up at the leaden sky, now overcast, and
wondered if God saw this lost boy. A few drops fell on his cheek.
Tears? No; worse than that; it was rain.