If there isn't a telegraph wire to guide, don't take short cuts. Jan,
Stajitch, and Jo tried to race the darkness by cutting straight down a
ravine. We lost the horses, lost every one else, and we came out again
on to a hill crest. No one was to be seen. After a while the professor
rode by, led by his policeman, who had been almost suffocated by
laughter all day.
"Teshko, teshko," moaned the professor.
"Ni je teshko," we said. "But where are the horses?"
He waved a hand vaguely behind him. Rogerson, Whatmough, and Owen came
up. It was getting dark and a mist was rising. So we left the three at
the corner to mark where it was and went back. For a long time we
stumbled in the darkness, shouting, but no horses could we find. At last
we decided to turn back, wondering if they too had lost their way and
decided to camp out. There were shouts in the valley beyond. A light
flashed and some one fired off a revolver. There was a candle end in
Jan's bag, and by its dim light we found a road.
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