“Here comes a shower!” exclaimed Tom, as he felt the first drops of a September storm.  “Lucky we got the dry bark in time.”

“Say, but this is punk!” grumbled Bert, as he stumbled on in the half-darkness.

By carefully noting the path, and keeping to it, they managed to avoid going in a circle again.  Their torches smoked and spluttered, as the rain increased, and, though they were under the shelter of trees, they soon were quite wet.

“Cross-country runs!” murmured Jack, as he stepped into a bog-hole up to his ankles.  “No more for yours truly!”

“It’s all in the game,” said Tom, with a laugh.  “We’ll soon be out of it.”

“We’re out of it now,” snapped Bert, looking at his watch.  “We’ve got half an hour to make the gym, for it’s half-past seven now, and I’ll wager a can of beans that we’re five miles from it.”

“Not as bad as that,” asserted Tom.  “We may make it yet, if we can strike a good road.  This looks like something here, fellows,” he added, as he emerged from the woodland path upon a firm footing.  “It is!” he cried a moment later.  “I guess we can make it now!  Come on!”

Holding his torch of bark above his head, Tom led the way.  He was quite sure of himself now, even though he did not know just where the path was coming out.  It was broadening as he advanced, and he was positive it did not lead deeper into the woods.

“Ugh!” suddenly grunted Tom, as he came to an abrupt halt.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jack.

“I ran into a fence, or something.  Yes, It’s a fence,” Tom went on.  “We must have struck some sort of a farm.”

“I wish it was the one where that fellow works,” put in Jack.  “I’d like to rub his nose in the mud for sending us on the wrong path.”

“There’s a light over there!” cried Bert, as he and the others came up to where Tom had come to a halt at the barrier.  It was a rail fence of the “snake” variety, and Tom had run full tilt into it in the darkness, his torch having burned out.

“A light!” cried Bert.  “That means a house, or some sort of human habitation.  Let’s head for it, fellows, and maybe we can get on the right road.”

“Over the fence is out!” cried Jack, as he leaped the barrier.  “Come on, fellows!”

The others followed him, the torch of George being the only one aglow.

“It’s a cornfield!” cried Tom, as he landed in it.  “Look out, and don’t trample too much of it down.”

“Oh, it’s only late fodder corn, and I guess it won’t matter much,” was Jack’s opinion, as he floundered on through the field.  They could hear him crashing down the corn stalks, and being wet, tired and miserable, and perhaps a little unthinking, the others did the same thing.

“Head for the light!” called George.  “My torch is on the blink.”

It went out a moment later, and in the darkness and rain the lads stumbled on.  The light grew plainer as they advanced toward it, and, in a little while, trampling through the corn, they saw a farm house just beyond the field through which they had come.