Mirage.—­When it is excessive, it is most bewildering:  a man will often mistake a tuft of grass, or a tree, or other most dissimilar object, for his companion, or his horse, or game.  An old traveller is rarely deceived by mirage.  If he doubts, he can in many cases adopt the following hint given by Dr. Kane:  “Refraction will baffle a novice, on the ice; but we have learned to baffle refraction.  By sighting the suspected object with your rifle at rest, you soon detect motion.”

Lost Path.—­If you fairly lose your way in the dark, do not go on blundering hither and thither till you are exhausted; but make as comfortable bivouac as you can, and start at daybreak fresh on your search.

The bank of a watercourse, which is the best of clues, affords the worst of paths, and is quite unfit to be followed at night.  The ground is always more broken in the neighbourhood of a river than far away from it; and the vegatation is more tangled.  Explorers travel most easily by keeping far away from the banks of streams; because then they have fewer broad tributaries and deep ravines to cross.

If in the daytime you find that you have quite lost your way, set systematically to work to find it.  At all event, do not make the matter doubly perplexing by wandering further.  Mark the place very distinctly where you discover yourself at fault, that it may be the centre of your search.  Be careful to ride in such places as will preserve your tracks.  Break twigs if you are lost in a woodland:  if in the open country, drag a stick to make a clear trail.  Marks scratched on the ground to tell the hour and day that you passed by, will guide a relieving party.  A great smoke is useful for the same purpose and is visible for a long distance.  (See “Signals.”)

A man who loses himself, especially in a desert, is sadly apt to find his presence of mind forsake him, the sense of desolation is so strange and overpowering; but he may console himself with the statistics of his chance of safety—­viz., that travellers, though constantly losing their party, have hardly ever been known to perish unrelieved.

When the lost traveller is dead beat with fatigue, let him exert a strong control over himself, for if he gives way to terror, and wanders wildly about hither and thither, he will do no good and exhaust his vital powers much sooner.  He should erect some signal—­as conspicuous a one as he can—­with something fluttering upon it, sit down in the shade, and, listening keenly for any sound of succour, bear his fate like a man.  His ultimate safety is merely a question of time, for he is sure to be searched for; and, if he can keep alive for two or three days, he will, in all probability, be found and saved. (To relieve thirst, p. 223; hunger, p. 197)

Theory.—­When you discover you are lost, ask yourself the following three questions:  they comprise the ABC of the art of pathfinding, and I will therefore distinguish them by the letters A, B, and C respectively:—­A.  What is the least distance that I can with certainty specify, within which the caravan-path, the river, or the sea-shore, that I wish to regain, lies?  B. What is the direction, in a vague general way, towards which the path or river runs, or the sea-coast tends?  C. When I last left the path, did I turn to the left or to the right.