At length he turned and walked back to their camping ground.  He had just reached the place when a magnificent moose trotted majestically by but a short distance away.  Forgotten was Samson’s admonition about the shooting of big game, so seizing his rifle, he slipped quickly and quietly after the big animal.  The latter had already passed out of sight, but expecting to catch a glimpse of it at any instant, Reynolds hastened forward.  This led him down into a valley, and there he saw the moose in a small open clearing to the left.  Before he was near enough to shoot, the animal once more vanished among the trees.  The fever of the chase was now upon him, and unheeding his bearings, he pressed rapidly on, expecting every minute to come in sight of the lordly creature.  But he was doomed to disappointment, and most reluctantly he was compelled to relinquish the pursuit.

Reynolds had no definite idea how far he had travelled, nor the direction he had taken.  So intent had he been upon following the moose, that he had lost all trace of his bearings, and he knew not the way back to the camp.  This was a most disquieting situation, and he chided himself for his stupidity.  Night was also upon him, and this added to his perplexity.

“What a mess I have made of it!” he growled.  “In this labyrinth of valleys, hills, trees, and wild meadows, how in the name of common sense am I to find that speck of camping ground?  It must lie over there,” and he looked away to his right.  “The sun was before me when I started, and by keeping due east I should come somewhere near the place.”

For over an hour he plowed his way through the forest, up hill and down, each moment expecting to see the lake for which he was searching.  His efforts, however, were all in vain, so wearied almost to the point of exhaustion, and with clothes torn, hands and face bleeding, he was forced to give up for the night.

Sinking upon the ground, he tried to calm the agitated state of his mind.  From the first he had realised his serious predicament, and how difficult it would be to extricate himself from that vast wilderness.

“I can’t go any farther to-night,” he declared, “so I might as well make the best of a bad affair.  I have my rifle, and that’s some comfort.  I needn’t starve, anyway, even though I am lost.”

He felt for his cartridge belt, and immediately he gave a great start of dismay.  It was not there!  Then he remembered that he had taken it off when pitching camp that night by the shore of the lake.  With trembling hands he next examined the magazine of his rifle, and found that but three cartridges were left, as he had fired two shots in the hope of attracting Frontier Samson’s attention.  This was a serious situation, and he realised that upon those three remaining cartridges his life depended.

CHAPTER X

ADRIFT IN THE WILDERNESS