"Where are we, I wonder?" murmured Jack for the tenth time.
"Somebody had better run over to the corner grocery and find out," grinned Tim. "Want to send some picture postals home?"
"How in the dickens shall we ever find our way back to anywhere?" went on Jack, grumblingly. "May take the rest o' our lives to do it. We haven't even seen a glimpse o' that mountain where Wanna's gold mine—"
"Hey, cut it out, Jacky," interposed d**k. "You're breaking rule number one again—that makes the seventy-eighth time."
"Suppose you think some bear, or little birdlet, or panther is listening!" jeered Jack. "Hang it! Bet nobody else would be silly enough to fight his way through walls o' bushes an' wade wet creeks like we have. How do you know we're goin' in the right direction, eh?"
"Compass tells us
