more crooked, also. Gigi could not see far either before or behind
him, because of the constant turnings.

Suddenly, he stopped short and listened. There was a sound; yes, there
certainly was a sound on the road behind him,--the noise of galloping
hoofs.

Gigi was seized with a panic. Without stopping to think, he plunged
from the road into the forest, and began to run wildly through the
underbrush. He did not care in which direction he went,--anywhere, as
far as possible from the pursuing hoof-beats.

On, on he plunged, sometimes sprawling over roots of trees, sometimes
bruising himself against low branches or stumbling upon stones which
seemed to rise up on purpose to delay him; torn by briars and tripped
by clutching vines. But always he ran on and on, this way and that,
wherever there seemed an opening in the forest, which was continually
growing denser and more wild.

How long he wandered he did not know. The sun was high in the heavens
when at last, wholly exhausted, Gigi fell upon a bank of moss. His
weary bones ached. He was too tired to move, but lay there motionless,
and presently he fell into a troubled sleep. When he awoke with a
start, it was growing dark, and he was very hungry. He felt for the
pouch into which he had put his bits of bread and cheese, but it was
gone! He must have lost it when pushing through the bushes.

What was he to do? He knew he must find his way back to the highroad,
where he could perhaps beg a supper at some cottage. But how was he to
know which way to go? He looked up and around him in despair. He was