But I was not sleepy. When I had stretched out on the soft bed of
pine-needles with my rifle close by, and was all snug and warm under the
heavy blanket, it seemed that nothing was so far away from me as sleep. The
wonder of my situation kept me wide awake, my eyes on the dim huge pines
and the glimmer of stars, and my ears open to the rush and roar of the
wind, every sense alert. Hours must have passed as I lay there living over
the things that had happened and trying to think out what was to come. At
last, however, I rolled over on my side, and with my hand on the rifle and
my cheek close to the sweet-smelling pine-needles I dropped asleep.

When I awoke the forest was bright and sunny.

"You'll make a fine forester," I said aloud, in disgust at my tardiness.
Then began the stern business of the day. While getting breakfast I turned
over in my mind the proper thing for me to do. Evidently I must pack and
find the trail. The pony had wandered off into the woods, but was easily
caught--a fact which lightened my worry, for I knew how dependent I was
upon my mustangs. When I had tried for I do not know how long to get my
pack to stay on the pony's back I saw where Mr. Cless had played a joke on
me. All memory of the diamond-hitch had faded into utter confusion. First
the pack fell over the off-side; next, on top of me; then the saddle
slipped awry, and when I did get the pack to remain stationary upon the
patient pony, how on earth to tie it there became more and more of a
mystery. Finally, in sheer desperation, I ran round the pony, pulled,
tugged, and knotted the lasso; more by luck than through sense I had
accomplished something in the nature of the diamond-hitch.

I headed Hal up the gentle forest slope, and began the day's journey
wherever chance might lead me. As confidence came, my enjoyment increased.