He looked at his horse as if to reproach his good comrade for
not waking him sooner, but Old Jack's large mild eyes gave him such a
gaze of benignant unconcern that the boy was ashamed of himself.
"It certainly was not your fault," he said to his horse, "and, after
all, it probably doesn't matter. We've had a long sound sleep and rest,
and I've no doubt that both of us will profit by it. Nothing seems to be
left in here for you to eat, but I'll take a little breakfast myself."
He did not relight the fire, but contented himself with cold food. Then
resaddling, he left the grove and rode northward again until he came to
a hill, or, rather, a swell, that was higher than the rest. Here he
stopped his horse and took a glance at the sun, which was shining with
uncommon brilliancy. Then he produced a small mirror from the pocket of
his hunting shirt and held it in such a position that it made a focus of
the sun's rays, throwing them in a perfect blazing lance of light.
He turned the flaming lance around the horizon, until it completed the
circle and then he started around with it again. Meantime he was keeping
a close watch upon every high point. A hill rose in the north, and he
looked at it longest, but nothing came from it.
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