the east, it became plain to us all that we had taken the wrong direction. The Chinisee Castle was not here. Nothing lay before us but a deserted village.

I knew not what to make of Boyd, for the discovery of our mistake seemed to produce no impression on him. He stood at the edge of the woods, gazing vacantly across the little clearing where the Indian houses straggled on either side of the trail.

“We have made a bad mistake,” I said in a low voice.

“Yes, a bad one,” he said listlessly.

“Shall we not start on our return?” I asked.

“There is no hurry.”

“I beg your pardon, but I have to remind you that you are to report at sunrise.”