"Well, the journey can't come to an end any too soon for me," said the woman. "Land sakes alive! if I had known what we were to go through with, I'd never 'a' started in the wide world." "We want to make the most of the clear weather," said Bob. "Unless I miss my guess, it is going to snow again before very long." "Right you are," answered Josiah Socket. "The hull air is full o' snow." Half a mile more was covered, and Bob and Mark were still by the side of the mule, when the latter suddenly looked back. "Where is Si?" he cried. "Si? Isn't he here?" came from Mark. "I don't see him." "Neither do I!" "What's the matter, boys?" called out Maybe Dixon, turning back. "We can't see Si," answered the former sailor lad. "Can't see him? Wasn't he with you?" "Yes, but he dropped behind, to fix his shoe." They began to call for the former farm lad, but without avail. Si was neither in sight nor hearing. "Something has happened to him," groaned Mark. "Perhaps he has fallen over some steep rocks and been killed!" CHAPTER XVIII SI TAKES A TUMBLE As has been said, Si had stopped to fix his shoe, which now hurt him more than it had for some time. As he was bending over, the wind took off his cap and blew it across the trail. The headcovering lodged in some brushwood growing at the side of a steep incline. "Drat the luck!" murmured the former farm boy, and having adjusted the shoe once more, he started to regain the cap. This was not so easy as it looked, and before Si knew it, he was slipping down the incline. He clutched at the brushwood, but it came out by the roots, and over and over he rolled, bringing up at last against a mass of dead leaves and brush and in almost total darkness. The fall had taken the wind out of the youth and it was several minutes before he felt able to stand up and look around him. He had bumped his forehead and likewise one elbow, but, fortunately, none of the hurts was serious. "Gosh! If this don't beat all creation!" he gasped, peering around. "I must have come a mile a minit down that slide! Wonder how I am ever to get up again?" The question was not an easy one to answer. In coming down he had rounded several curves, so that he could not get a view of the point from which he had started. The bottom of the pocket--for it was nothing more--was not over ten feet wide and a hundred or more feet in length. He calculated, after he had gotten his wits together, that the top was at least two or three hundred feet above him. "Suppose I can be thankful I wasn't killed," he murmured, as he gazed up the twisting incline. "Beats all how I came down. Wonder if anybody in the crowd saw me?" He waited for a few minutes, and then, having regained his breath, set up a shout. No answer came back, and he shouted several times in succession. "They must have gone on," he mused. "If so, I'll have to do what I can to get out without their help."