In vain I tried to determine the direction I ought to take; trees and swamps were on all sides of me, and I could not decide whether my friends were now on my right-hand or my left. I remembered that our place of rendezvous appeared to be nearly opposite an opening in the hills, some six or eight miles distant; but there were openings in the hills on each side of me, and which was the one to be sought I could not determine. I therefore resolved to retrace the foot-marks of my horse, if possible; and set out leading the animal, having Tip limping at my side, and every now and then looking up as though he felt for the ill plight in which we all appeared. It soon became evident that the horse must be left behind; and therefore removing his saddle and bridle, I placed them at the foot of a tree, and gave him his liberty.* [footnote] *Six months afterwards he was caught among the horses of a settler on the Serpentine, perfectly sound and in excellent condition. After going some distance, I came within view of an extensive swamp, which I fancied formed part of that I had so much difficulty in crossing. Turning to the right, I followed its course for some time, hoping to get round it, but it seemed to extend towards the hills, cutting off all farther progress. The sun was now about to set, and getting desperate, I plunged into the thicket, and tried to push through the swamp. There was no water, but the immense quantities of bind-weed, and other thickly-growing plants, quite defied every attempt, and I was obliged to turn back again. Tip and myself had now to retrace our steps. It was getting dusk, and the state of affairs looked uncomfortable. Again we tried in vain to cross the swamp, which soon afterwards receded farther from the hills, and left a broad plain before us, which we traversed in the course of half an hour. My foot seemed to get better with exercise, but night had now set in, and it was useless to attempt making farther progress, when we could not distinguish an object thirty feet in advance. I now found myself stumbling up a rising ground covered with trees; and here I lay down, with Tip at my side, to wait as patiently as possible for morning. The dog, I imagine, had found some water in the swamp, as he did not now seem to be suffering from thirst as I was myself. He was soon asleep, and I envied him, for hours elapsed before I could find repose. The land-wind, sweeping down from the hill-side, moaned through the trees; the rising moon shed her sickly and distorting light upon the bushes around; and bruised and stiff, hungry, thirsty, and uncomfortable, I felt by no means delighted with my quarters. A fire would have been agreeable, but there were no means of procuring one. Sleep at last befriended me, and I did not wake until the sun began to shed his first rays upon the tops of the trees.