"I think the horse must have run away," he went on, "or else I'd see something of Adrian by this time, though it's as dark as a pocket here, and hard enough to locate your hand before your face, let alone somebody away down the road." Roger listened intently, but could catch no sound of rattling wheels, nor the beating of a horse's hoofs, which might have indicated that the wagon was coming back. All about was silence and darkness. The boy tried again to stand up, and found that his momentary weakness had passed. "I guess I'd better walk on until I meet Adrian," he said to himself. "He'll be sure to be coming back soon," and he started off in the direction he thought was toward Cardiff. Now if Roger had lived all his life in the country, or if he had been more familiar with the road, he probably would have had no trouble in starting on the right way back home. Very likely he would have done so instinctively; or he might have gotten his bearings from the stars, which shone overhead, though somewhat dimly. As it was, he became confused in the darkness, and, owing to a slight dizziness caused by his fall, instead of going toward Cardiff, he began walking back toward Tully. He was a little sore and stiff at first, but, as he went on, this disappeared, and he stepped out briskly enough. He thought he would not have far to go before meeting his cousin, but, as he walked farther and farther, he commenced to wonder what had become of Adrian. But then, he reassured himself, perhaps Adrian had had some trouble in bringing the old white horse to a stop, though the animal had not seemed to be such a mettlesome steed. "But I'll meet him soon, now," said Roger, trying to comfort himself. He could feel the soft dusty road under his feet, and its whiteness was like a big indistinct chalk mark on a large blackboard, as it came faintly through the darkness. But, somehow or other, in a little while the white mark seemed to be fading away. It grew so dim that even by the hardest squinting of the eyes, it could no longer be seen. It appeared also that the character of the road was changing. It was no longer dusty and soft, but hard, and firm, and, instead of going down hill, Roger found himself ascending the grade. "Hold on!" exclaimed the boy, "this is queer. I must have turned around." He came to a sudden stop. Was he off the road? Was he lost? He hurriedly searched through his pockets and found a single match. Here was something that would aid him, though ever so slightly. With unsteady fingers he struck the little fire-stick. It flared up, sputtered and flickered, and, a second later, blazed brightly. Holding it above his head, so the glow might light all around him, he peered about in the gloom which was but faintly illuminated by the tiny flame.