What was his terror to see, on every side of him, a tall and thick undergrowth of bushes and lofty trees. Beneath his feet was a narrow path, while the forest appeared to meet above his head in a black arch. Then, with a start, he realized he was lost; lost on the mountain, lost in the dense woods about Cardiff. He did not know which way to turn. Now if Roger had been an older boy or a sturdy country lad, he would have laughed at the plight in which he found himself,--laughed a bit and then tramped on and sat down, to wait until morning. But, as it was, Roger was never more frightened in his life. Once he had been lost in New York, when he was a little chap. But a big policeman had picked him up and taken him to a precinct station-house, where he was kept until his father, missing him, came after the lost boy. But out here in the country there were no blue-coated officers on the lookout for lost people. There were no police stations, no street lights, no lights at all, in fact, save the little flicker that had died away when Roger's single match went out. When the last spark had become dim the boy's breath came with a gasp. He wanted to run away from the blackness, but where could he flee to escape it, for it was all about him. He felt like crying out; like shouting for help. Then he suddenly recalled something his father had once said to him. "Roger, if you ever find yourself in danger, in a fire, or in any position where you feel you'll lose your presence of mind, just stop, and count ten. Then you'll be able to think calmly, and be able to help yourself, and perhaps others." This came back to the boy like a flash. He resolved to put it into practice. Slowly he counted--1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. He said each number in a loud voice. Even hearing his own tones did him good, and, before he had reached the "nine" he felt himself growing calmer. At the end he was less frightened, and he could think more clearly. Then he began to reason, and before he knew it, he was turning a plan over in his mind. "I must have branched off the road into a path that goes through the woods," he said, "and, at the same time, I must have got turned around, and gone up hill, instead of down. Now let's see. If I turn back and walk in just the opposite direction from which I'm facing now, and if I am careful to keep going down hill, and stay in this path until I strike the road again, I'll probably come out safely. So, then, right about face! Forward, march!" He executed the command and started off bravely in the other direction.