"Not a bit of danger," answered Frank, "as long as you're on horseback. A horse'll always steer clear of 'em." When they reached the hunting-ground, and had lighted the pine-knots in their fire-pans, Frank said, "There's no use our keeping together; we'll never get anything if we do. I'll follow that star over this way"--and he pointed as he spoke to a bright one in the north-east--"and you go towards that one"--pointing to one a little south of east. "We'll ride for an hour, and then if we haven't had any luck we'll make the best of our way home. Remember that to get home you must keep the North-star exactly on your right hand, and by going due west you'll be sure to strike the road that runs up and down the river. If either of us fires, the other is to go to him at once, firing signal guns as he goes, and these the other must answer so as to show where he is." Mark promised to follow these instructions, and as the two boys separated, little did either of them imagine the terrible circumstances under which their next meeting was to take place. Mark had ridden slowly along for some time, carefully scanning the lane of light ahead of him, without shining a single pair of eyes, and was beginning to feel oppressed by the death-like stillness and solitude surrounding him. Suddenly his light disappeared, his horse reared into the air, almost unseating him, and then dashed madly forward through the darkness. The fire-pan, carelessly made, had given way, its blazing contents had fallen on the horse's back, and, wild with pain, he was running away. All this darted through Mark's mind in an instant; but before he had time to think what he should do, the horse, with a snort of terror, stopped as suddenly as he had started--so suddenly as to throw himself back on his haunches, and to send Mark flying through the air over his head. Thus relieved of his rider, the horse wheeled and bounded away. At the same instant Mark's rifle, which he had held in his hand, fell to the ground, and was discharged with a report that rang loudly through the still night air. The sound was distinctly heard by Frank, who was less than a mile away; and thinking it a signal from his companion, he rode rapidly in the direction from which it had come. He had not gone far before he heard the rapid galloping of a horse, apparently going in the direction of Wakulla. Although he fired his own rifle repeatedly, he got no response, and he finally concluded that Mark was playing a practical joke, and had ridden home after firing his gun without waiting for him. Thus thinking, he turned his own horse's head towards home, and an hour later reached the house. He found Mark's horse standing at the stable door in a lather of foam, and still saddled and bridled. Then it flashed across him that something had happened to Mark, and, filled with a sickening dread, he hurried into the house and aroused Mr. Elmer. "Hasn't Mark come home?" he inquired, in a husky voice.