Suddenly I had an
inspiration. Yes, the fog was coming from the northeast!
So, by observing the drift of the droplets I could find
at least an approximate meridian line. I went to the
headlight, and an observation immediately confirmed my
conjecture. I was now convinced that I was on that wild
land where two months ago I had watched the goldfinches
disporting themselves in the evening sun. But so as not
to turn back to the south, I struck out at an angle of
only about sixty degrees to my former direction. I tried
not to swerve, which involved rough going, and I had many
a stumble. Thus I walked for another half hour or
thereabout.
Then, certainly! This was the road! The horses turned
into it of their own accord. That was the most reassuring
thing of all. There was one strange doubt left. Somehow
I was not absolutely clear about it whether north might
not after all be behind. I stopped. Even a new observation
of the fog did not remove the last vestige of a doubt.
I had to take a chance, some landmark might help after
a while.
I believe in getting ready before I start. So I took my
coal-oil lantern, lighted and suspended it under the rear
springs of the buggy in such a way that it would throw
its light back on the road.
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