"It's all worst!" And then Tom laughed, in spite of the seriousness of the situation.
At last they gained the spot where they had first struck the brook, and here they halted again.
"The worst of it is, there is no telling how far this brook runs before it empties into the Perch River," observed Tom.

"We may have to go two or three miles out of our way." "We may as well climb up the hill again, Tom, and try to follow one of those trails." "Perhaps you are right." They talked the matter over and at last began to climb the hill, now more difficult than before, since the snow was several inches deeper.
It took a long while to gain the top, and still longer to find the spot where they had left the trail.
"Here we are," said Tom, resting on a fallen tree which marked the locality.

"Now the all-important question is, which way next ?" "Tom, I believe we are getting lost," came from Sam, in a dismal tone.
"I don't think we're getting lost, Sam; we _are_ lost, no two ways about it.

We've got to keep our eyes open and our wits about us, or we'll be getting into a first-class mess." "It must be almost noon," went on the youngest Rover, and pulled out his watch.

"Phew! Half-past twelve!" "Thought I was hungry.