The leaves were just come and their vivid, glossy green sprinkled out in the foliage of the little beeches and the woods smelt of new things.

The trail was overgrown and great trees had fallen into it and we had to pick our way around them.

The Comptroller carried me on his back over the wet places and we found the brook at last and he baited my hook while I caught our basket nearly full of little trout.
Coming back we lost the trail and presently the Comptroller stopped and said: "Bart, I'm 'fraid we're going wrong.

Let's sit down here and take a look at the compass." He took out his compass and I stood by his knee and watched the quivering needle.
"Yes, sir," he went on.

"We just turned around up there on the hill and started for Alder Brook again." As we went on he added: "When you're in doubt look at the compass.