"We're off the trail; missed
it somehow. We'd better go back; we can't be far wrong. Or better
yet, you wait here while I hunt."
Bob was very grave.
"You bet I'm not going to be left here to be buried in snow like the
Babes in the Wood," protested Van gaily. "No sir-ee! I don't stay
here. I'll help hunt for the path too. Now don't go getting nervous,
Bobbie, old chap. Two of us can't very well get lost on this
mountain. We'll separate enough to keep within hallooing distance,
and we'll tie a handkerchief on this tree so we can get back to it
again if we want to. We know we're part way down, anyway. That's
certain."
"I don't feel so sure," was Bob's answer. "We ought to have turned
back when it began to cloud up; but I never dreamed of snow. The
family will be having a blue fit about us."
"Cheer up! We'll get down all right, only it may take us a little
longer," Van asserted.
They branched into a side path.
The snow swirled about them in blinding sheets, and their footing
became heavy and slippery.
Wandering on, they scanned the trees.
Not a mark appeared.
Both boys were chilled now, and their spirits drooped.
The possibility of being lost on the mountain began to definitely
form itself in their minds.
"I'm mighty sorry I got you into this scrape, Van," Bob said after
a long pause. "I was too cock-sure of myself. That comes of thinking
you know it all."
"Pooh! It wasn't your fault, Bob. I'd give a cent, though, to know
where we are.
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