"And getting jolly rough too," added Duane, as she bumped violently over a big stone.
The road was certainly getting rough. Presently great ruts appeared in it and the two cyclists had to go very warily. To add to their difficulties a thick, chill mist was settling over the downs in addition to the falling darkness. Soon it would be impossible to see many yards ahead, even with their lamps.
"One thing," observed Kitty, "if our progress is slow, so is Erica's. She can't be very far ahead. In fact, I wonder she hasn't turned back by now, realizing that this can't be the main road."
"I wonder if she has any lamps," said Duane uneasily.
The next minute her front wheel ran into a rut; the bicycle skidded sharply and threw her off.
Kitty dismounted. "Hurt?" she inquired.
"Oh no," replied Duane with a laugh. "Came off on my feet all right. But I guess we'd better walk, and wheel our bikes. It'll be just as quick in this awful mist and darkness."
The two girls pressed forward with dogged courage. They were neither of them timid or nervous, each had confidence in the other, and no doubt, but for the anxiety of Erica's safety, would have enjoyed it as a "real adventure."
"Hallo! What's this?" Kitty came to an abrupt halt.
"Erica's bike. She's left it by the roadside and gone forward on foot. There's her front lamp on it, unlit—but perhaps she had no matches," a surmise they afterwards found out to be fact.