Duane went to the door and peered out. The mist was covering everything with icy drops of water, and it was densely black everywhere. She drew back with a shiver.
"I say, Kitty, do you think we should find the track again? Then, of course, we could get back to the Frattenton road. We could carry the kid between us."
"The point is," replied Kitty, somewhat grimly, "that if we risked the chance of finding the track and failed, ten chances to one if we should be able to find the hut again. In that case we should be wandering about the downs in this icy mist, and Erica, for one, isn't in a fit condition to do much wandering. On the other hand, if we stay here for the night,"—she looked at Duane with a faint smile—"I've no doubt we shall need all our courage if we are going to stick it."
"Oh, your courage is all right," said Duane carelessly.
"And—I sort of—believe you've got plenty too," muttered Kitty under her breath. Then aloud, "Well, let's have a little rest and make up our minds what to do."
It was the discovery of the straw that settled the matter—a big truss of it in the corner, dry as a bone, and clean and fragrant. They did not waste time considering the reason for its being there, but decided to settle down in the hut, now that they had something that might keep the warmth in their bodies. They spread it on the floor and curled up on it, wishing that there was twice the quantity so that they might burrow right in. They were all wearing their big coats, and Kitty and Duane were quite warm from their hard cycling and walking; but Erica was shivering with cold. So Kitty and Duane set to work vigorously to rub her arms and legs until the blood began to circulate again.
They huddled up together on the straw, with Erica in the middle. It was to Duane, Kitty noted with some surprise, that the child turned for comfort and protection, and the bigger girl seemed to respond with a queer, sympathizing tenderness that Kitty had never dreamed her capable of.
"I thought you two were ancient and bitter enemies," she said with a laugh.
"I thought I hated Duane once," responded the child with quaint gravity. "But I don't now. It was very silly of me. Duane is a dear," with an affectionate, almost passionate hug.
"Duane is an ass," said that person herself, "and Kitty is one too, to let two lamps go on burning when one would do."