“If we find we’re wrong, we’ll try and make our way back here,” Barry said. “But I just have a hunch that the lodge lies in that direction. We’ll try it.”
Spurred on by the faint hope that they might be somewhere near their camp, the boys hurried out of the bowl of the quarry and once more plunged into the woods. They found that their feet had become numb from standing, and they winced as they began their journey. The wind was still sharp, but the snowflakes had thinned out and the storm was obviously letting up. There had been considerable snow, however, and their feet sank deep into it as they traveled on.
“I believe that the storm is letting up,” Barry said, as they tramped on, heads down and faces bent to escape the bite of the wind.
“That will be a help,” Kent acknowledged. “But isn’t this cold intense? I’d give something to be out of this wind and to get my feet warm. I don’t want to kick a rock or a tree root, for fear of knocking a couple of toes off!”
“When we get up to the top of this slope, we may be able to see our way and figure out where we are,” Barry consoled.
“We’ve had mighty bad luck,” Kent said. “We haven’t come across a single home, and there are some in these mountains, but our wanderings have taken us away from them.”
“Yes, if we had run across a house, we could have put up for the night. We may do so yet. Well, in a few minutes we can see something.”
Toiling on up the slope, they came at last to a break in the timber, and their anxious eyes scanned the dark landscape for any signs that might guide them. Then Barry pointed.
“I wonder if that is a light off there? It’s pretty small and still some distance away. What do you think?”
“Looks like a light to me. We might as well go in that direction and see. It is as good as walking around blindly.”