They sat down and brought out the lunch. Somehow the idea of their imprisonment in this big, dimly lighted place affected their appetites, and neither ate much. To make matters worse, the sun disappeared behind a mass of cold, gray clouds, and a chill wind gave promise of snow.
“Come on, let’s get out of here; we can eat when we get home,” urged George, springing to his feet and starting off.
“Won’t you wait a second?” Ed called after him, a bit impatiently. “There is only one way to get out of here quickly, and that is for us to try and think which side we came in. We’ve been getting deeper into this mess, and if we just rush around we’ll be lost more than ever.”
“Right you are, Ed,” agreed George, for he readily saw the wisdom of this. “We’ll sit down again and try to remember how we got here.”
They sat for a long time endeavoring to trace their journey back, step by step, to the place where they had first entered the swamp. At last they agreed on a general direction, and, rising, they started off.
“We’ll keep walking until we come to the edge of it, no matter which side we come out on,” declared Ed, after they had toiled along for some distance.
Then it began to snow, and with the falling of the first flakes the spirits of the boys began to sink. They realized that the new fall would obliterate their back-track. With no compass to guide them, and their old trail gone, they felt that their chance of reaching the cabin was slim indeed. As the snow came down thicker and faster, they redoubled their speed in response to a wild desire to get out of the swamp before the full force of the storm broke upon them.
“I guess we’re in for it,” cried Ed, as he hurried on.
“Looks bad,” George confessed, grimly.
They soon found themselves blinded and bewildered by the swirling flakes which beat in their faces. Valiantly they staggered along for some distance. Then Ed, who was leading, called a halt.