They walked on slowly and cautiously in and out among the trees of what was, in the darkness, a complete wilderness. At times they were struggling through bushes that impeded their progress, and though time after time the track seemed to be found, they were deceived. It was as if Nature were fighting against them to keep them within reach of Hallam and his friend, and, though they toiled on, a second hour had elapsed and found them still astray.
But now, as they climbed a steep slope, the wind came with a gust, the clouds were chased before it, there was the glint of a star or two, and Mrs Hallam uttered an exclamation.
“There!” she cried, “to the left. I can see the lights now.”
Catching Julia’s hand more firmly, she hurried on, for the night was now comparatively light, but neither uttered a word of their thoughts as they gave a frightened glance back at a dim object on the hill behind, for they awoke to the fact that they had been wandering round and about the hill and gully, returning on their steps, and were not five hundred yards away from their starting-point.
At the end of a quarter of an hour the stars were out over half the vault of heaven, and to their great joy the path was found—the rough track leading over the unoccupied land to the town.
“Courage! my child,” whispered Mrs Hallam; “another hour or two and we shall be there.”
“I am trying to be brave, dear,” whispered back Julia as the track descended into another gully; “but this feeling of dread seems to chill me, and—oh! listen!”
Mrs Hallam stopped, and plainly enough behind them there was the sound of bushes rustling; but the sound ceased directly.
“Some animal—that is all,” said Mrs Hallam, and they passed on.
Once more they heard the sound, and then, as they were ascending a little eminence before descending another of the undulations of the land, there came the quick beat of feet, and mother and daughter had joined in a convulsive grasp.