But we were wholly lost now. All around us was a horror of great darkness. Suddenly Felicity fell. We dragged her up, but she declared she could not go on—she was done out.
“Have you any idea where we are?” shouted Dan to Peter.
“No,” Peter shouted back, “the wind is blowing every which way. I haven’t any idea where home is.”
Home! Would we ever see it again? We tried to urge Felicity on, but she only repeated drowsily that she must lie down and rest. Cecily, too, was reeling against me. The Story Girl still stood up staunchly and counselled struggling on, but she was numb with cold and her words were hardly distinguishable. Some wild idea was in my mind that we must dig a hole in the snow and all creep into it. I had read somewhere that people had thus saved their lives in snowstorms. Suddenly Felix gave a shout.
“I see a light,” he cried.
“Where? Where?” We all looked but could see nothing.
“I don’t see it now but I saw it a moment ago,” shouted Felix. “I’m sure I did. Come on—over in this direction.”
Inspired with fresh hope we hurried after him. Soon we all saw the light—and never shone a fairer beacon. A few more steps and, coming into the shelter of the woodland on the further side, we realized where we were.
“That’s Peg Bowen’s house,” exclaimed Peter, stopping short in dismay.
“I don’t care whose house it is,” declared Dan. “We’ve got to go to it.”