“Maybe we had,” he agreed, half out of breath because it was hard work walking uphill and against the wind. And almost before they knew it the children were going up a hill, though they did not remember having come down one on their trip to the chestnut grove.
They found a sheltered place under a big cedar tree, and, crawling beneath its protecting branches, they sat on the bare ground, where there was, as yet, no snow. The white flakes swirled and drifted all about them, but the thick branches of the tree, growing low down, made a place like a green tent.
“It’s nice in here,” said Bert, as he opened his bundle of lunch.
“Yes, but we ought to be at home,” said Nan.
“We’ll go home as soon as we eat a little,” said her brother.
But after they had each eaten a sandwich and some cookies, and Bert had cracked a few chestnuts between his teeth and had found them rather too cold and raw to be good, the twins decided to go on.
Out into the storm they went, away from the shelter of the friendly tree. The storm was worse, if anything, and, without knowing it, Bert and Nan had become completely turned around. Every step they took carried them farther and farther away from their home camp. And they had journeyed quite a distance from the cabin before finding any chestnuts.
“Oh, Bert!” Nan exclaimed after a while, half sobbing, “I can’t go a step farther. The snow is so thick, and it’s so hard to walk in. And the wind blows it in my face, and I’m cold! I can’t go another step!”
“That’s too bad!” Bert exclaimed. “Maybe we’re almost back to camp, Nan.”
“It doesn’t look so,” his sister answered, trying to peer about through the swirling flakes.