The afternoon was now very far advanced, but it lacked more than an hour of nightfall.
Vinnie arose to her feet now, and walked slowly back, as nearly as she could find her way, over the trail she had come. She followed it without much difficulty for a short distance, but by and by when she lost sight of the indistinct pathway that led away from the cavern, she was obliged to be guided solely by her judgment of what direction she ought to take to reach her father’s cabin.
For nearly an hour she kept on, picking her way through the thick undergrowth, and climbing over fallen trees and heaps of the debris of the storm which was scattered through the length and breadth of the forest. It was beginning to grow dark, and the cold November rain kept falling slowly and steadily. The sky was overcast with black clouds. Vinnie felt that she made but slow progress, hasten as she might. The night, when it came, would be very dark, and she dreaded lest it might overtake her before she reached home.
With wildly beating heart she pressed on; and soon the landmarks began to grow familiar to her. She was weary and almost heartsick; but she began to feel more hopeful. Things along her way looked more and more as though she had seen them before every minute. Was she nearing the cabin? She thought so.
She had kept a sharp look-out for the clearing that her father had made around their forest-home, but she could see nothing to remind her of it.
She kept on bravely, though, never doubting one minute that she would catch a glimpse of the cabin through the trees the next.
The trees on either hand appeared familiar. She was feeling really hopeful now.
“I’ll be there in a few moments, I’m sure,” she said to herself as cheerily as she could. “That old crooked sycamore there looks like an old acquaintance! The clearing must be just ahead!”
She pressed onward quite hopefully now; and, five minutes later, she found herself—just where she had started from an hour before. There was the rock that she had tried in vain to move, and the great tree behind whose sturdy trunk she had found a partial shelter from the storm!
She staggered back, clutching at a bush for support.