After the girls had gone a short way along the winding path, they came to another marker which bore the numeral “2”.
“You see, were on the trail all right,” Veve declared. “Nothing to worry about.”
“It just doesn’t seem right,” Connie answered.
Veve trudged on with the others close behind. The trail seemed to be getting narrower and less plainly marked.
Quite often Veve had to push bushes aside to make room to slip through. Some of the long branches whipped back into the faces of those who followed.
“Say! The park attendants don’t keep this trail up very well,” she complained.
“O-oh!” wailed Sunny. She had stepped into a soft spot and had sunk half way to the top of her galoshes in mud.
“I don’t like this one bit,” Connie declared, helping Sunny. “I never remembered that the spring was so far away.”
“Neither did I,” said Eileen, abruptly halting. “And where is the rustic bridge? Shouldn’t we have passed it long ago?”
Even Veve had grown uneasy. “I guess it only seems as if we’ve been hiking a long while,” she said. “This trail must be right because it’s plainly marked.”