At a dog-trot, the pair started down the winding road. Before they had gone very far they had to slow down to a walk again. By now their hands and faces tingled with cold and their ears were beginning to hurt. It was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.
“Does it seem to you we’re going the right direction?” Connie asked after a while. “What if we turned the wrong way when we left the Stone cabin?”
Veve had been worried about the same thing, but had not wanted to admit it.
“This must be right,” she argued. “Miss Gordon said we couldn’t lose our way if we followed the road.”
“But it doesn’t look like the same road. We’re climbing as if we were starting up a hill!”
“Didn’t we come down one on our way to the Stone cabin?” Veve asked in a frightened voice.
“Not that I remember. This road is so narrow too. The one we followed was wide enough for cars to pass easily.”
“Maybe we went the wrong direction after we reached the road, Connie.”
Connie stopped and reached for Veve’s mittened hand. “It’s worse than that,” she said. “This isn’t the same road.”
“But it has to be,” wailed Veve, ducking behind her friend to escape the harsh wind.