Anne who was hopelessly confused in her directions was ready to follow wherever her chum led. Madge tried not to disclose that she too was uncertain. They kept close together, walking as swiftly as possible. Frequently, they tripped over vines or stumps and once Anne sank nearly to her knees in a muck hole.
“I can’t go much farther,” she half sobbed.
“Yes, you can,” Madge encouraged. “I think I see an opening through the trees. Yes, I do! It’s the lake!”
Anne found the strength to continue and soon they emerged at the shore. They looked about and saw that they were less than two hundred yards from the portage trail.
“Well, of all the stupidity!” Madge exclaimed and laughed. “We were only a few steps from the trail most of the time.”
“I thought we were in an African jungle,” Anne sighed wearily.
They followed the shore until they came to their canoe. Madge insisted upon paddling for Anne was even more tired than she.
“It’s fortunate Aunt Maude doesn’t expect me back home,” she remarked as they pushed off. “Otherwise, she would have a searching party out looking for us.”
Both were relieved when they came within sight of Stewart Island for their only desire was to tumble into bed and sleep the clock around. They were still several hundred yards from the landing when Madge stopped paddling and peered intently ahead.
“Anne,” she said in a low tone, “unless I’m dreaming, I saw a light just then. Someone is at the island.”