“It is time to be moving,” the girl said. “See, the sun will be down in an hour. Let us have tea and then we’ll saddle-up.”
Tea was prepared, and by the time the sun dipped below the horizon the horses were re-saddled and all was ready for the return journey. They set out for home. Alice was in the cheeriest of spirits, but Prudence was pre-occupied, even moody. That afternoon spent in the peaceful wilds of the “back” country had left its mark upon her. All her life––her world––seemed suddenly to have changed. It was as though this second coming of love to her had brought with it the banking clouds of an approaching storm. The two rode Indian fashion through the woods, and neither spoke for a long time; then, at last, it was Alice who ventured a protest.
“Where are you leading us to, Prue?” she asked. “I am sure this is not the way we came.”
Prudence looked round; she seemed as though she had only just awakened from some unpleasant dream.
“Not the way?” she echoed. Then she drew her horse up sharply. She was alert in an instant. “I’m afraid you’re right, Al.” Then in a tone of perplexity, “Where are we?”
Alice stared at her companion with an expression of dismay.
“Oh, Prue, you’ve gone and lost us––and the sun is already down.”
Prudence gazed about her blankly for a few moments, realizing only too well how truly her companion had spoken. She had not the vaguest notion of the way they had come. The forest was very dark. The day-long twilight which reigned beneath the green had darkened with the shadows of approaching night. There was no opening in view anywhere; there was nothing but the world of tree-trunks, and, beneath their horses’ feet, the soft carpet of rotting vegetation, whilst every moment the gloom was deepening to darkness––a darkness blacker than the blackest night.
“What shall we do?” asked Alice, in a tone of horror. Then: “Shall we go back?”