“I was thinking about how narrow the road is,” she made answer, “and of the awful cliffs along beside it. Then Jack seems restless and excited. If the lightning were to begin to flash, or should strike near us, he might—”
“Don't worry,” Floyd broke in, calmly. “It is this long, dark road that makes you nervous. We'll get out of it in a few minutes.”
But they were delayed. Jack, frightened at some imaginary object ahead, paused, and with his fore-feet firmly planted in front of him, he stood snorting, his ears thrown back. His master gently urged him to go on, but he refused to move. Then Floyd touched his flanks with the lash of the whip, but this only caused the animal to rear up in a dangerous manner and start to turn round. The road was too narrow for this, however, and throwing the reins into Cynthia's lap, Floyd got out and went to the horse's head, and holding to the bridle, he gently stroked the face and neck of the animal. But although Floyd tried, Jack would not be led forward. The situation was really grave, for the time was passing and night was already upon them. From his position at the animal's head, Floyd could barely see Cynthia in her white shawl and dress. Along the black horizon the lightning was playing, and the rising wind bore to their faces fine drops of rain. It was a sudden crash of thunder behind them that made the horse start forward, and it was with some difficulty that Floyd got into the buggy from behind. Then they dashed forward at a perilous speed. On they went, over the rough road. Even out in the open it was now dark, and in the distance they heard the ominous roar and crash of the approaching storm. The situation was indeed critical. Once more they ran into a road so dark that they could scarcely see Jack's head. Suddenly Floyd drew rein, stopped the quivering horse, and looked closely at the ground. Cynthia heard an exclamation of dismay escape his lips.
“What is it?” she asked. He made no answer till she had repeated her question.
“This is the same road we passed over half an hour ago,” he said. “We have gone the wrong way. We are lost, little girl!”
Even at that grave moment he felt a thrill of admiration at her coolness.
“Well,” she said, “we must make the best of it and not get excited. If we lose our heads there is no telling what may happen.”
“What a brave little woman you are!” he said. “Do you remember? The road forks about a quarter of a mile ahead; when we went by just now, we took either the right or the left, but I've forgotten which.”
“We took the right,” she said. “I remember that distinctly.”
“Then we must take the left this time—that is, if you are sure.”