"Erica's bike. She's left it by the roadside and gone forward on
foot. There's her front lamp on it, unlit--but perhaps she had no
matches," a surmise they afterwards found out to be fact.
"We'd better leave ours here too. They're more nuisance than use now
we can't ride them. We can take the front lamps with us."
So they propped their bicycles by the side of the road, which was now
little more than a track. The dense mist had settled down thicker
than ever, so that they could hardly make out the ground at their
feet, and the lamps only seemed to light up and reveal a few yards of
greyish vapour. It all felt very weird and mysterious.
To go on now had become a matter of real danger. But Erica was
somewhere ahead, in the darkness, alone, and to go back was
impossible.
The two girls shouted and halloed at the top of their voices, but the
mist only returned the echoes of their own cries.
"Coming on?" asked Duane curtly.
"Of course," returned Kitty as briefly.
"We must keep to the track though. Won't do to get lost ourselves."
They stumbled forward again, neither of them daring to voice their
secret fear that Erica, frightened and lonely and without a light,
had wandered off the track when the mist and the darkness had
descended so quickly, and was lost on the downs. Such a possibility
made them both shiver. They stopped at brief intervals and shouted,
Kitty raising piercing calls of "Coo-ee!" and then listening
intently, but with no result.
It would be hard to say how far they had gone--their only guide was
the track, which they dared not leave and which they followed mainly
by the feel of it beneath their feet--when at last Kitty's sharp ears
caught a faint, answering call. They advanced, shouting again, and
again came the faint answer from the darkness.
Kitty halted. "It's from our left somewhere, not ahead. Come on."
They turned to their left and by the light of their lamps advanced
cautiously over the down turf, guided by the voice. Before long, a
dark mass loomed up with startling suddenness in the pale rays of
their lamps. It was a shepherd's hut, and inside, crouched in a
forlorn heap upon the hard, bare floor, they found the runaway.
[Illustration: "Crouched in a forlorn heap upon the floor, they found
the runaway."]
"Oh, I'm so glad you've come. I'm so c-cold and t-tired."
"However did you find this place?" asked Kitty, peering around.
"You see, the road got so rough," Erica replied in a tired voice. "I
left my bike and walked, and then I knew I must have taken the wrong
road; but I was so tired, I didn't want to go all the way back. I
thought perhaps it would lead to some houses or a village if I kept
on. But it got so dark and I was frightened. I couldn't see my way
and then I was wandering about and I ran right into this hut. Oh, I
wish I was home. I heard you calling at last, but there's a big
blister on my heel, and I--I c-can't walk any more."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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