Betsy laughed. She tried to make her laugh sound brave like Cousin Ann’s, which always seemed so scornful of being afraid. As a matter of fact, she was beginning to fear that they HAD made the wrong turn, and she was not quite sure that she could find the way home. But she put this out of her mind and walked along very fast, peering ahead into the dusk. “Oh, it hasn’t anything to do with wolves,” she said in answer to Molly’s question; “anyhow, not now. It’s just a big, deep hole in the ground where a brook had dug out a cave.... Uncle Henry told me all about it when he showed it to me ... and then part of the roof caved in; sometimes there’s ice in the corner of the covered part all the summer, Aunt Abigail says.” “Why do you call it the Wolf Pit?” asked Molly, walking very close to Betsy and holding very tightly to her hand. “Oh, long, ever so long ago, when the first settlers came up here, they heard a wolf howling all night, and when it didn’t stop in the morning, they came up here on the mountain and found a wolf had fallen in and couldn’t get out.” “My! I hope they killed him!” said Molly. “Oh, gracious! that was more than a hundred years ago,” said Betsy. She was not thinking of what she was saying. She was thinking that if they WERE on the right road they ought to be home by this time. She was thinking that the right road ran down hill to the house all the way, and that this certainly seemed to be going up a little. She was wondering what had become of Shep. “Stand here just a minute, Molly,” she said. “I want ... I just want to go ahead a little bit and see ... and see ...” She darted on around a curve of the road and stood still, her heart sinking. The road turned there and led straight up the mountain! For just a moment the little girl felt a wild impulse to burst out in a shriek for Aunt Frances, and to run crazily away, anywhere so long as she was running. But the thought of Molly standing back there, trustfully waiting to be taken care of, shut Betsy’s lips together hard before her scream of fright got out. She stood still, thinking. Now she mustn’t get frightened. All they had to do was to walk back along the road till they came to the fork and then make the right turn. But what if they didn’t get back to the turn till it was so dark they couldn’t see it...? Well, she mustn’t think of that. She ran back, calling, “Come on, Molly,” in a tone she tried to make as firm as Cousin Ann’s. “I guess we have made the wrong turn after all. We’d better ...” But there was no Molly there. In the brief moment Betsy had stood thinking, Molly had disappeared. The long, shadowy wood road held not a trace of her. Then Betsy WAS frightened and then she DID begin to scream, at the top of her voice, “Molly! Molly!” She was beside herself with terror, and started back hastily to hear Molly’s voice, very faint, apparently coming from the ground under her feet. “Ow! Ow! Betsy! Get me out! Get me out!” “Where ARE you?” shrieked Betsy.