The Story of Sugar | Page 8

Bob who was
packing up the camping kit.
Van chuckled.
"Well, not exactly. I only thought we ought not to waste anything."
Bob glanced up and laughed; then his face grew sober.
"I say, there's a snowflake!" he cried. "And another! Jove, Van, it's
begun to snow!"
"We better be getting down, I suppose," drawled Van.
"Just that, old man; fast as we can, too. Come on."
"What's your hurry? It will be a lark."
"It will be no lark if it snows much--I'll tell you that," replied Bob
seriously. "Besides, the folks will worry. Come ahead."
They turned back down the trail.
The snowfall increased.
"You can hardly see our tracks already," Bob called over his shoulder.
"And this wind is fierce. I had no idea it would snow. It is awfully wet
and sticky snow, too; see how it clings to the trees."

They sped on.
The descent was far easier than the climb, and they could go quickly.
"I don't remember that big rock," exclaimed Van suddenly, pointing to
a huge boulder that fronted them. "Isn't it a whacker! Odd that I didn't
notice it when we came up. Could we have passed it and not seen it?"
[Illustration: "I DON'T REMEMBER THAT BIG ROCK"]
"I suppose we must have," Bob answered. "I don't remember it, though.
Everything looks queer and different in the storm. It's a regular squall.
How quickly it came!"
"Can you still see our tracks?"
"No. But of course we're right; I couldn't miss my way after coming
over this path so many times."
"Can you see the blazes on the trees?"
"No, silly. How could I when they are all plastered over thick with
snow?" was Bob's scornful retort. He was silent for a moment. "But
don't you worry," he declared. "I am certain we came this way--at least
I think we did."
His tone, however, was less convincing.
They went on.
"We don't seem to be coming out anywhere, do we?" Van finally asked.
"No."
"Didn't we pass a little clearing somewhere on the way up?"
"Yes, there was one."
"Have we passed it?"

"No."
"Then it's ahead of us."
"It ought to be. I say, suppose we stop a minute and brush the snow off
these trees so to make sure we really are on the trail."
"A bully idea!"
The boys put down their packs and reconnoitred.
"There don't seem to be any marks on these trees," Van asserted after
an interval of search.
"But there must be."
"Find them then--if you can."
Bob nervously scrutinized several gnarled trunks.
"You're right, Van," he owned at last. "We're off the trail; missed it
somehow. We'd better go back; we can't be far wrong. Or better yet,
you wait here while I hunt."
Bob was very grave.
"You bet I'm not going to be left here to be buried in snow like the
Babes in the Wood," protested Van gaily. "No sir-ee! I don't stay here.
I'll help hunt for the path too. Now don't go getting nervous, Bobbie,
old chap. Two of us can't very well get lost on this mountain. We'll
separate enough to keep within hallooing distance, and we'll tie a
handkerchief on this tree so we can get back to it again if we want to.
We know we're part way down, anyway. That's certain."
"I don't feel so sure," was Bob's answer. "We ought to have turned back
when it began to cloud up; but I never dreamed of snow. The family
will be having a blue fit about us."
"Cheer up! We'll get down all right, only it may take us a little longer,"

Van asserted.
They branched into a side path.
The snow swirled about them in blinding sheets, and their footing
became heavy and slippery.
Wandering on, they scanned the trees.
Not a mark appeared.
Both boys were chilled now, and their spirits drooped.
The possibility of being lost on the mountain began to definitely form
itself in their minds.
"I'm mighty sorry I got you into this scrape, Van," Bob said after a long
pause. "I was too cock-sure of myself. That comes of thinking you
know it all."
"Pooh! It wasn't your fault, Bob. I'd give a cent, though, to know where
we are. Do you suppose we've been making any progress all this time,
or just going round in a circle?"
"Search me. I'll bet we've walked miles," groaned Bob. "I've got to rest
if we never find the trail."
He spoke wearily.
"You're not going to sit down, Bob," Van retorted sharply. "Brace up.
You've got to keep moving."
"But I can't. I'm tired and--and--sleepy."
His voice trailed off into a yawn.
"I don't care." Van wheeled on his friend fiercely and striding up to him
shook him violently by the shoulders.