as the blast and rain struck her full in the face.
"Keep on!" called Betty, grimly.
"Which way?" asked Amy. "How dark it is!"
"Not when it lightens—that's one good thing about it," said Cousin Jane, cheerfully.
"It's nice you can see some good points," laughed Mollie—yes, actually laughed, and the girls marveled at it. But Mollie had that rare quality of "keeping her nerve," if I may be pardoned that expression, so often and effectively used by my friends, the boys.
"We had better go forward," suggested Betty. "We didn't pass any houses for quite a while as we were coming up here, and there may be one not far off just ahead. Or we may find a crossroad. Advance, I say!"
"And I agree," spoke Mollie. "Come on."
She and Betty led the way, carrying the lamps, which gave but an uncertain light, and that only in one direction—forward. However, the road, though now quite muddy, was a level one, and in fairly good condition.
Forward they tramped through the rain. It is on such occasions as these—when something goes wrong, upsetting all prearranged plans, and making life seem miserable—that true courage of a sort, comradeship, good-fellowship and real grit
