That did not worry her very much, However, for there would be searching parties--she would be sure to strike one somewhere in the hills before dark.
She came finally down to the level--except that it was not level at all, but a trough-shaped gulch that looked unfamiliar.

Still, it was the same one she had used as a starting point when she began to climb--of course it was the same one.

How in the world could a person get turned around going straight up the side of a hill and straight down again in the very same place.

This was the gorge where her horse was tied, only it might be that she was a little below the exact spot; that could happen, of course.

So Miss Allen went up the gorge until it petered out against the face of the mountain--one might as well call it a mountain and be done with it, for it certainly was more than a mere hill.
It was some time before Miss Allen would admit to herself that she had missed the gorge where she had left her horse, and that she did not know where the gorge was, and that she did not know where she was herself.
She had gone down the mouth of the gulch before she made any admissions, and she had seen not one solitary thing that she could remember having ever seen before.
Not even the peak she had climbed looked familiar from where she was.
She was not perfectly sure that it was the same peak when she looked at it.
Were you ever lost?
It is a very peculiar sensation--the feeling that you are adrift in a world that is strange.