So she went down again and turned into a gorge which seemed to lead in the direction where she had seen the little lost boy.

She followed that quite a long way--and that one petered out like the first.
Miss Allen found the gorges filling up with shadow, and she looked up and saw the sky crimson and gold, and she knew then without any doubts that she was lost.

Miss Allen was a brave young woman, or she would not have been down in that country in the first place; but just the same she sat down with her back against a clay bank and cried because of the eeriness and the silence, and because she was hungry and she knew she was going to be cold before morning--but mostly because she could not find that poor, brave little baby boy who had waved his hat when she left him, and shouted that he was not a baby.
In a few minutes she pulled herself together and went on; there was nothing to be gained by sitting in one place and worrying.

She walked until it was too dark to see, and then, because she had come upon a little, level canyon bottom--though one that was perfectly strange--she stopped there where a high bank sheltered her from the wind that was too cool for comfort.

She called, a few times, until she was sure that the child was not within hearing.