A good three miles from the Wales home was a large tract of rough
land, half swamp, known as "Bear Swamp." There was an opinion, more
or less correct, that bears might be found there. Some had been shot
in that vicinity. Why Ann turned her footsteps in that direction, she
could not have told herself. Possibly the vague impression of
conversations she and Hannah had had, lingering in her mind, had
something to do with it. Many a time the two little girls had
remarked to each other with a shudder, "How awful it would be to get
lost in Bear Swamp."

Anyway, Ann went straight there, through pasture and woodland, over
ditches and stone walls. She knew every step of the way for a long
distance. When she gradually got into the unfamiliar wilderness of
the swamp, a thought struck her--suppose she got lost too! It would
be easy enough--the unbroken forest stretched for miles in some
directions. She would not find a living thing but Indians; and,
maybe, wild beasts, the whole distance.

If she should get lost she would not find Hannah, and the people
would have to hunt for her too. But Ann had quick wits for an
emergency. She had actually carried those cards, with a big wad of
wool between them all the time, in her gathered-up apron. Now she
began picking off little bits of wool and marking her way with them,
sticking them on the trees and bushes. Every few feet a fluffy scrap
of wool showed the road Ann had gone.

But poor Ann went on, farther and farther--and no sign of Hannah. She
kept calling her, from time to time, hallooing at the top of her
shrill sweet voice: "Hannah! Hannah! Hannah Fre-nch."