You look over at Jake. You know he is trying to encourage you. "I'll go," you tell him. You listen carefully as he explains how to send a radio distress signal.
Jake does his best to smile. "That was just a frontal squall that hit us. Look, the sun's coming out. You'd better get going so you can reach the station before dark." You check your backpack, which holds a light sleeping bag, a poncho, a day's supply of food, matches, and a first-aid kit.
You are wearing a hooded parka, wool socks, gloves, and a good pair of hiking boots —the right clothes for a long hike.
After making sure that Jake is comfortable, you strap on your backpack, say goodbye, and start walking.
You set out at a brisk pace across the high, rugged land. Since it's almost noon, the sun must be in the south. If you keep it on your right, you know you'll be headed east. Nine miles doesn't seem like a long distance. On a gentle, well- groomed trail you could easily cover it in three hours, but in these mountains it could take much longer.
Within an hour it has become cloudy again. A cold north wind has sprung up; the temperature is falling. You flip up the collar of your parka, trying to keep warm. Now, ahead of you, you see what looks like an animal trail, running north-south.
Alongside it, blocking your way, is a high rock wall, too steep to climb. The shortest route around the wall would be to cross the roaring stream to your right. The stream is about ten feet wide with water boiling up in a white torrent. You can't judge its depth. Probably you can get across it by jumping from rock to rock, but one slip could put you in a lot of trouble. The safest thing to do would be to follow the animal trail through the pine forest to your left, but that would take you in a northerly direction, possibly far out of your way.
If you decide to follow the trail to your left, turn to page 8.
If you try to cross the stream, turn to page 7.
> Do we keep following the trail, or try and cross the stream neets?