Tom and Sam advanced now slower than ever, and when they reached a spot where there was an opening to the right and another to the left, the others were not only out of sight, but out of hearing as well. It had now begun to snow more thickly than ever.
“Which way did they take?” questioned Sam, in perplexity.
“Reckon they went this way, Sam.”
“It looks to me as if they went the other way. Here are some footprints.”
“Here are some footprints, too.”
They came to a standstill, more perplexed than ever. Sure enough, there were two sets of footprints, running almost at right angles to each other.
“I guess we’ve hit somebody else’s trail,” said Sam. “Dick! Mr. Barrow! Where are you?” he called out.
No answer came back, and then the two boys shouted in chorus. All remained as silent as before.
“Well, this is a mess, to say the least,” was Tom’s comment. “How are we to know which trail to follow?”
“I move we make a sure thing of it and get down to the river again,” was Sam’s answer. “Then we’ll be certain to be on the right track. As soon as they reach the river they’ll wait for us.”
This seemed sensible advice, and leaving both trails the boys plunged through the cedar brakes to where they had seen the icy surface of the stream. They had to make several turns, and once Tom lost his footing and rolled over and over in the snow. But at last they gained the smooth ice, and then each breathed a long sigh of relief.
“It’s ten times better than climbing around,” observed Sam. “The rapids and rocks amount to next to nothing. I don’t see why Mr. Barrow gave us all that extra climbing.”
“Perhaps the river has changed since he was up here last,” said Tom. “Anyway, it’s a good bit narrower here than it was further back.”
Sliding down the hillside had loosened the load on the sled, and they had to spend a good five minutes in fastening it and mending a strap that had broken. Then several minutes more were consumed in putting on their skates.
“My! how it does snow!” came from Tom, as they started at last. “I can’t see fifty feet ahead.”
“Nor I, Tom. I really wish we were with Dick and Mr. Barrow.”
“So do I, but I guess it’s all right.”
Forward they pushed, dragging the sled after them. It was rough work, and the ice was often covered too deep with snow to make skating a pleasure.
“It seems to me the river is getting narrower than ever,” said Sam. “It’s queer, too, for Mr. Barrow said it was quite broad near the lake.”
“He said one of the branches was broad, Sam. We must be on a different branch.”
“Let us call to them again.”
Once more they cried out, at the top of their lungs. But nothing answered them, not even a muffled echo. All was swallowed up in the loneliness of the situation and in the fast falling snow, which now covered even the load on the sled to the depth of an inch or more.
“Come on,” said Sam half desperately. “We must catch up to them, sooner or later.”
“Perhaps we are ahead of them.”
“It isn’t likely. Let us go on, anyway.”
And on they went, another quarter of a mile. The stream was now broader, and this raised their hopes considerably. But suddenly Tom gave a cry of dismay.
“Look, Sam! We have reached the end of the stream!”
Sam strained his eyes and went on a few feet further. Then he gave a groan. His brother was right, the stream had come to an end in a pond probably a hundred feet in diameter. They had not been following the Perch River at all, but merely a brook flowing into that stream!
CHAPTER XVII
AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY
“Tom, we have missed it!”
“It looks like it, Sam.”
“What we took for the river wasn’t the river at all. We must be a mile or two out of the way.”
“There is nothing to do but to go back,” was the dismal response.
“Don’t you think we might strike the river without going back?”
“We might, and then again we might not. I hardly feel like taking the risk—in this blinding snow.”
With heavy hearts the brothers turned the sled around and proceeded on the back trail, if such the way may be called. As a matter of fact, the snow had covered their footprints completely.
The wind was now rising again, and it blew directly into their faces. Alarmed more than ever, on this account, they pushed on until poor Sam was almost winded.
“I—I can’t go on so fast, no use in trying!” he panted. “I feel ready to drop!”
“I’m fagged out myself,” responded Tom. “But, Sam, we can’t afford to rest here.”
“I know that, but I’ve got to get my wind back somehow. The wind seems to be awfully strong.”
They rested for several minutes, and then pushed on again, Tom dragging the sled alone. It was a bitter journey, and both would have given a good deal to have been with Dick and the guide once more.
“We missed it when we didn’t keep up with them in the first place,” was Tom’s comment. “However, there’s no use in crying over spilt milk, as the saying goes. We must make the best of it.”
“There isn’t any best,” grumbled Sam. “It’s all worst!” And then Tom laughed, in spite of the seriousness of the situation.
At last they gained the spot where they had first struck the brook, and here they halted again.
“The worst of it is, there is no telling how far this brook runs before it empties into the Perch River,” observed Tom. “We may have to go two or three miles out of our way.”
“We may as well climb up the hill again, Tom, and try to follow one of those trails.”
“Perhaps you are right.”
They talked the matter over and at last began to climb the hill, now more difficult than before, since the snow was several inches deeper. It took a long while to gain the top, and still longer to find the spot where they had left the trail.
“Here we are,” said Tom, resting on a fallen tree which marked the locality. “Now the all-important question is, which way next?”
“Tom, I believe we are getting lost,” came from Sam, in a dismal tone.
“I don’t think we’re getting lost, Sam; we are lost, no two ways about it. We’ve got to keep our eyes open and our wits about us, or we’ll be getting into a first-class mess.”
“It must be almost noon,” went on the youngest Rover, and pulled out his watch. “Phew! Half-past twelve!”
“Thought I was hungry. Is there anything in this load good to eat?”
“I don’t know. Let us look and see. We can’t go on, hungry.”
They unstrapped the load and examined it. There were blankets there and some camp utensils, and a box containing crackers, cheese, and chipped beef.
“Crackers and cheese will do on a pinch,” said Tom. “Come, we mustn’t lose more time than is necessary.”
Yet eating and resting was very pleasant, and they spent the best part of half an hour under the sheltering limbs of a big cedar tree. Both were dry, but eating snow did not seem to quench their thirst. The wind increased as they ate, but the snow now came down more lightly.
They decided to strike out on something of a trail running to the northwest. It was hard work hauling and carrying the sled over the rocks and through the bushes, and they often had to halt for breath.
“There goes something!” cried Tom presently. “Sam, did you see it?”
“I saw something, but it disappeared before I could make out what it was.”
The object had crossed their path a hundred feet ahead of them. Now it reappeared somewhat closer, and both boys saw that it was a lean and hungry-looking wolf.
“A wolf!” cried Sam.
“Wonder
if I hadn’t better shoot him,” said Tom, unslinging his gun.
“Better save your powder, Tom. I don’t believe he’ll attack us—at least not while it is light.”
“A shot might bring an answering signal from Dick,” went on Tom suddenly. “What fools we have been, not to think of that before!”
The wolf kept hidden and Tom did not shoot, expecting to see the beast reappear at any instant. On they went, keeping an eye on the bushes and trees on both sides of them. Once they heard the patter of the wolf’s feet on a stretch of bare rocks, but that was all.
“I’ll fire a shot, anyway,” said Tom at last, and aimed in the direction where they had heard the sounds last. To his intense surprise a yelp and a snarl followed.
“Great Cæsar! I hit him after all,” began Tom, and then leaped back. “Look out, Sam, he’s coming for us!”
Tom was right. The wolf, wounded in the left flank, had suddenly appeared. His eyes blazed with pain and fury, and he made as if to spring upon the boys.
Tom was in front of the sled and Sam behind it. With a quick leap Tom cleared the load and took up a position beside the youngest Rover.
The wolf made the leap, but stopped short on the top of the load. As he prepared to spring again Tom swung his gun around by the barrel and hit the wolf a smart rap on the head. The animal rolled over on the ground.
“Shoot him, Sam!”
“I will, if I can!” came from Sam, who had now unslung his gun. Taking a quick aim, he fired.
The shot proved a good one, for it took the wolf directly in the neck, just as he was scrambling to rise. Again he gave a yelp, and then began to turn over and over in his intense pain. Of a sudden he leaped up and landed on Tom’s shoulder.
For the instant poor Tom thought his last moment had come. But as the beast landed Sam struck it with his gun, and down it went once more, snarling viciously. Then it rolled and tossed until some brush was gained, when it managed to hide itself and crawl away, seriously, if not mortally, wounded.
“He’s gone!” came from Sam.
“Well, don’t go after him,” panted Tom. “Let him go and welcome. I never want to see him again.”
“Nor I.”
Both reloaded with all haste—having learned years before that it is foolish to remain in the wilds with an empty firearm. Then they waited, to see if the wolf would return.
“Hark!” cried Sam. “Did you hear that shot, Tom?”
“I did. I think it came from that direction.” And Tom pointed with his hand.
“I think so myself. It must be Dick or Mr. Barrow, firing.”
“More than likely. Let us follow up the shot.”
They listened, but no more shots followed, and then they went on, over a stretch which was comparatively smooth and free from brushwood. But though they covered a quarter of a mile they saw nothing either of the river or of their lost companions.
“We’re getting lost more than ever,” groaned Sam. “I declare I haven’t the least idea where we are.”
“I’m going to fire another shot,” answered his brother, and proceeded to do so.
Both listened with strained ears, and soon an answering shot came back, slightly to the left of the path they had been pursuing.
“Thank fortune, we are getting closer!” cried Sam. “Come on!”
As worn out as they were, they resumed the dragging of the sled through the snow. Once Sam had suggested they abandon the load, but Tom would not hear of this, for he knew they could not very well do without this portion of the outfit.
The wind was blowing heavily, and high overhead they heard the tree-tops creak ominously. Once in a while a tree branch would unload itself, sending down a great mass of snow on their heads. But they pushed on, determined to rest no more until the others of the party should be sighted.
Presently they came to a clearing overlooking a small pond and a stream beyond. At first Tom imagined that this was the pond they had left but a short while before, but a second look showed him that the locality was an entirely new one to them.
“My gracious, Tom! Get out of sight!” came in an excited whisper from Sam, and he pulled his brother down behind a clump of bushes, and then dragged the sled after him.
“What do you see?” demanded Tom.
“Look across the pond. As sure as you are born, there are Dan Baxter and Jasper Grinder. We’ve been following them instead of Dick and Mr. Barrow!”
CHAPTER XVIII
IN THE CAMP OF THE ENEMY
What Sam said was true. There, gathered around a fire on the opposite side of the pond, were Dan Baxter, Jasper Grinder, and a tall, powerfully built fellow whom they easily guessed was Bill Harney, the guide. They had two sleds with them, and one of these had been unloaded and the camping outfit lay scattered around.
“Well, this is a surprise and no mistake!” was Tom’s comment, in a low voice. “If I know anything about it, they must have done some quick traveling.”
“I believe they followed the river, at least part of the way,” returned the youngest Rover. “I see a pair of skates lying by one of the sleds.”
“Do you suppose Dick and Mr. Barrow met them?”
“I don’t believe they did. See, they have some rabbits they are going to cook. That accounts for the shots we heard.”
Crouching down behind the bushes, the two Rovers watched the other party with interest. A lively conversation was going oh between Dan Baxter and the former teacher of Putnam Hall, but they were too far off to catch anything of what was said.
“What do you propose doing next?” asked Sam, after a pause of several minutes. “It’s mighty cold here.”
“We may as well retreat, Sam. We don’t want to expose ourselves, do we?”
“I don’t suppose it would do any good—although I’m not afraid of Baxter, or Grinder either.”
“It isn’t that. If they know we have arrived here, they will do all they can to locate that treasure first. We want to keep dark and get ahead of them.”
“But how shall we turn?”
“We’ll have to go back to where we found the two trails crossed and then try the other one. I don’t know of anything else to do.”
“Wouldn’t Dan Baxter be surprised, if he knew we were so close?”
“Well, we won’t let him know.”
“Why not?” demanded an unexpected voice from the rear.
Both boys started and turned around, to find themselves confronted by Lemuel Husty, the man Dick had seen in company with Baxter at Cedarville.
“Hullo, who are you?” asked Tom, as quickly as he could recover from his surprise.
“If you want to know real bad, youngster, my name is Lemuel Husty.”
“I don’t know you.”
“But I know you—leas’wise I know of you,” went on Husty, with a frown. “You’re down on my friend Baxter, aint you?”
“If we are, we have a good reason to be,” came from Sam.
“Perhaps you have, and then again, perhaps you haven’t. It aint no nice thing to be cotched spying, though.”
“We weren’t spying. We came up quite by accident.”
“You can tell that to the monkeys, but you can’t tell it to me,” growled Lemuel Husty. Then he raised his voice: “I say, Baxter! I say, you fellows! Come over here!”
The three around the camp-fire looked up in surprise, and were even more surprised when Husty waved his hand for them to come to him.
“What’s wanted?” demanded Dan Baxter.
“I’ve found two of your very intimate friends spying on you,” answered Husty.
“I guess we had better get out,” whispered Sam to Tom, not liking the turn affairs had taken.
“I’m with you,” returned Tom.
“No, you don’t!” cried Husty, and caught hold of the sled. “You just sta
y here until we talk this thing over.”
Tom’s hands were on his gun, and for the moment he felt like pointing the weapon at the man. But then he concluded that this would do small good, and the weapon remained where it was.
In a minute Dan Baxter came running across the pond, with Jasper Grinder and Bill Harney at his heels. Each of the advancing party carried some sort of firearms.
“Tom and Sam Rover!” ejaculated Baxter, and it was easy to see that he was completely surprised. “How did you get here?”
“Walked and skated,” returned Tom, as coolly as he could.
“You’ve got a nerve to follow me and my party,” went on Baxter, with an ugly scowl.
“As I just said to this man, Baxter, we haven’t been following you,” put in Sam. “We struck your trail by accident. We thought we were following——”
“Never mind about that, Sam,” interrupted Tom quickly.
“Who did you think you were following?” demanded Dan Baxter.
“It’s none of your business, Baxter. We have as much right to be here as you have.”
“Humph! Don’t you suppose I know why you came?”
“More than likely you do, and we know why you came.”
“Have you got another map?” demanded Baxter, in curiosity.
“It’s none of your affair what we have. We stumbled upon you by accident, and if you haven’t anything in particular to say to us we’ll be going.”
“You needn’t leave so quickly. Where is Dick?”
“He isn’t so very far off.”
“You hired John Barrow for a guide, I heard,” put in Bill Harney.
“If we did, we had a right to do it,” said Sam.
“He don’t know these parts as well as he might. If you don’t look out he’ll lose you in the mountains, and you’ll never get home alive.”
“Let him lose them,” put in Baxter quickly. “It’s what they deserve. But, come, it’s cold over here. Let’s move back to the fire. And I want you two to come along,” he added, to the Rovers.
“We don’t propose to come along,” replied Tom.
“And I say you shall come, Tom Rover. We are four to two, and you had better submit.”
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