“They don’t hear me,” said Jonas.

“Hal—­loo!” cried out Josey, as loud as he could call.

There was no answer; but, in a few seconds afterwards, the cry was repeated, as at first.

“You see,” said Jonas, “that the wind blows this way, and they can’t hear us.  We must go out after them.”

Josey tried to dissuade Jonas from this plan; but Jonas said he must go, and that, as they had oxen with them, there would be no danger.  “First,” said he, “we must throw off our load.”

So he and Josey went to work, and threw off the rafters, as fast as they could.  Jonas reserved four or five rafters, which he left upon the sled.  Then he turned the oxen in the direction from which the cry had come.  They continued to hear it at moderate intervals.

They descended gradually a short distance across the field, and then they came to the shore of the pond.  Here Jonas took off one of his rafters, and laid it upon the shore, with one end raised up out of the snow.

“What is that for?” said Josey.

“To show us the way back to our road,” said Jonas.  “I place it so that it points right back,—­the way we came.”

“We can tell by our tracks,” said Josey.

“No,” said Jonas; “our tracks will all be covered up before we come back.”

Jonas then drove down upon the pond, guiding his oxen in the direction of the cry.  He kept Josey upon the sled, so as not to exhaust his strength.  He rode himself, too, as much as he could; but he was obliged to jump off very frequently, to keep the oxen in a right direction.  He stopped occasionally to put down a rafter, placing it so that its length should be in the line of his road, and taking care to sink one end into the snow, so as to leave the other out as far as possible, to prevent its being all buried up before they should return.  Every now and then, too, he would answer the cry, as loud as he could call.

At last, after they had toiled along in this way for some time, Jonas thought that he succeeded in making the travellers hear; for, immediately after his call, he would hear a calling from them, following it, and speaking in a different way, though Jonas could not understand what was said.  He kept pressing forward steadily, and, before long, he found that the travellers were silent, excepting immediately after he called to them,—­when there was a sound as if intended for a response, though Jonas could not tell what was said.

“We shall get to them, Josey,” said he.

“Who do you suppose it is?” said Josey.

“I don’t know; very probably some travellers lost upon the pond.”

Jonas was right in his conjecture:  as they came nearer and nearer, the sounds became more distinct.

“Hal—­loo!” vociferated Jonas.

“Hal—­loo!” was the answer.  “Can—­you—­come—­and—­help—­us?”

“Ay, ay,” said Jonas; “we’re coming.”

“Ay, ay,” shouted Josey, in his loudest voice, which, being more shrill than that of Jonas, was perhaps heard farther.