“It would be a fine thing to find a big boxful of silver,” said Dick seriously.  “I know there was lots in that cave, before Dan Baxter scooped it in.  And, by the way, he must have that other map yet.”

“Perhaps he went for the treasure box!” burst out Sam.

“If the box is gone, we can’t help it,” said Tom.  “But I move we get to Timber Run and Bear Pond just as soon as possible.”

“Do you want to start in this cold weather?” asked his father anxiously.

“Pooh!  It isn’t so very cold.”

“It’s a good deal colder up in the mountains than it is here, I can tell you that.  Why, you might easily freeze to death if you got lost in the snow.”

“I wonder if we couldn’t find some guide who knows that territory thoroughly,” mused Dick.

“If you could find a good guide, I wouldn’t mind your going,” said his parent.  “But I shall object to your going alone.”

“Then we’ll hunt for a guide, and without delay,” said Dick.  “I would like to go up there before Putnam Hall opens again.”

“So would I,” came from his two brothers.

“I think I know where you can get a guide,” said Tom, after a pause.  “The Lanings have relatives at Timber Run.  Let’s write to Mr. Laning.”

This was agreed to, and a special trip was made to the village by Aleck Pop to post the letter.  In the letter they asked Mr. Laning to telegraph, if possible, in reply.

The telegram came shortly after noon the next day.  It ran as follows: 

    “I feel sure my brother-in-law, John Barrow, of Timber Run, can
    supply a reliable guide.  Will write to him.

    “John Laning.”

“That settles it,” said Dick.  “I know the Lanings will do what is right by us, so we may as well get ready to start at once.  Are you willing, father?”

“Yes, Dick,” was the answer.  “But be sure and keep out of danger, and keep Tom and Sam out, too.”

CHAPTER XIII.

The heart of the Adirondack.

Three days later found the Rover boys in the heart of the Adirondack Mountains of New York State.  They had left home, after a hasty but thorough preparation, two days before, and taken the train from Oak Run to the mountain village of Medwell.  At Medwell they had taken the stage to Barton’s Corners, and at this point had hired a private conveyance to carry them and their outfit to Timber Run.

At the time of which I write Timber Run was nothing more than a collection of a dozen houses, strung along a branch of the Perch River, where that stream turned the southern slope of a high hill known as Bald Top.  There was a general store here and also an office belonging to the Timber Run Lumber Company.  But business with the company was slow, and the village, consequently, was almost destitute of life, two of the houses being without tenants.