“We’re up against it now,” groaned Dick

“Don’t be discouraged lads!” came from the guide.  “It isn’t so bad a short distance further oh.  Follow me.”  And he started again, and there was nothing to do but to fall in behind him.

John Barrow and Dick carried one sled, and Tom and Sam, the other.  In some places the cedars and brush were so thick that those in advance pushed through only with extreme difficulty.

“Well, we haven’t got the task of breaking the way,” said Tom, as he and Sam stopped to get their wind.  “It’s no fool job to break through this thicket.”

“We are going up a hill,” returned Sam.  “We must be getting away from the river.”

The guide and Dick had disappeared ahead, and, fearful of losing them, the younger Rovers set off once more.  Carrying the heavy sled up the hill was, however, a great task, especially for Sam, and once at the top they had to rest again.

“I believe it would have been just as easy to have kept to the river,” declared Tom “See, there it is, to our left.”

“It certainly doesn’t look very rough down there,” was his brother’s comment.  “Gracious, but Dick and Mr. Barrow plow along like steam engines!” he added.  “I can’t go so fast.”

“We won’t hurry, there is no need.  The trail is plain enough,” said Tom, and so they rested fully quarter of an hour.  Then they heard Dick calling to them from a long distance ahead.

“All right; we’re coming!” Tom called back.  “Just please don’t go so awfully fast!”

“We are going to take the trail to the left!” Dick shouted back, but the others did not catch the words.

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.