“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 if 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 hear 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.