The wind was now rising again, and it blew directly into their faces.  Alarmed more than ever, on this account, they pushed oh 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.