“Do you think he would have sneaked off with the turkey?  I was thinking first he would attack you.”

“Reckon he was after the game, and nuthin’ more, Dick.  He must have been powerful hungry, or he wouldn’t have come so close to us.  He’s a putty big fellow,” went on the guide, as he dragged the carcass closer to the firelight.

The fire was burning low, and Dick lost no time in heaping on some of the newly cut brushwood, and then he reloaded and the guide did the same.

“Might have a mate around,” suggested John Barrow.  “We had better keep our eyes peeled, or we may be surprised.  Wonder what time it is?”

By consulting a watch they found it was just midnight.  After the excitement Dick felt quite sleepy, and inside of half an hour he followed the guide’s advice and laid down to rest—­not under the tree, however, but as close to the camp-fire as safety permitted.

Dick had requested John Barrow to call him in three hours, so that the guide might get a little more sleep, but the youth was allowed to slumber until he aroused of his own accord, just as day was breaking.

“Hullo, I’ve slept all night!” he exclaimed, leaping up with something of a hurt look.  “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I thought as how you needed the rest,” was the answer from the guide.

“Aren’t you sleepy?”

“Not very.  A sleep early in the night generally does me more good nor hours o’ it later on.”

“You haven’t seen or heard anything of Tom or Sam?”

“Nary sight or sound, lad.  It’s too bad, but don’t worry too much.”

“They couldn’t have seen the firelight,” returned Dick, with a sorry shake of his head.  “It beats all where they went to, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve been a-thinking that maybe they went on ahead, Dick.”

“Ahead?  That they somehow passed us?”

“Yes; while we were lookin’ for ’em.  They may be up at B’ar Pond now, waitin’ for us.”

“Do you advise going up there?”

“We might as well.  We can put up a post here, with a message for ’em—­in case they do come this way.”

“That’s an idea, and we can put up other posts, too.  Then, if they strike our trail, they’ll be sure to go straight in following us.”  And Dick’s face brightened a bit.

John Barrow was already preparing breakfast, and he agreed with Dick to leave some cooked meat in a cloth tied to the top of the pole the youth erected not far from the fire.  On the cloth they pinned a note, telling of the direction to Bear Pond, and asking Tom and Sam to follow and fire two shots, a minute apart, as a signal.

It was a clear day and the sun, shining over the mountain tops, made the snow and ice glitter like pearls and diamonds.  There was no wind, so the journey toward Bear Pond was far from unpleasant.  They moved slowly, dragging the sled behind them, and searching to the right and the left for some trace of the missing Rovers.