“My, but aint I glad he’s gone!” said the youngest Rover, with a sigh of relief.

“So am I glad, Sam.  I was almost afraid both of us were doomed to be chewed up.”

“What shall we do next?”

“I guess we had better get out—­as soon as you’ve reloaded the gun.  Wonder where the ammunition is?”

Both instituted a search, and soon a box was brought to light, containing not only ammunition, but also a big hunting knife.

“I’ll appropriate the knife,” said Tom.  “It’s not as good as a gun or pistol, but it is better than nothing.”

Thus armed they set forth without further delay, fearful that their enemies might return at any moment to recapture them.  As the bear had gone up the gully they went down, and they did not come to a halt until they had placed at least quarter of a mile between themselves and the caves.  For some distance they kept on a series of bare rocks, thus leaving no trail behind.

“I reckon we are clear of them for the time being,” observed Tom, as he came to a halt.  “And that being so, the next question is Where are Dick and Mr. Barrow?”

“The best we can do is to try to find Perch River, to my way of thinking,” came from Sam.  “If we can find that and we stick to it, we’ll be sure to land at Bear Pond, sooner or later.”

“It seems to me Bear Pond ought to be close at hand,” said Tom.  “We’ve seen the bear anyway, if not the pond.”  And at this both Sam and he gave a short laugh.

An hour later found them tramping along the edge of a cliff overlooking a broad valley, in the center of which was a winding stream almost hidden by the woods on either side.

“Now, if we were only sure that was Perch River, we’d be all right,” said Sam.  “But unfortunately all rivers look pretty much alike up here.”

“We might as well go down to it, anyway,” answered his brother.  “It’s pretty cold up here,”

Finding a break in the cliff they descended, and started through the woods for the watercourse.  It was indeed cold, and only their brisk walking kept them warm.  A stiff wind was rising, and overhead the branches swayed mournfully.

When they reached the river they came to another halt, not knowing which was up and which was down.

“Guess we had better chop a hole in the ice and see how the water is flowing,” suggested Sam.

“Let us walk in this direction,” said Tom.  “I think this is right, and, anyway, we may soon come to an air-hole, which will save us the trouble of cutting an opening.”

As they advanced they had kept a sharp lookout for the Baxter crowd, but so far none of their enemies had put in an appearance.

“Hurrah!” suddenly shouted Tom.  “Here’s a signal of some sort!”

He pointed ahead, to where Dick and John Barrow had planted their first signal pole.  Both made a rush forward, and soon had the cooked meat which had been tied in a cloth and the note pinned on the outside.