“All we can do is to follow the directions on the map,” said Dick.  “I think we’ll be bound to strike the right clew, sooner or later.  Let us follow this one and see where it leads to.”

“What’s the next directions?” questioned Tom.

“‘Go due southwest from the pine tree sixty-two paces,’” answered Dick, reading from the translation given him.  “Which is southwest, Mr. Barrow?”

“Soon tell ye that,” answered the guide, and brought forth his pocket compass.  “That way.”  And he pointed with his arm.

With the compass to guide them they set off, the guide in the lead once more, and Dick counting off the sixty-two paces with great care.  The way was up a hillside and over half a dozen rough rocks, and then into a hollow where the snow was up to their waists.

“No use of talking, this is treasure-hunting under difficulties,” was Sam’s comment.  “Perhaps we would have done better had we left the hunt till summer time.”

“And let Baxter get ahead of us?” put in Tom.  “Not much!” He turned to Dick.  “What’s the next directions on the paper?”

“There ought to be a flat rock here, backed up by a sharp-pointed one,” answered the eldest Rover.  “I don’t see anything of a sharp-pointed rock, do you?  The flat rock may be under us.”

“No sharp-pointed rock within a hundred feet of here,” answered Sam, gazing around.  He began scraping away the snow.  “Dirt under us, too.”

“That settles it, then.  Trial No. 1 is a failure.  Mr. Barrow, we’ll have to try the next stream.”

“So it would seem, Dick.  Well, you boys mustn’t expect too easy work o’ it.  A big treasure aint picked up every day.”

“The trouble of it is, we don’t know how much of a treasure it is,” said Tom.  “For all we know, it may be but a few hundred dollars—­not enough to pay us, really, for our trouble.”

“Well, even a few hundred dollars aint to be sneezed at.”

“We did much better out West, when we located our mining claim,” said Dick.  “But then we came up here for fun as much as for treasure.”

The tramp to where the next stream leading from Bear Pond was located was by no means easy.  They had to crawl around a tangled mass of brushwood and over more rough rocks, until they gained the bosom of the pond itself.  Then they skirted the shore for several hundred yards.

“Hold on!” cried Dick suddenly.  “Rabbits!” And up came his gun, and he blazed away.  Sam also fired, and between them they brought down four rabbits, which had just run out of a hollow log a short distance ahead.

“Good shots!” cried the guide enthusiastically.  “Couldn’t have been better.  I see you are used to hunting.  Many a city chap would have missed ’em entirely.  I had one feller up here year before last wanted to bring down big game, but when he saw a deer he got the shakes and didn’t think of shootin’ till the game was out o’ sight.”