"It would be easy enough, if we could stick to the river all the way," remarked Tom to Sam, as they skated along as best they could.
"Can't we?"
"Mr. Barrow says not. About two miles from here are another falls and a set of rocky rapids, and we'll have to walk around for a distance of nearly a mile through the woods."
What Tom said was true, and the falls were reached less than an hour later. The river was very narrow at this point and lined on both sides with rough rocks. Climbing was difficult, and after crawling along for a few rods die boys hatted in dismay.
"We're up against it now," groaned Dick.
"Don't be discouraged, lads!" came from the guide. "It isn't so bad a short distance further on. Follow me." And he started again, and there was nothing to do but to fall in behind him.
John Barrow and Dick carried one sled, and Tom and Sam the other. In some places the cedars and brush were so thick that those in advance pushed through only with extreme difficulty.
"Well, we haven't got the task of breaking the way," said Tom, as he and Sam stopped to get their wind. "It's no fool job to break through this thicket."
"We are going up a hill," returned Sam. "We must be getting away from the river."
The guide and Dick had disappeared ahead, and, fearful of losing them, the younger Rovers set off once more. Carrying the heavy sled up the hill was, however, a great task, especially for Sam, and once at the top they had to rest again.
"I believe it would have been just as easy to have kept to the river," declared Tom. "See, there it is, to our left."
"It certainly doesn't look very rough down there," was his brother's comment. "Gracious, but Dick and Mr. Barrow plow along like steam engines!" he added. "I can't go so fast."
"We won't hurry, there is no need. The trail is plain enough," said Tom, and so they rested fully quarter of an hour. Then they heard Dick calling to them from a long distance ahead.
"All right; we're coming!" Tom called back. "Just please don't go so awfully fast!"
"We are going to take the trail to the left!" Dick shouted back, but the others did not catch the words.
Tom and Sam advanced now slower than ever, and when they reached a spot where there was an opening to the right and another to the left, the others were not only out of sight, but out of hearing as well. It had now begun to snow more thickly than ever.
"Which way did they take?" questioned Sam, in perplexity.
"Reckon they went this way, Sam."
"It looks to me as if they went the other way. Here are some footprints."
"Here are some footprints, too."
They came to a standstill, more perplexed than ever. Sure enough, there were two sets of footprints, running almost at right angles to each other.
"I guess we've hit somebody else's trail," said Sam. "Dick! Mr. Barrow! Where are you?" he called out.
No answer came back, and then the two boys shouted in chorus. All remained as silent as before.
"Well, this is a mess, to say the least," was Tom's comment. "How are we to know which trail to follow?"
"I move we make a sure thing of it and get down to the river again," was Sam's answer. "Then we'll be certain to be on the right track. As soon as they reach the river they'll wait for us."
This seemed sensible advice, and leaving both trails the boys plunged through the cedar brakes to where they had seen the icy surface of the stream. They had to make several turns, and once Tom lost his footing and rolled over and over in the snow. But at last they gained the smooth ice, and then each breathed a long sigh of relief.
"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 it 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 near 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.
The wind was now rising again, and it blew directly into their faces. Alarmed more than ever, on this account, they pushed on 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