"Take the next turn to the right," called Rutledge to d.i.c.k and Paul, as they wheeled their horses and started for the rear.

They heard faintly through the noise of the storm, and answered back.

They succeeded for a time in keeping the end riders up toward the front, urging their somewhat jaded horses to a trot. Then, all at once, they found themselves out of sight of the tails of the end animals.

"Hit is up a little," suggested d.i.c.k to Paul. "They're leaving us."

They spurred their horses ahead, but they never noticed as they bent their heads to avoid the blast that they kept straight on, instead of taking the turn to the right, where the road divided. So fast was the snow falling, drifting as it did so, that the tracks of the horses just ahead of them were almost blotted out.

"They must be galloping," said d.i.c.k. "Come on, Paul."

They urged their wearied horses to a gallop, expecting soon to come within sight of the rear of the squad. But, as they went on and on, the road became more impa.s.sable. The snow was at least two feet deep now, and more was falling every minute.

"I can't see anything of them," said Paul, peering ahead into the white mist.

"Me either. Let's give a yell."

They called, but the echo was their only reply.

"Can you see any tracks?" asked d.i.c.k, leaning over in the saddle, and scanning the ground.

"No. Can you?"

"Not a one."

The lads straightened up, and looked at each other. Their steeds whinnied helplessly, complaining thus of the cold.

"d.i.c.k," said Paul, "I believe we've taken the wrong turn."

"I didn't see any turn to take. We've come a straight road."

"I don't believe so. Rutledge said something about turning to the right."

"I know he did, but I didn't see any turn."

"Neither did I, but we're certainly on the wrong road now. This hasn't been traveled this winter."

"Looks that way. Say, we've come up the side of the mountain. I wondered what made the horses so blown."

It needed but a glance to show that this was so. Unconsciously they had taken a path leading up the mountain, and they were now on what was evidently a wood-road, in the midst of a forest.

As they stood there, vainly starting about, there came a fiercer burst of the storm, and on the wings of a stinging, cold wind there came such a cloud of snow flakes that they could not see ten feet ahead of them.

"We're caught in a blizzard!" shouted d.i.c.k. "We must keep close together, Paul."

CHAPTER XXIV

THE RESCUE OF DUTTON

Through the blinding snow the two cadets tried to peer, in order to see which way they should take to get back to the academy. Neither of them was very familiar with the country, though they had been over part of it in drills and practice marches in the fall. But things wore a different aspect now.

"Which way had we better go?" asked Paul, after a pause. He had to shout to be heard above the noise of the gale.

"I guess the best plan is to keep down the mountain," replied d.i.c.k.

"We'll strike a road sooner or later leading to Kentfield."

The horses did not like to face the blast, but the young cadets forced them about, and the unwilling steeds started down the slope.

Protected though they were by their heavy winter clothing and overcoats, the two lads felt the cold bitterly. But they were too plucky to give up. The horses could not be urged to more than a walk, and, indeed, faster pace was not safe, as they did not know what the snow might conceal.

As they went down the mountain side they kept a watch for the sight of any objects that would indicate a road, or tell them their whereabouts.

But all they could see was an expanse of snow, a whirling, white cloud of flakes, with here and there the black trunks of trees standing up like grim sentinels.

"We might as well be a thousand miles from nowhere," called d.i.c.k.

"That's right," answered his companion. "I wonder if we're going straight?"

"Isn't much choice. We'll be on level ground in a little while, anyhow.

Then the going will be better."

They emerged from the thickly wooded side of the big hill, and came upon a plain, which did not look familiar. It was open country, however, and this was better than being in the woods, though the cold wind had more of a sweep over it.

"Now, which way?" asked Paul. "I've lost all sense of direction."

"And I'm not much better. Suppose we let the horses go as they please?

Maybe they'll have sense enough to head toward their stables."

"Good idea, we'll do it."

They let the reins hang loose on the necks of the animals. The steeds hesitated for a moment, sniffed the air, and then started off to the left.

"I hope that's right, but it doesn't seem so," said d.i.c.k ruefully.

"However, anything's better than standing still in this storm."

There was no let-up to the blizzard, which fairly enveloped the lads in its icy grasp.

They had traveled for perhaps a mile when d.i.c.k, who was a little in the lead, suddenly cried out:

"Hi, Paul! Here's a house, anyhow!"

"A house?"

"Yes. Straight ahead."

Paul looked through the whirling clouds of snow, and saw something dark looming up about thirty yards away.