"For the present. We are a good four miles from the pond, and we can't tramp that in this storm."

The wind was rising again, with a dull moaning through the timber, and sending the flakes whirling in all directions, and they were glad enough to get back to the shelter of the cedars.

"We'll clear a s.p.a.ce in the snow and start a fire," said the guide. "A hot cup o' coffee will do us all good."

"And we can cook that other rabbit Tom and I brought along," put in Sam.

Brushwood was handy, and Tom helped to cut some of this with the hunting knife he had brought along. Soon a lively blaze was warming them up, and water was boiling for the coffee, while the rabbit was cleaned, and broiled on a long fork in the guide's outfit. Crackers were running low, and they had but two apiece.

"I'll try fishing as soon as I'm done," said John Barrow, and was as good as his word.

It was no easy task to cut a hole through the ice, but once this was accomplished the fish were found to be lively enough, despite the storm and the cold. Inside of an hour they had a mess of nine, sufficient to last them for several meals. And while the others were fishing, d.i.c.k caught sight of a flock of birds, and brought down three.

"There, we won't starve yet awhile," said d.i.c.k, as he began to clean his game.

"That's true," answered Tom, "although we may get pretty tired of birds and fish before we get out of here and strike something different."

"I wonder how the Baxter crowd is faring," said Sam. "Unless they got back to the cave they can't be having a very good time of it."

"They don't deserve a good time of it," grumbled Tom. "They deserve to suffer."

"Bill Harney is a good enough guide to know what to do," put in John Barrow. "He will pull them through somehow--that is, if he knows enough to remain sober."

They had hoped that the storm would let up by noon, but twelve o'clock found the snow coming down as fast as ever, blotting out the landscape on every hand. Outside of the moaning of the wind all was as silent as a tomb.

There was but a little for the boys to do, and after the fishing was over they were glad enough to take it easy in the shelter and listen to several stories John Barrow had to tell. The guide also related what he knew concerning Goupert and the various hunts made for the missing treasure.

"He must have been a fierce sort of a man in his day," observed d.i.c.k.

"I don't wonder the most of the folks in this region were content to leave him alone."

It was almost nightfall when the snow stopped coming down, and then it was too dark to attempt the journey to Bear Pond.

"We'll have to make another night of it here," said John Barrow. "Then, if it's clear, we can start for the pond early in the morning."

"Hark!" cried Tom, rousing up. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" came from the others.

"I thought I heard somebody calling."

All listened. For a few seconds silence reigned, then came an uncertain sound from a considerable distance.

"There it is!"

"That's somebody calling, sure," said the guide. "Must be down along the river. I'll go out an' look."

"Can I go along?" asked d.i.c.k. "You may want help--if somebody is in trouble."

"All right. Bring your gun with you."

In another minute they had started out, each with his gun, and with his trouser legs tied up with bits of cord, to keep the deep snow from reaching up to their boot-tops. Their course was directly for the river.

It was so dark they could see little or nothing, saving the whiteness which spread in all directions.

"Hullo! hullo!" yelled John Barrow, when the river was gained.

"Help!" came back faintly. "Help!"

"Somebody over thar!" said the guide, and pointed a short distance up the stream. "Guess he's in a peck o' trouble, too."

He started in the direction, and d.i.c.k came close behind. The party in distress was a man, whose cries for aid were gradually becoming weaker and weaker. Before they reached the individual his voice ceased entirely.

"He has fainted from exhaustion," said John Barrow, as he reached the wayfarer.

"Why, it's Jasper Grinder, our old teacher," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed d.i.c.k.

The eldest Rover was right. The unfortunate man was indeed the former teacher of Putnam Hall, but so pinched and haggard as to be scarcely recognized. He had fallen on a bare rock, and this had cut open his left cheek, from which the blood was flowing.

CHAPTER XXVI.

AN UNWELCOME COMRADE.

"He's in a bad way, that's certain," was d.i.c.k's comment, as he surveyed the prostrate form. Even though Jasper Grinder was an enemy, he could not help but feel sorry for the man.

"We must get him up to our shelter as soon as possible," replied John Barrow. "It is easy to see he is half frozen--and maybe starved."

"Shall we carry him?"

"We'll have to; there is no other way."

Slinging their guns across their backs, they raised up the form of the unconscious man. He was a dead weight, and to carry him through that deep snow was no light task. Less than half the distance to the shelter was covered when d.i.c.k called a halt.

"I'll have to rest up!" he gasped. "He weighs a ton."

But in a few minutes he resumed the journey, and now they did not stop with their load until the shelter was reached. Tom and Sam were watching for them.

"Jasper Grinder, by all that's wonderful!" burst out Tom.

"Was he alone?" questioned Sam.

"He was, so far as we could see," answered d.i.c.k. "I can tell you, he's almost a case for an undertaker."

This remark made everyone feel sober, and while the two younger Rovers stirred up the fire, d.i.c.k and the guide did all in their power to bring the unconscious man to his senses. Some hot coffee was poured down his throat, and his hands and back were vigorously rubbed.

"Oh!" came faintly, at last, and Jasper Grinder slowly opened his eyes, "Oh!"