and he agreed with Dick to leave some cooked meat in a cloth tied to the top of the pole the youth erected not far from the fire. On the cloth they pinned a note, telling of the direction to Bear Pond, and asking Tom and Sam to follow and fire: two shots, a minute apart, as a signal.
It was a clear day and the sun, shining over the mountain tops, made the snow and ice glitter like pearls and diamonds. There was no wind, so the journey toward Bear Pond was far from un pleasant. They moved slowly, dragging the sled behind them, and searching to the right and the left for some trace of the missing Rovers.
"I don't believe they came up here," said Dick, after half the distance to the pond had been covered. "I don't see the least trace of any human being, although I've seen the footprints of several wild animals."
"The wind might have covered the tracks during the night," was John Barrow's hopeful response.
"I'd rather lose the treasure, even if it is worth thousands, than have anything happen to Sam and Tom."
Just before noon they came to a point in the river where it divided into several branches.
"We'll stop here and put up another sign pole," said the guide. "Remember what I said? All these streams run into the pond and into Perch River. Now, which one you want, at tudder end, I don't know."
"Which is the largest branch?"
"Can't say, exactly. This one an' the one yonder are about the same size, and that one aint much smaller."
"Well, which do you suppose was the largest years ago?"
"Can't say that neither, although that one yon der might have been, by the looks o' the banks,"
"Then let us start on that one. And if that fails us, we can then try the others."
They skated to the stream in question and erected a pole in the middle of the ice, upon which a second note was posted. Having gone to the trouble of chopping a hole for the pole, John Barrow suggested they might try their hand at fishing.
"Might as well stay here a while," he said. "If they are behind us, they may catch up."
Dick was willing, and soon a line was baited and let down into the hole. It was in the water only a few seconds when the guide felt a bite and drew up a fine fish, weighing at least half a pound.
Dick was anxious to try it, and took the line from John Barrow's hands. He was equally successful, and in a short while they had seven fish to their credit, weighing from a quarter to three-quarters of a pound apiece.
"I'm going to tie a fish to the top of the pole," said Dick. "They may be hungry when they get here, especially if they miss the pole at our last camping place."
"They won't want to eat raw fish, lad."
"No, and I'm going to put a few matches in a paper and tie it to the fish, so they can cook it, if they wish."
Dick's idea was followed out, and once more they went on, up a narrow stream which had many a turn among the cedar brakes and hemlocks which lined either side. Rocks were likewise numerous, and the lad came to the conclusion that locating the treasure was going to be no easy task.
"It's rather desolate," he remarked. "I wonder what ever possessed that old Goupert to come here?"
"It's not so desolate in the summer time, Dick. But I reckon Goupert was a mighty odd stick, as it was."
At last they rounded a turn in the stream and came in sight of Bear Pond, a long and wide stretch of water located in the very midst of two tall mountains. The pond was covered with thick ice, and the snow lay upon it in long drifts and ridges. The ice was blackish and almost as hard as flint.
"We may as well go into camp near the mouth of this stream," said Dick. "For from this spot we'll make our first hunt for the treasure."
"I hope with all my heart that you find it, lad. But if you don't, don't be too disappointed."
"I want to find Sam and Tom first. I shan't hunt for the treasure until I know of them."
"That's right. We'll go on a hunt this afternoon, jest as soon as we've had some of these fish broiled for dinner."
If there was one thing which John Barrow could do to perfection, it was to broil fish, and the meal he set before Dick half an hour later was so appetizing the lad could not help enjoy it, in spite of his anxiety over his brothers' prolonged absence. The fish was as sweet as a nut, and both lingered some time over the meal, until all that had been broiled were gone.
"And now to find Tom and Sam," said Dick, at last, as he leaped up from the log upon which he had been sitting. "What shall we do with our things?"
"Here is a hole in the rocks," answered the guide. "We'll hide them there and cover them with stones. I don't think anything will disturb the things between now and nightfall."
The stores were placed in the cache and carefully covered, so that the wild animals might not get at them, and then they saw to it that their firearms were ready for use. A minute later they were off, on the hunt for Tom and Sam.
CHAPTER XXI
A PAIR OF PRISONERS
It is high time that we return to Tom and Sam, and learn how the two Rover boys were faring in their unequal contest with Dan Baxter and his followers.
As we know, it was Baxter himself who attacked Sam, while big Bill Harney threw Tom to the ground. Jasper Grinder went to Baxter's assistance, while Lemuel Husty ran to aid Harney.
"Let go of him!" cried Sam, and managed to hit Baxter a glancing blow on the cheek.
"I'll not let go yet," answered Baxter, and bore the youngest Rover to the earth. Over and over they rolled in the snow, until Grinder caught Sam by the legs and held him still.
"That's right, Grinder, hold him!" panted Dan Baxter. "Don't let him get up!"
But Sam was not yet subdued, and getting one foot clear at last, he kicked Jasper Grinder in the ear.
"Oh! oh! my ear!" screamed the former teacher. "He has kicked my ear off. You scamp, take that!" And letting out with his foot, he gave Sam a vigorous kick on the side. At the same time Baxter struck the boy in the head with a stick he had been carrying, and then Sam suddenly lost consciousness.
In the meantime Tom was having a similar struggle with Harney and Husty. But the boy, though strong, was no match for the two men, and they soon pinned him to the ground and held him there as in a vise, while he was nearly choked by the big guide, who had clutched him by the throat.
"Let — let go — my — throat!" Tom managed to gasp.
"Will you keep quiet?" demanded Harney.
"Yes — yes."
"All right, mind you do." And then the guide released his hold, but continued to sit as he was, astride of poor Tom's chest.
"Have you got him?"
