The dog barked and leaped about, but he did not show any inclination to take any particular direction through the snow-covered wilderness. He seemed to want to follow, rather than lead.
“I don’t believe he knows where Sam Wilson’s place is,” was Tom’s opinion, after watching the animal for a while.
“I guess he’s as badly lost as we are,” said Bert.
For a few seconds the boys stood there rather at a loss what to do. They had done their best, but they did not seem to be on the way to success. The storm was worse than when it first started. It still snowed hard, and the wind, while not as strong as it had been during the night, was still cold and cutting.
The boys turned their backs to it as they stood there huddled together, hardly knowing what to do next. Towser, finding he was not wanted immediately, to trail a bear or some other game, devoted his energies to burrowing in a snowbank.
“Well, I would like to know where we are,” said Tom at length.
“Wouldn’t it be a good idea to go back to the deserted cabin?” asked Jack.
“It might not be so bad, if we knew where it was,” agreed Tom.
“We could at least take that for a starting point, and try to head for Camp No. 2,” Jack went on. “I’d be satisfied with that, as long as we can’t locate No. 3.”
“Oh, I side with you there, all right, old man,” Tom said, “but where does the old cabin lie?”