But the dog did not want to come back. They could hear him baying in the depths of the now dark forest, but whether he was in sight of the bear, or was giving tongue because the trail was getting fresher, was impossible to say.
At any rate, the dog did not come back in response to the whistles shrilly emitted in his direction.
“Well, let him go,” said Bert. “He’ll find his way to one camp or another, I guess, if he doesn’t go home to Sam. He said the dog often stayed out in the woods all night, and came back in the morning.”
“All right—let him go,” assented Tom. “And now what shall we do about ourselves? Here comes the snow!” he cried a moment later, for the white flakes began falling in a swirl all about them.
“In for a blizzard!” commented Jack.
“Oh, not as bad as that,” murmured Bert.
“Do they have blizzards up here? How long do they last? Does it get very cold? How much snow——”
“That’ll do, Why!” exclaimed Tom. “We’ve got something else to do besides answering questions. Now, fellows, what is it to be—Camp No. 3 or Camp No. 2? We’ve got to decide.”
“I say No. 3,” called out Bert.