It was cold and dark in the forest, and the snow was deep, but the boys trudged bravely on in the direction of the hills. At least they supposed that they were going in the direction of the hills. They could scarcely see a yard in advance of their noses under the thick foliage and so trusted entirely to the Indian, who led them along at a pace which was exhausting to say the least.
There would be a moon shortly after eight, but soon after that time they hoped to be snugly tucked in their blankets in the cottage. For a time they could see the dry tree which they had fired blazing in the distance, but at length it dropped out of sight.
"How long do you think that blooming savage will keep this up?" asked Sandy of Thede, as the two boys struggled along through snow nearly up to their knees. "I'm about all in!"
"He's capable of keeping it up all night!" Thede answered in a dejected tone, "but I hope he'll stop when we come to the hills."
"He does seem to be heading for the hills," Sandy replied. "If he'll only stop when he gets there, I may be able to catch my breath again!"
"Cheer up!" laughed Thede. "The worst is yet to come!"
"Doesn't that look like the moon coming up?" asked Sandy an hour later as they came to a slope which gradually led up to the hills.
"That's the moon, all right!" replied Thede. "But it won't do much good if we keep on walking under the trees. We ought to be home now."
"Does the moon rise in the south?" asked Sandy,
"There's no knowing what will take place in this part of the country," answered Thede. "Me for little old Chicago right soon!"