"I should think so," agreed Thede.
The boys made their way over the morass and entered the thick undergrowth. Now and then George flashed his electric, but he did not keep it burning steadily for the reason that he did not care to have Pierre trailing them back to the camp.
"Are you sure you passed this way when you came to the cabin?" asked Thede as they walked along. "I don't seem to find any trail here."
"It seems to me I came along here," was the reply. "If it wasn't so blasted dark, we could tell whether we were going in the right direction or not, all right!"
As the boy spoke, he lifted a hand to his face and raised the net which protected his features from the mosquitos, still flying about, although the night, apparently, was cold enough to freeze their wings stiff.
"They won't bother you much more," Thede commented.
"How do you know that?"
"Because there's a snow storm coming up!"
"Then we'd better be getting a move on!" advised George. "If we get caught up here in a snow storm, it'll be 'Good-night' for us!"
"We're going as fast as we can," replied Thede, "but I don't know whether we're going in the right direction or not. It seems like we've walked far enough to be at the camp."