“We can never get down there,” said Nat.
“Sure we can,” declared Jack.
“We might if we had some of those long, wooden snowshoes, like barrel-staves, which the Norwegians use,” spoke Sam. “Otherwise I don’t see how we’re going to do it.”
Jack did not reply. Instead he was walking slowly along what seemed to be an abandoned trail. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation.
“The very thing!” he cried.
“What?” asked Bony.
“That old sled,” answered Jack, pointing to a sort of bobsled, that had evidently been made by lumbermen. It consisted of a platform of slabs, on long, broad, wooden runners, and stood near an abandoned camp.
“How can we use that?” asked Nat.
“Get on it and slide down the mountain,” daringly proposed Jack. “There’s plenty of snow. The old sled will hold us all, and maybe we can ride right into their camp lickity-split. Then they can’t put us out until we’ve seen what’s going on. Will you go?”
The boys hesitated a moment. It was a hazardous plan, one fraught with danger, but they were not the lads to draw back for that. It seemed the only feasible way of getting down the mountain.