"Not enough to weep over," was the answer. "But, no joking, this is fierce! I wish I was back to camp."
"So do I, Whopper. But wishing won't take us there—we've got to walk."
"Isn't it getting dark!"
"Yes, and just listen to that wind!"
By this time, both of the young hunters were scared, although neither mentioned it. Again they went on, but only for a dozen rods. Then both halted and stared in front of them in amazement.
"What's this?"
"We aren't going toward the lake at all!"
Before them was a slight hollow and beyond a cliff of rocks all of twenty to thirty feet high. On the top of the cliff grew a number of large trees and several of these had, in times past, been blown over, their tops resting in the hollow below while the roots still clung fast near the top of the cliff.
"Did you ever see this spot before?" asked Shep.
"Not that I can remember," answered his chum. "But I am sure it is not near the lake."