"You were—for a big consideration," returned Tom dryly. "Let me tell you flatly, I don't take much stock in your so-called generosity."
They were soon on the way, straight down to the river and then up that stream. John Barrow was in the lead, with Sam following. Jasper came next, and Tom and Dick brought up the rear. As far as possible the guide sought out a trail along the timber, where the snow was not so deep. Here and there were bare spots, but at other places were deep drifts, where they frequently got in up to their armpits.
"This is no joke!" gasped Sam, after floundering through an extra deep drift. "I thought I was going out of sight that time."
"I trust we haven't much further to go," was Jasper Grinder's comment. "I would give a hundred dollars to be back at Timber Run."
"It's your own fault you are here," retorted Sam.
"I might say the same of you," returned the former teacher sharply.
By noon John Barrow calculated they had covered half the distance to Bear Pond. A sheltered nook was found between some rocks and trees, and here they set fire to a mass of brushwood, that they might get warm while they rested, and ate the last of the food on hand. There was no wind, and the sun, shining as brightly as ever, made the surface of the snow glitter like diamonds.
"I hope we find our stores at the cache undisturbed," said Dick, while resting. "I am hungry for a change of diet. As soon as we get there I'm going to make some biscuits and boil some beans."
"Gosh, but a plateful of beans would be fine!" cried Tom. "I can tell you what," he added reflectively; "you want to do without things to learn their real value."
On they went once more, this time slower than before, because both Sam and Jasper Grinder showed great signs of weariness. They had to move around a long bend of the stream, and for fear of getting into a deep drift the guide did not dare to make a short cut. They passed the pole set up by John Barrow and Dick at the forks of the stream, and then headed directly for where the cache was located.