Soon they reached another line of rocks, this time much higher than those they had been crossing. At one end of the rocks was a small cliff. At the top of this several cedars had once stood, but the winds of the winter before had blown them over, so that, while the roots were still imbedded in the cliff, the tops rested in the snow below.
"Great salt mackerel!" cried Gif in dismay. "Well, now I have spilled the beans!"
"What's up now?" questioned Randy quickly.
"I heard my uncle tell about this place. He visited it just after those trees fell over. He said the spot was about three miles from the Lodge."
At this there was a groan from the twins and Fred.
"We can't walk that distance in this snowstorm," said the latter decidedly.
"Not over those rough rocks, anyway," added Randy. "I feel as if my ankles were getting twisted out of shape."
"Do you know in what direction the Lodge is from here?" questioned Spouter.
"I do not, except that you have to be on the top of the cliff to get to it. We were evidently headed the right way, although we must have walked in a big semicircle since we left the river."
"I'm going to climb to the top of the cliff and have a look around," declared Jack. "Here, take these guns and the game."