"One more pull and we'll be up!" cried Owen. "Now then, get up, Daisy! get up, Billy!"
The team did its best, and now the sleigh was at the very edge of the trail above. Here was a steep incline of several yards. Billy slipped and Dale came close to going under the animal's hoofs. But horse and youth regained their positions, and with a final jerk the horses reached a firm footing, and the turnout and the young lumbermen came after them.
"Phew! That's a good job done!" panted Owen, coming to a halt for breath.
"You're right, Owen. I was afraid we'd have to give it up," panted Dale in return.
"Here is the bag of shot. It must have fallen out of the sleigh when the horses first took fright."
"Do you think that bear will bother us any more?"
"I hope not. But you had better keep the shot-gun handy. I'll take the reins and try to keep them under control, no matter what happens."
The sky had grown darker, and the snow was now coming down in smaller flakes. These appeared to grow harder, and presently the wind came up, driving the flakes into their faces like so much salt.
"We're up against a regular snowstorm, and no mistake," remarked Owen. "We'll be lucky if we reach camp to-night."
"We'll have to reach camp," answered Dale hastily. The prospect of spending a night among the hills, with no shelter, and with a big bear in that vicinity, did not appeal to him.