"They haven't discovered that we are gone, or else they don't know which way we took," said Mr. Baxter. "Come on, we must get farther away than this."
"Where are we going?" inquired Fred. "We can't stand much exposure, in this weather, and without food."
"I know it," replied Mr. Baxter. "I have hopes that we may chance upon some settlement of friendly Indians, where we can not only get food and shelter, but enlist their aid in capturing Callack."
"That sounds too good to be likely to happen," observed Jerry. "Burr-r-r-r but it's cold."
"Don't think of it," advised his father. "Move a little faster, and get your blood in good circulation. Then you'll feel warmer."
"I don't believe I've got any blood left in me," replied his son. "It seems just like ice water."
They trudged on, not knowing and scarcely caring where they were going, as long as it was away from Callack's camp. In fact they could see but a short distance before them, and had to go it almost blind, for the snowflakes were like a pall of frozen fog.
"Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Mr. Baxter, when they had been tramping along about half an hour. "Isn't that shouting behind us?"
The boys listened. Faintly there sounded voices in pursuit.
"They're after us!" exclaimed Fred. "What shall we do? Shall we run, or give fight?"