It was about noon when, having passed through a gloomy stretch of woodland, they came out on a vast, level snow-plain which seemed to stretch away for many miles. At the farther end was a low range of mountains.
"Those are the mountains we are headed for," said Mr. Baxter in a low voice to the two boys. "There is where we will begin to search."
They knew by that he meant that was where the treasure might be hidden.
Suddenly Fred, whose sled was in advance, uttered a cry, and pointed to what seemed like a black rock on the snow.
"What is it?" called Mr. Baxter.
"A moose! A big moose! I'm going to have a shot at it!"
As he spoke Holfax gave a cry, and the dogs of all the sleds stopped. Fred was busy loosening the fur robe that covered him in order to get up.
"Take the snowshoes!" advised Mr. Baxter.
The driver of Fred's sled must have understood, for he handed the boy a pair of the contrivances which enable one to walk on top of soft snow. Fred, with the Indian's aid, quickly adjusted them. By this time the moose, which had been nosing under the snow to get the mosses which grow there, and on which it feeds, lifted its immense head with the sweeping horns.
"Oh! He's a beauty!" cried Fred. "I wonder if I can get him?"