"That's about it," admitted Mr. Baxter.
They were all glad when morning came, and they had a glimpse of the sun, even if the golden ball was not so very heating. At any rate it was more cheerful than the long night, with the mysterious Aurora Borealis flashing in the sky.
To make sure of the route for that day's travel Mr. Baxter got out the map, and he and Holfax examined it, before the dogs were hitched to the sleds.
"I think we are really in the treasure district," said the old gold hunter, as he looked at the copy of the tracing made by the German. "Here is shown the end of the forest, and the great plain over which we have to go to get to the waterfall. Well, boys, we will be there in a day or two, now."
"That's good," remarked Fred. "I'll be glad to get back to warm, sunny California again, where I can wear ordinary clothes."
Mr. Baxter was returning the map to the fur case in which he carried it. On account of the heavy mittens he and all the adventurers had to wear, his hands were not very certain in their movements. When he had replaced the map in the case, he endeavored to slip the latter inside his fur coat, where he had a pocket in which it was kept.
But his hand slipped, and the fur case, map and all fell to the snow-covered ground. An instant later, one of the big hungry dogs, doubtless thinking it was something to eat, rushed up and made a grab for it, carrying it away in its strong jaws, and snapping and snarling at its fellow brutes that tried to take away what they supposed was a choice morsel of seal blubber.
"Catch him!" cried Mr. Baxter. "If he tears that case, and spoils the map, we'll never find the treasure!"
"I'll git him!" cried Johnson, gliding on his snowshoes after the dog. But the brute saw him coming, and ran farther off.
"Hold on, or I'll shoot you!" called the negro.