"Now git um," said Holfax, and Johnson, who was nearest, rushed forward and secured the precious document.
"Is it injured?" asked Fred, as Mr. Baxter began to examine it.
"No, I think not. I'll have to be more careful in the future. That dog nearly ate a fortune."
Stowing the map securely away, Mr. Baxter helped the boys and Johnson strike the tent, and load the sleds for that day's trip. It was not as cold as it had been during the night, but there was a feeling of snow in the air.
"Git plenty bad storm quick soon," remarked Holfax, as he again fastened the coverings on the provision sled.
"Do you think we had better start then?" asked Mr. Baxter.
"Bad here—bad there," replied the Indian, with a sweep of his arm toward the distant mountain range. "Bad all over—plenty bad—bad go—bad stay."
"Then as long as we're going to be in for it one way or the other, we might as well start. Come, boys, are you ready?"
"All ready, dad," mumbled Jerry from the depths of his fur collar.
"How about you, Fred?"