In the meanwhile the skies had become leaden-colored again, cast over with the winter shade, and snow was flying thicker than at any other time of the morning.
“We can’t be far from the second divide, the one where we have to make the careful choice,” Frank said as they stopped in the valley before following the trail up between two hills to their right, where it made a sharp turn.
“And it won’t be so easy to find, either,” said Paul, “unless the trails are plainer than this one is.”
Just as Buster Billings called out that the fourth hour had passed, Frank pointed to a sign nailed on a tree just ahead of them.
“Maybe that sign has something to do with the trails.”
But they were doomed to disappointment.
“Put out all camp fires—protect our forests,” read the sign.
It had been placed there during one of the campaigns for forest protection.
“But,” remarked Frank as he stood in front of the sign and thought it over, “this sign must have been placed at this spot for some reason. I believe we are at the divide in the trails. See? There are three different openings leading away—look there! Footprints on the one right there!”
Four boys stood and looked carefully, each thinking out the situation. Though Frank was the leader, one boy cannot do all the thinking for such a group of quick-minded young fellows as these.