"Oh yes, you will, my boy!" replied Mr. Maynard. "I'll help you you know."
To their vast relief the snow now began to abate, and presently ceased falling altogether.
"That's something to be thankful for," said the superintendent. "Are you ready to start again?"
"Go ahead," was the response.
But no sooner had one danger passed than another presented itself. The light began to fail, for night was at hand.
A ten-mile tramp on snow-shoes through a desolate forest was not much to be desired under any circumstances. To accomplish it in the dark, tired as they both felt already, was a feat the achieving of which seemed more than doubtful.
Mr. Maynard had his misgivings, but he carefully concealed them from his companion, and even started whistling a lively march as he led the way along the faintly discernible road.
Never will either of them ever forget that awful tramp.
The night soon enfolded them, leaving only the scant light of the glimmering stars for guidance. Every step they took had to be carefully considered, lest they should stray from the track and be hopelessly lost.
Again and again the silence through which they marched was broken by the blood-curdling cry of the lynx or the dismal howl of the wolf, seeking what they might devour.