“See how uneven the prints are,” Bob pointed out, throwing the light of his flash on the snow ahead. “He had hard work to keep his feet straight and you can see that he stopped every few minutes. I doubt very much if he made more than ten miles yesterday, especially if he had more whiskey with him.”
It was about five miles across the lake to the opposite shore and they reached it at half-past five.
“Pretty good time, considering,” Bob declared as he glanced at his watch. “I’ll bet it took him three hours or more to make it.”
The trail now led up the side of a hill which was little less than a mountain, and as the growth of trees was very heavy it was a hard struggle to drag the toboggan between them. It was perhaps a little over a mile from the shore of the lake to the top of the hill, but the first streaks of red were tinging the eastern sky when, panting and puffing, they reached the summit.
“My, but that was some climb, believe me,” Jack panted as he leaned against a large spruce.
“Yes, we didn’t make very good time coming up the hill that’s a fact, but it’s a pretty safe bet that Nip didn’t do it in much better time even if he didn’t have to pull a toboggan,” Bob declared stooping to fasten his snow-shoes a bit tighter.
The way now led down hill through a thick growth of pines and after a short rest they were off again.
“Look Jack, here’s where he stopped to cook a meal,” Bob said after they had gone about a half a mile farther. “See, here’s what’s left of his fire, and sure’s you’re born there’s a stick with a few live sparks still on it. That means that he was here not much more than an hour ago and perhaps less.”
He had hardly spoken the words when they were startled by a voice from a thick growth of bushes a few feet to their left. They turned quickly but no one was in sight.
“Yes, and he’s still here,” the voice had declared.