“Now that we have burrowed out of that trap, what is the next move, Dick?”
“I think we have decided already that we will not start back to the camp. Badly off as we are, we have come a long way after Williams, and, now that we know he is not a great many miles away, we must find him!”
“If what that trader said is true Jasper needs us, too,” declared Roger.
“If he is a prisoner we are bound to do all we can to rescue him,” said the other boy, although it required no little fortitude to be able to decide in this way.
In one direction lay comfort and safety; in the other direction they must expect to find danger in many shapes, privations such as hunger and exhaustion, and, for aught they knew, death itself might lie in wait. Yet, in spite of all this, neither Dick nor Roger hesitated.
“Then it is on with us to the Frenchmen’s camp!” said Roger.
It was in that spirit they made their start. Just how far away the mysterious sheet of water lay they could not tell. It might be three miles, it might be twenty, for all they knew. Vague stories concerning it had drifted into the explorers’ camp from various sources. Trappers who had caught a glimpse of it gave wonderful accounts concerning its vast extent. Indians recounted the most marvelous tales of its being the home of the mighty Evil Spirit that possessed the Enchanted Land.
The boys were not free from a certain amount of superstitious awe; for human nature had not progressed as far along certain lines a hundred years ago as in these later days. But they possessed bold hearts, and, animated by that single purpose of serving those they loved, they were willing to dare anything rather than give up the quest.
It was in this frame of mind, then, that they began heading into the east, trudging uncomplainingly through heaps of snow that often came to their waists, and keeping a constant lookout for either game or human enemies.