This being the case, it was really a matter of greater importance to Dick and his two companions that they succeed in their quest for food than that they cover any considerable distance before camping.
The prospect of another long night, without a morsel of food to stay the pangs of hunger, appalled them. Dick himself felt badly about it, although he managed, as usual, to hide his growing disappointment better than Roger, partly for the sake of cheering the other up.
“There is one thing none of us seem to have noticed,” Dick observed, after another half hour had crept by; “the clouds have broken, and we may even see the sun before it sets.”
“That is certainly cheering news,” Roger returned; “because if we had another fall of snow on top of this, winter would set in ‘for keeps.’ And we did hope to be safe back in camp before that.”
Before Dick could make any further remark an exclamation from Mayhew drew the attention of the two lads. The guide happened to be a little ahead of them at the time, and was now seen to be beckoning eagerly.
“He must have struck the trail of an elk at last!” exclaimed Roger, showing all the signs of the eager hunter.
“It looks that way,” admitted his cousin, “because he seems to be pointing down at his feet, as though something he had discovered interested him.”
“Oh! I hope it turns out that way, and that if it is a trail it was not made by a file of reds, or some of those ugly French trappers.”
They were hurrying forward while exchanging these remarks, and speedily reached Mayhew’s side.