“Nigh on half an hour, I should judge,” came the answer.
“Then we must call quits, and devote all our attention to finding a camp,” Dick determined. “With a fire going we will not feel quite so badly as in the cold.”
“Then we mean to keep up a blaze all night, no matter what the risk?” demanded Roger.
“Of course we can try to hide the fire some,” explained the guide; “but on a cold night like this the reds are not apt to be moving, and the risk will be slight.”
“Well, if the rest can stand it, I ought to, so now let us begin in earnest to find a camping-ground,” and Roger started looking to the right and left as though he did not want to lose a minute.
Indeed, at that season of the year in this far northern clime, while the twilight might linger for an hour or more, once the sun had set they could not see well under the canopy of pines. These, in places, had kept much of the snow from reaching the ground, and there was a reasonable hope that they could run across some spot that offered shelter from the piercing night wind.
Mayhew was so well versed in backwoods lore that he could be depended on to locate such a camp ground. If necessary they could build a windbreak out of branches, and behind this make their fire.
Before long the guide gave them to understand that he had sighted what seemed to be an admirable spot for passing the night.
“Over yonder you can see where I mean,” he told them, pointing as he spoke; and even Roger was forced to admit that it offered advantages other places had lacked.
Mayhew took his hatchet and cut several slabs from the bark of a tree. It was to be noticed that he did this on the side nearest their intended camp; but neither of the pioneer boys asked why this was done, because their hunter instinct told them Mayhew was only leaving his mark so that in the morning they would lose no time in picking up the trail of the lone buffalo.