"We can tell what direction to go by the wind," said Bob, presently.
But this proved to be impossible. Due partially to the formation of the land, which was hilly and rugged, they were surrounded by so many eddying swirls that the wind afforded almost no guide.
In silence, with all senses alert, they kept on, amidst a thick group of evergreens, whose rich green boughs drooped beneath the weight of snow.
"No use," panted Hackett, at length. "Not a ghost of a show, Somers. Let's try and make a break for camp."
"Which way do you think it is?"
"Don't know, I'm sure. Bad as finding a pin in a ton of snow. But we have to keep on moving, and might as well go in the direction it seems to be."
But the boys' ideas on this important point did not agree, and both finally concluded that at the very first sheltered place it would be wiser to call a halt.
"My eye!" cried Hackett, suddenly. "What's that?" He stopped short and grasped his companion by the arm.
Above the roar of the wind came a crashing sound, which grew louder and louder.
"Look!" shouted Bob, pointing toward the right.