But, as time went on, the utter hopelessness of the search became apparent. Buffeted and battered by the chilly blasts, scarcely able to see for the flying snow and almost exhausted, the two boys bravely kept up, until Yardsley, fearing that they might suffer ill effects from the exposure, sorrowfully decided that it would be necessary to return.
"It's no use—an' powerful sorry I am ter say it," he announced. "We'd best git back ter camp, an' trust that the cap'n an' mate pull through all right."
"Do you think they found their way back to camp?" asked Sam, hopefully.
"There's always a chance; an' if they didn't, the two will take keer of themselves—depend upon it."
Yardsley was far from feeling as sanguine as his words indicated, but he strove to encourage the others, and possibly, in so doing, lightened his own fears.
Disconsolately, therefore, the search was abandoned.
Sam and Dick followed the trapper closely. To them, the task of finding the camp would have been hopeless, but Yardsley went straight ahead, stopping only occasionally to look about him.
"How do you know which way to go?" asked Sam, curiously.
"Bless you, mates, a man can't live as I do, in the woods, an' lose his bearin's. I've traveled hereabouts 'til I can find my way in the dark."
"Wonder how Nat Wingate and the other fellows are faring?" said Dick.