"So am I," puffed Tom Clifton.
"And it's the same here," added Sam.
The three boys were relieved.
Maple and hickory trees were now interspersed with the dark hemlocks and cedars, and the patches of sky between the trees grew larger. The woods were rapidly becoming more open.
"We ought to come to the river pretty soon, Somers," observed Hackett, as they paused on a ridge which overlooked a steep descent.
"Unless we do, it may mean that—"
The rest of the sentence was interrupted in a most startling fashion.
The snow upon which they were standing suddenly gave way beneath their weight. With cries of dismay, Bob Somers, John Hackett and Dick Travers wildly grasped at the empty air. Then, before their astonished companions could make a move to aid them, they shot downward, accompanied by an avalanche of snow.