The affair was settled without delay, and then they turned their attention to getting out of the cavern.
They regarded this as an easy matter, but a few minutes sufficed to show them that they were in a very ugly fix.
They first explored the passage beyond the dead bear. It terminated thirty feet distant in a hard wall of rock. Then they investigated the other end of the cavern with much the same results. It dwindled to a tiny crevice, through which a weasel could hardly have squirmed.
“It looks ugly,” muttered Sparwick, scratching his head. “The bear must a-had some way to get in. He never dropped ten feet through that hole.”
This was sound logic, as the boys well knew. Hamp suggested another search. Accordingly the cavern was gone over with extra care and patience.
The result was the same. No visible outlet existed, save the tiny hole overhead. Here the prisoners stopped and looked up. They quickly made a disheartening discovery. It was snowing fast outside. The white flakes were dropping through the dingy and trampled mass of crust.
“The trail of those rascals will all be covered up,” exclaimed Jerry, dolefully.
“It is out of sight by this time,” replied Sparwick. “But that won’t matter much. I can guess purty well where them fellars are going. I ain’t denyin’ that time is vallyble, though. There ought to be a way to climb out of here.”
“One of us might get on your shoulders,” suggested Hamp.
“No use,” Sparwick replied. “There ain’t nothin’ to ketch hold of but a rim of snow. It’s purty hard, but it wouldn’t bear the weight of one of you chaps.”