They had gone on for about ten minutes, not talking in order to
save their breath, when Frank put into words the growing
uneasiness of all of them.

"Queer that we haven't caught up to them yet!" he exclaimed,
peering ahead, although he could not see more than twenty paces
through the blinding snow.

"We certainly are traveling a good deal faster than they were when
we saw them last," declared Bart.

"They must have got hold of some seven-league boots," grumbled
Tom.

"Put on a little more speed," advised Billy. "Make it snappy now,
and we're bound to catch up with them."

They quickened their pace, but without result. There were no
footprints to be seen, but that meant nothing, for the snow
covered up all tracks almost as soon as they were made.

For twenty minutes more they hurried along as well as they could
through the snow that clogged and clung to their feet, and at last
the truth forced itself upon their unwilling minds.

"No use, fellows," said Frank, as he stopped and the others
gathered around him. "There's no use kidding ourselves any longer.
We might as well own up to it that we've taken the wrong trail."

"Guess you're right, old man," said Tom disconsolately. "It simply