"A bully idea!"

The boys put down their packs and reconnoitred.

"There don't seem to be any marks on these trees," Van asserted
after an interval of search.

"But there must be."

"Find them then--if you can."

Bob nervously scrutinized several gnarled trunks.

"You're right, Van," he owned at last. "We're off the trail; missed
it somehow. We'd better go back; we can't be far wrong. Or better
yet, you wait here while I hunt."

Bob was very grave.

"You bet I'm not going to be left here to be buried in snow like the
Babes in the Wood," protested Van gaily. "No sir-ee! I don't stay
here. I'll help hunt for the path too. Now don't go getting nervous,
Bobbie, old chap. Two of us can't very well get lost on this
mountain. We'll separate enough to keep within hallooing distance,
and we'll tie a handkerchief on this tree so we can get back to it
again if we want to. We know we're part way down, anyway. That's
certain."

"I don't feel so sure," was Bob's answer. "We ought to have turned
back when it began to cloud up; but I never dreamed of snow. The