"You fellows come on after us then as soon as
you can," and he hurried back to his place.
Two or three minutes more and Bart was able to walk, although he
limped a trifle. They picked up their rifles and hurried after
their comrades.
In the gathering dusk they did not notice that a trail diverged
from the main one that they had been traveling, and they turned
into this side trail, straining their eyes through the whirling
snow to catch a glimpse of their comrades.
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.
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