Their search, it had been decided long ago, should be pursued systematically. To roam through and through the woods, going at random in this or that direction, would almost certainly result in a complete failure to locate the object of their trip. The danger of becoming hopelessly lost, far in the forest's interior, was still another excellent reason for keeping steadily within lines of march agreed upon before starting. "Remember," said Billy Worth, "that the bark has the most moss on the north side of the trees. Remember--" "Oh, fiddle, Billy! You remember that there'll be the hungriest quartette around here to-night that you ever had to cook for," broke in Paul Jones. "Nobody's going to get lost!" "Well, you remember, young fellow, that you're to be back to camp in time to go for milk before supper," cried out Dave MacLester. There were other parting sallies as Dave and Billy started out in one direction and Phil and Paul another. A last admonition from Way, that regardless of all else, and no matter what was or was not discovered, all four were to meet in camp again at six o'clock, marked the separation of the two searching parties. Yet even these were not the last words spoken. Dave MacLester just could not resist his customary prediction of ill-luck. "Bet a dollar, right now, nobody finds a thing!" he called loudly. But by this time he and Worth were high up on the crest of the ridge rising above the camp. Phil and Paul were some distance away, heading straight up the valley of the stream below. Any one chancing to observe the boys as they thus set out would surely have found his curiosity aroused by their accouterment. Each party carried an axe and spade. In the hollow of Phil Way's arm was also a small rifle. Billy Worth carried in addition to his spade a rather formidable looking revolver. Paul Jones carried a noonday lunch for himself and Phil in a small box slung over his shoulder like a knap-sack. Similarly MacLester bore refreshment for himself and his partner for the day. "Pretty good fun if we _don't_ find anything," Dave found himself admitting almost before the echo of his prediction of failure had died away. And was he right? The air was just pleasantly cool. The fragrance of the forest's tender new leaves was everywhere. No sound but the distant cawing of crows, and somewhere to the right the chirp of a squirrel broke the silence save for the rustling leaves underfoot. The very hush of the woods was eloquent with sweet sentiments. The dogwood blossoms seen at intervals, and more frequently the wake-robins and adder's tongues, contributed their touch of beauty to enhance such gentle thoughts and feeling.