"There, we won't starve yet awhile," said Dick, as he began to clean his game. "That's true," answered Tom, "although we may get pretty tired of birds and fish before we get out of here and strike something different." "I wonder how the Baxter crowd is faring," said Sam. "Unless they got back to the cave they can't be having a very good time of it." "They don't deserve a good time of it," grumbled Tom. "They deserve to suffer." "Bill Harney is a good enough guide to know what to do," put in John Barrow. "He will pull them through somehow--that is, if he knows enough to remain sober." They had hoped that the storm would let up by noon, but twelve o'clock found the snow coming down as fast as ever, blotting out the landscape on every hand. Outside of the moaning of the wind all was as silent as a tomb. There was but a little for the boys to do, and after the fishing was over they were glad enough to take it easy in the shelter and listen to several stories John Barrow had to tell. The guide also related what he knew concerning Goupert and the various hunts made for the missing treasure. "He must have been a fierce sort of a man in his day," observed Dick. "I don't wonder the most of the folks in this region were content to leave him alone." It was almost nightfall when the snow stopped coming down, and then it was too dark to attempt the journey to Bear Pond. "We'll have to make another night of it here," said John Barrow. "Then, if it's clear, we can start for the pond early in the morning." "Hark!" cried Tom, rousing up. "Did you hear that?" "Hear what?" came from the others. "I thought I heard somebody calling." All listened. For a few seconds silence reigned, then came an uncertain sound from a considerable distance. "There it is!" "That's somebody calling, sure," said the guide. "Must be down along the river. I'll go out an' look." "Can I go along?" asked Dick. "You may want help--if somebody is in trouble." "All right. Bring your gun with you." In another minute they had started out, each with his gun, and with his trouser legs tied up with bits of cord, to keep the deep snow from reaching up to their boot-tops. Their course was directly for the river. It was so dark they could see little or nothing, saving the whiteness which spread in all directions. "Hullo! hullo!" yelled John Barrow, when the river was gained. "Help!" came back faintly. "Help!" "Somebody over thar!" said the guide, and pointed a short distance up the stream. "Guess he's in a peck o' trouble, too." He started in the direction, and Dick came close behind. The party in distress was a man, whose cries for aid were gradually becoming weaker and weaker. Before they reached the individual his voice ceased entirely. "He has fainted from exhaustion," said John Barrow, as he reached the wayfarer. "Why, it's Jasper Grinder, our old teacher," ejaculated Dick.