“Oh, for our cozy camp--any one of them!” sighed Jack. “Let’s have what’s left of that coffee, Bert, and then we’ll hike out and see what we can find.” The coffee was rather weak, but it was hot, and that meant a great deal to the boys who had to venture out in the cold. Every drop was disposed of, and then, looking well to their guns, for though they hardly admitted it to each other, they had faint hopes of game, the boys set out. As they emerged from the cabin, they were not aware of a pair of sharp, ferret-like eyes watching them from the hidden shelter of the lean-to. As the wind was blowing toward that shack, and not away from it, the dog was not this time apprised by scent of the closeness of an enemy, whatever had happened the night before. “Well, let’s start,” proposed Tom. “This is the road to Ramsen,” and he pointed to the almost snow-obliterated highway that ran in front of the deserted cabin they were leaving. Their hearts were lighter with the coming of the new day, though their stomachs were almost empty. But they hoped soon to be at one of their camping cabins, where, they knew, a good supply of food awaited them. On they tramped through the snow. It was very deep, and the fall seemed to have increased in rapidity, rather than to have diminished. It had snowed all night, and was still keeping up with unabated vigor. In some places there were deep drifts across the road. “This sure is heavy going,” observed Jack, as he plunged tiresomely along. “That’s right,” agreed Bert. “I don’t see how Towser keeps it up,” spoke George, for the dog was having hard work to get through the drifts. “He seems to enjoy it,” commented Tom. “But it is deep. I think----” He did not complete the sentence, for, at that moment, he stepped into some unseen hole and went down in a snow pile to his waist. “Have a hand!” invited Jack, extending a helping arm to his chum, to pull him up. “What were you trying to do, anyhow?” “I don’t know,” answered Tom, looking at the hole into which he had fallen. “But I think we’re off the road, fellows.” “I do, too,” came from Bert. “It seems as though we were going over a field. Yes,” he went on, “there’s a stump sticking up out of the snow. We’re in some sort of a clearing. We’re clean off the road!” It took only a moment for the others to be also convinced of this. “We’d better go back,” George said. “We’ve probably come the wrong way. I don’t believe this is the road to Ramsen at all.” “The signboard said it was,” Bert reminded him. “I can’t help that. I believe we’re wrong again--lost!” “Lost--again!” echoed Jack. “Lost in this wilderness!” “It does begin to look so,” admitted Tom slowly. “Where’s that dog?” CHAPTER XIX THE CAPTURE Towser had run off again, on one of his attempts to wiggle through a drift. A shrill whistle from Tom brought him back again, however, sneezing because some snow had gotten up his nose and into his mouth.