CHAPTER XIX

LOST IN THE WOODS

Pausing for an instant to get his bearings, Bart dashed forward, circled around the edge of the mud volcano, and ran on in the direction he had seen the man take.

"I'm going to catch him," thought the lad, fiercely. "I'm going to get at the bottom of this. Why does he seem to be following us--hanging around our camp? What's he doing here? Did he take the diamond bracelet? I'm going to find out some of those things--when I catch him." He added the last with a grim smile, for, as he went on, and the snow storm increased in fury, Bart was aware that he had no easy task before him.

The swirling white flakes were now so thick that he could hardly see five feet in advance, and he was soon made unpleasantly aware of this, for he collided, with no little force, into a tree. The shock threw him backward, and he nearly dropped his gun, but it had one good effect, for it made him pause to consider what he was doing.

"I wonder if there's any use in me going on like this?" Bart reflected. "He's got a good start of me, and he evidently knows these roads as well as I do. Guess I'd better go back to camp, get the fellows, and then see if I can trail him. Though if it keeps on snowing it's not going to be easy to see his footprints. I wonder if I can hear anything of him?"

He paused in a listening attitude, but the only sounds that came to him were those of the wind howling through the leafless branches of the trees, and the swish of the snowflakes as they swirled downward. Once Bart heard a crashing amid the underbrush to one side. He darted in that direction, thinking it was the fugitive.

There came, at that instant, a lull in the storm, and, peering at the lad from under the shelter of a pine tree was the big buck, the chase of which had led to such unexpected results. Bart fired, point blank, but he saw the deer bound away, and he knew he had only wounded it slightly, if at all. He started after it, but a moment later the snow began again, more thickly than before, and everything was blotted out.

"That settles it," murmured Bart, grimly, "back to camp for mine. No use keeping up the chase to-day."

It was not without considerable regret that the lad retraced his steps. He wanted, very much, to get the buck, and he wanted still more to capture the mysterious man who seemed to be playing such an important part in the lives of himself and his chums.

"I'll get the other fellows, and then we'll see if we can't trail him," mused Bart, as he neared the camp.

To his delight, just before he reached it, the snow ceased falling, and he felt that now there was a chance to trace the man by means of his footsteps, for they would not be covered by the white crystals. But there was the promise of more snow, and Bart knew they had little time to spare.

"Come on, boys!" cried Bart, when he came in sight of the tents, and saw Ned and the others sweeping away the snow from the front entrances. "Come on. I'm after him!"

"Who?" demanded Frank.

"The mysterious man! Come--no time to lose!" and Bart rapidly told what he had seen.

"Wait until I get my gun, and I'll be with you!" cried Fenn.

"Aren't we going to have dinner first?" asked Ned.

"We'll eat a light lunch, and take a snack with us," proposed Frank. "We don't want to waste too much time."

In a little while they were ready to start, each one with a few sandwiches, while Bart, in addition, carried a small coffee pot, and a supply of the ground material for making the beverage in the woods; water could be had by melting snow over a fire they would build.

Bart led the way toward the mud volcano, the location of which was now well fixed in the minds of the boys.

"Here's where I first sighted the deer," Bart explained when he reached the place. "By Jinks! I wish I could have potted him, though! He was a beaut!"

"And where did you see our mysterious friend?" asked Frank.

"Not until I got to the spring. We'll soon be up to it."

But when they reached the spot, which, because of the warmth of the water, contained no trace of snow, though elsewhere the ground was white, there was, of course, no evidences of the man, save for blurred footprints.

"That's right where he stood," declared Bart, "and he went off in this direction."

"Then it's up to us to follow," asserted Ned. "We can see his tracks. They're pretty plain now, but they won't be in a little while, for it's going to snow more."

They hurried on, trailing the man like officers of the law after a criminal. The footprints were plainly visible in the snow, being blurred occasionally by little drifts that had blown over them. They showed that the man had run a good part of the way, for the marks were far apart and irregular.

They had gone on for perhaps a mile, seeing no sign of their quarry, but loath to give up, when there was a sudden darkening of the atmosphere, the wind increased in violence, and then the air was again filled with flying flakes, so thick that the lads could not see ten feet ahead.

"Might as well give up now," called Bart. "His tracks will be covered in five minutes."

"Let's wait a bit, and see if it stops snowing," proposed Frank, and they did, standing in the shelter of some trees. But the white flakes showed no inclination to stop, and with something like despair in their hearts the four chums prepared to return to camp.

"And it's about time, too," remarked Ned, looking at his watch. "It's after five, and it will soon be dark. Let's eat. I'm hungry."

"Oh, wait a while," advised Bart. "We'll soon be back at camp. I think I know a short cut, and then we can have a hot supper."

"Well, go ahead," agreed Frank. "A short cut will be just the thing. I'm tired."

Bart started off with an air of confidence, hesitated a moment, and then plunged his hand in his pocket.

"Well, I'll be hanged!" he burst out.

"What's the matter?" inquired Fenn.

"My compass--I haven't got it. Let me take one of you fellow's."

"I haven't any," said Fenn. "Left it in camp."

"So did I," added Frank and Ned.

"You did?" asked Bart, blankly.

There was a pause--the boys knew what it meant to be out in the woods in a snowstorm, without the little swinging needle to guide them.

"What did you do with the one you had, Bart?" asked Frank. "You had one, didn't you, when you were out after the deer, and saw the man?"

"Sure I did, but I took it out of my pocket when I stuffed this lunch in, and must have forgotten to put it back. I remember now, I left it on the box in the tent. But I thought you fellows would sure have one."

"Well, we haven't," said Frank, with an uneasy laugh. "What's to be done?"

"Oh, I dare say we can get back--somehow," went on Bart. "Come on, fellows. I think I know the way."

They started off, with no light hearts, and tramped through the blinding snow, but it was with little confidence. Several times Bart stopped to get his bearings. Once he and Fenn disputed about a certain turn, and Bart so insisted that he was right, that the other two lads agreed with him. It grew darker, and they wandered into drifts, stumbled into unexpected hollows, and brought up against trees, sometimes falling over stumps. At last Bart said:

"Fellows, there's no use going on this way any farther. I'm off the track. I shouldn't have started out. The fact of the matter is that we're lost in the woods, and we've got to make the best of it!"