"I don't know about that. Perhaps Mr. Barrow can tell us."
The others walked over, and the guide cleared the snow from the upper end of the fallen timber.
"Not much signs of being struck by anything but the wind," he announced. "Still, I ain't sure."
"We'll try from this point, anyway," said Tom. "No use of missing any chance, however small." And on this the others agreed.
Once again they began to pace off the ground as before. Here the task was as difficult as ever, as they had to pass through some timber thickly intergrown with brush.
"I suppose in Goupert's time this timber was small," observed the guide.
The tramping around was beginning to tire them, and soon Sam had to stop to rest and get back his wind.
"I feel like a regular snow-plow," he gasped. "Tell you what, it takes the wind right out of a chap."
"You rest while we go ahead," suggested Tom, but Sam did not wish to do this.
"Not much! If the treasure is going to be found, I want to be on deck!" he cried.
Presently they were at it again, Dick pacing off the steps as carefully as ever. They had still fifteen paces to go when John Barrow came to a stop with a sniff of disgust.
