Let us
follow this one and see where it leads to."
"What's the next directions?" questioned Tom.
"'Go due southwest from the pine tree sixty-two paces,'" answered Dick,
reading from the translation given him. "Which is southwest, Mr.
Barrow?"
"Soon tell ye that," answered the guide, and brought forth his pocket
compass. "That way." And he pointed with his arm.
With the compass to guide them they set off, the guide in the lead once
more, and Dick counting off the sixty-two paces with great care. The way
was up a hillside and over half a dozen rough rocks, and then into a
hollow where the snow was up to their waists.
"No use of talking, this is treasure-hunting under difficulties," was
Sam's comment. "Perhaps we would have done better had we left the hunt
till summer time."
"And let Baxter get ahead of us?" put in Tom. "Not much!" He turned to
Dick. "What's the next directions on the paper?"
"There ought to be a flat rock here, backed up by a sharp-pointed one,"
answered the eldest Rover. "I don't see anything of a sharp-pointed
rock, do you? The flat rock may be under us.
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