off on their first hunt
for the treasure. With great care John Barrow led the way over the rocks
and other rough places. He carried a long pole, which he plunged in the
snow before him whenever he was afraid there was a hollow ahead. Soon
they gained the spot where Dick thought the blasted tree might be
located.

The snow was scraped away, first in one direction and then another,
until a spot several yards in diameter was cleared. No tree-stump was
brought to light, although they found a slight hollow in which were
several big roots.

"This might have been the tree once," said John Barrow meditatively.
"Years make great changes, you know. The trees fall, rocks and dirt
slide down hill, and that makes a big difference in the looks o'
things."

"All we can do is to follow the directions on the map," said Dick. "I
think we'll be bound to strike the right clew, sooner or later. 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."

"No sharp-pointed rock within a hundred feet of here," answered Sam,
gazing around. He began scraping away the snow. "Dirt under us, too."

"That settles it, then. Trial No. 1 is a failure. Mr. Barrow, we'll have
to try the next stream."

"So it would seem, Dick. Well, you boys mustn't expect too easy work o'
it. A big treasure aint picked up every day."

"The trouble of it is, we don't know how much of a treasure it is," said
Tom. "For all we know, it ma