ey and avoided the
highway which swung to the left and made a wide detour before the byroad
that approached Haystack Mountain joined it. With this route the lads
could cut down the journey at least three miles and then, too, they had
fine snow for shoeing.

Soon they had left the open and entered the hardwood belt from which all
the firs and other evergreens had long since been trimmed. Snowshoeing
through the woods was not so much of a lark, for the lads had no trail to
follow and must needs work their way between half-covered underbrush.
The snow was softer here, too, and their shoes dragged. But most of
their surplus energy had been worked off by this time and they were
willing to settle down to single file. Each took his turn breaking a
trail.

On they traveled for more than an hour, always keeping the shoulder of
Haystack Mountain, which loomed up above the tree line, their objective.
About half a mile from the mountain they suddenly came clear of the woods
and into the highway. Here a brief conference was held as to the
advisability of trying to climb the shoulder of the mountain or taking
the road which led around. The last route was decided upon, because up
here the thoroughfare was little traveled and was practically unbroken.
Indeed, they saw signs of very few sleighs having passed there since the
snowstorm four days previous.

Away they swung, keeping an eye out on either side of the road for a
Christmas tree, but they did not find a fir tall enough to be used for
the town's tree.

Soon they were around the shoulder of the mountain and traveling west.
The woods were thicker here and trees more numerous. But there was a
peculiar odor of burnt wood in the air, too, which all the scouts
detected.

"Cracky! I believe your Northern Light was a forest fire, or--or--say,
isn't that smoke rising above those trees there?" demanded Nipper Knapp.

"Right, by go lies!" shouted Bruce, "but--oh, I know, now. There's a
little farm in there. It's been vacant for--no, it hasn't, by jingoes!
an old lady has been living there all Fall. I've seen her in town.
Nanny Haskells, they call her. Cracky! come on, fellows, maybe the poor
old soul has been burned to death!"

The scouts were off at a gallop, stirring up the snow like a whirlwind as
they loped along the road. Soon they came to an unbroken lane through
the woods. Into this they turned and a hundred yards further on they
emerged into the little farm cl