“What happened?” she asked.  “Where are we?”

“The bobsled balked,” explained Bob cheerfully.  “Guess it knew where we were heading for better than I did.  Anyway, you and I took a double header that was a beauty.  If you want to see where we came down, just look up there.”

Betty followed the direction of his finger and saw a trail gashed in the snow, a trail that twisted and turned down the steep, forbidding sides of a frowning gorge.  Was it possible that they had fallen so far and escaped injury?

“Know where you are?” asked Bob, watching her.

Betty shook her head.

“I must have been away off the road,” explained Bob.  “Betsey, you and I are standing at the bottom of Indian Chasm.”

CHAPTER XXV

THE TREASURE

Indian Chasm!

Betty stared at Bob in dismay.  Afterward she confessed that her first thought was of Indians who might capture them.

“Indian Chasm,” repeated Bob firmly.  “Come on, Betty, we mustn’t stand here.  If you once get cold, there’s no way to warm you up.  We must walk, and try to find a way out.”

Betty stumbled after him, her mind a bewildered maze.  She could not yet grasp the explanation that Bob, turned about by their spill in the hollow, had followed an old trail instead of the hill road.  The trail had led straight to the border of the chasm.

Bob ploughed along, head bent, a heavy sense of responsibility keeping him silent.  He knew better than Betty the difficulties that in all probability lay before them.

He glanced back at Betty, wearily toiling after him.

“Want to rest a moment?” he suggested.  “Sit on that rock till you begin to feel chilly.”

Betty accepted the suggestion gratefully.  She was very tired and she was hungry.  Her rubbers had been torn on the stones she had encountered in her fall and her shoes were damp.

“What a funny rock,” she said idly.

It was a huge slab that had once been a part of another huge rock which still stood upright.  Some force of nature had slit the two like a piece of paper—­from the looks of it, the break was a recent one—­and had forced a section outward, making it look like a wall about to topple over.

Rested a little, Betty rose and walked around to the other side of the rock on which she sat, moved by an impulse of curiosity.  She went close to the rock that stood upright like a sentinel.

“What’s the matter?” called Bob as she started back.

“I—­I thought I kicked against something,” answered Betty.  “There, did you hear that?”

“Something clinked,” admitted Bob.  “Wait, I’ll help you look.”

He ran around to her and together they began to dig in the snow and dead leaves.

“Bob!  Bob!” Betty’s voice rose in delight.  “Look!”

She held up a small rusty iron box that, as she tilted it, yawned to disgorge a shower of gold coins.