"But there is no telling how soon they will change their minds and go
somewhere else," said Dick, with a sigh.

It is not my purpose to tell the particulars of the tedious journey to
Dawson City, about three hundred and fifty miles north of Skagway.  At
that time all of the improvements that now exist had not been made and
the crowd suffered from many inconveniences.

But the boys were surprised when they reached Dawson to find it so "up
to date," as Sam expressed it.  They had expected to see a rough mining
town--and that is what Dawson was but a handful of years ago.  Instead,
they saw a built-up city, with many stores and not a few hotels.

"Goin' to be a reg'lar 'Frisco some day," said Jack Wumble.  "Beats all
how the towns grow up here!"

The party had arrived in Dawson late at night and put up at the best
hotel to be found.  Immediately after breakfast the search for Tom was
renewed.

It had rained the day before and now it was blustery and cold, with a
suggestion of snow in the air.  The boys were glad enough to don their
sweaters under their coats.

"Ye'll have to git some heavy clothin' if ye go North," said the old
miner.

"I hope Tom is dressed warm enough," said Sam.  "It would be too bad if
he took sick, along with his other troubles."

For two days the boys and the old miner hunted around Dawson for some
trace of the missing one.  They visited all sorts of places, but all to
no purpose.  During that time the weather grew suddenly colder and on
the second night came a light fall of snow.

"Won't be long now before winter will be on us," announced Jack Wumble.
"And winter up here is somethin' wuth rememberin', believe me!"

The next morning found Dick at a large trading store, where many miners
and prospectors purchased their supplies.  Here he asked all newcomers
if they had seen or heard of Tom or Ike Furner.

"Sure, I see Furner!" cried one old prospector.  "See him yesterday
afternoon."

"Where?" demanded Dick, eagerly.

"Over on the Lion Head trail."

"Alone?"

"No, he had a young feller with him."




CHAPTER XX

IN THE MOUNTAINS OF ALASKA

"Sam, I think we are in for a heavy snow to-day."

"I think so myself, Dick.  How much further do we go?"

"About two miles," came from Jack Wumble.  "I reckon I got a bit off
the trail yesterday, but I know I am right now, boys."

"But where is Tom?" came from Sam.

"He must be right ahead of us--if what we have been told is true,"
answered his brother.

The conversation recorded above took place just ten days after Dick and
Sam arrived in Dawson City.  During that time the Rover boys and Jack
Wumble had spent two days in buying the necessary outfit, to follow Tom
and his strange companion to the wild region in Alaska known as Lion
Head.  The start had been made, and now the three found themselves on a
narrow mountain trail in a country that looked to be utterly
uninhabited.

For three days they had been close behind Tom and Ike Furner, this
being proven by the remains of campfires and other indications.  Once
they had met some prospectors returning to the Klondyke and these men
had told of passing the pair ahead, and that Furner had said they were
bound for a spot not many miles from Lion Head called Twin Rocks.

"I never heard o' Twin Rocks before," said Jack Wumble.  "But if it is
nigh Lion Head we ought to be able to locate it."

"Provided we don't get snowed in before we reach it," returned Sam.

On and on trudged the three.  They had left the last supply depot
behind.  They had passed only a handful of white folks and a band of
five Indians.

"Do you know, I didn't like the looks of those Indians we passed
yesterday," remarked Dick, as they went forward over the rough, upward
trail.

"They looked pretty sharply at our outfits," said Sam.  "I guess
they'll like to own them," he added.

"We have got to keep our eyes open," said Jack Wumble.  "Them Injuns
ain't above stealin' if they git a chanct."

"In such an out-of-the-way place as this, we can't afford to lose our
things," asserted Dick.

"Maybe we had better set a guard, at night," suggested his brother.

"Oh, we don't want to lose any sleep, if we don't have to."

It had grown colder and colder, and now the wind swept around them in
anything but a pleasant fashion.  About noon came a flurry of snow.

"I don't like that," said Dick, shaking his head and looking up at the
darkening sky.

"Oh, let's hope it won't amount to much, Dick," replied Sam.

The traveling was steadily upward, for they had to pass over a high
hill to get into the valley leading to Lion Head.  There was something
of a trail, made by wild animals originally and now used by
prospectors.  This wound in and out among the rock and bushes.  The
footing was uncertain, and more than once one or another would go down
in a hole.

"Talk about walking!" gasped Sam, after pulling himself out of a hole
well concealed by bushes.  "I'm thankful I didn't break a leg that
time."

"An' ye can be thankful ye didn't stir up no snakes," came from Jack
Wumble.

"Are there snakes up here, Jack?"

"So they say--although I never see none."

"It's pretty cold for snakes," remarked Dick.  "They only come out in
the summer time."

"I wish we were on horseback," said Sam, with a sigh.

"Hosses would be fine, if we could feed 'em," answered Jack Wumble.
"But ye can't do thet when the ground is covered with snow."

"The outfits are so heavy, Jack."

"True, my boy, but thet can't be helped.  We'll be lucky if our grub
holds out."

It was after four o'clock when they reached the top of the hill.  Had
it been clear they might have seen for many miles around them, but now
the dullness in the sky hid what was in the distance from view.

"Lion Head is over thar," said Jack Wumble, pointing with his hand.
"An' Twin Rocks can't be far off."

"And how far is Lion Head from here?" questioned Sam.

"Betwixt twenty an' thirty miles, Sam."

"Then maybe we'll reach there by to-morrow night."

"Let us hope so, lad.  O' course you must remember we've got the wust
part o' this journey to go."

"Perhaps we'll catch Tom before we get to Lion Head," suggested Dick.

"Not by the way he has been traveling," answered his brother.  "It does
beat the nation how he and that Furner have been able to get over the
ground."

On the top of the hill the wind was blowing a regular gale and the boys
and the old miner were glad enough to go down on the other side, where
they would be somewhat sheltered.  But even below it was cold, and the
air seemed to strike to their very backbones.

"Winter is comin' all right enough," announced Jack Wumble.  "We'll be
lucky if we git out o' here afore it catches us."

They trudged along until all were too weary to walk another step.  They
were keeping their eyes open for a spot where they might camp for the
night, when Dick uttered a cry.

"Look!  They must have remained here last night!"

The others gazed to where he pointed and saw, in a shelter of the
rocks, the remains of a campfire.  Beside the ashes lay a part of a
broken strap and also some fine shavings from a stick.

"Ike Furner's mark," remarked Wumble, pointing to the shavings.  They
had been told by several men that one of Furner's habits was to whittle
a stick.  He never rested and talked but what he got out his jackknife
and started to cut on a bit of wood.  At another campfire, two days
back, they had come across a heap of just such whittlings.

"How new is that campfire?" asked Dick, of the old miner.

Jack Wumble examined the heap of dead ashes with care.

"I should say not more'n a day--maybe not thet," he answered.  "Boys, I
reckon we're close on 'em."

"Oh, if only it wasn't so dark and we weren't so tired!" murmured Sam.

"We can't do much in the darkness, and with a storm coming on,"
returned Dick.  "We'll have to wait until morning.  But we had better
start out directly it is daylight."

While the others were preparing supper, Dick commenced to arrange the
shelter for the night.  While he was doing this he noticed something
white fluttering on the ground in the wind.  He picked it up.  It was a
sheet of paper, evidently a page torn from a notebook.

"Look what I found," he said, coming close to the light of the
campfire.  He gazed at the sheet with deep interest.  "Well, I never!
Sam, look at this!" he cried.

"What is it, Dick?"

"I think Tom wrote this.  Poor fellow!  Isn't it too bad!"

The sheet of paper had been scribbled on with a lead pencil.  The
writing was in all sorts of curves, and was largely as follows:

  _To  To  To  To  Ro  Ro  Ro  To
     Ro  To  Bri  To  Ro  Bri
  Nel  Nel  Nel  Di  S  S
  To Ro   To Ro   Tover  Tomer
  Nel  Nel  Nel  Nel   Neltom_


"Oh, Dick, what do you make of this?"

"What do I make of it?  Can't you see, Sam?  Tom was trying to think.
He wanted to get something that was hidden away in his memory--his own
name, and mine and yours, and Nellie's, and the name of Brill.  Maybe a
flash of his real self came back to him."

"Oh, if it only would, Dick!  Yes, you must be right.  First he tried
his best to write Tom Rover, but all he got was To Ro, and then he went
to Bri for Brill and Nel for Nellie, and Di and S for Dick and Sam.
It's as plain as day.  It's just like a little child trying to write."

"And it's enough to make a fellow cry," was the sober response.

The two boys studied the paper for a long time and let Jack Wumble look
at it.  Then, somewhat silently, all sat down to supper.  Their hard
walk had made them hungry and they ate every scrap of what had been
prepared.

By the time they were ready to turn in, it had begun to snow.  The had
found a shelter under a cliff of rocks, with some brushwood to keep off
the most of the wind.  They rolled themselves in their blankets and
soon all were in the land of dreams.

Dick had slumbered the best part of several hours, when he suddenly
awoke with a start.  Some furry body had swept across his face.  He sat
up in bewilderment and looked around the camp, lit up only by the
flickering rays of the dying fire.  Then he gave a gasp.  From beyond
the dying fire two savage eyes were gazing at him intently.  Without
hesitation he reached down under his blanket, brought out the pistol he
carried, and fired.




CHAPTER XXI

AT THE FOOT OF THE CLIFF

Crack!

The report of the pistol in that confined space sounded loud and clear,
and brought Sam and Jack Wumble to their feet with a bound.

"What's the matter, Dick?"

"What ye firing at?"

"Some wild animal.  It just leaped over me!" cried the one who had used
the firearm.  Dick was now on his feet, too, and all stepped away from
the shelter of the cliff.

Following the discharge of the weapon had come a short sharp bark or
yelp, showing that the animal had been hit.  Now followed more barks
and yelps from a distance.

"A fox--an Alaskan fox, thet's wot it was," said Jack Wumble.  "An' I
reckon as how ye hit him, Dick."

"I'm sure I did, for I aimed right at him, and he wasn't over twenty
feet away," was the reply.  "Wonder if he'll come back?"

"I don't think so--not if he's hurted," returned the old miner.  "He
must have been putty hungry to come so clost.  Must have smelt our
grub."

"Maybe he wasn't alone," suggested Sam.  "I'd hate to have a pack of
foxes come down on me."

"I don't think you'll find any pack around here," answered Jack Wumble.
"They ain't so plentiful.  But I'll tell ye what we might run across,
an Alaskan moose--an' they ain't no nice beast to meet at close
quarters."

Some extra brushwood had been gathered before retiring and now a
portion of it was heaped on the fire, so that they might have more
light.  The barking and yelping had died away in the distance, and all
around the camp it was as silent as a tomb.

"It's snowing yet," remarked Sam, as he went out to look at the sky.
"But it doesn't seem to be very heavy."

"If only we're not snowed in until after we find Tom!" murmured his
brother.

Gradually the excitement died away and then they laid down to rest once
more.  But Dick was nervous and only got into a doze, and he was glad
when morning came.

The sky was now dull and heavy, "jest filled with snow," as Jack Wumble
expressed it.  The soft flakes were still coming down, but no thicker
than they had fallen during the night.  The ground was covered with
white to a depth of two inches.  There was a gentle wind from the
northwest.

"Let us not lose any more time than we can help," said Sam.  "In such
weather as this, every minute may count."

"Right ye are," responded the old miner.  "We'll have breakfast quick
as we kin an' be off."

Traveling that morning was comparatively easy and they covered quite a
number of miles.  But then they commenced to climb the mountain leading
to Lion Head and Twin Rocks and progress became more difficult.

"Some work, eh, Sam?" remarked Dick, after they had helped each other
over some slippery rocks on the trail.

"Do you think Tom and his companion got over these, Dick?"

"I suppose they did.  It's the only thing that looks like a trail
around here.  If they didn't stick to this they'd soon become lost.
And being lost on a mountain isn't very nice--you know that."

The snow was still coming down, and to the boys it seemed heavier than
before.  Jack Wumble looked at the sky many times and shook his head
slowly.

"We'll be in fer it by to-morrow," he said.  "An' then nobuddy can tell
how long it will keep up.  Winter is comin' sure!"

"Then the sooner we find Tom and get back to Dawson with him the
better."

It was about five o'clock in the afternoon when they reached a spot
where the trail ran along the bottom of a tall cliff.  Far below them
was the valley they had crossed in the morning, now all but shut out
from their view by the falling snow.

"Don't either of ye slip here," cautioned Jack Wumble.  "Because, if ye
do, thar ain't no tellin' whar ye'll fetch up."

"I'll be as careful as possible," answered Dick.

"And so will I," added Sam.

The old miner was in the lead, with Sam coming next, and Dick bringing
up the rear.  Thus nearly half a mile more was slowly covered.

"We ought to be drawing close to Tom now," said Dick.

"I've got an idea!" cried his brother.  "Why didn't we think of it
before?  Let us call to him, and fire one of the pistols."

"All right," said the old miner.  "'Twon't do no harm."

All three raised their voices in a lusty shout, and Dick fired a shot
into the air.  Then they listened intently.  There was no answer of any
kind.

"Let us try it again," suggested Sam.  "Now then, all together!"

This time their yell was thrice repeated, and Dick fired two shots.
They waited several seconds for an answer.

"Listen!" exclaimed Dick.  "I hear something!"

All strained their ears, and from a great distance made out an
answering cry.  It appeared to come from somewhere above them.

"I believe Tom and that man with him are on the trail above the cliff!"
cried Dick.

"Just what I think," answered his brother.  "Oh, if only we could climb
right up there, instead of going away around!"

"Ain't no way as I can see to do it," said Jack Wumble, looking at the
bare wall of rocks.  "We'll have ter go on till we reach some sort o' a
break."

Once again they cried out and again came the answering call.  But those
above them were so far away that it was impossible to make out what was
said.

"I've got it!" cried Dick.  "If that is Tom I'll give him a call he'll
know."

"The old Putnam Hall locomotive whistle?" queried Sam.

"Yes.  Now then, both together, Sam, and as loud and distinct as
possible."

Both youths took a deep breath, and then out on the snowy air rang a
sharp, shrill whistle, once, twice, three times, rising and falling in
a fashion known only to the cadets of the military school.

"By gosh, thet's some whistle!" remarked Jack Wumble, in admiration.

Again all three listened intently.  There was a long spell of silence,
and then from a distance came an answering whistle, that sounded like
an echo of their own.

"It's Tom!" screamed Sam and clapped his hands.

"Yes, it must be.  Nobody else could imitate that whistle so
perfectly," returned his brother.

"Oh, let us go on!  We must get to him," went on Sam, impatiently.
"Maybe that whistle will bring him to his right senses, Dick!"

"I'm afraid that is too much to expect, Sam.  But I am glad he
remembered the whistle, anyway.  It shows that he hasn't forgotten
everything."

"Let us yell that we are coming, and for them to wait," suggested the
old miner.

"That's it," answered Dick.  "Now then, I'll lead off."

And loud and clear rang the cry:

"_We are coming!  We are coming!  Wait for us!  Wait!  Wait!_"

To this some answer came back, but what it was they could not make out.
Then, in the silence that followed, they picked up their traps once
more and went forward on the wearisome trail.

With each yard of advance the walking became more difficult.  In some
spots the rocks were covered with snow and they had to proceed with
caution, for fear of a nasty tumble.  They were climbing upward
steadily and they noted with satisfaction that the cliffs seemed to
become correspondingly lower.

"We'll be up there in quarter of an hour more," said Jack Wumble.  "But
don't ye try to go too fast.  This trail is gittin' wuss an' wuss."

At last they came to some rocks where further progress seemed
impossible.  There had been something of a landslide, and big rocks
covered the footpath for a distance of a hundred feet or more.

They gazed around the spot in perplexity.

"Well, one thing is certain," said Sam.  "Tom and that man must have
come this way, If they could get over these rocks we ought to be able
to do the same thing."

"I think I see a way," said Dick.  "Yes, here are some footprints in
the snow and on this fallen tree.  They climbed up by holding on to
those branches.  We can do the same thing."

"Don't ye try it!" yelled Jack Wumble.  "Thet tree is loose!  It might
carry ye to the bottom of the mountain!"

"Hark!" called out Sam.  "I hear something!  What is that?"

All listened.  From a distance came a curious swishing and cracking
sound, followed by a wild sort of yell.  Then came a crash--and
then--utter silence.




CHAPTER XXII

IKE FURNER'S CAMP

"Dick, what was that?"

"I'm sure I don't know, Sam.  Sounded like something falling."

"It was a tree sliding down the mountain," put in Jack Wumble.  "A tree
jest like the one you was goin' to take hold on."

"And somebody on it!" gasped Sam.  "Oh, do you suppose it was Tom?"

At this question the old miner shrugged his shoulders.

"Ain't no tellin', Sam.  Let us hope not, fer if he went down the
mountain side----"

"He'd be killed!" finished Dick, and shuddered.

They listened and called out.  But no answer came back, and they heard
nothing more but the humming of the wind through the trees, for it had
begun to blow stronger than before.

"Let's go a little further than this trail," suggested Jack Wumble.
"It looks to be better walking yonder."

"But we don't want to lose our way," returned Sam, rather impatiently.
The strange happenings of the day were getting on his nerves.

"We can come back here, if we need to," was the old miner's reply.

The Rovers followed him through some brushwood and then up a rough
incline.  Here the bushes growing between the rocks aided them,
although they had to put on gloves, to keep from getting their hands
badly scratched, for some of the growth was thorny.

"Well, here we are at last!" cried Sam, when the upper level of the
trail was gained.  He was almost out of breath, for the climb had been
a long and hard one.

They were now in the midst of a field, with the snow coming down
thickly all around them.  Wumble led the way, looking for the spot
above the fallen tree.  To one side was the mountain top, to the other
the valley, but all cut off from their view by the falling flakes of
snow.  It was so dark that they could scarcely distinguish the trail,
even though Wumble was sure they were on it.

"Why not light a torch?" suggested Dick.

"That will help us, and may make the others see us--if they are near
by."

This was considered a good suggestion, and the old miner picked out an
extra dry bush that was long and slender.  The top ignited readily, and
he quickly swung it into a blaze.  Then they went on once more, holding
the torch at arm's length.

It was well that the light had been made, as they speedily found out.
Scarcely had they gone a hundred yards further when they reached a
split in the mountain side.

"Stop!" yelled the old miner, and came to a halt at the very brink of a
crevice ten or twelve feet wide and of unknown depth.

"There's a tree bridge!" said Dick, as the torch was swung around to
light up the vicinity.

He pointed to where a slender tree had been cut down and allowed to
fall across the chasm.  It made a fairly good bridge, although they had
to cross with care and only one at a time.  Their traps they threw over
the opening.

With the snow now blowing directly in their faces, they marched forward
once more, Wumble throwing the light as far ahead as possible.  Soon
they reached another climb, up a series of rocks that looked almost
like a pair of stairs.

"Look!" cried the old miner, a few minutes later, and he stopped to
pick something up out of the snow.  It was a wooden pipe.

"It must be that Ike Furner's," said Dick.  "Tom doesn't smoke."

"Why, look, the pipe has tobacco in it, and it's still lit!" exclaimed
Sam.  "It couldn't have been dropped very long ago!"

"And that proves that the owner must be close by!" put in his brother.
"Let's call!"  And he set up a ringing shout, in which Sam and Jack
Wumble joined.

For fully a minute no answer came back.  Then, from some height above
them, issued an answering cry.

"Wave the torch, Jack!" exclaimed Dick, and the old miner did as
requested.

All strained their eyes.

"I see a light!" exclaimed Sam.  "See, over yonder!"

"I see it," came from the others.

Forward they went, in the direction of the light, which flickered
uncertainly through the falling snow.  They had to climb around many
rocks and bushes, and occasionally they lost sight of the beacon ahead.
But at last, mounting another rise, they came in full view of a
campfire, located at the entrance to a cave-like opening in the side of
the mountain.

A man was standing close to the campfire, a tall, thin individual, with
a shock of hair and a heavy beard.  He was dressed in a typical miner's
costume and in his hands was a pistol.

"Who goes there?" he cried, in a high-pitched, nervous voice.  "Don't
come any closer until I know who you are," and he raised his pistol and
pointed it at those who approached.

"Don't shoot, stranger," called out Jack Wumble, as he and the Rovers
came to a halt.  "Are you Ike Furner?" he went on.

"I am.  Who are you?"

"I'm a miner from Black Run.  My handle is Jack Wumble.  These are two
friends o' mine, Dick an' Sam Rover.  We ain't goin' to harm you.  We
are lookin' fer a young feller thet's lost, that's all."

"We are looking for my brother," added Dick.  "His name is Tom Rover.
I think he was traveling with you."  They had now come close enough to
see that Ike Furner was alone.

"Don't know no Tom Rover," was the slow response.  "There's a young
feller with me, but his name is Brill Thomas."

"And where is he now?" asked Sam, impatiently.

"Was you below here a while ago, shoutin'?" asked Ike Furner, without
answering the last question.

"Yes."

"Well, he went off to meet you."

"To meet us!" exclaimed Dick.  "Which way did he go?"

"Same way you came."

"But we didn't meet him," cried Sam and Dick, in a breath.

"I dunno nuthin' about that, stranger.  When my partner heard you
a-callin' an' heard that queer whistle you gave he got all excited, an'
said he must see who it was.  I told him he'd better wait till you came
along, but he wouldn't do it--said he couldn't--that he had remembered
somethin' an' he was afraid he was goin' to forgit it ag'in."

"Poor Tom!  That whistle must have made him remember who he was!" said
Sam.  He turned to his brother.  "Where can he be now?  Oh, Dick, do
you remember that strange noise----"

"Yes! yes!  If he had a tumble----"  Dick could not finish.

"We'd better search into this," came promptly from Jack Wumble.  He
held out the pipe he had picked up.  "Is this yours?" he asked, of the
other man.

"It sure is!" cried Ike Furner, his eyes lighting up with pleasure.  "I
thought sure she was gone fer good.  I suppose ye found her on the
trail."

"I did."

"Thanks," and the other miner put the precious pipe in his pocket.
Then he gazed curiously at the crowd before him.  "I don't understand
this nohow," he muttered.  "That feller who was with me was all right
till you called an' whistled, then he acted plumb locoed."

"He is our brother," explained Dick, "and he is a bit out of his mind.
But we can't waste time explaining just now.  We must hunt him up
before this storm gets any worse."

"That's the talk," said Sam.

"I don't see why he didn't meet you."

"We are afraid he had a tumble," answered Dick, and told about the
strange swishing and crashing they had heard.

"By gum!  Maybe he went down into thet split in the rocks!" cried Ike
Furner.  "I yelled to him to be careful o' thet openin'.  But he was in
sech a hurry----"  The miner did not finish.

"I'll get a fresh torch and we'll go back," said Jack Wumble.  His face
wore a sober look.  "A tumble down thet openin' would be putty bad," he
added.

"Want me to go along?" asked Ike Furner.

"You can go if you want to," answered Dick.  "But fix your traps so
that no wild animals can get at the food."

"Oh, the grub is safe enough.  I'll keep a good fire burnin'," answered
the prospector.  They could readily see that he was a peculiar man, but
with a kindly heart.  Family troubles had caused him to try his
fortunes in this out of the way portion of the globe.

It did not take long for them to build up the campfire and get an extra
torch.  This done, all set off in the direction of the split in the
rocks, Jack Wumble leading the way and the others coming in a bunch
behind him.

The Rover boys knew not what to say or what to think.  Had Tom tumbled
into that awful opening, and if so, was he alive or dead?

"If he went down there I don't see how he could escape," whispered Sam
to his brother.  "Why, when I crossed on that tree I couldn't see the
bottom!"

"Let us hope he didn't take that tumble," was the low reply.




CHAPTER XXIII

A SLIDE DOWN THE MOUNTAIN SIDE

"My gracious, Dick!  It sure is snowing some now!"

"Yes, and it is getting colder every minute."

"If we don't get out of the mountains putty quick we'll be snowed in,"
came from Jack Wumble.

"Did you calkerlate to git back to Dawson afore winter sot in?"
inquired Ike Furner, curiously.

"Why of course!" cried Sam.

"I don't see how you are goin' to make it."

"Oh, we must get back," said Dick.  "If only we could find Tom," he
added, with a sigh.

It was fully an hour after they had left the campfire at the entrance
to the cave of the mountain.  They had walked to the chasm where they
thought Tom might have had a tumble and crossed and recrossed it
several times.  But they had found no traces of the missing Rover boy.

"If only we knew whether he went down in that opening!" said Sam, for
at least the tenth time.  "Dick, do you suppose we can climb down into
it?"

"Not without a rope, Sam.  The sides are too steep and slippery."

Time and again they called down.  But no answer came back.  If Tom was
down there he was either unconscious or dead.

And now it had begun to snow harder than ever.  The air was so full of
the white flakes that they could not see ten feet in any direction.  It
was a typical Alaskan snowstorm.  There was a sweep to the wind that
found the very marrow of their bones.

What to do next the Rovers did not know, nor could the two miners
suggest anything.  Finally, however, Ike Furner mentioned something
that set the youths to thinking.

"See here!" he cried.  "The old tree is gone!"

"What tree?" asked all three of the others.

"Why, the big hemlock as was hangin' over the cliff.  She was a
whopper, I kin tell you--biggest tree in these parts."

"Where was that tree?" asked Dick.

"Right here, whar you see the holes.  The snow has covered the spot
putty well, but I know the tree was here when we come up."

"It must have been that tree we heard sliding down the mountain side,"
exclaimed Dick.  "Maybe Tom didn't go down into the chasm at all, but
slid down the mountain on the tree!"

"That's so!" put in Sam, eagerly.  "And he may not be hurt!"

"Well, a slide like thet wouldn't be anything to sneeze at," remarked
Jack Wumble.  "Especially if the tree took to rollin' over an' over!"

"I'm goin' to investigate," said Dick, and commenced to crawl out on
the edge of the cliff.

"You be careful!" roared Wumble.  "It's slippery an' dangerous out
there!"

"Let us join hands," suggested Sam, and this was done, all forming a
chain, to keep Dick from going over the edge of the cliff.  He took the
torch in one hand, that he might light the way in the darkness and the
flying snow.

At last Dick found himself on the very edge of the cliff at the point
where the giant tree had stood.  To his surprise the cliff was not
perpendicular there, but formed a slope leading to another ridge some
fifty feet below.  What was beneath this was hidden from view by the
falling snow.

"I think I can crawl down there," he said to the others.  "Anyway, I am
going to try it."

"Wait!  I've got a lariat in my pack," said Ike Furner.  "I'll git
that.  It will be better'n nuthin'."  And off he sped for the article
mentioned.

When he came back Dick tied one end of the lariat around his waist, and
while the others held fast he crawled down the slope.  He had to keep
on his hands and knees, and once he slipped a distance of several
yards, the others stopping him with a jerk.

"Be careful--the lariat might snap!" sang out Sam.

"It's better walking down here," answered Dick.  "I think----"

He did not finish, for just then his body swung down into a hollow,
filled with snow and with some dripping water that had commenced to
freeze.  There was a snap, and the end of the lariat came back in the
faces of those above.

"There he goes!" yelled Jack Wumble, and pointed down to where the
torch could be seen whirling around and around.  Soon it was hidden
from view by the snow.

"Dick!  Dick!" yelled Sam.  "Are you safe?"

A yell came back, but what was said those above could not make out.
Sam's face went white, and he looked inquiringly at Jack Wumble.

"Where do you suppose he went to?" asked Ike Furner.

Wumble shook his head.

"Don't know, unless he slid clar down to the valley," he returned.
"This is certainly the wust yet."

"I'm going down after him," said Sam, bravely.

"Be careful, lad, it may cost ye your life."

"I don't care--I'm going to find Dick--and Tom, too."

The youngest Rover was just worked up enough to be reckless.  And when
Sam got that way nothing could hold him back.

"I'm going back, to get something to eat for all hands--in case we need
it," he said.  "Then I'll crawl down somehow and learn the truth.  If
Tom and Dick are all right, I'll fire one shot from my pistol.  Then
you'll know we are coming up as soon as possible.  If I fire two shots
you'll know we are all right, but we can't come up right away.  If I
fire three shots you'll know I need help.  In that case come down,
packs and all, and we'll find some kind of a camping spot below."

So it was settled, and having gone back to where the traps had been
left, the youngest Rover made up a small bundle for himself, and also
procured another torch.  The others accompanied him to where Dick had
disappeared.

"I hate to see ye leavin' me," said Jack Wumble, with feeling.  "Maybe
it would be better to wait till mornin', when it was lighter."

"No, Jack, I can't wait--and have Dick down there, and Tom, too.  For
all we know, both of them may be dying!"

That was all Sam said, and to this the old miner could not reply.  Ike
Furner looked on, but did not open his mouth.  He was waiting to hear
the full particulars concerning the young man he had known as Brill
Thomas.

Down and down went Sam, the snow soon hiding the two miners from his
view.  He had to proceed with care, fearing a tumble such as his big
brother had taken.  Where there was water, ice was forming on the
rocks, making the descent more dangerous than ever.

"I don't know how a fellow is to get back that way," he said to
himself.  "Guess we'll have to walk around by the trail."

It was now intensely cold and the wind was blowing almost a gale.  He
was glad when he reached something of a hollow, where he could crouch
down and regain his breath.

"Dick!  Dick!" he cried, many times, but no answer came back.  Either
his brother was too far away to hear him or was too badly hurt to make
reply.

Down and down climbed Sam until he felt he must be approaching the foot
of the mountain.  He had his torch still in hand, having often carried
it in his teeth while holding fast.  In some spots the snow was now
over a foot deep, and his footing was, consequently, more uncertain
than ever.

Suddenly he found himself on the edge of a small cliff, the last on the
mountain side.  Without knowing it, he had crossed the trail leading
upward three times.  He stepped on some ice on the rocks, and the next
instant was launched into space.

Sam had no time to get scared.  Forth into the descending snow he was
tossed, and down he went, to land first in a tree and then in some
thick bushes growing close by.  The wind was knocked completely out of
him, and for the moment he could not move.

"Phew! that was a tumble!" he murmured, as he tried to sit up.  He was
wedged so tightly in the bushes that he could scarcely move.  It was
far from a pleasant situation, yet he realized that coming down first
on the tree and then in the bushes had saved him from broken bones if
not from death.  He was considerably scratched up, but just then paid
no attention to the hurts.

At last he managed to crawl out on the ground, or rather the snow,
which was deeper in the valley than it had been up on the mountain.
His torch had been extinguished, so all was dark around him.

"Dick!" he called, as loudly as he could.  "Dick, are you anywhere
around?"

"Sam!" came the faint reply.  "Is that you?  Yes, I am over here.  Help
me.  I am wedged in between the trees and can't move!"

"Is Tom down here too?"

"I don't know."




CHAPTER XXIV

IN WHICH TOM IS FOUND

Guided by his brother's voice Sam at last found Dick.  As the latter
had said, he was wedged between two tall trees and in anything but a
comfortable position.  And how to release him was a problem.

"I guess I had better climb up and bend one of the trees over by my
weight," suggested Sam.  "I don't see any other way."

"All right, Sam.  Only be careful and don't fall and let the tree snap
back on me," answered Dick, weakly.  In his cramped position he could
scarcely breathe.

With great care Sam ascended the slimmest of the two trees, pushing it
as far away from the other as possible.  As he went up his weight told,
and presently the tree commenced to bend down, away from the other.

"That's better--now I can move a little," cried Dick.  "Go on!  There,
that's enough.  All right, Sam, you can come down."  And then Dick
scrambled out in the snow and his brother joined him.

"Did you see anything at all of Tom?" asked the youngest Rover, as soon
as both could get their breath.

"Not a thing, Sam.  But I saw the tree that fell--it's caught on the
cliff above here."

"Yes, I saw that--just before I took a tumble."

"Then you fell too?"

"Only from the last cliff.  I landed in a tree and then some bushes,
and got pretty well scratched.  But come on, if you're able, and we'll
look for Tom."

"What's that bundle you have strapped to your back?"

"I brought a little food along, in case we had to stay down here until
to-morrow."

"I see.  Wait, we'll light a torch first--we can't do much in the dark."

Dry brushwood was to be had in plenty, and the boys not only lit
torches, but also made a fire, to light up the scene all around them
Then they set off on their hunt, going up and down the base of the
cliff for several hundred feet.  It was now snowing so furiously that
progress was difficult.

"We'll be snowed in, that's certain," remarked Sam, as they moved
about, swinging their torches to the right and left.

"I don't care--if only we find Tom, and he isn't seriously hurt,"
returned his brother.

"But it's no fool of a thing, to be snow-bound in Alaska, Dick!  I've
heard of miners being starved to death--not being able to get anywhere
for food!"

"Yes, I've heard of that, too.  But do you want to give up this hunt
for Tom?"

"Indeed not!  I'll stick it out no matter what comes!" answered Sam,
quickly.

As they moved along Dick presently saw what he thought was a rock or
mound of dirt in front of him, covered with snow.  He was about to step
over it, when something prompted him to scrape at the object with his
foot.  The next instant he let out a cry.

"It's Tom!"

"Are you sure?" gasped Sam, who was a few yards away.

"Yes! yes!  Here, hold my torch," went on Dick, and as Sam took the
light, Dick knelt in the snow and raised up the inanimate form.  It was
Tom, true enough, with an ugly cut on his forehead, from which the
blood had been flowing.

[Illustration: "HERE, HOLD MY TORCH," SAID DICK.  _The Rover Boys in
Alaska._]

"Is--is he de--dead?" asked Sam, hoarsely.

"I--I don't know, Sam," was the slow answer.  "You lead the way and
I'll carry him back to where we built that fire."

"Oh, Dick, can't you tell if he is breathing?"

Dick put his ear to Tom's breast and for a moment there was a painful
silence.

"I think he is breathing, Sam, but I am not quite sure.  We'll get to
the fire, and give him something hot to drink."

Sam led the way through the snow, carrying both torches, and Dick came
after him, with the inanimate form of poor Tom over his shoulder.  In a
few minutes they reached the fire they had made, and Sam piled on some
additional brushwood.  Sam had rolled the food and other things he had
brought along in a blanket, and this covering was now placed on the
snow and Tom was laid on it, partly under the shelter of some bushes.

The two brothers got down and worked over the unconscious one for over
a quarter of an hour.  They had a bottle of a stimulent the doctor had
given them for Tom, and now they forced a dose of this down the lad's
throat.  Then they rubbed his hands and wrists.  Gradually they saw a
change in Tom.  He began to breath a little deeper and muttered
something in an undertone.

"Tom!  Tom!" cried Dick.  "Don't you know me?  Tom!  It's Dick and Sam!
Wake up, old man, that's a good fellow!"

"Oh, my head!  Oh, my head!" came, with a groan, and the sufferer
slowly stretched himself.  Then he put one hand up to his forehead.
"Oh, dear, what a crack I got!"

"Never mind, Tom, you'll soon be yourself," cried Sam, a big relief
showing itself in his voice.  Tom wasn't dead, perhaps after all he
wasn't seriously hurt.

"Oh, my head!" was all the answer Tom made just then.  He opened his
eyes for an instant and then closed them again.

"Wonder if he will know us?" whispered Sam to Dick.

"I hope so," was the answer.  "But come, we must do all we can for him.
I don't think we can move him very far.  But we'd be better off if we
were in the shelter of that cliff."

"Wait, I'll hunt up a spot, Dick.  But hadn't I better fire a shot
first?"  And Sam told of the signals that had been arranged.

"Yes, give 'em two shots," said the big brother.  "If we want help
later we can fire some more."  And the shots were discharged without
further delay.

This done, a shelter close to the cliff was selected.  Here they cut
down some brushwood with a hatchet Sam had brought along, and formed a
barrier to keep out the wind and snow.  Then another campfire was built
and Tom was brought over and placed on the blanket, in a warm and cozy
corner.

"Oh, my head!" he muttered, over and over again.  Of a sudden he sat up
as if in bewilderment.  "Where am I?" he cried.  "Is it time to get up?
Say, Sam, I wonder if I've got time to write that theme I didn't do
last night.  Songbird said he would give me a few pointers, but I
reckon he forgot all about it.  Say, what makes it so cold in this
room?  It's time old Muggs turned on the steam heat."

"Tom!  Tom!" said Sam.  "Do you know me?  Don't you know where you are?"

"Don't I know you?  What are you talking about, Sam.  Of course I know
you.  And Dick!  Say, how did you get back to college, Dick?  And why
in thunder----?  Well, I declare!"  Tom sat up and stared at the
campfire and the snow.  "How in the name of Washington's sword did I
get here?" he gasped.

"Never mind that now, Tom," answered Dick, taking him by the hand.
"How do you feel?  You had a bad tumble, if you'll remember."

"Tumble?  Where did I tumble from?  Oh I remember--that moving picture
show!  Say, that Alaskan scene was great, wasn't it?  I thought I'd
like to go to Alaska after some of those nuggets.  Funny, wasn't it?"
And poor Tom grinned broadly.  "But how did I get here, in the snow and
cold.  Say, have I been sick again, Dick?"  And now the sufferer looked
sharply at his brothers.

"Yes, Tom, you've been--very sick," answered Dick, slowly.  "How do you
feel now?  You had a bad tumble, and we were afraid you had been
killed."

"Where did I tumble from, the roof of the dormitory?"

"No, you fell down the mountain side."

"Eh?  What mountain side?"

"The one right back of you.  But don't bother about that now.  Just
take it easy and rest yourself," went on Dick, soothingly.

"Are you sure no bones are broken?" asked Sam, anxiously.

"I don't remember anything about a tumble," said Tom, slowly.
"I--I--thought I was in our room at Brill, old number twenty-five.  And
it wasn't winter either.  Say, I can't understand all this.  Are we out
in the woods back of Brill?  Hadn't we better get back?  See how it's
snowing."

"We won't go back to-night, Tom," answered Dick.  "You just take my
advice and lie down and keep quiet.  If you are hungry you can have
something to eat."

"I don't want anything to eat--I had a bang-up supper, the last I can
remember.  But I seem to be in a fog.  I don't remember anything about
how I got here.  And my head hurts to beat the band!  Feels as if a lot
of boiler makers were working inside of it!"  Tom put his hand up as of
old.  "I guess I'll--I'll have to--to leave it all to you!" he went on
faintly, and then fell back on the blanket, completely exhausted.




CHAPTER XXV

THE SHELTER UNDER THE CLIFF

Despite the fact that they were caught in a furious snowstorm, and that
there was no telling how long the downfall would last, Sam and Dick
felt very happy as they crouched by the campfire in the shelter of the
cliff.  They had found their brother, and he did not seem to be
seriously hurt by the long tumble he had taken.

"I guess we had better let him rest quietly, Sam," whispered Dick, as
both bent over the sufferer.  "It will probably do him more good than
anything."

"Just what I think, Dick.  But tell me, do you think he is in his right
mind now?"

"I can't tell, exactly.  One thing is sure, he doesn't seem to remember
anything of his trip to this out-of-the-way spot."

"Isn't it queer!  I never thought a fellow's mind could play him such
tricks!"

"Oh, men have been known to wander away and then come to themselves and
not remember a thing about how it happened.  Maybe that tumble did him
good."

The two boys stirred around the shelter, fixing the fire and making the
barrier of brushwood more secure.  Tom continued to rest, occasionally
muttering to himself.

"We might as well have something to eat, since you brought something
along," remarked Dick, presently.  "And then we'll have to turn in.  We
can take turns at sleeping and at watching Tom."

"Do you think we'll be completely snowed in by morning?"

"Let us hope not."

An hour later Sam was sleeping, while Dick sat on some brushwood,
tending the fire and keeping an eye on Tom.  It was very quiet, and the
snow was coming down as thickly as ever.  Dick had much to occupy his
mind--the perils of the present situation, his father's business
affairs, and Dora.

"Poor Dora!" he murmured.  "She'll be much worried until she hears from
me again.  Well, I won't mind all this, if only Tom comes out of it in
his right mind."  It made Dick sick from head to foot to think that
fun-loving Tom might have to go to an asylum.  Such a happening would
wreck the happiness of every member of the family, and wreck dear
Nellie's happiness, too.

Dick remained on watch for three hours and then roused Sam and turned
in himself.  So the long night passed, Tom continuing to sleep, and
only rousing up once and demanding a drink.  And he went on sleeping
when Dick and Sam arose to get breakfast and form their plans for the
day.

It had stopped snowing, but the sky was still overcast.  It was colder
than before--a drop in the thermometer which meant but one thing--that
the long Alaskan winter had arrived.  For months to come everything
would be frozen up as hard as a rock.

"I'd give a good deal to be back in Dawson," remarked Dick, while
munching a scant breakfast.  He and Sam had decided to make the food on
hand last as long as possible.

"So would I.  But I don't see ourselves getting there in this fall of
snow--and with more snow in the air."

"I don't see what we're going to do with Tom, if he can't walk.  We
can't carry him."

"We can make a drag--a sort of sled, Sam--and haul him on that."

"So we can!  How queer I didn't think of it!  Why, it will be just the
thing!"  And the face of the youngest Rover brightened up considerably.

Just what move to make next would depend in a great measure on how Tom
felt when he roused up.  His brothers watched him anxiously, but made
no move to wake him.

It was about ten o'clock in the forenoon when a shout was heard, and,
looking through the bushes, the boys beheld Jack Wumble and Ike Furner.
Each had a pack on his back.

"Hello!" cried Dick, and ran out to meet them.

"Oh, so there ye are!" exclaimed Jack Wumble.  "Thought ye must be
somewhere around here.  How are ye, all right?" he went on, anxiously.

"Yes.  A little scratched up, that's all."

"An' Sam, an' Tom?"

"Sam is a bit scratched up, too.  We found Tom and he doesn't seem to
have any bones broken.  But he is very weak, and we are letting him
sleep," and Dick gave some particulars.

"We had some job getting off the mountain," said the old miner, and
then he added, in a somewhat lower tone.  "I've told Furner all about
Tom and it's all right."

"I reckoned as how he wasn't just O.K.," said Ike Furner.  "But then
some folks say I ain't jest all right, when I know I am," and he tossed
back his head.  He was by no means crazy, only peculiar and headstrong.

"Do you think we can get back to Dawson?" asked Sam, who had come
forward after Dick.

"Maybe, lad; but it will be a tough journey in this snow," answered
Wumble.

"I'm going to stay here an' look fer gold!" cried Ike Furner,
stubbornly.  "I've got your brother's part of our outfit here."  He
passed it over.  "There's Lion Head, and over yonder is the Split
Rocks.  I think I'm about due to find a fortune," and he drew himself
up to his full height.

"Well, we are not going to stop you," answered Dick.  "All we came
after was our brother.  But it's a pity to leave you here all alone."

"Oh, I won't mind that.  I've often been alone in the mountains.  Fact
is, I rather like it.  When a feller is alone he can do just as he
pleases."

"That is true," answered Dick, with a faint smile.

"I know some other miners up here," went on Ike Furner.  "I'm going to
hit for their camp an' stay there till Spring.  How is the brother
makin' it?"

"He's sleeping now.  I think he will be all right.  He doesn't remember
anything about his trip up here."

An hour went by and Tom roused up.  He looked blankly at Jack Wumble
and Ike Furner.

"Don't you know me, Tom?" asked the former.  "We had some great times
out West, years ago."

"Sure I know you," and the sufferer grinned feebly.  "You're Jack
Wumble, aren't you?"

"That's me.  Put her thar, Tom!"  And the old miner took Tom's hand and
held it tightly.  "Glory to heaven!  This is like a touch o' old times,
this is!"

Then Ike Furner approached, looking at Tom closely.  But the youth did
not seem to recognize him.

"Know me, too, don't you?" asked the old prospector.

"I--I can't say that I do," was the slow answer, and Tom appeared much
perplexed.  "Seems to me I've seen you somewhere, but I can't just
place you."

"Well, I'll be switched!" muttered Ike Furner.  "Thet's the strangest
thing I ever hear tell on."  He pulled on his rough beard.  "Don't
remember me a' tall?"

"No.  Who are you?"

"Ike Furner, the man you came to Alaska with."

"Alaska!  I never went to Alaska!" cried Tom.  He commenced to grow
excited.  "Dick!  Sam!  What does this mean?"  He tried to struggle to
his feet, but found himself too weak to do so.

"Keep quiet, Tom," ordered his elder brother.  "It's all right.  You've
been very sick, that's all, and--well, a bit out of your mind.  You'll
be all right after a while."

"But that man said I went to Alaska."

"So you did.  But it's all right, so just take it easy."

"Alaska!  Great hambones!  Am I in Alaska now?"

"Yes, if you must know.  But do be quiet and rest yourself," went on
Dick, soothingly.

"What did I do, run away?"

"We'll talk about it later, Tom.  You must rest now," and Dick made the
sufferer lie down as before.  Then he motioned for Ike Furner to come
away.

"It's all right, I'll git out--I wouldn't stay fer a farm!" muttered
the old gold hunter.  "Your brother is as crazy as they make 'em.  I'm
glad to get shut o' him.  Didn't remember me!  I can't believe it!"
And a little later he bid the crowd farewell and took his departure, to
hunt up the other old prospectors he had mentioned.  It may be said
here that that was the last the Rovers saw or heard of him for a long
time to come.