The day passed slowly, the others doing all they could for poor Tom.
The sufferer roused up several times and took what nourishment was
given to him.  His head had been bound up, so that the cut on his
forehead did not show.  Evidently he was suffering from exposure and
the loss of blood.

"We must get him to Dawson somehow," said Dick.  "I guess we had better
start to-morrow morning early."

"Just what I think," replied Sam.

"Suits me," responded Jack Wumble.  "But it ain't going to be no easy
job makin' it, boys," he added, seriously.




CHAPTER XXVI

IN THE GRIP OF THE TORNADO

In the morning all thoughts of moving had to be abandoned.  It was
snowing furiously and the wind was sweeping around them in a perfect
gale.

"We're snowbound," said Jack Wumble, after a look around.  "Winter this
year has come on putty quick."

It was a dismaying state of affairs and Sam and Dick looked at each
other questioningly.  What was to be done?

Tom was no better nor was he worse.  He lay where they had placed him,
close to the fire, and took such nourishment as was given to him.  At
times he appeared quite rational, but once in a while he asked some
question that showed he was not altogether in his right mind.

"We could stay here for some time if it wasn't for one thing," remarked
Dick.  "We have got to have food."

"Just what I was thinking," returned Sam.  "As it is, we haven't enough
to last us for more than a week at the most."

"If there was a river anywhere near I'd try my hand at fishin'," said
the old miner.  "Ye kin get plenty o' fish in Alaska, even if ye have
to fish through a hole in the ice fer 'em."

The cold was so intense that the boys were glad enough to stir around
in the snow and wind to keep warm.  They cut a big pile of firewood and
piled the brushwood thickly around the shelter, taking care, however,
to keep it from the campfire.

The day went slowly by.  At nightfall the snow stopped coming down, but
the wind blew as before and if anything it was colder.

"Nothing but ice from now on," announced Jack Wumble, and he was right,
by morning everything was frozen up, "as stiff as a stake," as Sam
expressed it.  The day before they had caught some water dripping from
the rocks, for drinking purposes, now they had to melt the ice over the
fire to get the liquid.

But the sun was shining brightly and that raised their spirits.

"Don't you suppose, if we made a drag for Tom, that we could get back
to Dawson somehow?" questioned Sam, after all had been outside to look
at the sky.

"Well, we kin try it, if ye say so," answered Jack Wumble.  "It sure
ain't no fun stayin' here, with no more grub showin' itself.  If I
could only shoot a wildcat fer the meat I'd feel better."

With so much brushwood at hand it was an easy matter to construct a
rude sled-like drag for poor Tom.  To make it more comfortable they
heaped on it some tundra moss which they found growing on one of the
wind-swept stretches nearby.

"Where are you going to take me?" demanded the sufferer, when told that
they were going to leave the place.

"We are going to take you to a safe shelter, Tom, and then home,"
answered Dick.

"Home!  That sounds good!" murmured Tom.  "I'll be glad to get there
and rest!" and he gave a long-drawn sigh.

The start was made by ten o'clock, Tom being warmly wrapped in
blankets, and all the traps being piled on the drag in front and behind
him.  A rope had been tied fast in front and on this Wumble and Dick
pulled, while Sam had hold of the drag itself, to pull and to steer.

It was still bitter cold and many times on the way those hauling the
drag stopped, to make sure that Tom was comfortable and in no danger of
getting his nose or his ears frostbitten.  Fortunately the route was
largely down hill, so pulling the long drag was not such a hardship as
it otherwise might have been.

At noon they stopped in a small hollow, sheltered from the wind, and
made themselves a hot pot of coffee, and ate a frugal lunch.  Tom sat
up for a few minutes and the others were glad to see that the journey
had done him no harm, either physically or mentally.

By the middle of the afternoon it was snowing again and they had all
they could do to keep to the trail.  The old miner shook his head
dubiously.

"Reckon as how we're up against it," was his comment.  "If it gits much
wuss we'll have to look fer another shelter, boys."

The wind had let up during the middle of the day, but now it commenced
to blow with a suddenness that was alarming.  It sent the whirling snow
into their faces with pitiless fury and almost blinded them, while they
breathed with difficulty.

"Got to git out o' this, an' mighty quick too!" gasped Jack Wumble.

"Which way shall we turn, Jack?" questioned Dick.  "I can't see at all."

"I think thar's a woods below--let's strike fer that, lad.  It will
mean shelter an' firewood, at least."

They hurried on, pulling the long drag after them.  They were in a
valley and suddenly they came to a broad patch of ice and Sam went
sprawling on his back.  His brother helped him to arise, and onward
they went once more, but with added caution.

"This must be a lake," said Dick, as, after traveling for some time,
they found the ice still under their feet.  "Or else a river."

"Can it be safe?" asked Sam.  "Why, it wasn't frozen over four days
ago!"

"We'll be careful," cried Wumble.  "Even if it is hard enough, there
may be airholes around."

The situation seemed to grow steadily worse.  The wind blew so hard
that at times they were fairly carried along by it.  The snow cut off
the view from all sides, so they could not determine in what direction
they were traveling.

"Here's something ahead!" cried Wumble presently.  "A hut--a miner's
hut!"

"Let's get inside, just as quickly as we can," returned Sam, his teeth
chattering.  "I'm mo--most frozen stiff!"

The hut was on a small bank, evidently on the shore of the lake, or
river, on which they had been traveling.  It was closed up tightly, and
a pounding on the door brought no response.

"Nobuddy home, I reckon," said Jack Wumble.  "Well, here goes to git
in," and he pushed on the door.

It was not locked and swung inward, revealing a single room, about
twelve feet square and lit up by one small window.  Opposite the door
was a fireplace, partly filled with cold ashes.  On a shelf and on a
rude table rested some cooking utensils, and to one side of the hut was
a bunk containing some pine tree boughs and several old blankets.

"Hello!" cried Dick.  "Anybody in here?"

There was no answer, and a quick look around convinced them that nobody
had been in the place for several days if not weeks.  Yet on a shelf in
a rude locker were a number of stores--beans, coffee, a side of bacon,
and several other things.

"Let us start a fire, first thing, and get thawed out," suggested Sam,
and this was done, the boys finding plenty of wood piled up behind the
hut.  They had already brought Tom in from the drag and placed him in
the bunk, and now they closed the door.

"In this awful blow, we'll have to watch that fire carefully," warned
Wumble.  "Ef we don't, we may burn down the shebang over our heads."

The blaze soon warmed them all up and even Tom said he felt better.
The boys looked over the stores in the cabin with interest.

"What about touching these?" said Dick to the old miner.  "Have we any
right to do it?  Of course we'd pay for the things."

"We won't touch 'em unless we have to, Dick.  It ain't a question o'
pay in sech a spot as this.  The owner may be comin' back 'and
dependin' on 'em.  A man as wants grub won't part with it fer no amount
o' gold.  Why, I've seen the time, in camp in winter, when a feller
wouldn't sell a quart o' plain beans fer a hundred dollars o' dust!"

"Yes, I know that.  All right, we'll leave the things alone."  And Dick
sighed.  How good an old fashion home dinner would have tasted to all
of them just then!

The wind continued to howl, occasionally rocking the hut in a fashion
that alarmed them.  Sam asked the old miner if there was any danger of
it being tipped over.

"There is allers danger when the wind gits too high," was the reply.

Presently the sparks commenced to blow out into the room and the wind
outside grew wilder and wilder.  They stamped out the fire and sat
huddled together in the darkness, Tom with the rest, for he was now a
little stronger and did not want to remain alone.

And then came a shock as paralyzing as it was appalling.  The hut
seemed to be lifted into the air and whirled around.  Then came a
crash, and the structure fell over on the ice and snow of the river, or
lake, below.  The boys tumbled in a heap, with Jack Wumble on top of
them.  Before they could get up, all felt themselves moving swiftly
along in a wind that was blowing little short of a tornado.  All was
pitch black around them and to get up, or to do anything, was totally
out of the question.  Sam started to ask Dick a question, when
something hit him on the head, and he fell back unconscious.




CHAPTER XXVII

LOST IN THE FIELDS OF ICE

"Where in the world are we, Jack?"

"Don't ask me, Dick!  I reckon the wind must 'a' swept us up to the
North Pole!"

"Tom, are you all right?"

"Well, I'm here," came back faintly from the suffering one.  "What did
we do, sail through the air?"

"We sailed through something, Tom--and I guess we went about a mile a
minute, too.  Where is Sam?"

"I don't know," answered the old miner.  "It's so snowy I can't see a
thing."

"Sam!  Sam!" yelled Dick, with as much force as he could command.

There was no reply.  If the youngest Rover was nearby he was in no
condition to answer the call.

A full hour had elapsed since that terrific gust of wind had tumbled
the hut down on the river, for such the sheet of water proved to be.
Then had followed a tornado, or hurricane, or cyclone, the boys and the
old miner could not tell which.  Hut and occupants had been carried
along the stream on the ice with the velocity of an express train.
From the river they had been swept out over a lake, and finally had
landed in a big bank of snow with a crash that had shattered the hut
into fragments.

All had been so shaken up that for some minutes nobody could speak.
The old miner was the first to recover and he had stumbled around until
he found Dick, who was holding poor Tom in his arms.  Both of the
brothers had been pretty well pounded, but were otherwise uninjured by
their thrilling experience.

It was snowing again, the snow now coming down in regular "chunks" as
Dick said.  The wind had gone down a little, but was still blowing
fiercely.  All was dark around the remains of the hut.

"Sam!  Sam!" yelled Dick, again and again, and staggered around in the
snow, searching for the missing one.  Then he landed on the ice of the
lake and went flat on his back, and Jack Wumble came after him.  As
they picked themselves up they heard a faint cry and caught sight of
Sam, lying but a few yards away.

"Are ye hurted any, lad?" asked Wumble, who was first at the youngest
Rover's side.

"I--I don't know," gasped Sam.  "Some--something struck me on th--the
head."

With the assistance of the old miner and Dick he arose to his feet, and
all three staggered back to where Tom had been left.  The ruins of the
hut rested against a snowbank, and, to get out of the wind, they
crawled between the logs and the snow.

"This is the worst yet," was Dick's comment.  "How are we ever to find
our way back to Dawson from here?"

Nobody could answer that question.  Just now they had all they could do
to keep warm.

"You stay here while I take a little look around," said Jack Wumble,
presently.  "I may learn somethin' wuth knowin'."

"But don't get lost, Jack," cautioned Dick.

"I'll be careful," was the answer.

The old miner was gone less than ten minutes when he set up a shout.

"What have you found?" asked Dick, quickly.

"Here's a signboard," was the reply.  "I reckon as how there's a trail
here.  It says somethin', but I can't make it out."

"Let's light a torch," suggested Sam, and this was done.  They brushed
the snow from the signboard and read the following, printed in crude
letters:

  10 mILes to Sublers sTORes


Below this lettering was a crude drawing of a hand pointing up the lake.

"Subler's Stores!" cried the old miner.  "I've heard o' that place.
It's quite a depot for supplies.  If we could only git thar we'd be all
right."

"Let's try it," suggested Dick.  "The wind is right down the lake, so
it will make traveling that much easier."

They labored hard, in the darkness and wind, to construct a drag out of
the ruins of the hut.  On this they placed Tom and also such of their
scanty traps and provisions as still remained to them.

But once out on the lake, they realized that the task before them was
no easy one.  Here the wind blew with terrific force, sending them
further and further away from the shore which they wanted to skirt.  It
had stopped snowing and seemed to be growing colder.

"I--I ca--can't stand this!" gasped Sam, after a while.  "I'm
fr--freezing!"

"So--so am I," answered Dick.  "Tom, are you all right?"

"I'm pretty co--cold," was the chattered-out reply.

"We can't make it, I reckon," said the old miner, who was as chilled as
any of them.  "We'll have to go ashore an' git out of the wind an'
build a fire to thaw out by."

But getting ashore was out of the question.  When they tried to turn
around the fierce wind fairly took their breath away.  So they
continued to advance, the wind at times carrying them almost off their
feet.

"We are on the ice and no mistake!" cried Dick, after a while.  "See,
the wind has blown the snow completely away."

He was right.  All around them was the ice, dark and exceedingly
slippery.  They seemed to be in the midst of a great field of it.

"I don't know where I am now," said Jack Wumble.  "We are lost."

"Lost!" echoed Sam.

"That's the truth of it, Sam," replied Dick.  "We are lost right out
here on this ice."

"But Subler's Stores?"

"I haven't the least idea in what direction they are."

"But if we follow the wind----?"

"The wind seems to be changing.  Just watch it."

Dick was right, the wind was shifting, first in one direction, then in
another.

"If we stay out here, we'll be frozen stiff," said Tom.  As he could
not move around he felt the cold more than did the others.

"Let us follow the wind--it is bound to bring us somewhere, and that is
better than staying here," said Dick, finally.

For the want of something better to suggest, the others agreed, and on
they went once more, dragging Tom and their few traps and stores behind
them.

Thus another hour passed.  By this time they were so exhausted they
could scarcely stand.  They staggered onward until Sam fell.  He was so
weak the others had to assist him to arise.

"I'm all in!" gasped the youngest Rover.  "You go on and save
yourselves."

"And leave you?" cried Dick.  "Never!  Sam, you know me better than
that," he added, reproachfully.

"But, Dick, I--I can't walk another step!"

"Then sit on the drag with Tom."

"But you and Wumble----"

"We'll pull ye somehow," said the old miner, grimly.  "We ought to be
gittin' somewhar soon."

It was now dark once more and snowing again.  The wind had gone down a
trifle, but it still carried them forward, first in one direction and
then another.

Presently the drag hit a series of rocks, covered with ice and snow.
Over it went, sending Tom and Sam sprawling.  Dick and Wumble also
fell, for the way had suddenly grown uneven.

"I think we are near the shore now," said Wumble.  "Them rocks wouldn't
be likely to be out in the middle o' the lake."

"I think I see something!" cried Dick.  "Over yonder."

With caution they advanced, and at last made out a small building,
located between a number of large rocks.  All around the building was
snow and ice.

"A light!" cried Jack Wumble.  "Somebody is thar!  This is the best
news yet."

He stumbled through the snow and over the ice and rocks until he
reached the door of the cabin.  He pounded loudly on the portal.

"Who is there?" demanded a rough voice from within.

"Friends," answered the old miner.  "Let us in--we are 'most frozen to
death."

"Who are you?" went on the voice from inside the cabin.  "Be careful
now, I am armed."

Cautiously the door to the cabin was opened and a very old man
appeared.  He was armed with a shotgun, which he pointed at those
outside.

"I can't see ye," he said, slowly.  "Come a bit closer, but not too
clost, until I make sure who ye are."

"Why, it's Tony Bings!" fairly shouted Jack Wumble.  "How are ye, Tony?
Don't ye know me?"

"Jack Wumble!" cried the old man.  "How in the name o' fate did you git
here?"  And he lowered his gun and opened wide the door of the cabin
for the old miner to enter.




CHAPTER XXVIII

AT TONY BINGS'S CABIN

Tony Bings was an old miner who had spent several years in Colorado,
working close to Jack Wumble.  The two knew each other well, and were
warm friends.

"Come right in," said Tony Bings, when matters had been explained to
him.  "It's a wonder ye ain't friz stiff, in sech a wind!  It's been
a-blowin' great guns.  Once or twice I thought the cabin was goin'
over."

Tom was brought in and Sam followed, and both were placed near the
sheet iron stove of which Tony Bings's cabin boasted.  Then the old
miner bustled about to get the whole party something to eat and to
drink.

"I've got slathers o' stores," he told Jack Wumble, in answer to a
question on that point.  "Got a good supply in durin' the summer.  I
was out here last winter an' come near starvin' to de'th, an' I made up
my mind it shouldn't happen ag'in.  So eat yer fill an' welcome."

"We'll pay for all we use, Tony," answered Wumble.  "These chaps with
me are rich," he added, in a whisper.

"At first I thought it might be some good-fer nuthin' fellers from up
the mountains," went on Tony Bings.  "Once in a while they come here
and git things an' don't pay for 'em.  If they come ag'in, I'll shoot
'em," he went on, with determination.

He listened with interest to the story the others had to relate, and
was not surprised when he learned how the old hut had been tossed over
by the tornado and carried along on the ice.  He said his own shelter
was protected by the rocks around it and also by the heavy stones which
he had placed on the roof.

All of the newcomers were so exhausted that after eating their fill
they were glad enough to lie down and rest.  Tony Bings told them not
to worry--that he would stay awake, to tend the fire and watch out
generally.

"You ain't nowhere near Subler's Stores," he told Dick.  "You got off
the track entirely.  Instead of going towards Dawson you've been goin'
away from it."

All of the boys and Jack Wumble slept soundly that night.  Tony Bings
did not arouse them and consequently it was long past daylight when
they opened their eyes.

When Dick came to the window of the cabin to look out he uttered a cry
of surprise.  The sun was shining and all around could be seen immense
stretches of ice and snow.  It looked as if they were in the midst of
desolation.

"What a change from a week ago!" he said to Sam.

"A fellow could hardly believe it, Dick," was the reply.

"How do you feel?" went on the big brother.

"All right, only somewhat stiff."

Tom was still asleep.  When he awoke the brothers were worried to see
that he did not seem to be as clear in his mind as he had been the day
before.

"Where is Ike Furner?" he asked, suddenly.  "Say, I've got to be on my
way, if I am going to get those nuggets of gold."

"Tom, take it easy," begged Dick.  "Don't you remember me?"  And he
looked his brother full in the eyes.

"Sure I know you, Dick," was the wondering answer.  "Why do you ask me
such a question?  Let me see, what was I saying?"  Tom put his hand to
his forehead.  "Hang it all, it's slipped my mind entirely," he groaned.

"Never mind, Tom, let it go.  You just think of Sam and me, and the
folks at home.  And don't forget Nellie," Dick added, in a whisper.

"Nellie!" gasped the sufferer.  "Oh, yes, Nellie!  As if I could ever
forget her!  Say, Dick, how soon will I see her, do you suppose?"

"I'll send for her as soon as we get home, Tom."

"And when will that be?"

"Oh, not so very long.  Now do keep quiet.  And don't think of anything
but just home and Nellie," he added, pleadingly.

"All right, I'll do just as you want me to," returned Tom, and then
laid back and was silent.

Sam had listened to what was going on and now he and Dick walked to the
far end of the cabin, to talk in whispers.

"He isn't over it yet, Sam.  And it almost looks as if he never would
get over it, that is, altogether."  Dick's face showed his deep concern.

"Oh, Dick, don't say that!  He's got to get over it!  Oh, if only we
could get some first class doctor to do something!"

"Well, we've got to get to some city first--Dawson or some other place."

"Here is news!" cried Jack Wumble, coming forward at that instant.
"Tony tells me that there will be a party going through to Dawson
inside of a week or ten days.  He advises that we wait till they go and
go with 'em."

"It will be much safer," said Tony Bings "It's a fearful journey
alone--in sech weather."

"Who are those folks who are going?" asked Dick.

"One of the men who run the Yukon Supply Depot at Crovet, twenty-four
miles from here.  He will come along with four or five of his helpers,
and most likely a dog train, and he always stops here."

"That will be all right--but a week or ten days--that's a long time to
wait," and Dick sighed.

After that Tony Bings told his story, how he had come to that
neighborhood and "struck it rich," as he confided to Jack Wumble.  He
was very enthusiastic about the diggings back of his cabin, and in the
end got Wumble to promise to join him in his hunt for gold in the
Spring.

"I've heard o' sech cases," he told the boys, after learning about
Tom's trouble.  "It's too bad!  I sure do hope your brother will git
over it.  It ain't nice to have a crazy pusson in the family."

After that several days went by slowly.  At times Tom seemed to improve
and then he would sink back, sometimes becoming quite wild, so the
others had to watch him closely.  But he grew stronger physically,
which was something to be thankful for.

On the third day it started to snow again, and this kept up for
twenty-four hours.  It was as cold as ever, and the sheet iron stove
was kept almost red hot, so that the party, and especially Tom, might
not take cold.

On the next morning, much to the surprise of everybody, Tom got up and
insisted on walking around the cabin.

"I feel almost well," he told his brothers.  "But I'd give a good deal
to be home."

That afternoon came a great shouting, and the cracking of whips outside
the cabin.  At once Tony Bings's face lit up.

"It's the men from the Supply Depot!" he cried.  "I reckon it's
Schmidt."

"Hello, in dare!" was the cry.  "Vos you alife alretty, Tony?  Vy can't
you oben der door und let a feller in, ain't it?"

"Hello, Gus!" answered the owner of the cabin, and threw open the door,
and in bustled a big, fat German, heavily clad, and wearing thick
gloves and ear-warmers.  The newcomer stared in astonishment at the
Rovers and Jack Wumble.

"Sure und I tidn't know you vos have combany, Tony," said Gus Schmidt.

"My friends," said the old miner, and introduced them.  "Tell yer men
to come in, and welcome," he went on, and Schmidt went to the door, and
called to three men who were with him.  They drove up with several dog
teams, which they were taking to Dawson for supplies that had come up
to that city by way of the Yukon River.

Gus Schmidt, despite his rather uncouth manner, was a whole-souled man,
and Dick and the others took to him at once.  He listened gravely to
the story they had to tell, and readily agreed to take the Rovers and
Jack Wumble with him.  Wumble was invited by Tony Bings to remain at
the cabin for the winter, but said he would first see the Rovers as far
as Dawson, and visit his own claim, and then would return with
Schmidt's party.

Of the newcomers one was a German like Schmidt and the other two were
Canadians.  The latter knew all about the dogs and dog sleds, managing
the rather savage animals with scarcely an effort.  The dogs had
originally belonged to some Alaskan Indians and had cost the owners of
the Supply Depot considerable money.

The start for Dawson, so many miles away, was made on the following
morning.  The boys and Jack Wumble shook hands with Tony Bings, who
refused point blank to accept any money for what he had done for them.
Tom was placed on one of the best of the big sleds and made as
comfortable as circumstances permitted.

"All apoardt!" cried Gus Schmidt, gaily, and cracked the long whip he
carried.  The Canadians understood and cracked their own whips, and
away went the whole party, over the fields of ice and snow, in the
direction of Dawson.




CHAPTER XXIX

TOM'S WILD RIDE

"Talk about fields of ice, Dick!  Just look around us!"

It was Sam who spoke.  The party had come to a halt for the midday
meal.  They had stopped in the shelter of some big rocks, now thickly
covered with snow and ice.

Snow and ice were on all sides--the latter glistening brightly in the
sunshine.  It was a wonderful transformation from the green and brown
that had decked the landscape before winter had set in so suddenly.

"I'd hate to be out in this alone," remarked the big brother.  "A
fellow could get lost without half trying."

"Dick, what do you think of Tom?" went on Sam, in a lower tone.

"He's in a bad way again, Sam," was the reply.  "Poor fellow!  If only
we had him where we could place him under the care of some good doctor,
some specialist.  That is what he needs."

Tom was indeed in a bad way.  All morning he had talked in a rambling
fashion, to himself and to the others around him.  The Canadians were
getting afraid of him and the Germans shrugged their shoulders.

"I dink he besser peen in an asylum, ain't it," said Gus Schmidt.  "A
feller can't vos dell vot such a feller vos going to do next alretty!"

"We'll have to watch him," had been Dick's answer.

One of the Canadians was preparing dinner, aided by one of the Germans.
To show that they did not wish to shirk any camp duties, Sam and Dick
did what they could to assist.  The dogs and the sleds were off to one
side.  Tom sat on one sled, wrapped in heavy blankets, for it was still
very cold.

Suddenly there came a wild shout from the Canadian who was doing the
cooking.  With a saucepan he pointed to the dogs and sleds.  All of the
others gazed in that direction and Sam and Dick set up a cry of alarm.

And well they might, for the sight that met their eyes filled them with
fear.  In some way Tom had gotten one of the sleds with its dogs away
from the others and jumped aboard.  With a crack of a whip he was off,
standing on the sled and yelling like a demon.

"Tom!  Tom!  Stop!" screamed Dick and Sam in unison.  "Come back here!"

"I'm off for gold!  Nuggets of gold!" yelled the one who was not right
in his mind.  "Don't you dare to follow me!  Off for gold!  Gold!
Gold!"  And then the sled with its rider passed out of hearing, the
dogs doing their best, urged on by the continued cracking of the long
whip.

"We must catch him!" said Dick.  "Quick! before he gets out of sight
over some hill, or around some rocks!"

"He has der pest sled und der pest dogs!" groaned Gus Schmidt.  "I said
ve must keep an eye on him, yah!  Of he busts dot sled somepody got to
pay for him!"

"We'll pay, never fear," answered Sam.  "But we must catch him!  We
don't want him to get hurt."

"You come mit me," said the leader of the outfit, motioning to Dick.
"It ain't no use for all of us to go after him.  De udders da stay
right here.  Ludvig, you hear?"

"Yah," came from the other German, and he nodded his head.

In a few minutes Gus Schmidt had one of the other dog teams ready for
use.  He was about to jump on the sled when he paused.

"Besser ve took somedings along," he suggested.  "Somedings to eat und
to trink, hey?  Und some plankets, yah?" and he commenced to haul over
the packs.

"Why, do you think the chase will be a long one?" asked Dick, anxiously.

"I can't vos tell dot.  Mebbe him peen long.  Dem vos schmart togs, I
tole you dot."

A pack containing food and blankets was hastily thrown together and
strapped to the sled.  Then Dick was assigned a place and Gus Schmidt
hopped aboard.

"Of ve ton't got back tonight go on to Riss Rifer," he directed the
others.

"Good-by, Dick, and good luck!" called out Sam, and Jack Wumble waved
his hand.

"You take care of yourself, Sam," was the brother's parting caution.

The dog sleds had done some fairly fast traveling before, but the rate
of speed now set by Gus Schmidt almost took away Dick's breath.  On and
on bounded the sled, the dogs yelping wildly at first, but then
settling down to a steady pace.  Up one hill awl down another they
dashed, sending the loose snow flying in all directions.  Soon the camp
was left out of sight, even the smoke gradually disappearing from view.

Tom and his outfit were nowhere to be seen, having long since passed
over a hill to the northward.  Gus Schmidt had, however, noted the
direction with care.  He had noted, too, that the runaway had taken a
somewhat curved course, and now he attempted to catch him by taking a
straight route for the same point.

For over an hour the chase kept up, and then, reaching the top of a
long hill, they saw, far to the northward, a dog sled moving to the
eastward.

"I dink I got him now!" cried Gus Schmidt, and once more he cracked his
long whip and again his team bounded forward.  Quarter of an hour
passed and they drew closer to the other team, and then both the German
and Dick set up a cry of dismay.

It was not the sled on which Tom had run away.  The dogs were different
and on the sled sat two men, strangers.

"Yes, we saw the sled you are after," said one of the men, when the
others had come up and put a question to him and his companion.  "It
passed us, going like the wind and the driver yelling like a madman."

"And how was it headed?"

"About due North," answered the other man on the sled.  And then he and
his companion moved forward again.

"I dink ve haf to go pack und look for der tracks," said Gus Schmidt.
"Too pad, dot vosn't our sled, ain't it?"

The team was turned back, and for the best part of half an hour they
looked for the missing trail.  At last it was discovered, and once more
they moved rapidly forward, this time due North.

Fortunately there was little wind, otherwise Dick could not have stood
that long and wild ride.  As it was, he felt chilled to the bone, and
his feet were like two lumps of ice.  Gus Schmidt must have surmised
this, for presently he stopped the sled and motioned to the youth.

"Ve git off und rundt a leetle.  It vos do us goot," he remarked, and
swung himself down on the icy snow.  Dick followed, so stiff at first
that he could scarcely put one foot before the other.  They set off on
a walk, the dogs pulling them, and gradually increased their speed to a
run.

Then Dick felt better.

All through the afternoon the chase kept up.  They saw nothing of Tom.
But the track he had left was a plain one and to that they stuck
closely.

At last it grew so dark that they could see the track but indistinctly.
They had to reduce their speed to a walk for fear of turning off.

"He ought to be stopping for the night," said Dick.

"Such a feller might not sthop at all," answered the German.  "He might
go on und on bis der togs trop dead, yah!"

Finally Gus Schmidt came to a halt and announced that they must go into
camp for the night.  The dogs needed the rest.  They could continue the
chase at the first sign of dawn.

"Do you know where we are?" asked Dick.

"Out in der ice und snow, dot ist all I know," said the German.  "I
nefer vos here pefore."

"If we are not lost we are next door to it," murmured Dick.

They had brought along a little tent and sleeping bags, and after
supper made themselves as comfortable as possible.  The dogs had been
fed and they snapped and snarled over the bones thrown to them.

Only once during the night were Dick and his companion disturbed.  From
a distance came a yelping which the dogs at once answered.

"What is that?" asked the youth, sitting up.  "Not the dogs of the
other sled?"

"Nein, dot vos foxes," answered Gus Schmidt.  "Ton't podder mit dem.
Da ton't come here--da vos afraid of ter dogs."  And he turned over to
go to sleep again.

Dick could not sleep with any kind of comfort.  He was utterly
exhausted, yet his mind was continually on Tom.  What was his poor
brother doing, all by himself, amid that desolation of ice and snow?

At daybreak they were on the way again.  The sun had come up, but soon
it was hidden by a heavy bank of clouds, and then the snowflakes
commenced to fall.

"Dot ist pad," said Gus Schmidt, shaking his head.

"You mean, it will wipe out the trail?" said Dick.

"Yah--der drail to find your prudder und der drail for us to git pack
py.  Maype ve besser go pack now."

"No! no! don't turn back!  Please don't go back!" pleaded Dick.  "He
can't be so very far ahead of us.  We are sure to catch up to him in a
very short while now.  If we----"

Dick did not finish, for a strange sight ahead caught his eye.  Coming
towards them was a dog team on a gallop.  Behind the team was an
overturned sled, empty.




CHAPTER XXX

GOOD-BYE TO ALASKA--CONCLUSION

"Is that your sled?"

"Yah.  Vait, I vos sthop dem!" yelled Gus Schmidt, and with a dexterity
that was really marvelous he turned his own team about and in a few
seconds was traveling after the runaways.

"Wait!  I'm going to get off!  To look for my brother!" cried Dick, and
as the German slackened his speed for a few seconds, the oldest Rover
boy sprang out in the snow.  He went sprawling, but was not injured.
Almost before he knew it, the two sleds had disappeared and he was left
alone.

All around him were the vast and mysterious fields of ice and snow.
Far off he could hear the barking of the dogs, but this soon died out,
and then came utter silence--a silence that seemed to fairly weigh him
down.  And now the snow started to come down harder than ever.

Had Dick Rover been less stout-hearted than he was he would have then
and there given up the hunt for his brother.  But Dick had the stuff of
a real hero in him, and he went forward through the snow, bending low
to escape the wind and to keep his eyes on that slowly disappearing
trail.

Thus half an hour went by, and by that time, weighed down as he was by
his heavy clothing and heavy footwear, Dick was well-nigh exhausted.
He stopped to rest and to get his breath, and then, struck with a
sudden idea, let out that old familiar locomotive whistle of Putnam
Hall fame.

He waited for a few seconds and then whistled once more.  Was he
mistaken, or did an answering whistle sound out?  He could not tell.
He set his face grimly and trudged on.

At last he could see the trail no longer and then he realized the truth
of the terrible situation.

He was lost on this vast field of ice and snow!

And Tom, somewhere ahead, must be lost, too!

It was a thought to make the stoutest heart quake.  But Dick did not
think of himself.  He was thinking only of his brother.  How could he
locate Tom and save him from the cold and from starvation?

"I've got to do it!" he told himself, over and over again.  "I've got
to do it!  I must!  I must!"

On and on he plunged, and suddenly went sprawling over some object half
hidden in the falling snow.  He felt around, and realized that he had
come upon the two packs that had been on the sled Tom had taken.

"If they fell off here maybe Tom fell off, too!" he told himself.  And
then he commenced to search the vicinity carefully.

It was well that he did this, otherwise he might have missed poor Tom,
who lay in a slight hollow, partly covered with snow.  The sled had hit
a rock and the poor youth had been flung out with great force, landing
on one shoulder and on his head.

"Tom!  Tom!  Are you alive?  Answer me!" cried Dick, as he raised his
brother in his arms.  But no reply came from Tom's lips.  He was
unconscious.

With all the strength that remained to him, Dick carried his brother to
the spot where he had found the traps.  Then he quickly undid the
bundles, to see if there was anything there he might use.  He found a
tiny oil stove, filled with oil, and lit it, and then rolled Tom in two
blankets, and gave him something hot to drink.  Then he found a stick
of wood, soaked it well in oil, and set it up in the ice as a torch.

All this while Tom lay like a log.  He was breathing heavily, but he
did not open his eyes or speak.  Evidently the shock had been a heavy
one.  Dick did not know but what some of his brother's bones might be
broken.

An anxious hour went by, and in that time Dick did all he could for
Tom, who still laid in a stupor.  Then came a shout, and Gus Schmidt
appeared, driving his dog team and with the runaway team also in
harness.  Behind the first sled was the second--the one Tom had taken.

"So you got your brudder, hey?" said the German.  "How vos he?"

"In bad shape, I'm afraid," answered Dick, soberly.  "I guess the dogs
ran away and pitched him overboard."

"I dink you vos right, und da drow dem dings oferpoard, doo," and
Schmidt, pointed to the traps.  "Veil, it's goot ve got der draps und
er sled pack."

"Can we get back to the others tonight?"

"Nein, it was too dark und cold.  Ve go in der morning, to Riss Rifer.
Maybe dare you got a doctor, yah."

So it was settled, and the German proceeded to make himself and the
others as comfortable as possible.  He prepared something to eat, and
suggested that Tom be given a little broth, made out of some dried
meat.  This was done, and presently the sufferer opened his eyes and
tried to sit up.

"Whe--where in th--the world am I?" he asked, in a faint voice.

"Tom, you're all right," answered his brother, soothingly.  "Do you
know me?"

"Why, of course I know you," came the wondering answer.  "What happened
to me, Dick?"

"You ran off with a dog sled and got a nasty tumble."

"A dog sled?  Dick, you are stringing me?  Who's got a dog sled around
Brill?"

"Never mind, Tom, just keep quiet.  You're very sick.  Just rest
yourself."

"All right."  Tom heaved a deep sigh.  "Gosh!  I do feel pretty bad!"
he added.  He had tried to sit up, but now fell back exhausted.

It was a night never to be forgotten.  The German snored peacefully,
but Dick did not close his eyes.  He watched Tom closely, to do all he
could for his brother and make certain that the sufferer should not get
away again.

During the night it stopped snowing and in the morning the sun came out
as brightly as ever.  Dick was astir early, and was gratified to see
that Tom was sleeping peacefully.  They did not awaken the sufferer
until Gus Schmidt announced himself ready to move on.

Tom was still very weak, but Dick was gratified to see that he appeared
to be in his right mind, and his eyes were brighter than they had been
in many a day.

"I can't understand this," he said, when he was bundled up and placed
on one of the sleds.  "I feel as if I had had some awful dream."

"So you have had, Tom," was Dick's reply.  "And I want you to be
careful, so that that awful dream doesn't come back."

"But where are we, Dick?"

"In Alaska, Tom.  Now do keep quiet, please."

"Alaska!  Well, I never!" murmured the sufferer.  "And I thought we
were near Brill, or the farm!"

The two boys occupied the rear sled with one of the bundles, while Gus
Schmidt did the driving from the other sled and carried the rest of the
traps.  On and on they went, mile after mile, the German driving the
dogs with great skill.  They passed over hill after hill, and over vast
expanses of ice and snow.  At noon they rested half an hour for lunch.
Tom tried to stand up, but was too weak.

"It's no use, Dick," he said.  "I'm about as strong as a bowl of mush!
I guess I need about a month's rest."

"And you are going to get it, Tom, as soon as we can get home," replied
his brother.

"But I don't understand how I got here," went on the sufferer, in
perplexity.

"I'll tell you all about it some day, Tom.  But now you must keep
quiet.  Won't you, just to please me?"

"Sure--anything you say, Dick.  I know something is wrong somewhere.
But I'll leave it all to you."

Late that evening they reached the Riss River, a small stream flowing
into the mighty Yukon.  They passed along the river bank until they
reached a settlement known as Boyer's.  Here they found Sam and the
others of the expedition.

"So yer got Tom!" cried Jack Wumble.  "Good enough!"

"And how is he?'" questioned Sam, anxiously.

"He's been hurt, Sam.  But I think he is brighter in his mind than
ever," answered Dick.

The Rovers found a great bustle and confusion going on at Boyer's
depot, due to the fact that a steamer coming down the river from Dawson
was due the next morning.  It was to be the last vessel to pass that
way until Spring.

"Where is that steamer bound for?" asked Dick, of the man who had
charge of the depot.

"San Francisco."

"Can we secure passage on her, do you think?"

"I reckon so.  Travel is light this time of year.  That boat is going
to have some trouble getting through the ice, though."

"We'll risk that--if only they will take us on board."

The party was made as comfortable as possible at Boyer's, sharing
various bunks in a cabin that chanced to be deserted.  Dick settled up
with Gus Schmidt, stating he would not go on to Dawson if he could
secure passage on the steamer.

At last the vessel came in, and after the general hubub was over Dick
inquired about accommodations.

"Pretty full, but I think we can stow you away somewhere," said the
purser.

"I don't care what sort of accommodations we have, so long as my
brother gets a stateroom," went on Dick.  "He isn't very well."

"Bring your baggage aboard, and I'll fix you up somehow, later on."

The boys went aboard the steamer and there bid farewell to Jack Wumble.
They had left some things at Dawson, and these they turned over, on a
written order, to the old miner, telling him to do as he pleased with
them.

"Good-bye to ye!" cried Wumble, on parting.  "An' good luck," he added,
and shook hands all around.

After the rough experiences in the wilds of Alaska, the boys felt quite
at home on the big steamer.  The purser managed to find a large
stateroom for them, containing three berths.  And, what was even
better, he introduced Dick and Sam to a doctor who chanced to be on
board.  The physician was a man of experience, who lived in San
Francisco, and he readily agreed to take Tom under his care and do all
he could for the sufferer.

"I think all he needs is rest--absolute rest," said the doctor, after
an examination.  "He ought not to go to college again--at least, not
for a year or two."

"It's hard to keep him quiet, Doctor--he has always been such a lively
fellow--the liveliest boy in our family," said Dick.

"Well, then, let him travel.  Anything to keep his mind from his books
and from himself."

The voyage down the mighty Yukon to Bering Sea and the Pacific Ocean
was a long and tedious one to Dick and Sam.  For several days the
steamer had a hard time of it, crushing her way through the ice, which
was rapidly forming.  In a few days more navigation would be completely
closed, so far as that portion of our globe was concerned.

"We got out just in time," said Dick to Sam, when the Yukon was at last
left behind and they saw ahead of them the blue waters of Bering Sea.

The trip on the ocean seemed to do Tom a world of good.  Daily he grew
stronger, until he could walk on deck.  The doctor attended him from
time to time, but gave the sufferer little medicine.

As soon as it was possible to do so, Dick sent a wireless message
ashore, to be relayed to the farm, telling the folks that Tom was safe
and that all hands would soon be back at Valley Brook.  This message
was also sent, by way of the farm, to Mrs. Stanhope and Dora, and to
the girls at Hope.

"My gracious, what adventures we have had on this trip!" remarked Sam
to Dick, as the steamer was headed for the Golden Gate, the entrance to
San Francisco harbor.

"Right you are, Sam," was the reply.  "I don't think we'll have any
more so strenuous."  But Dick was mistaken.  More adventures were still
in store for the Rovers, and what some of them were will be related in
the next volume of this series, to be entitled "The Rover Boys in
Business; Or, The Search for the Missing Bonds."

On the arrival at San Francisco it was deemed advisable by the doctor
that Tom rest for a few days at a hotel before starting on the trip for
home.  Tom's mind now seemed to be as clear as ever and all his
weakness was physical.

One day, when Dick was reading a local newspaper, he chanced on a
paragraph that instantly arrested his attention.  He read it carefully
and then sought out Sam.

"Look here," he cried.  "Here is news about that lady on the train who
lost her handbag with jewelry in it worth ten thousand dollars."

"What about it?" asked Sam, with interest.

"She didn't lose it at all, it seems.  Her mother, who was with her,
took it and absent-mindedly hid it in their berth.  There a porter
found it and turned it over to the railroad company."

"Well, that clears Tom of that," said Sam, with a sigh of relief.  "But
what of Hiram Duff's money and jewelry?"

"That still remains to be found out, Sam.  I guess Tom took it--but of
course he didn't know what he was doing.  You can't count such a thing
a crime when a fellow is out of his mind."  In the end, it may be as
well to state here, this mystery was never fully explained.  But the
Rover family paid the old miser for his loss, and for what he had
suffered in being locked down in his cellar; and there the matter was
dropped.

Tom stood the journey to Valley Brook better than expected.  At the Oak
Run railroad station the family touring car was drawn up, with Jack
Ness, the hired man, in charge.  The boys' father was there to greet
them.

"My boys!  My boys!" he said, and the tears stood in his eyes.  Then he
folded poor Tom in his arms and led him to the touring car.  And there
a surprise awaited the sufferer.  Nellie was there, having arrived the
day before from Hope.

"I just had to come," she said, and then she caught Tom and held him
tightly.  The tears were streaming down her cheeks, and the others had
to turn away.  "Oh, Tom!  Tom!" she murmured, over and over again.

"Oh, Nellie, don't make such a fuss!  I'm not worth it!" murmured Tom,
but, nevertheless, he looked greatly pleased.  "I've had a--an
awful--dream," he went on, slowly.  "But I'm--well, I'm not going to
dream that way again--not if I can help it!"  And he gave her a look
that thrilled her through and through.

There was another warm welcome when the touring car reached the farm.
Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha were on the piazza to meet the boys.
Aunt Martha shed tears over Tom, just as Nellie had done, but they were
tears of joy and nobody minded them.  Uncle Randolph shook hands, and
told them all to come in out of the cold, and rubbed his own hands
together in great satisfaction.

"Home again!" murmured Tom, when he stood in the great hallway.  He
gave a deep sniff.  "And a good dinner!  Aunt Martha, you know how to
make us feel comfortable, don't you?"  He gave her one of his old-time
hugs.  His eyes were as clear as they had ever been.  Evidently he was
fast becoming the Tom of old.  His running away from Brill, and his
trip to Alaska, were but a horrible, uncertain nightmare to him.  He
did not want to remember those days, and they were best forgotten.

"And how do you feel, Dad?" asked Dick, as soon as he could get the
chance.

"Better than in many a day," returned Anderson Rover.

"And what is the news from New York?"

"Everything is going along well.  We have those brokers just where we
want them."

"Good!  That is what I like to hear," and Dick's face showed his
satisfaction.

"I've got more news, Dick, that you will like to hear," said his
father, with a faint smile.

"What is that?"

"Dora telegraphed that she would be here tonight."

"Fine!"

"Well, we certainly had a great trip," said Sam, when the whole family
and Nellie were gathered around the dining table.  "But I don't know as
I want to take it over again."

"Hardly," returned his big brother.




THE END




FAMOUS ROVER BOYS SERIES

BY ARTHUR M. WINFIELD

(Edward Stratemeyer)

OVER THREE MILLION COPIES SOLD OF THIS SERIES.

Uniform Style of Binding.  Colored Wrappers.  Every Volume Complete in
Itself.

  THE ROVER BOYS AT SCHOOL
  THE ROVER BOYS ON THE OCEAN
  THE ROVER BOYS IN THE JUNGLE
  THE ROVER BOYS OUT WEST
  THE ROVER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES
  THE ROVER BOYS IN THE MOUNTAINS
  THE ROVER BOYS ON LAND AND SEA
  THE ROVER BOYS IN CAMP
  THE ROVER BOYS ON THE RIVER
  THE ROVER BOYS ON THE PLAINS
  THE ROVER BOYS IN SOUTHERN WATERS
  THE ROVER BOYS ON THE FARM
  THE ROVER BOYS ON TREASURE ISLE
  THE ROVER BOYS AT COLLEGE
  THE ROVER BOYS DOWN EAST
  THE ROVER BOYS IN THE AIR
  THE ROVER BOYS IN NEW YORK
  THE ROVER BOYS IN ALASKA
  THE ROVER BOYS IN BUSINESS
  THE ROVER BOYS ON A TOUR
  THE ROVER BOYS AT COLBY HALL
  THE ROVER BOYS ON SNOWSHOE ISLAND
  THE ROVER BOYS UNDER CANVAS
  THE ROVER BOYS ON A HUNT
  THE ROVER BOYS IN THE LAND OF LUCK
  THE ROVER BOYS AT BIG HORN RANCH
  THE ROVER BOYS AT BIG BEAR LAKE
  THE ROVER BOYS SHIPWRECKED
  THE ROVER BOYS ON SUNSET TRAIL
  THE ROVER BOYS WINNING A FORTUNE

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK


THE PUTNAM HALL STORIES

Companion Stories to the Famous Rover Boys Series

By ARTHUR M. WINFIELD

(Edward Stratemeyer)

Uniform Style of Binding.  Individual Colored Wrappers.


Being the adventures of lively young fellows at a Military Academy.
Open air sports have always been popular with boys and these stories
that mingle adventure with fact will appeal to every manly boy.