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, d.i.c.k."

"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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k, after they had helped each other over some slippery rocks on the trail.

"Do you think Tom and his companion got over these, d.i.c.k?"

"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 n.o.buddy 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 d.i.c.k.

"And so will I," added Sam.

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

"We ought to be drawing close to Tom now," said d.i.c.k.

"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 l.u.s.ty shout, and d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k fired two shots.

They waited several seconds for an answer.

"Listen!" exclaimed d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k.

"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 d.i.c.k. "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. n.o.body 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, d.i.c.k!"

"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."