"Well, we are not going to stop you," answered d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k, 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. "d.i.c.k! 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 d.i.c.k, soothingly.

"What did I do, run away?"

"We'll talk about it later, Tom. You must rest now," and d.i.c.k 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.

The day pa.s.sed 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 d.i.c.k. "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 s...o...b..und," 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k.

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