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.
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.
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.
"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:
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.
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.
"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.