The Rover Boys in Alaska: or, Lost in the Fields of Ice

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

At this question the old miner shrugged his shoulders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why not light a torch?" suggested Dick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All strained their eyes.

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

"I see it," came from the others.

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

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

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

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

"I am. Who are you?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

"Well, he went off to meet you."

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

"Same way you came."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I did."

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