Part 34 (1/2)

”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, d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k. ”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 d.i.c.k. ”Which way did he go?”

”Same way you came.”

”But we didn't meet him,” cried Sam and d.i.c.k, 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, d.i.c.k, do you remember that strange noise----”

”Yes! yes! If he had a tumble----” d.i.c.k 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.”