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 Dick.

"And so will I," added Sam.

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

"We ought to be drawing close to Tom now," said Dick.

"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 lusty shout, and Dick 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 Dick fired two shots.
They waited several seconds for an answer.

"Listen!" exclaimed Dick. "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 Dick.

"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 Dick. "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