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.

"Wa