"

Sam led the way through the snow, carrying both torches, and Dick came
after him, with the inanimate form of poor Tom over his shoulder. In a
few minutes they reached the fire they had made, and Sam piled on some
additional brushwood. Sam had rolled the food and other things he had
brought along in a blanket, and this covering was now placed on the
snow and Tom was laid on it, partly under the shelter of some bushes.

The two brothers got down and worked over the unconscious one for over
a quarter of an hour. They had a bottle of a stimulent the doctor had
given them for Tom, and now they forced a dose of this down the lad's
throat. Then they rubbed his hands and wrists. Gradually they saw a
change in Tom. He began to breath a little deeper and muttered
something in an undertone.

"Tom! Tom!" cried Dick. "Don't you know me? Tom! It's Dick and Sam!
Wake up, old man, that's a good fellow!"

"Oh, my head! Oh, my head!" came, with a groan, and the sufferer
slowly stretched himself. Then he put one hand up to his forehead.
"Oh, dear, what a crack I got!"

"Never mind, Tom, you'll soon be yourself," cried Sam, a big relief
showing itself in his voice. Tom wasn't dead, perhaps after all he
wasn't seriously hurt.

"Oh, my head!" was all the answer Tom made just then. He opened his
eyes for an instant and then closed them again.

"Wonder if he will know us?" whispered Sam to Dick.

"I hope so," was the answer. "But come, we must do all we can for him.
I don't think we can move him very far. But we'd be better off if we
were in the shelter of that cliff."

"Wait, I'll hunt up a spot, Dick. But hadn't I better fire a shot
first?" And Sam told of the signals that had been arranged.

"Yes, give 'em two shots," said the big brother. "If we want help
later we can fire some more." And the shots were discharged without
further delay.

This done, a shelter close to the cliff was selected. Here they cut
down some brushwood with a hatchet Sam had brought along, and formed a
barrier to keep out the wind and snow. Then another campfire was built
and Tom was brought over and placed on the blanket, in a warm and cozy
corner.

"Oh, my head!" he muttered, over and over again. Of a sudden he sat up
as if in bewilderment. "Where am I?" he cried. "Is it time to get up?
Say, Sam, I wonder if I've got time to write that theme I didn't do
last night. Songbird said he would give me a few pointers, but I
reck