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

CHAPTER XXIV
IN WHICH TOM IS FOUND

Guided by his brother's voice Sam at last found Dick. As the latter had said, he was wedged between two tall trees and in anything but a comfortable position. And how to release him was a problem.

"I guess I had better climb up and bend one of the trees over by my weight," suggested Sam. "I don't see any other way."

"All right, Sam. Only be careful and don't fall and let the tree snap back on me," answered Dick, weakly. In his cramped position he could scarcely breathe.

With great care Sam ascended the slimmest of the two trees, pushing it as far away from the other as possible. As he went up his weight told, and presently the tree commenced to bend down, away from the other.

"That's better – now I can move a little," cried Dick. "Go on! There, that's enough. All right, Sam, you can come down." And then Dick scrambled out in the snow and his brother joined him.

"Did you see anything at all of Tom?" asked the youngest Rover, as soon as both could get their breath.

"Not a thing, Sam. But I saw the tree that fell – it's caught on the cliff above here."

"Yes, I saw that – just before I took a tumble."

"Then you fell too?"

"Only from the last cliff. I landed in a tree and then some bushes, and got pretty well scratched. But come on, if you're able, and we'll look for Tom."

"What's that bundle you have strapped to your back?"

"I brought a little food along, in case we had to stay down here until to-morrow."

"I see. Wait, we'll light a torch first – we can't do much in the dark."

Dry brushwood was to be had in plenty, and the boys not only lit torches, but also made a fire, to light up the scene all around them Then they set off on their hunt, going up and down the base of the cliff for several hundred feet. It was now snowing so furiously that progress was difficult.

"We'll be snowed in, that's certain," remarked Sam, as they moved about, swinging their torches to the right and left.

"I don't care – if only we find Tom, and he isn't seriously hurt," returned his brother.

"But it's no fool of a thing, to be snow-bound in Alaska, Dick! I've heard of miners being starved to death – not being able to get anywhere for food!"

"Yes, I've heard of that, too. But do you want to give up this hunt for Tom?"

"Indeed not! I'll stick it out no matter what comes!" answered Sam, quickly.

As they moved along Dick presently saw what he thought was a rock or mound of dirt in front of him, covered with snow. He was about to step over it, when something prompted him to scrape at the object with his foot. The next instant he let out a cry.

"It's Tom!"

"Are you sure?" gasped Sam, who was a few yards away.

"Yes! yes! Here, hold my torch," went on Dick, and as Sam took the light, Dick knelt in the snow and raised up the inanimate form. It was Tom, true enough, with an ugly cut on his forehead, from which the blood had been flowing.

"Is – is he de – dead?" asked Sam, hoarsely.

"I – I don't know, Sam," was the slow answer. "You lead the way and I'll carry him back to where we built that fire."

"Oh, Dick, can't you tell if he is breathing?"

Dick put his ear to Tom's breast and for a moment there was a painful silence.

"I think he is breathing, Sam, but I am not quite sure. We'll get to the fire, and give him something hot to drink."

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 reckon he forgot all about it. Say, what makes it so cold in this room? It's time old Muggs turned on the steam heat."

"Tom! Tom!" said Sam. "Do you know me? Don't you know where you are?"

"Don't I know you? What are you talking about, Sam. Of course I know you. And Dick! Say, how did you get back to college, Dick? And why in thunder – ? Well, I declare!" Tom sat up and stared at the campfire and the snow. "How in the name of Washington's sword did I get here?" he gasped.

"Never mind that now, Tom," answered Dick, taking him by the hand. "How do you feel? You had a bad tumble, if you'll remember."

"Tumble? Where did I tumble from? Oh I remember – that moving picture show! Say, that Alaskan scene was great, wasn't it? I thought I'd like to go to Alaska after some of those nuggets. Funny, wasn't it?" And poor Tom grinned broadly. "But how did I get here, in the snow and cold. Say, have I been sick again, Dick?" And now the sufferer looked sharply at his brothers.

"Yes, Tom, you've been – very sick," answered Dick, slowly. "How do you feel now? You had a bad tumble, and we were afraid you had been killed."

"Where did I tumble from, the roof of the dormitory?"

"No, you fell down the mountain side."

"Eh? What mountain side?"

"The one right back of you. But don't bother about that now. Just take it easy and rest yourself," went on Dick, soothingly.

"Are you sure no bones are broken?" asked Sam, anxiously.

"I don't remember anything about a tumble," said Tom, slowly. "I – I – thought I was in our room at Brill, old number twenty-five. And it wasn't winter either. Say, I can't understand all this. Are we out in the woods back of Brill? Hadn't we better get back? See how it's snowing."

"We won't go back to-night, Tom," answered Dick. "You just take my advice and lie down and keep quiet. If you are hungry you can have something to eat."

"I don't want anything to eat – I had a bang-up supper, the last I can remember. But I seem to be in a fog. I don't remember anything about how I got here. And my head hurts to beat the band! Feels as if a lot of boiler makers were working inside of it!" Tom put his hand up as of old. "I guess I'll – I'll have to – to leave it all to you!" he went on faintly, and then fell back on the blanket, completely exhausted.

CHAPTER XXV
THE SHELTER UNDER THE CLIFF

Despite the fact that they were caught in a furious snowstorm, and that there was no telling how long the downfall would last, Sam and Dick felt very happy as they crouched by the campfire in the shelter of the cliff. They had found their brother, and he did not seem to be seriously hurt by the long tumble he had taken.

"I guess we had better let him rest quietly, Sam," whispered Dick, as both bent over the sufferer. "It will probably do him more good than anything."

"Just what I think, Dick. But tell me, do you think he is in his right mind now?"

"I can't tell, exactly. One thing is sure, he doesn't seem to remember anything of his trip to this out-of-the-way spot."

"Isn't it queer! I never thought a fellow's mind could play him such tricks!"

"Oh, men have been known to wander away and then come to themselves and not remember a thing about how it happened. Maybe that tumble did him good."

The two boys stirred around the shelter, fixing the fire and making the barrier of brushwood more secure. Tom continued to rest, occasionally muttering to himself.

"We might as well have something to eat, since you brought something along," remarked Dick, presently. "And then we'll have to turn in. We can take turns at sleeping and at watching Tom."

"Do you think we'll be completely snowed in by morning?"

"Let us hope not."

An hour later Sam was sleeping, while Dick sat on some brushwood, tending the fire and keeping an eye on Tom. It was very quiet, and the snow was coming down as thickly as ever. Dick had much to occupy his mind – the perils of the present situation, his father's business affairs, and Dora.

"Poor Dora!" he murmured. "She'll be much worried until she hears from me again. Well, I won't mind all this, if only Tom comes out of it in his right mind." It made Dick sick from head to foot to think that fun-loving Tom might have to go to an asylum. Such a happening would wreck the happiness of every member of the family, and wreck dear Nellie's happiness, too.

Dick remained on watch for three hours and then roused Sam and turned in himself. So the long night passed, Tom continuing to sleep, and only rousing up once and demanding a drink. And he went on sleeping when Dick and Sam arose to get breakfast and form their plans for the day.

It had stopped snowing, but the sky was still overcast. It was colder than before – a drop in the thermometer which meant but one thing – that the long Alaskan winter had arrived. For months to come everything would be frozen up as hard as a rock.

"I'd give a good deal to be back in Dawson," remarked Dick, while munching a scant breakfast. He and Sam had decided to make the food on hand last as long as possible.

"So would I. But I don't see ourselves getting there in this fall of snow – and with more snow in the air."

"I don't see what we're going to do with Tom, if he can't walk. We can't carry him."

"We can make a drag – a sort of sled, Sam – and haul him on that."

"So we can! How queer I didn't think of it! Why, it will be just the thing!" And the face of the youngest Rover brightened up considerably.

Just what move to make next would depend in a great measure on how Tom felt when he roused up. His brothers watched him anxiously, but made no move to wake him.

It was about ten o'clock in the forenoon when a shout was heard, and, looking through the bushes, the boys beheld Jack Wumble and Ike Furner. Each had a pack on his back.

"Hello!" cried Dick, and ran out to meet them.

"Oh, so there ye are!" exclaimed Jack Wumble. "Thought ye must be somewhere around here. How are ye, all right?" he went on, anxiously.

"Yes. A little scratched up, that's all."

"An' Sam, an' Tom?"

"Sam is a bit scratched up, too. We found Tom and he doesn't seem to have any bones broken. But he is very weak, and we are letting him sleep," and Dick gave some particulars.

"We had some job getting off the mountain," said the old miner, and then he added, in a somewhat lower tone. "I've told Furner all about Tom and it's all right."

"I reckoned as how he wasn't just O.K.," said Ike Furner. "But then some folks say I ain't jest all right, when I know I am," and he tossed back his head. He was by no means crazy, only peculiar and headstrong.

"Do you think we can get back to Dawson?" asked Sam, who had come forward after Dick.

"Maybe, lad; but it will be a tough journey in this snow," answered Wumble.

"I'm going to stay here an' look fer gold!" cried Ike Furner, stubbornly. "I've got your brother's part of our outfit here." He passed it over. "There's Lion Head, and over yonder is the Split Rocks. I think I'm about due to find a fortune," and he drew himself up to his full height.

"Well, we are not going to stop you," answered Dick. "All we came after was our brother. But it's a pity to leave you here all alone."

"Oh, I won't mind that. I've often been alone in the mountains. Fact is, I rather like it. When a feller is alone he can do just as he pleases."

"That is true," answered Dick, with a faint smile.

"I know some other miners up here," went on Ike Furner. "I'm going to hit for their camp an' stay there till Spring. How is the brother makin' it?"

"He's sleeping now. I think he will be all right. He doesn't remember anything about his trip up here."

An hour went by and Tom roused up. He looked blankly at Jack Wumble and Ike Furner.

"Don't you know me, Tom?" asked the former. "We had some great times out West, years ago."

"Sure I know you," and the sufferer grinned feebly. "You're Jack Wumble, aren't you?"

"That's me. Put her thar, Tom!" And the old miner took Tom's hand and held it tightly. "Glory to heaven! This is like a touch o' old times, this is!"

Then Ike Furner approached, looking at Tom closely. But the youth did not seem to recognize him.

"Know me, too, don't you?" asked the old prospector.

"I – I can't say that I do," was the slow answer, and Tom appeared much perplexed. "Seems to me I've seen you somewhere, but I can't just place you."

"Well, I'll be switched!" muttered Ike Furner. "Thet's the strangest thing I ever hear tell on." He pulled on his rough beard. "Don't remember me a' tall?"

"No. Who are you?"

"Ike Furner, the man you came to Alaska with."

"Alaska! I never went to Alaska!" cried Tom. He commenced to grow excited. "Dick! Sam! What does this mean?" He tried to struggle to his feet, but found himself too weak to do so.

"Keep quiet, Tom," ordered his elder brother. "It's all right. You've been very sick, that's all, and – well, a bit out of your mind. You'll be all right after a while."

"But that man said I went to Alaska."

"So you did. But it's all right, so just take it easy."

"Alaska! Great hambones! Am I in Alaska now?"

"Yes, if you must know. But do be quiet and rest yourself," went on Dick, soothingly.

"What did I do, run away?"

"We'll talk about it later, Tom. You must rest now," and Dick made the sufferer lie down as before. Then he motioned for Ike Furner to come away.

"It's all right, I'll git out – I wouldn't stay fer a farm!" muttered the old gold hunter. "Your brother is as crazy as they make 'em. I'm glad to get shut o' him. Didn't remember me! I can't believe it!" And a little later he bid the crowd farewell and took his departure, to hunt up the other old prospectors he had mentioned. It may be said here that that was the last the Rovers saw or heard of him for a long time to come.

The day passed slowly, the others doing all they could for poor Tom. The sufferer roused up several times and took what nourishment was given to him. His head had been bound up, so that the cut on his forehead did not show. Evidently he was suffering from exposure and the loss of blood.

"We must get him to Dawson somehow," said Dick. "I guess we had better start to-morrow morning early."

"Just what I think," replied Sam.

"Suits me," responded Jack Wumble. "But it ain't going to be no easy job makin' it, boys," he added, seriously.

CHAPTER XXVI
IN THE GRIP OF THE TORNADO

In the morning all thoughts of moving had to be abandoned. It was snowing furiously and the wind was sweeping around them in a perfect gale.

"We're snowbound," said Jack Wumble, after a look around. "Winter this year has come on putty quick."

It was a dismaying state of affairs and Sam and Dick looked at each other questioningly. What was to be done?

Tom was no better nor was he worse. He lay where they had placed him, close to the fire, and took such nourishment as was given to him. At times he appeared quite rational, but once in a while he asked some question that showed he was not altogether in his right mind.

"We could stay here for some time if it wasn't for one thing," remarked Dick. "We have got to have food."

"Just what I was thinking," returned Sam. "As it is, we haven't enough to last us for more than a week at the most."

"If there was a river anywhere near I'd try my hand at fishin'," said the old miner. "Ye kin get plenty o' fish in Alaska, even if ye have to fish through a hole in the ice fer 'em."

The cold was so intense that the boys were glad enough to stir around in the snow and wind to keep warm. They cut a big pile of firewood and piled the brushwood thickly around the shelter, taking care, however, to keep it from the campfire.

The day went slowly by. At nightfall the snow stopped coming down, but the wind blew as before and if anything it was colder.

"Nothing but ice from now on," announced Jack Wumble, and he was right, by morning everything was frozen up, "as stiff as a stake," as Sam expressed it. The day before they had caught some water dripping from the rocks, for drinking purposes, now they had to melt the ice over the fire to get the liquid.

But the sun was shining brightly and that raised their spirits.

"Don't you suppose, if we made a drag for Tom, that we could get back to Dawson somehow?" questioned Sam, after all had been outside to look at the sky.

"Well, we kin try it, if ye say so," answered Jack Wumble. "It sure ain't no fun stayin' here, with no more grub showin' itself. If I could only shoot a wildcat fer the meat I'd feel better."

With so much brushwood at hand it was an easy matter to construct a rude sled-like drag for poor Tom. To make it more comfortable they heaped on it some tundra moss which they found growing on one of the wind-swept stretches nearby.

"Where are you going to take me?" demanded the sufferer, when told that they were going to leave the place.

"We are going to take you to a safe shelter, Tom, and then home," answered Dick.

"Home! That sounds good!" murmured Tom. "I'll be glad to get there and rest!" and he gave a long-drawn sigh.

The start was made by ten o'clock, Tom being warmly wrapped in blankets, and all the traps being piled on the drag in front and behind him. A rope had been tied fast in front and on this Wumble and Dick pulled, while Sam had hold of the drag itself, to pull and to steer.

It was still bitter cold and many times on the way those hauling the drag stopped, to make sure that Tom was comfortable and in no danger of getting his nose or his ears frostbitten. Fortunately the route was largely down hill, so pulling the long drag was not such a hardship as it otherwise might have been.

At noon they stopped in a small hollow, sheltered from the wind, and made themselves a hot pot of coffee, and ate a frugal lunch. Tom sat up for a few minutes and the others were glad to see that the journey had done him no harm, either physically or mentally.

By the middle of the afternoon it was snowing again and they had all they could do to keep to the trail. The old miner shook his head dubiously.

"Reckon as how we're up against it," was his comment. "If it gits much wuss we'll have to look fer another shelter, boys."

The wind had let up during the middle of the day, but now it commenced to blow with a suddenness that was alarming. It sent the whirling snow into their faces with pitiless fury and almost blinded them, while they breathed with difficulty.

"Got to git out o' this, an' mighty quick too!" gasped Jack Wumble.

"Which way shall we turn, Jack?" questioned Dick. "I can't see at all."

"I think thar's a woods below – let's strike fer that, lad. It will mean shelter an' firewood, at least."

They hurried on, pulling the long drag after them. They were in a valley and suddenly they came to a broad patch of ice and Sam went sprawling on his back. His brother helped him to arise, and onward they went once more, but with added caution.

"This must be a lake," said Dick, as, after traveling for some time, they found the ice still under their feet. "Or else a river."

"Can it be safe?" asked Sam. "Why, it wasn't frozen over four days ago!"

"We'll be careful," cried Wumble. "Even if it is hard enough, there may be airholes around."

The situation seemed to grow steadily worse. The wind blew so hard that at times they were fairly carried along by it. The snow cut off the view from all sides, so they could not determine in what direction they were traveling.

"Here's something ahead!" cried Wumble presently. "A hut – a miner's hut!"

"Let's get inside, just as quickly as we can," returned Sam, his teeth chattering. "I'm mo – most frozen stiff!"

The hut was on a small bank, evidently on the shore of the lake, or river, on which they had been traveling. It was closed up tightly, and a pounding on the door brought no response.

"Nobuddy home, I reckon," said Jack Wumble. "Well, here goes to git in," and he pushed on the door.

It was not locked and swung inward, revealing a single room, about twelve feet square and lit up by one small window. Opposite the door was a fireplace, partly filled with cold ashes. On a shelf and on a rude table rested some cooking utensils, and to one side of the hut was a bunk containing some pine tree boughs and several old blankets.

"Hello!" cried Dick. "Anybody in here?"

There was no answer, and a quick look around convinced them that nobody had been in the place for several days if not weeks. Yet on a shelf in a rude locker were a number of stores – beans, coffee, a side of bacon, and several other things.

"Let us start a fire, first thing, and get thawed out," suggested Sam, and this was done, the boys finding plenty of wood piled up behind the hut. They had already brought Tom in from the drag and placed him in the bunk, and now they closed the door.

"In this awful blow, we'll have to watch that fire carefully," warned Wumble. "Ef we don't, we may burn down the shebang over our heads."

The blaze soon warmed them all up and even Tom said he felt better. The boys looked over the stores in the cabin with interest.

"What about touching these?" said Dick to the old miner. "Have we any right to do it? Of course we'd pay for the things."

"We won't touch 'em unless we have to, Dick. It ain't a question o' pay in sech a spot as this. The owner may be comin' back 'and dependin' on 'em. A man as wants grub won't part with it fer no amount o' gold. Why, I've seen the time, in camp in winter, when a feller wouldn't sell a quart o' plain beans fer a hundred dollars o' dust!"

"Yes, I know that. All right, we'll leave the things alone." And Dick sighed. How good an old fashion home dinner would have tasted to all of them just then!

The wind continued to howl, occasionally rocking the hut in a fashion that alarmed them. Sam asked the old miner if there was any danger of it being tipped over.

"There is allers danger when the wind gits too high," was the reply.

Presently the sparks commenced to blow out into the room and the wind outside grew wilder and wilder. They stamped out the fire and sat huddled together in the darkness, Tom with the rest, for he was now a little stronger and did not want to remain alone.

And then came a shock as paralyzing as it was appalling. The hut seemed to be lifted into the air and whirled around. Then came a crash, and the structure fell over on the ice and snow of the river, or lake, below. The boys tumbled in a heap, with Jack Wumble on top of them. Before they could get up, all felt themselves moving swiftly along in a wind that was blowing little short of a tornado. All was pitch black around them and to get up, or to do anything, was totally out of the question. Sam started to ask Dick a question, when something hit him on the head, and he fell back unconscious.