They had not gone far before Jack uttered a cry.
“Here he comes! There’s Tom!” he shouted, pointing at a figure advancing toward them through the mist of flakes that were still falling, but more lazily now.
“It’s someone, but how do you know it’s Tom?” asked Bert.
“Who else would it be?” Jack wanted to know.
“It might be—Skeel,” suggested George.
“Or that—bear!” and, as he said this, Bert advanced his gun.
“Nonsense—that’s no bear!” exclaimed Jack. “It isn’t Tom though, either,” he added, as the figure came nearer.
A moment later they all saw at once who it was.
“Sam Wilson!” exclaimed Bert. “That’s good! Now he can tell us what to do, and where Tom is. Hello, Sam!” he called, for that was how everyone addressed the genial guide—even those who had met him only once or twice.
“Hello yourselves!” Sam answered in greeting. “What are you fellows doing here?”