At last they reached a spot where the guide said a small and decidedly uncertain trail led to the bottom of the upper cliff—the first one over which Mr. Porter had fallen.
"Then that is where I am going," said Dave. "Perhaps I can find out something about my father there."
"You had better come with us," answered Granbury Lapham. "As soon as I have met my brother we can all come back to this place."
"No, you can come back anyway—I'll stay here now and look around," replied the youth, firmly.
Bjornhof pointed out the exact spot from which Mr. Porter had fallen, and without waiting Dave trudged off, and the others continued their climb up the mountain. Soon a point of rocks separated them, and Dave found himself utterly alone.
Had he had less to think about the boy might have felt very lonely. But now his heart was filled with thoughts of his parent, and he never gave the situation in which he was placed any consideration. On and on he hurried. Twice he fell on the slippery rocks, but picked himself up just as quickly. In his mind's eye he could see his father helpless at the bottom of the cliffs, with a broken leg or a fractured rib, or suffering for the want of food and warmth. Such thoughts were terrifying, and caused him to shudder from head to foot.
"This must be the place!"
He spoke the words as he came to a spot where footprints in the snow were plainly visible. He looked around eagerly and made out where his father had slipped from that cliff to the hollow below. Here was a long icy slide, and Dave did not dare to venture too close to the brink, for fear of going over.
"That hollow must be at least a hundred feet deep," reasoned the youth. "How am I ever to get down there?"
He called out, but no answer came back. Then he walked slowly to the far end of the cliff, behind and over some jagged rocks which at first seemed to completely bar the way.