“Oh, Fred, do you think he did?”
“Let us hope for the best, lads,” broke in Joel Runnell.
“If he wasn’t badly hurt he’d answer us,” went on Harry. “I wish we had the lantern.”
“I’ll go back for it,” said Fred, and hurried for the lodge without further words.
Joel Runnell had started along the edge of a ravine, with his face close to the rocks and snow. Now he came to a halt.
“Here are some footprints,” he declared. “Wait till I strike a light.”
He lit a match, and with this set fire to a dry pine bough. The footprints were there plain enough.
“Joe!” he called, sharply. “Joe, are you below?”
“Yes,” came faintly to his ears.
“He’s here!” shouted the old hunter.