"Some work, eh, Sam?" remarked Dick, after they had helped each other over some slippery rocks on the trail.
"Do you think Tom and his companion got over these, Dick?"
"I suppose they did. It's the only thing that looks like a trail around here. If they didn't stick to this they'd soon become lost. And being lost on a mountain isn't very nice—you know that."
The snow was still coming down, and to the boys it seemed heavier than before. Jack Wumble looked at the sky many times and shook his head slowly.
"We'll be in fer it by to-morrow," he said. "An' then nobuddy can tell how long it will keep up. Winter is comin' sure!"
"Then the sooner we find Tom and get back to Dawson with him the better."
It was about five o'clock in the afternoon when they reached a spot where the trail ran along the bottom of a tall cliff. Far below them was the valley they had crossed in the morning, now all but shut out from their view by the falling snow.
"Don't either of ye slip here," cautioned Jack Wumble. "Because, if ye do, thar ain't no tellin' whar ye'll fetch up."
"I'll be as careful as possible," answered Dick.
"And so will I," added Sam.