"Just what I think," answered his brother. "Oh, if only we could climb right up there, instead of going away around!"
"Ain't no way as I can see to do it," said Jack Wumble, looking at the bare wall of rocks. "We'll have ter go on till we reach some sort o' a break."
Once again they cried out and again came the answering call. But those above them were so far away that it was impossible to make out what was said.
"I've got it!" cried Dick. "If that is Tom I'll give him a call he'll know."
"The old Putnam Hall locomotive whistle?" queried Sam.
"Yes. Now then, both together, Sam, and as loud and distinct as possible."
Both youths took a deep breath, and then out on the snowy air rang a sharp, shrill whistle, once, twice, three times, rising and falling in a fashion known only to the cadets of the military school.
"By gosh, thet's some whistle!" remarked Jack Wumble, in admiration.
Again all three listened intently. There was a long spell of silence, and then from a distance came an answering whistle, that sounded like an echo of their own.
"It's Tom!" screamed Sam and clapped his hands.