"Yes, it must be. Nobody else could imitate that whistle so perfectly," returned his brother.
"Oh, let us go on! We must get to him," went on Sam, impatiently. "Maybe that whistle will bring him to his right senses, Dick!"
"I'm afraid that is too much to expect, Sam. But I am glad he remembered the whistle, anyway. It shows that he hasn't forgotten everything."
"Let us yell that we are coming, and for them to wait," suggested the old miner.
"That's it," answered Dick. "Now then, I'll lead off."
And loud and clear rang the cry:
"We are coming! We are coming! Wait for us! Wait! Wait!"
To this some answer came back, but what it was they could not make out. Then, in the silence that followed, they picked up their traps once more and went forward on the wearisome trail.
With each yard of advance the walking became more difficult. In some spots the rocks were covered with snow and they had to proceed with caution, for fear of a nasty tumble. They were climbing upward steadily and they noted with satisfaction that the cliffs seemed to become correspondingly lower.
"We'll be up there in quarter of an hour more," said Jack Wumble. "But don't ye try to go too fast. This trail is gittin' wuss an' wuss."