He pointed to where a slender tree had been cut down and allowed to fall across the chasm. It made a fairly good bridge, although they had to cross with care and only one at a time. Their traps they threw over the opening.
With the snow now blowing directly in their faces, they marched forward once more, Wumble throwing the light as far ahead as possible. Soon they reached another climb, up a series of rocks that looked almost like a pair of stairs.
"Look!" cried the old miner, a few minutes later, and he stopped to pick something up out of the snow. It was a wooden pipe.
"It must be that Ike Furner's," said Dick. "Tom doesn't smoke."
"Why, look, the pipe has tobacco in it, and it's still lit!" exclaimed Sam. "It couldn't have been dropped very long ago!"
"And that proves that the owner must be close by!" put in his brother. "Let's call!" And he set up a ringing shout, in which Sam and Jack Wumble joined.
For fully a minute no answer came back. Then, from some height above them, issued an answering cry.
"Wave the torch, Jack!" exclaimed Dick, and the old miner did as requested.
All strained their eyes.
"I see a light!" exclaimed Sam. "See, over yonder!"