"I see it," came from the others.
Forward they went, in the direction of the light, which flickered uncertainly through the falling snow. They had to climb around many rocks and bushes, and occasionally they lost sight of the beacon ahead. But at last, mounting another rise, they came in full view of a campfire, located at the entrance to a cave-like opening in the side of the mountain.
A man was standing close to the campfire, a tall, thin individual, with a shock of hair and a heavy beard. He was dressed in a typical miner's costume and in his hands was a pistol.
"Who goes there?" he cried, in a high-pitched, nervous voice. "Don't come any closer until I know who you are," and he raised his pistol and pointed it at those who approached.
"Don't shoot, stranger," called out Jack Wumble, as he and the Rovers came to a halt. "Are you Ike Furner?" he went on.
"I am. Who are you?"
"I'm a miner from Black Run. My handle is Jack Wumble. These are two friends o' mine, Dick an' Sam Rover. We ain't goin' to harm you. We are lookin' fer a young feller thet's lost, that's all."
"We are looking for my brother," added Dick. "His name is Tom Rover. I think he was traveling with you." They had now come close enough to see that Ike Furner was alone.
"Don't know no Tom Rover," was the slow response. "There's a young feller with me, but his name is Brill Thomas."
"And where is he now?" asked Sam, impatiently.