As they moved along Dick presently saw what he thought was a rock or mound of dirt in front of him, covered with snow. He was about to step over it, when something prompted him to scrape at the object with his foot. The next instant he let out a cry.
"It's Tom!"
"Are you sure?" gasped Sam, who was a few yards away.
"Yes! yes! Here, hold my torch," went on Dick, and as Sam took the light, Dick knelt in the snow and raised up the inanimate form. It was Tom, true enough, with an ugly cut on his forehead, from which the blood had been flowing.
"HERE, HOLD MY TORCH," SAID DICK. The Rover Boys in Alaska.
"Is—is he de—dead?" asked Sam, hoarsely.
"I—I don't know, Sam," was the slow answer. "You lead the way and I'll carry him back to where we built that fire."
"Oh, Dick, can't you tell if he is breathing?"