“Did he break any bones, do you know?” questioned Fred.
“It seemed to me one of his wrists acted that way,” answered Ocker. “It was very limp and swollen. But, of course, Mr. Rover was hurt too badly around the head to tell anything about it. He’s got a bad bruise on his left shoulder too. I don’t like to alarm you boys, but I think he’ll be mighty lucky if he pulls out of it.”
“How far have we to go now?” questioned Randy. He had asked the same question several times before.
“Not more than half a mile,” was the reply of the guide.
Nick Ocker was not a prepossessing individual when it came to looks. He was tall, gaunt, and had several scars on the side of his face and on his neck. He had bulging black eyes that seemed at times to almost pop out of his head, and a crop of black hair that was almost as stiff as a brush. He was rather poorly dressed, showing that he was most likely down on his luck.
But just now the boys paid little attention to their guide except to follow him on the trail. Their thoughts were centered upon their relative who had been hurt. In what condition would they find him? Was he still alive?
Presently they reached a split in the roadway. Sunset Trail continued westward and a smaller trail headed along the mountainside to the north.
“There is Longnose’s cabin!” exclaimed Nick Ocker, pointing ahead. “And there is one of the fellows waving to us to come on.”
The place he pointed out was an old and dilapidated log cabin built, evidently, by some prospector years ago. It stood in the shadow of a clump of fir trees and on one side was an immense rock resting precariously close to the edge of a sharp cliff.