The crashing noise continued for a moment or so, then died away, drowned out by the roar of the wind and the sweep of the snow.
"Perhaps it was a tree blown over," suggested Jerry.
"A tree wouldn't make that much noise," Frank objected. For the crash had been unusually loud and prolonged and it had seemed to be accompanied by the snapping of timbers.
The boys waited, listening, but the sound had died away.
"It was right above us," Joe said.
Hardly had he spoken the words than there came a second crash, louder than the first, and then, with a rush and a roar, a great avalanche of snow came hurtling down upon the boys from the side of the cliff. The snow engulfed them, swept over them, almost buried them as they struggled to avoid it. Then, in all the uproar, they heard another thundering crash close at hand.
Spluttering and struggling to extricate themselves from the avalanche of snow that had swept down from above, the boys could scarcely realize what had happened. As for the origin of the crashing sound they had heard, it was still a mystery.
Then, above the clamor of the gale that seemed to rage in redoubled volume, they heard a faint cry. It came from the fog of swirling snow close by. Then the shrieking wind drowned the sound out, but the boys knew that it had been a cry for help.
Frank struggled free and lent Joe a helping hand until they were both clear of the great heap of snow and ice. Chet Morton and Jerry Gilroy also fought their way clear without difficulty, for the snow was soft and the avalanche had not been of great proportions.
"I heard some one call," Frank shouted. "Listen."