They continued on their way for a few steps, then stopped again. The dog had barked again, and now the sound seemed to come from above and behind them.
“Why not shout Toma’s name?” said Sandy. “If he’s alive he’ll hear us.”
Dick thought this an excellent idea and in unison they raised their voices.
“Toma! Toma!” they shouted at the tops of their lungs, and paused to listen intently.
A second of silence, then the faraway crags of the glacier threw back their cries like mocking laughter.
Drawing deep breaths for another shout, they hesitated. Several dogs had commenced to bark, and were making a veritable bedlam of racket, what with the echoes that were flying about.
“It’s our dogs!” ejaculated the amazed boys.
“Come on. Toma may be alive,” Dick sang out, charging up the slope of the gorge, with Sandy close at his heels.
Half way up the side of the gorge they came suddenly upon the dogs in a snow filled ledge. There were ten of the twelve dogs alive and well, the other two had been crushed to death under a huge boulder deposited there by the avalanche. The sledge of supplies, badly twisted and smashed, lay overturned, half-buried in the snow, but still hitched to the tangled dogs. Eagerly the boys searched the wreckage, but at first there was no sign of Toma. Then one of the dogs, whining plaintively, began pawing into a heap of packed snow. The boys rushed to the dog and found he had uncovered a boot. Silently, the boys attacked the packed snow with mittens and boots, and in five minutes they dragged their young Indian friend free of the lodged snow.
“Pray he’s alive!” Dick implored, as they lay the quiet form upon some sledge packing.