His voice faltered and stopped.
"We'll have to go back then," gasped Lige; "we can't stand here any longer. We'll both freeze to death."
They stood, the two young, strained faces turned toward the cruel storm, their eyes trying to penetrate the reeling, swirling wall of white that eddied and whirled about them.
At this moment, when all hope was dead in their hearts, when they had both abandoned the last expectation of ever seeing their father and brother alive again, there came to their ears a far, faint cry.
They clutched each other.
"What was that?" whispered Lige, trembling like an aspen leaf.
Joe's only answer was to draw in his breath and send forth a shout so strong, so thrilling with the hope that awoke in his breast that even the tempest seemed to heed it. For a second the wind seemed to ease, and in that second they both called and shouted at the top of their lungs again and again.
Spotty too had heard the call. He seemed to know now what the trouble was, and what was expected of him. Barking loudly he plunged forward through the drifts, constantly looking back and stopping to bark and whine, as if begging the boys to follow him.
Only for a moment was he visible, then the storm closed about him and he passed out of their sight.
Presently the call came again.