He meant Sparwick, but the latter had no time to carry out the order. The sled whizzed to the verge of the abyss. It shot into the air, turned over, and plunged downward through twenty or more feet of space!
Happily there was a deep drift at the bottom, and the crust on top of it was none too hard. The sled struck on its fore-runners, and went through like a rocket.
Brick landed near by on his side, and Hamp took a header a few feet beyond. Both lads were immersed in powdery snow beneath the surface. Sparwick fared better. He landed squarely on his feet, and the broad surface of his snowshoes saved him from sinking more than a few inches.
Sparwick dragged the sled out of the snowy depths. Then he rescued the boys, one at a time. They had not sustained even a scratch. They made no resistance, knowing that it would be useless. Sparwick bound their arms behind them, and ordered them to go slowly down the remaining brief stretch of the mountain side. He followed with the sled.
“That there ride saved a heap of time,” he said, mockingly. “It ain’t fur now to the meetin’-place. I reckon we’ll git thar long about sunset.”
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CONCLUSION.
Tom Fordham proved as good as his word. After apprising the station agent at Kingman of the situation by telegram, he took Jerry uptown to his home.