At night they
made rude shelters of snow and blocks of ice and ate cold victuals.
The second day it grew colder, and they were slightly affected by
snow-blindness, for they had lost their dark glasses in the cave.
Even the gold seemed too great a burden to carry, and they found
they had more of it than at first they supposed. On the third day
they were ready to give up, but Abe bravely urged them on. Toward
the close of the fourth day, even the old miner was in despair, for
the food they could carry was not such as to give strength and
warmth, and they saw no game to shoot.
They were just getting ready to go into a cheerless camp for the
night, when Tom, who was a little in advance, looked ahead.
"Ned, do I see something or is it only a vision?" he asked.
"What does it look like?" asked his chum.
"Like Eskimos on sleds."
"That's what it is," agreed Ned, after an observation. "Maybe it's
the Fogers, or some of the savage Indians."
They halted in alarm, and got out their guns. The little party of
natives kept coming on toward them.
Suddenly Abe uttered a cry, but it was one of joy and not fear.
"Hurrah!" he yelled, "It's all right--they're friendly natives!
They're of the same tribe that helped me an' my partner! It's all
right, boys, we're rescued now!"
And so it proved.
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