He rushed blindly at Bogle, and received a stinging blow between the eyes. With an angry yell he rolled over against Hamp.

Both lads were instantly wakened, and, not knowing What was the matter, they cried out with fright.

Meanwhile, Bogle had rushed across the cave in quest of a weapon. The firelight showed him reaching for the bunch of rifles that rested on a stone slab on the opposite wall.

Sparwick arose, and in half-a-dozen leaps crossed the floor. Just in time Bogle got hold of a rifle. He was too excited by the thought of what was at stake to take careful aim. He hastily leveled the weapon, and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The ball whizzed by Sparwick's head, and flattened harmlessly on the wall above the boys.

There was no chance for a second shot. With a shrill cry Bogle swung the weapon around in a half-circle. Sparwick instantly broke through the other's guard. Then came a volley of crashing blows.

The cause of the fight was a mystery to the boys. They looked on with a certain show of indifference. The struggle could not well affect them or their fortunes, no matter how it terminated.

"Bogle has no chance at all," whispered Brick. "Sparwick is as strong as a giant."

"He knows how to wrestle, though," replied Hamp. "I shouldn't be a bit surprised if—— Hullo! there they go."

Yes; the men were down, and Bogle was actually on top. But his triumph was short lived. By a single twist Sparwick jammed his enemy against the floor. Then he pinned him helplessly by the throat with one hand, while with the other he brutally rained blow after blow on his face.

Brick and Hamp felt their blood boil with indignation. Had their arms been free, they would have gone to the unfortunate man's rescue—rascal though he was.

But Sparwick had no intention of doing murder. His spasm of rage spent itself, and he let his right arm drop.

"I won't kill you, you sneakin' cur," he hissed, "though if there was ever a traitor as desarved death it's you, Joe Bogle. I wish I had Raikes here ter give him some o' the same medicine. You didn't count on me bein' awake last night, but all ther same I was. I reckon I'll hev to go shares with Raikes, since he's still got the upper hand, so to speak. But you won't touch a cent of that money—not a red."

Bogle turned his bleeding and battered face upward. "You've done enough, Sparwick," he whined. "Let up on me, and call it square. You needn't be afraid of any more treachery. We'll take the boys down to the meeting-place, and you will get your five thousand dollars."

"Not a bit of it," exclaimed Sparwick, with a harsh laugh. "I reckon I kin take the boys there alone. An' as fur the money—why, I'm goin' ter have a clean half, an' mebbe more. It all depends on what sort of a drop I kin git on Raikes. Lie still, now."

He thrust his hand into Bogle's pockets, one by one. The prostrate villain struggled hard to prevent the search. His vain pleadings changed to bitter curses.

Sparwick was impervious to both. He went calmly on with his task. He uttered a triumphant chuckle as he drew out the longed-for vial. He quickly uncorked it, and poured the contents generously on his bandanna handkerchief.

Bogle struggled and howled, all in vain. As the deadly cloth was pressed over his nose and mouth he became quiet. His limbs relaxed, and his eyes closed. He lay like a corpse.

With a grunt of satisfaction Sparwick rose to his feet and stretched himself. Then he walked over to the sleds, which were piled at one side of the bed.

"I was justified in that thar," he said, turning to the boys. "The mean cur hed it all fixed ter treat me the same way. You needn't be afeared he's dead. It's only chloroform."

Brick and Hamp watched Sparwick place the vial and the saturated handkerchief carefully on the floor at the foot of the bed. Then he took a knife from his pocket, and cut two pieces of rope from one of the sleds. This done, he negligently dropped the knife and returned to his victim.

He tightly bound Bogle's legs together. Then he set to work on his arms. His back was turned toward the boys, who were sitting up watching him.

Suddenly Brick gave a start. He had discovered that the cords on his wrists were coming loose. He fumbled for an instant, and managed to pull one hand through. His arms were now free.

He held them up in front of Hamp, and at the same time made a warning gesture of silence. Then he leaned softly over, and reached the knife.

Two noiseless strokes, and Hamp's arms were free. Sparwick was still absorbed in his task. Brick now removed his shoes, and motioned to Hamp to do the same. He pointed to the handkerchief, and the vial.

"Are you with me?" he whispered in his companion's ear. "It's a great chance. We can sneak up from behind. It will only take a few seconds. We can hold him that long."

Hamp nodded. Just then Sparwick rose to his feet.

"You lads better go to sleep," he growled. "You've got a long tramp ahead of you ter-morrow."

Then he returned to Bogle, and knelt over him in his old position. He had him securely bound, and now he was going to put a gag in his mouth.

Brick instantly leaned over, and captured the vial and the handkerchief. He resaturated the latter with what chloroform was left. Then he and Hamp exchanged meaning glances. They had a splendid chance, for Sparwick's back was turned toward them.

Then, in their stocking feet, they went swiftly and silently forward, side by side. Now they were right over their intended victim. Brick encircled Sparwick's head with both hands, and pressed the handkerchief against his nostrils.

Taken forcibly and unawares, Sparwick toppled over on his side. He struggled hard for a few seconds, then the stupefying drug did its work, and he lay still, with quivering limbs.

Brick flung the handkerchief across the cave.

"Will they come to life again?" he asked, huskily.

"Of course," replied Hamp. "Don't worry. Chloroform never kills. But we must pull out of here right away. We'll save that fifteen thousand, Brick, if we can only get back to civilization without being caught."

"We'll do our best," replied Brick. "I can imagine Raikes and my guardian waiting for us to-morrow night."

In great haste the boys put on their shoes, snowshoes and caps. Then they took one of the sleds and loaded it with as many of their traps as they could find. They were in such an excited and nervous frame of mind that they overlooked a most important matter. They failed to bind Sparwick. It never occurred to them that he might recover consciousness in a short time, and pursue them.

With a glance at the two ghastly forms lying in the firelight, the lads turned their backs on the Rock House, and scrambled down the hillside to the trough of the valley.

It was now about midnight, and they had not the slightest idea as to the points of the compass. Happily they discovered the faint trace of footprints—evidently made by Raikes. So they followed them in the reasonable belief that they would lead to the settlement of Wytopitlock. But half an hour later the trail seemed to melt away, and after a vain search for it the boys pushed on at random.



CHAPTER XXXV.

A PERILOUS RIDE.

When dawn came, Brick and Hamp were in a miserable plight. They were half frozen, and nearly famished. It was impossible to tell the points of the compass.

"Only so we don't wander back the way we came," said Hamp; "because Sparwick may have recovered his senses by this time."

"I know," replied Brick. "That's why it wouldn't be safe to shoot a bird or something for breakfast. I don't think we're anywhere near the Rock House, though."

"The only thing we can do is to push on," said Hamp. "We may get an outlook from that hill yonder."

The hill was a quarter of a mile distant, but when the boys reached it they found no guiding clew within sight.

"I more than half believe we've been traveling south all the time," said Brick.

"So do I," replied Hamp, "and if that's the case, we're sure to reach civilization sooner or later."

The boys struck through the woods. They were so tired that they stopped frequently to rest during the morning. The sled, too, proved to be a burden; but they held on to it.

Finally they reached a plateau, obstructed with heavy timber, scrub and rocks. Pushing across it, they emerged into a glare of light on the brow of a mountain side.

As far as the boys could see, was a rolling, wintry landscape of woods and hills. At a possible distance of eight or ten miles several wreaths of brownish smoke were stamped faintly against the horizon.

"Look," exclaimed Hamp. "That must be Kingman or Wytopitlock. I'm sure of it. We're on the right track, old fellow."

"With a big tramp ahead of us," added Brick. "I'm so tired I could drop right down and go to sleep. Say, wouldn't this slope make an elegant toboggan slide?"

"Well, I should say so," replied Hamp, in a tone of great enthusiasm.

The boys were right—at least, as far as appearances went. From some natural cause the mountain side was bare of timber and rocks. Its smooth surface of crusted snow fell at a steep but regular angle, and seemed to be unbroken until it was merged with the timber of the bottom of the valley.

As the boys looked, the same idea took root in the mind of each.

"Do you think it would be safe to shoot down on the sled?" asked Brick, doubtfully. "It would save an awfully long walk."

There was a moment of silence and hesitation. Then all choice was summarily taken out of the lads' hands. The heard a snapping of twigs behind them, and, when they wheeled around to look, there stood Kyle Sparwick. A rifle was strapped over his shoulder, but he made no attempt to use it.

"I've got you ag'in," he cried, harshly. "Up with your arms, now. I'm a-goin' ter tie them, an' then we'll start for the meetin'-place. It was purty smart of you lads ter travel in the right direction."

Sparwick enjoyed the consternation of the lads. He watched them with keen satisfaction. The certain prospect of the ransom money made him more lenient and good-humored than he would have been under other circumstances.

"Well," he said, finally. "Are you goin' ter lift your arms?"

It was just then that Hamp remembered the sled, and the long slope of frozen snow. No thought of danger entered into his calculations now. Like a flash, he jerked the sled forward to the verge of the descent.

"Jump on, Brick!" he yelled. "Jump, quick!"

The command was hardly spoken when Brick threw himself flat on the long sled, and clung tightly to the sides. Hamp dropped instantly on top of his companion. There was ample space for them, since the amount of luggage was small.

Just as Sparwick uttered an angry yell, Hamp sent the sled forward by a shove of his foot. The fore end scraped on a hidden chunk of rock that half checked it for an instant. The delay was brief but fatal.

Sparwick dashed forward with a tremendous stride. He grabbed at the sled, but missed it. Then he made a desperate spring, and landed on top of the lads.

The next instant there was a wild, giddy rush—a roaring of wind and a sprinkling of fine snow. The sled, freighted with its living burden, was dashing like a meteor down the mountain side!

It was almost a miracle that the top-heavy sled did not upset. Had the course been less smooth and even, it must have done so at the start.

"Hold tight, lads," shouted Sparwick. "If we upset, we'll be smashed ter pieces."

The sled plunged on in its mad, careening course. Now it was two-thirds down the mountain.

Suddenly Hamp uttered a startled cry, and Brick chimed in lustily. Through the flying cloud of fine snow tossed up by the runners, both lads had made a frightful discovery. Just ahead was a chasm of unknown depth—a treacherously-projecting knob on the slope of the mountain. The white blanket of snow had kept its existence hid until now.

"Scrape your feet," yelled Hamp. "Swing the sled to one side. Quick! quick!"

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.

An early supper was served the boys, and then they hurried off to the Grand Central Depot.

It was nearly noon on Friday when the lads arrived at Kingman. They found a large crowd assembled to meet them, among whom were Jack Mowry and the station agent.

They went at once to the latter's house, and after briefly telling their own story, they were amazed to learn that absolutely no clew of any sort had been discovered.

"Most of the party that was scourin' the woods hev come back," said Mowry. "They was in an' out through every part of the woods, but all ter no purpus. It's mighty queer what them rascals hes done with the lads."

"And how about Raikes and Mr. Glendale?" asked Jerry.

"Not a trace of them has been seen," replied the agent, "though we have kept a careful watch on the trains and made inquiries in various directions. If they left New York at the time your telegram stated, they must have reached this part of the country a good two days ago—even before we were on the watch for them."

"Perhaps they got off at some other station than Kingman," suggested Tom.

"Quite likely," asserted the agent. "In that case, we have missed them. It looks very much as though the rascals were going to collar all that money and get scot-free."

His opinion was reluctantly shared by the others. It was a doleful crowd that sat around the hot stove, vainly pondering what could be done.

But at three o'clock the situation took an unexpected and pleasing turn. A tall, bearded man, clad in a hunter's garb, rushed noisily into the house with two companions.

"Hullo, Ike Carter," exclaimed the agent. "What's up?"

"A good deal, I reckon," replied the other. "I jist heard that you an' Mowry are lookin' fur Silas Raikes. I seen him this mornin' in Hiram Bobb's tavern at Wytopitlock. His mustache was shaved off, but I knowed him all ther same. He was with a swell-lookin' cuss with a beard an' shiny black togs——"

"That was Mr. Glendale," interrupted Tom, rising eagerly to his feet.

At first the news caused great excitement, and it was some time before it could be allayed. Then wise counsels prevailed, and the agent's carefully concocted scheme was adopted.

"There are enough of us here to arrest Raikes without any trouble," he said. "We won't say anything about it outside, but we'll just go quietly to the station, and take the first train to Wytopitlock. It goes in twenty minutes."

This programme was carried out. The party of seven managed to reach the station and board the train without attracting much attention. Wytopitlock was even a less important place than Kingman. It boasted half-a-dozen houses, a store and a tavern. The latter was nearly a quarter of a mile from the station, and stood on the edge of the wilderness. Here bad news awaited the party.

"The men you're inquirin' fur hev been here mor'n two days," said Hiram Bobb, "at least one of them has. Arter dinner they started into the woods. They said they was goin' huntin'. Thar's somethin' queer about it, though. I heard them whisperin' this mornin', an' one, he says to t'other, 'we must git thar by sundown. The place is a big rock about three miles up the valley.'"

Jerry and Tom exchanged meaning glances with the men.

"I know whar that rock is," exclaimed Mowry, "an' I understand the hull thing. Thar's ter be a meetin' at sunset, an' the lad an' the money will change hands."

"And the sun will set in a little less than half an hour," cried the agent. "We've got just about time enough to reach the place."

"What's all this rumpus about, anyway?" gasped Hiram Bobb, with bulging eyes.

The situation was quickly explained to him. He volunteered to accompany the party, and the offer was accepted.

"I hope thar won't be no shootin' needed," said Mowry, "but it's a little unsartin, seein' as thar'll likely be three of the rascals at the meetin'-place instid of one."

A little later the party were advancing softly, and in single file, through the woods. They went swiftly up the trough of the deep and gloomy valley, Mowry leading the way with unerring knowledge.

At last Mowry paused, and waited until his companions had gathered around him. He pointed with one hand to a ledge of rock and bushes that was visible some thirty feet ahead, and stretched two-thirds of the way across the trough of the valley.

"We must git behind that without makin' any noise," he said. "Yonder is the big rock, an' a sort of a clearing roundabout. We'll be able ter see right into it."

Mowry led the party on with extra caution. The increased roar of the torrent drowned their soft tread. Even before they reached the line of rocks they detected voices ahead. Tom and Jerry gained the point of vantage at the same time with Mowry. They cautiously parted the bushes and peered through. The sight that instantly met their eyes well repaid Jerry for all his trouble and suffering in the past.

The fast-fading light showed a group of figures standing at the base of the towering bowlder. They were five in number, Mr. Glendale, Raikes, Sparwick, and Brick and Hamp.

The lawyer had just taken a bulky packet from his pocket, and was unrolling the brown paper in which it was wrapped.

"Git ready, men," whispered Mowry. "Here goes."

Then quickly the ambushed party broke from cover. The scene that followed baffles adequate description. With half-a-dozen weapons trained upon them, Raikes and Sparwick had no alternative but to submit to capture. This they did very ungracefully, and with a choice selection of oaths.

Mr. Glendale dropped the packet of banknotes to the ground—where it was promptly grabbed by Mowry—and shook hands with Tom in a very eager manner. As for Jerry, it may be imagined how his appearance affected Brick and Hamp, who at first thought him a ghost. Then they embraced him, and cried for very joy. In fact, there was vast excitement all around, and everybody was happy but the two baffled villains. Mr. Glendale and the four lads found themselves a little apart from the others. The lawyer took Jerry and Hamp by the hand.

"My brave boys," he said. "I am heartily glad to meet you, and to thank you in the name of his parents for the service you have done Brick. You have saved the money as well, and that, I can assure you, is a great load off my mind. I felt that Brick's life depended on the payment of the ransom.

"Brick," he added, "I hope that this will be a lesson to you. You have seen and experienced the bitter fruits of running away."

"It will, Mr. Glendale," Brick declared, earnestly. "I assure you it will."

Here the discussion ended, for Mowry and his companions were ready to start back. It was a dreary journey for Sparwick and Raikes. When the tavern was reached, they were pinioned, and placed in a room under strong guard.

Hiram Bobb's resources were taxed to their utmost to provide for all his guests that night. But he managed to acquit himself with credit. The rapid eating of the supper that he provided was ample proof of its goodness.

Then everybody assembled in the big front room, with its sand-papered floor, and tall, old clock in the corner. Mr. Glendale told his story, and Jerry told his, and then came Brick, and Hamp, and Tom, and Mowry—in short, everybody had a say, except the fettered rascals in the room overhead.

And here the story may very fittingly end—that is, after a few words have been said about the principal actors therein.

The first thing Mr. Glendale did the next morning was to hand around banknotes to the men who had aided in the capture of Raikes and Sparwick. He also reimbursed Mowry in full for the money he had advanced to Jerry.

A search party went back to the Rock House that day, but they failed to find any trace of Joe Bogle. He must have come to his senses, and released himself in some way. He has not been heard of since, and is supposed to be in Canada.

Raikes and Sparwick were duly tried, and convicted, and put behind stone walls for a term of years. Of course, the affair gained wide publicity, and when Jerry and Hamp returned to Bangor they were objects of some attention.

Mr. Glendale stopped there for a day or two on his way back to New York, with Tom and Brick. He went to see Jerry's parents and Hamp's mother, and also made inquiries concerning the lads from reliable outside sources. Several weeks later each received a check for one thousand dollars, "as a testimonial of Mr. Larkin's gratitude." This timely gift restored both families from poverty to affluence.

Jerry and Hamp frequently hear from Tom and Brick, and the latter are talking of coming up to Maine for a summer camping trip. But before that, the Bangor lads expect to pay a visit to New York, of which city Jerry is accustomed to speak in proud and familiar terms.

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THE FRANK MERRIWELL SERIES

No modern series of tales for boys and youth has met with anything like the cordial reception and popularity accorded to the Frank Merriwell Stories, published exclusively in Street & Smith's Tip Top Weekly, a publication which has today a circulation larger than that of all similar publications combined.

There must be a reason for this, and there is. Frank Merriwell, as portraited by the author, is a jolly, whole-souled, honest, courageous American lad, who appeals to the hearts of the boys.

He has no bad habits, and his manliness includes the idea that it is not necessary a boy to indulge in petty vices to be a hero. Frank Merriwell's example is a shining light for every ambitious lad to follow.

There is sometunes, with parents, a prejudice against all forms of boys' literature in novel style.

We earnest ask all parents to examine the Tip Top, confident that they will comment it to their boys as suitable and profitable to read.

Issued weekly. Sold by all newsdealers 5 Cents a copy

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, New York

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Transcriber's Notes

1. This text appeared under several titles: as "The Camp in the Snow; or, The Plucky Hunters of the Maine Woods" - Good News No. 194-205, 20 Jan-7 Apr., 1894 as "The Camp in the Snow; or, Besieged by Danger" - New York: Street and Smith (Medal Library No. 182), 1902 - Philadelphia: David McKay, 1902 - New York: Street and Smith (Adventure Library No. 96), 1928. 2. This etext derived from 1902 Street and Smith edition. 3. Table of Contents was not present in original edition. 4. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards. 5. Corrections to the text: p. 46: stunnning -> stunning (a stunning blow) p. 72: exent -> extent (to their fullest extent) p. 107: zig-zig -> zig-zag (followed a zig-zag course) p. 131: foosteps -> footsteps (heard crunching footsteps) p. 224: thinkinig -> thinking (thinking about poor Jerry) p. 225: Raines -> Raikes (Raikes on the other)

THE END