“Watch where he goes,” returned the old hunter. “Ah, there’s his tree.” Joe took aim, and the squirrel was brought down just as he was entering his hole. The tree was not a tall one, and Joel Runnell prepared to climb it. “What are you going to do that for?” asked the youth. “For the nuts, Joe. They’ll make fine eating during the evenings around the fire.” It was an easy matter to clean out the hole in the tree—after they had made sure that no other animals were inside. From the place they obtained several quarts of hickory and other nuts, all of which Joel Runnell poured into the game bag he had brought along. “This is easier than picking ’em from the trees,” he remarked. “And that squirrel will never need them now.” By the time the top of the hill was gained, it was almost dark, and the snow had begun to fall. At this point they scared up half a dozen birds, and brought down four. Joel Runnell also caught sight of a fox, but the beast got away before he could fire on it. “We may as well be getting back,” said the old hunter. “It is too dark to look for more game.” “Suppose we separate?” suggested Joe. “I can take to the right, and you can go to the left. Perhaps one or the other will spot something before we get back to the lodge.” This was agreed to, and soon Joe found himself alone. As he hurried on as fast as the deep snow permitted, he heard Joel Runnell fire his gun twice in succession. “He has seen something,” thought the youth. “Hope I have equal luck.” He was still on high ground when he came to something of a gully. Here the rocks had been swept bare by the wind. As he leaped the gully something sprang up directly in front of him. What the animal was Joe could not make out. But the unexpected appearance of the beast startled the young hunter, and he leaped back in astonishment. In doing this he missed his footing, and the next instant found himself rolling over the edge of the gully to a snow-covered shelf ten feet below. “Help! help!” he cried, not once, but half a dozen times. He had dropped his gun, and was now trying his best to cling fast to the slippery shelf. But his hold was by no means a good one, and he found himself slipping, slipping, slipping, until with a yell he went down, and down, into the darkness and snow far below. In the meantime, not only Harry and Fred, but also Joel Runnell were hurrying to his assistance. But the darkness and the falling snow made the advance of the three slow. They came together long before the edge of the gully was reached. “Hello!” cried the old hunter. “Was that Joe calling?” “It must have been,” answered Harry. “But where is he?” “He wasn’t with me. When we started back to the lodge we separated. I just shot another brace of squirrels, when I heard him yell.” “I think the cry came from that direction,” said Fred, pointing with his finger. “And I think it came from over there,” said Harry, pointing in another direction.