“I think Harry is right,” said old Runnell. “Go slow, boys. There are many pitfalls among the rocks.” He led the way, and they came after him, spreading out a distance of several rods. Presently they reached the gully, but not at the point where Joe had taken the fall. “Hello, Joe? Where are you?” called Harry. No answer came back, and the call was repeated several times. Not a sound broke the stillness of the evening. “He’s in trouble, that is certain,” said Harry, looking more anxious every minute. “Perhaps he fell over the rocks, and broke his neck,” put in Fred. “Oh, Fred, do you think he did?” “Let us hope for the best, lads,” broke in Joel Runnell. “If he wasn’t badly hurt he’d answer us,” went on Harry. “I wish we had the lantern.” “I’ll go back for it,” said Fred, and hurried for the lodge without further words. Joel Runnell had started along the edge of a ravine, with his face close to the rocks and snow. Now he came to a halt. “Here are some footprints,” he declared. “Wait till I strike a light.” He lit a match, and with this set fire to a dry pine bough. The footprints were there plain enough. “Joe!” he called, sharply. “Joe, are you below?” “Yes,” came faintly to his ears. “He’s here!” shouted the old hunter. “Where?” and now Harry came up quickly. “He’s down below.” Harry bent over the dark opening. “Joe, are you badly hurt?” he questioned. “I—I guess not. But my—my wind is g-g-gone!” “We’ll soon have you up.” “We can’t do it without a rope,” said old Runnell. “Better go back to the lodge for one.” Harry caught Fred just coming away with the lighted lantern. The rope was quickly procured, and both sped back to the gully. Then Harry was lowered, taking the light with him. He found Joe sitting on a ledge of rocks, his feet in the snow. One hand was scratched and bleeding, and there was blood on one of his cheeks. “It was a nasty fall, I can tell you that,” said Joe, when he felt able to talk. “When I came down I thought it was all up with me.” “You can be thankful you didn’t break any bones, Joe,” returned his brother, tenderly. A sling was made, and Joe was hoisted up by old Runnell and Fred, and then Harry came up, carrying the shotgun. By this time it was pitch-dark on all sides, and the snow was coming down thickly. “It’s good we have the lantern,” observed Harry. “It is going to be no easy job getting back to the lodge.” Joel Runnell led the way, and the boys followed, with Joe in the middle leaning on the others’ shoulders. Progress was slow, and it took the best part of an hour to reach Snow Lodge. “Jumping bullfrogs! if I didn’t leave the door wide open!” cried Fred, in consternation. “Well, we’ll forgive you this time,” laughed Joe Runnell. “But don’t let it happen again.” The lodge was cold, but with the door shut tight and a good fire the temperature soon arose. Then Fred slipped down to the lake, and brought in the fish that had been caught.