Arthur M. Winfield

“ They knew only too well the danger of becoming lost in those wild mountains.
"Perhaps he has fallen in with Baxter's party," suggested Dick, as they came to a halt at the edge of a cliff overlooking a rushing river far below. It was past the breakfast hour, yet none of them felt like eating.
"Be careful how you expose yourself," observed Jack Wumble, as he screened himself and his horse behind some brush. "It won't do no good to Tom to let your enemies see you."
"If only we hadn't lost the trail," sighed Sam. ”

“ No, we must keep within sight of each other, no matter what we do. Come, I have an idea of looking into the valley on the other side of this hill, and then we can try the hill yonder."
Anything was better than sitting still, and once more they rode on. ”

“ But he could not stop himself entirely, and reaching the stream at last he went in with a loud splash and disappeared from view!
"Dick's gone!" ejaculated Sam. He tried to look over the edge of the cliff. "Oh, my! He will be drowned!"
He had heard the splash, as had also Wumble, and now both dismounted with all speed and crept to the very edge of the bushes. But the cliff bulged outward just below them and they could see nothing but a strip of the water on the opposite side.
"Dick! Dick!" sang out the brother. "Are you safe?" ”