They had completely forgotten their surroundings when a deep growl close at hand aroused them and caused the boy to leap to his feet. He gazed into the brushwood fronting the jagged rocks and the base of the cliff and uttered a cry of alarm.

"What is it, Dave?" questioned his father.

"Two bears – the one we wounded and another and bigger one."

CHAPTER XXIX

BEARS AND WOLVES

At the announcement from Dave, Mr. Porter tried to rise to his feet. He could not stand on both legs, and so had to rest against one of the rocks. From this point he, too, could see the two bears; but a moment later both animals were hidden completely by the brushwood and the snow.

"I am afraid they mean business," said Dave, anxiously.

"They are hungry and the deep snow has made it hard for them to get food," answered Mr. Porter.

"I thought bears went into winter quarters in a place like this."

"So they do sometimes, but not always. Besides, I disturbed the wounded bear when I fell over the cliff, and I presume that other beast is his mate."

"I wish I had a rifle. I could get a better shot than with this pistol."

"A good double-barreled shotgun would be a fine thing, Dave. But we'll have to use what we've got. Don't shoot until you are certain of your aim," added Mr. Porter.

A portion of his strength had come back to him, and the new alarm gave him temporary vigor. Yet he knew that to fight off two angry bears would not be easy, and he looked around for some better shelter than that which they at present possessed.

"Here is a small opening between the rocks, – let us back into it, if the bears press us too closely," said he.

He had scarcely spoken when the wounded bear advanced, followed closely by its mate. Dave waited until the foremost beast was within a dozen paces of him, then he fired. There was a growl of pain and the bear tumbled back, landing against its mate.

"Good!" cried Mr. Porter. "Look out!" he added, a second later. "The other one is coming!"

He was right. The bigger bear of the two came forward with a bound, landing almost at Dave's feet. Crack! crack! went Mr. Porter's pistol, and the huge animal was hit twice, in the breast and in the neck. The bear uttered a sound that was half growl and half yelp and then came on again. Crack! went Dave's pistol, and the bullet hit the beast directly in the teeth, knocking one of them down the animal's throat. Wounded and alarmed, the bear stood still, and again the boy fired, and then the bear turned and lumbered away into the brushwood, wounded just sufficiently to make it thoroughly disagreeable. The other bear followed; and the battle, for the time being, came to an end.

"Come, Dave, it is dangerous to stay out here," said Mr. Porter. "Let us go back into the hollow, and bring that fire with you if you can."

Mr. Porter crawled back and the youth followed, dragging the burning brushwood behind him. Then Dave took both pistols and reloaded the empty chambers with all possible speed.

"I see you have learned the first rule of hunting," said his father, with a smile.

"What is that?"

"Never to carry around an empty or partly empty weapon. I kept my pistol loaded up as long as I had any cartridges left."

"I wish I had some more brushwood to put on the fire – that would keep the beasts off. Wonder if I can't break some of the stuff off?"

"Don't go out yet, Dave – it's dangerous," pleaded Mr. Porter.

"I'll keep my eyes on the bears, never fear," was the reply.

With caution the youth crawled over to the nearest patch of brushwood, a distance of fifty feet. As he broke off some of the dry twigs a low growl reached his ears. But he kept at the task until he had as much as he thought he could carry.

But Dave never got the brushwood where he wanted it, for as he commenced to drag it along both bears leaped from their hiding-place and one landed almost on top of him. Crack! crack! went his pistol, and the weapon Mr. Porter possessed sounded out three times. Each bear was wounded again, but Dave received a blow from a rough paw that sent him headlong. He rolled over and over in the snow, and then leaped for the shelter, and his father dragged him to temporary safety. While this was going on the bears started to retreat. This time they left the brushwood entirely and stationed themselves behind the nearest belt of firs, about fifty yards away.

"I told you to be careful," said Mr. Porter, as Dave got up and faced about. "Are you seriously hurt?"

"N – no, bu – but that bear knocked me do – down as if he was a pri – prize-fighter!" gasped Dave. "Phew! but they are powerful!"

"If he hadn't been wounded he might have killed you. You must take no more chances. Promise me you won't, Dave. I don't want to lose you right after finding you!" And Mr. Porter turned an appealing look into the lad's eyes.

"I'll be on guard, father. And don't you take any chances either," added Dave, gazing at his father in a manner which spoke volumes.

They found the hollow under the cliff to be less than two yards deep and of about the same width. The rocks overhead hung down so that they touched Dave's head. In front was a small snowdrift, looking over which father and son could just make out the two bears, as they squatted on the ground between the firs. The beasts did considerable growling and did what they could to take care of their wounds, yet they showed no disposition to leave that vicinity.

"They must be very hungry," was Mr. Porter's comment. "Otherwise they wouldn't remain here after being punished so badly;" and he was right: the animals were well-nigh starved, hence their recklessness.

Half an hour went by, and Dave and his parent remained under the cliff. Without a fire it was extremely cold, and they had to stamp around to keep warm. At times Mr. Porter felt rather faint from his wounds, but he kept this from Dave as much as possible. Yet presently the boy noticed it.

"I must get you out of this soon," he said. "You need regular medical attention."

"I shan't mind it, Dave, if only I can keep warm."

"Maybe I can get that brushwood now, father."

"No, do not attempt it."

There was a spell of silence after that, and then Dave raised his pistol.

"Do you know what I am going to do?" he said. "I am going to discharge four shots at the bears. Even at this distance I ought to be able to do some damage."

"Well, you can try it, Dave. But I don't think you'll accomplish a great deal. Their hide is too tough."

Dave brushed the snow from the rocks in front of him, knelt down, and rested his arm with care. Then he took careful aim at the bear that had first appeared. Crack! went the pistol four times in rapid succession. The bear gave a leap, clawed at its face several times, and then, with a grunt of agony, turned and fled among the firs and out of sight.

"Hurrah! that did some damage!" cried the youth, as he started to reload. "Now I'll see if I can hit the other bear – Hello, he's gone, too!"

The boy was right, the larger beast was also lumbering off, evidently frightened by the way its mate had been treated. Soon it, too, had disappeared from view. Mr. Porter and Dave watched for a long time, but neither animal came back.

"They may possibly return, but I doubt it," said Dave. "Anyway, I don't think they'll come back right away, and that will give us a chance to escape."

"Not if we must go back through that patch of timber, my son."

"Let us try to get away by walking along the base of the cliff. We are bound to strike some sort of a mountain trail sooner or later. But, pshaw, I forgot that you can't walk. Well, maybe I can carry you."

"No, it will be too much of a load, Dave. We had better wait awhile." And so they sat down and waited, after Dave had brought in the brushwood he had previously broken off. A roaring fire cheered them greatly, and once more each related his experiences. Mr. Porter told how he had traveled in many parts of the world, and said that Dave must some day do the same. He asked the youth about his education, and when Dave related how he had won the medal of honor at Oak Hall his face beamed with pleasure.

"I certainly owe Professor Potts and Mr. Wadsworth a good deal," he said. "And I shall not forget them. You could not have fallen among better friends."

"I believe that," answered Dave, warmly. "Professor Potts and all of the Wadsworths have been just as good as they could be to me."

Almost before they knew it darkness came on. Dave brought in more of the brushwood and even dragged over some limbs of a fallen fir. Luckily he had brought along enough provisions for several meals, and they proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as possible in the hollow of the cliff. They ate slowly, talking the while and each smiling warmly into the face of the other.

"It seems almost too good to be true," said Mr. Porter, not once but several times.

"And, oh, I am so thankful!" responded Dave.

Mr. Porter was so weak he needed sleep, so Dave told his parent to lie down on some of the brushwood, which he spread out as a couch next to the rocky wall.

"But what will you do, my son?" asked Mr. Porter.

"I'll remain on guard – so those bears don't get a chance to surprise us."

"But aren't you sleepy?"

"No – I'm so happy I don't think I'll be able to sleep for a week."

Mr. Porter lay down and closed his eyes, but it was a good hour before he dropped into a doze. Dave sat by the fire, where he could look at his father's face. It seemed as if he would never get done gazing at those features, so like his Uncle Dunston's.

"Found at last!" he murmured. "Found at last, and thank God for it!"

Two hours passed, and still Dave sat in the same position, thinking of the past and speculating on the future. He thought of his sister Laura and wondered how soon they would meet, and if she and Jessie would become friends.

"What's that?"

The boy leaped to his feet, and the sudden movement aroused his father. Both listened to a yelping and a growling at a distance. The yelping grew louder and louder, while the growling grew fainter.

"I know what it is!" cried Dave, at length. "Some wolves have gotten on the trail of those wounded bears. Now there will be a battle royal!"

"You must be right, Dave. Hark! The wolves must number a dozen or more."

"Sounds like about half a hundred to me, father."

The battle took place at the far end of the forest of firs and gradually grew fainter and fainter. Mr. Porter shook his head doubtfully.

"I don't like this, Dave."

"What, aren't you glad that the bears have been attacked? I am."

"It isn't that. If those wolves want more meat they'll follow up that bloody trail – and it leads directly over here."

"Phew! I never thought of that. I'll stir up the fire – that will help to keep them at a distance." Dave set to work with avidity, piling on nearly all of the brushwood that was left. He had just completed the task when he chanced to look beyond into the waste of snow. He saw a pair of gleaming eyes – then another pair and still another.

"The wolves are coming, father!" he cried, in consternation.

"I see them, Dave, and we are going to have the fight of our lives to keep them off," answered Mr. Porter.

CHAPTER XXX

HOME AGAIN – CONCLUSION

In a few minutes the wolves had come up and were glaring at Mr. Porter and Dave as they crouched close to the camp-fire. There were fourteen of the beasts, all large, lean, and hungry-looking. They sniffed the air and set up yelps and mournful howls. Two found the spot where one of the bears had been wounded and pawed at the blood which had saturated the snow.

"Oh, for a brace of good shotguns!" sighed Dave. "We could scatter them in short order."

"When we shoot we must make every shot tell," said his father. "And keep the cartridges where we can get at them quickly. How many left, Dave?"

The youth counted the contents of the box he carried.

"Seventeen."

"Hardly enough for fourteen wolves. Yes, we must be very careful. If they – They are coming closer!"

"Let us fire off one pistol at a time!" cried Dave. "Then we'll always have one ready for use."

Mr. Porter did not answer, for he was aiming at the nearest beast. With the discharge of the pistol the wolf leaped high in the air, turned and came down on its side, and began to kick the snow in its death agony.

"A good shot!" exclaimed Dave.

"You can try your luck," said Mr. Porter. "I will take out that empty shell and reload."

The other wolves had surrounded the one that was dying, and taking aim at the center of the pack Dave let drive. One wolf was hit in the nose and the bullet glanced off and hit another in the jaw. Wild yelps of pain followed, and the two wolves turned and ran for cover with all possible speed.

"We have gotten rid of three of them," said Dave, with much satisfaction. "If we keep this up we'll soon get rid of the rest."

"It is snowing again," announced Mr. Porter.

He was right, and soon the downfall became so heavy that they could see next to nothing beyond the circle of light made by the camp-fire. But that the wolves were still near they knew by the yelps and snarls which occasionally reached their ears.

A quarter of an hour went by, and the snow came down as thickly as ever. A light wind had sprung up, and this sent the flakes directly into the hollow under the cliff. Mr. Porter heaved a sigh.

"More bad luck," he observed. "By morning, if this keeps on, we'll be snowed in."

"Look," said Dave. "I believe the wolves are getting ready to rush us!"

Both strained their eyes and soon saw seven or eight of the beasts sneaking softly up through the snow. The light from the camp-fire shone in their eyes and on their white fangs. They were growing desperate, and hoped by sheer force of numbers to lay their human prey low.

"Fire three shots, Dave, and I will do the same," said Mr. Porter, in a low tone. "Aim as carefully as you can, my boy."

The various shots rang out in rapid succession. How much damage was done they could not tell, although they saw two wolves go down and lie still. The others retreated, some limping, and the entire pack went back to the shelter of the brushwood.

They had now only a few cartridges left, and these they divided between them. Then Dave stirred up the fire a little and placed the burning sticks so they would last as long as possible. Father and son looked at each other and suddenly stepped closer and embraced.

"God grant, now we have found each other, that we get from this spot in safety," murmured Mr. Porter, fervently.

"Oh, we must get away!" added Dave, impulsively.

"All we can do is to fight to the last, Dave."

"Yes."

Both knew only too well what to expect should the wolves get the better of the contest. "As cruel as a wolf" is a true saying. They would be torn limb from limb and only their bones would be left to tell to some later traveler the story of their fate. They decided, with set faces and shut teeth, to fight to the very last.

Another quarter of an hour went by, and soon they heard the wolves coming back. Neither said a word, but both looked at each other.

"Take those on the left, – I will take those on the right," whispered Mr. Porter. "But be careful – every shot means so much!"

"I'll shoot my very best," answered Dave.

After that not a word was spoken. Silently the beasts came closer and closer. Dave's heart began to beat rapidly. Then, when he could wait no longer, he aimed at the nearest animal on the left and pulled the trigger.

Two shots, one from the son and the other from the father, rang out almost simultaneously, and down went two wolves mortally wounded. Crack! went Dave's weapon a second time, and now a wolf was hit in the neck. Then Mr. Porter fired, sending a bullet into a breast that was presented to view. With four of their number out of the fight, the other wolves turned and fled into the brushwood and then toward the forest of firs.

The battle had been of short duration, but the excitement had been intense, and Dave found himself bathed in a cold perspiration from head to foot. His father, too, was weak, and now sank on the rocks, breathing heavily.

Only one small branch of a tree remained for the fire, and this Dave set up, so that it might burn as a torch. When that was gone they would be in utter darkness – and then? The youth shivered as he asked himself the question. He knew that wild animals love the darkness and are braver in it than in the light.

"Hello! hello! hello!"

Loud and clear from above the cliff the cry rang out a dozen times or more. At first Dave thought he must be dreaming, then he roused up and so did his parent.

"What was that?" demanded Mr. Porter.

"Somebody calling, I think." Dave ran out of the hollow and looked upward through the falling snow. "Who calls?" he yelled, at the top of his lungs.

"It is I, Granbury Lapham, and I have my brother and the others with me. Is that you, Porter?"

"Yes."

"Have you found your father?"

"Yes."

"How is he?" came in another voice – the voice of Philip Lapham.

"He is hurt a little, but not much."

"I'll be all right if I can only get out of here," called Mr. Porter, coming out so that he could look up the cliff. "We've been having our own troubles with two bears and a pack of wolves."

"We thought there must be trouble – by the shots fired," said Granbury Lapham. "That's why we started out in the darkness." He waved a torch in the air. "Can you see us?"

"We can see a light," answered Dave. He took up the branch from the fire. "Can you see our light?"

"Yes."

A long talk followed, and the party above, numbering four, said they had brought along a good rope. This they lowered, and after not a little difficulty Mr. Porter and Dave were raised up to the ledge above.

"There come the wolves again!" cried the youth, as he reached the ledge. "Have you a shotgun with you?"

"Yes," said Philip Lapham. "Please lend it to me."

The weapon was passed over, and Dave blazed away twice in rapid succession. A wild snarling and yelping followed, and then the wolves disappeared; and that was the last seen of them.

"We are well out of that," murmured Mr. Porter. "And I am glad of it."

"And I am glad too," added Dave.

As it was snowing heavily the party did not waste time on the edge of the cliff, but moved back to a small hut built on the mountain side and which was easily located by the Norwegian guide. Here they found the others of the exploring party, and here Mr. Porter and Dave were served with a hot meal and made as comfortable as possible.

The snow lasted until noon of the next day, and then it grew clear and much warmer. On the following day Dave and his father and the guide went down the mountain to the sheep-station. Before they left they bade the Laphams and the others good-bye, and Mr. Porter said he would leave the question of locating the mines entirely in Philip Lapham's charge.

"You can draw on me for my full share of the expenses," said Mr. Porter. "And if nothing comes of the venture I won't complain." It may be added here that, later on, several mines of considerable importance were located, and when Mr. Porter sold out to a syndicate that was formed he realized a profit of about fifteen thousand dollars.

At the sheep-station Dave found Roger anxiously awaiting his return. The senator's son was delighted to meet Mr. Porter, and the two immediately became great friends.

As the weather remained fine it was decided to start on the return to Christiania without delay. Mr. Porter took Granbury Lapham's place in the sleigh, and the party took with them a good stock of provisions. The journey was not without excitement, for they met and killed two wolves, and once they rolled down a small hill and were dumped in the snow, but in the end they arrived safely at the nearest railroad station, and from that point the remainder of the trip was easy.

At the Norwegian capital a long cablegram was sent to Dunston Porter by Dave and his father, telling of their meeting and stating that they and Roger would return to the United States at once. They also wanted to send a cablegram to Laura, but could not, for they did not know her exact address.

"I shall have to wait until I hear from her, or until we get on the other side," said Mr. Porter. "More than likely she is somewhere out West, – perhaps on Mr. Endicott's ranch with Belle Endicott, her friend. I had the address of the ranch, but I lost it while I was up in the mountains." From Christiania, or rather the seaport, Dröbak, they obtained passage on a swift-sailing vessel to Hull, and then took a train across England to Liverpool. They had already telegraphed ahead for staterooms on a Cunard steamer bound for Boston, and two hours after arriving at Liverpool were on board and leaving the dock.

"This is fast traveling," remarked Roger, as they stood on the deck, watching the shipping scene around them. "In less than a week we'll be home. Dave, in some respects our trip to Norway seems like a dream."

"That is true, Roger – but what a happy dream!" And Dave's face fairly beamed with thankfulness.

When they took the train from Boston to Crumville Dave could scarcely control himself. Word had been sent ahead to the Wadsworths and Caspar Potts, and at the depot the travelers found all of their friends awaiting them. Mr. Porter was quickly introduced, and shook hands warmly all around.

"Oh, Dave, I'm so glad to see you back!" cried Jessie. "And to think you have really found your father at last! Isn't it splendid!"

"Yes, Jessie; and if I'm not the happiest boy in the world – well, I ought to be, that's all."

"And what a fine man he is – and looks very much like your Uncle Dunston, and looks like you, too," added the girl. She lowered her voice and it trembled a little. "I am so happy – for your sake, Dave!" And the tears stood in her deep, honest eyes.

It was truly a great home-coming, and Dave's father was told to make himself perfectly at ease by Mr. Wadsworth.

"You have been more than kind to Dave," said Mr. Porter. "You and your family, and Professor Potts. Dave has told me all about it. I do not know if I can ever repay you, but I shall try my best." And he shook hands all over again.

On the very day that Dave reached Crumville came a letter from Phil Lawrence, who had received word that Dave was coming home. In this communication Phil said that matters were running smoothly at Oak Hall. Sam Day and Ben Basswood had had some trouble with Nat Poole, and the dude had received a well-deserved thrashing. Gus Plum was keeping very quiet, and had made a few more friends.

"You will be surprised to hear the news about Link Merwell," wrote Phil. "I cannot tell you the start of it, but it ended in a great row between Merwell and Mr. Dale. Merwell is very bitter about it, and claims that I in some way got him into trouble. He went home for a vacation, and before he left he shook his fist in my face and said, 'I'll get even with you some day, and I'll get even with that friend of yours, Dave Porter, too.' He was fearfully ugly, and acted as if he wanted to eat somebody up."

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