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Table of Contents
Expert Python ProgrammingSecond Edition
Credits
About the Authors
About the Reviewer
www.PacktPub.com
eBooks, discount offers, and more
Why subscribe?
Preface
What this book covers
What you need for this book
Who this book is for
Conventions
Reader feedback
Customer support
Downloading the example code
Errata
Piracy
Questions
1. Current Status of Python
Where are we now and where we are going?
Why and how does Python change?
Getting up to date with changes – PEP documents
Python 3 adoption at the time of writing this book
The main differences between Python 3 and Python 2
Why should I care?
The main syntax differences and common pitfalls
Syntax changes
Changes in the standard library
Changes in datatypes and collections
The popular tools and techniques used for maintaining cross-
version compatibility
Not only CPython
Why should I care?
 Stackless Python
Jython
IronPython
PyPy
Modern approaches to Python development
Application-level isolation of Python environments
Why isolation?
Popular solutions
virtualenv
venv
buildout
Which one to choose?
System-level environment isolation
Virtual development environments using Vagrant
Containerization versus virtualization
Popular productivity tools
Custom Python shells – IPython, bpython, ptpython, and so on
Setting up the PYTHONSTARTUP environment variable
IPython
bpython
ptpython
Interactive debuggers
Useful resources
Summary
2. Syntax Best Practices – below the Class Level
Python's built-in types
Strings and bytes
Implementation details
String concatenation
Collections
Lists and tuples
Implementation details
List comprehensions
Other idioms
Dictionaries
Implementation details
Weaknesses and alternatives
 Sets
Implementation details
Beyond basic collections – the collections module
Advanced syntax
Iterators
The yield statement
Decorators
General syntax and possible implementations
As a function
As a class
Parametrizing decorators
Introspection preserving decorators
Usage and useful examples
Argument checking
Caching
Proxy
Context provider
Context managers – the with statement
General syntax and possible implementations
As a class
As a function – the contextlib module
Other syntax elements you may not know yet
The for … else … statement
Function annotations
The general syntax
The possible uses
Summary
3. Syntax Best Practices – above the Class Level
Subclassing built-in types
Accessing methods from superclasses
Old-style classes and super in Python 2
Understanding Python's Method Resolution Order
super pitfalls
Mixing super and explicit class calls
Heterogeneous arguments
Best practices
Advanced attribute access patterns
 Descriptors
Real-life example – lazily evaluated attributes
Properties
Slots
Metaprogramming
Decorators – a method of metaprogramming
Class decorators
Using the __new__() method to override instance creation
process
Metaclasses
The general syntax
New Python 3 syntax for metaclasses
Metaclass usage
Metaclass pitfalls
Some tips on code generation
exec, eval, and compile
Abstract Syntax Tree
Import hooks
Projects using code generation patterns
Falcon's compiled router
Hy
Summary
4. Choosing Good Names
PEP 8 and naming best practices
Why and when to follow PEP 8?
Beyond PEP 8 – team-specific style guidelines
Naming styles
Variables
Constants
Naming and usage
Public and private variables
Functions and methods
The private controversy
Special methods
Arguments
Properties
Classes
 Modules and packages
The naming guide
Using the has or is prefix for Boolean elements
Using plurals for variables that are collections
Using explicit names for dictionaries
Avoiding generic names
Avoiding existing names
Best practices for arguments
Building arguments by iterative design
Trust the arguments and your tests
Using *args and **kwargs magic arguments carefully
Class names
Module and package names
Useful tools
Pylint
pep8 and flake8
Summary
5. Writing a Package
Creating a package
The confusing state of Python packaging tools
The current landscape of Python packaging thanks to PyPA
Tool recommendations
Project configuration
setup.py
setup.cfg
MANIFEST.in
Most important metadata
Trove classifiers
Common patterns
Automated inclusion of version string from package
README file
Managing dependencies
The custom setup command
Working with packages during development
setup.py install
Uninstalling packages
setup.py develop or pip -e
 Namespace packages
Why is it useful?
PEP 420 – implicit namespace packages
Namespace packages in previous Python versions
Uploading a package
PyPI – Python Package Index
Uploading to PyPI – or other package index
.pypirc
Source packages versus built packages
sdist
bdist and wheels
Standalone executables
When are standalone executables useful?
Popular tools
PyInstaller
cx_Freeze
py2exe and py2app
Security of Python code in executable packages
Making decompilation harder
Summary
6. Deploying Code
The Twelve-Factor App
Deployment automation using Fabric
Your own package index or index mirror
PyPI mirroring
Deployment using a package
Common conventions and practices
The filesystem hierarchy
Isolation
Using process supervision tools
Application code should be run in user space
Using reverse HTTP proxies
Reloading processes gracefully
Code instrumentation and monitoring
Logging errors – sentry/raven
Monitoring system and application metrics
Dealing with application logs
 Basic low-level log practices
Tools for log processing
Summary
7. Python Extensions in Other Languages
Different language means – C or C++
How do extensions in C or C++ work
Why you might want to use extensions
Improving performance in critical code sections
Integrating existing code written in different languages
Integrating third-party dynamic libraries
Creating custom datatypes
Writing extensions
Pure C extensions
A closer look at Python/C API
Calling and binding conventions
Exception handling
Releasing GIL
Reference counting
Cython
Cython as a source to source compiler
Cython as a language
Challenges
Additional complexity
Debugging
Interfacing with dynamic libraries without extensions
ctypes
Loading libraries
Calling C functions using ctypes
Passing Python functions as C callbacks
CFFI
Summary
8. Managing Code
Version control systems
Centralized systems
Distributed systems
Distributed strategies
Centralized or distributed?
 Use Git if you can
Git flow and GitHub flow
Continuous development processes
Continuous integration
Testing every commit
Merge testing through CI
Matrix testing
Continuous delivery
Continuous deployment
Popular tools for continuous integration
Jenkins
Buildbot
Travis CI
GitLab CI
Choosing the right tool and common pitfalls
Problem 1 – too complex build strategies
Problem 2 – too long building time
Problem 3 – external job definitions
Problem 4 – lack of isolation
Summary
9. Documenting Your Project
The seven rules of technical writing
Write in two steps
Target the readership
Use a simple style
Limit the scope of information
Use realistic code examples
Use a light but sufficient approach
Use templates
A reStructuredText primer
Section structure
Lists
Inline markup
Literal block
Links
Building the documentation
Building the portfolio
 Design
Usage
Recipe
Tutorial
Module helper
Operations
Making your own portfolio
Building the landscape
Producer's layout
Consumer's layout
Working on the index pages
Registering module helpers
Adding index markers
Cross-references
Documentation building and continuous integration
Summary
10. Test-Driven Development
I don't test
Test-driven development principles
Preventing software regression
Improving code quality
Providing the best developer documentation
Producing robust code faster
What kind of tests?
Acceptance tests
Unit tests
Functional tests
Integration tests
Load and performance testing
Code quality testing
Python standard test tools
unittest
doctest
I do test
unittest pitfalls
unittest alternatives
nose
 Test runner
Writing tests
Writing test fixtures
Integration with setuptools and a plug-in system
Wrap-up
py.test
Writing test fixtures
Disabling test functions and classes
Automated distributed tests
Wrap-up
Testing coverage
Fakes and mocks
Building a fake
Using mocks
Testing environment and dependency compatibility
Dependency matrix testing
Document-driven development
Writing a story
Summary
11. Optimization – General Principles and Profiling Techniques
The three rules of optimization
Make it work first
Work from the user's point of view
Keep the code readable and maintainable
Optimization strategy
Find another culprit
Scale the hardware
Writing a speed test
Finding bottlenecks
Profiling CPU usage
Macro-profiling
Micro-profiling
Measuring Pystones
Profiling memory usage
How Python deals with memory
Profiling memory
objgraph
 C code memory leaks
Profiling network usage
Summary
12. Optimization – Some Powerful Techniques
Reducing the complexity
Cyclomatic complexity
The big O notation
Simplifying
Searching in a list
Using a set instead of a list
Cut the external calls, reduce the workload
Using collections
deque
defaultdict
namedtuple
Using architectural trade-offs
Using heuristics and approximation algorithms
Using task queues and delayed processing
Using probabilistic data structures
Caching
Deterministic caching
Nondeterministic caching
Cache services
Memcached
Summary
13. Concurrency
Why concurrency?
Multithreading
What is multithreading?
How Python deals with threads
When should threading be used?
Building responsive interfaces
Delegating work
Multiuser applications
An example of a threaded application
Using one thread per item
Using a thread pool
 Using two-way queues
Dealing with errors and rate limiting
Multiprocessing
The built-in multiprocessing module
Using process pools
Using multiprocessing.dummy as a multithreading interface
Asynchronous programming
Cooperative multitasking and asynchronous I/O
Python async and await keywords
asyncio in older versions of Python
A practical example of asynchronous programming
Integrating nonasynchronous code with async using futures
Executors and futures
Using executors in an event loop
Summary
14. Useful Design Patterns
Creational patterns
Singleton
Structural patterns
Adapter
Interfaces
Using zope.interface
Using function annotations and abstract base classes
Using collections.abc
Proxy
Facade
Behavioral patterns
Observer
Visitor
Template
Summary
Index
Expert Python
ProgrammingSecond Edition
Expert Python
ProgrammingSecond Edition
Copyright © 2016 Packt Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in

a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means,
without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the
case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

Every effort has been made in the preparation of this book to ensure
the accuracy of the information presented. However, the information
contained in this book is sold without warranty, either express or
implied. Neither the authors, nor Packt Publishing, and its dealers
and distributors will be held liable for any damages caused or
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Packt Publishing has endeavored to provide trademark information

about all of the companies and products mentioned in this book by
the appropriate use of capitals. However, Packt Publishing cannot
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First published: September 2008

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The ladder led up a distance of about twenty feet, and they could
see the blue sky above. The sight made them sigh with relief. It was
as if a heavy weight had been lifted from them.
"Up you go," said Frank. "We'll be out of here in no time, now."
"I'll say we're lucky."
"I never thought we'd see daylight again. The old sky looks pretty
good, doesn't it?"
"Never looked so good to me before."
Joe put his foot on the first rung of the ladder. Although the mine
had evidently been deserted many years before, the ladder leading
down into the shaft still held firm. Slowly he began to ascend.
Frank came behind. Each was filled with relief that they had escaped
imprisonment in the abandoned mine, imprisonment that might
easily have meant a wretched death. The cold wind about their faces
was like the breath of life to them.
Suddenly Joe stopped.
"Listen!" he whispered.
They remained still. Then, from above, at the top of the shaft, they
could hear voices.
"That cave-in must have finished them," some one was saying. "The
whole shaft is gone."
"They might have found their way out," replied another voice.
"These two mines lead into each other."
"I didn't know that."
"Yes—there's a tunnel leading down into their main drift."
"Oh, those kids would never find it. Probably they were crushed to
death by the cave-in, anyway."
The voices died away as the men evidently moved back from the
neighborhood of the shaft-head.
"Some one has been looking for us," said Joe, in a low voice.
"They've given us up for dead. They'll get a surprise when we pop
up out of the ground. Evidently they weren't going to try to dig us
out. Go on up."
Joe resumed his climb and in a few minutes he emerged above
ground, stepping off the top of the ladder to a rickety platform
covered with snow. Frank scrambled up beside him, and then the
two brothers stared in amazement at what they saw.
Three rough-looking men were standing only a few yards away. One
was a tall, surly chap in a short, fur coat. He was badly in need of a
shave and his brutal chin and heavy jowls were black with a stubble
of beard. The other two were short and husky of build. One was
clean-shaven and thin-featured, the other had a reddish mustache.
About the waist of one of the men, the thin-featured fellow, was a
belt with a holster from which projected the butt of a revolver. The
three were villainous in appearance.
As though some sixth sense warned the men that they were
observed, they whirled about and confronted the Hardy boys.
The men were as surprised as the lads. Both Frank and Joe realized
that there was something unsavory about the strange trio and when
they saw the thin-featured man suddenly reach for his revolver they
knew that they were confronting not friends, but enemies.
"That's them!" shouted the man in the fur coat excitedly. "Grab
them!" And with that he began to run toward the two boys. "No
shooting!" he shouted to the thin-featured fellow, who promptly
shoved his revolver back into the holster.
"Run for it," muttered Frank.
He wheeled about and commenced to run down the hillside in the
general direction of the town.
The snow was deep and it hampered their movements, but the
pursuers also experienced this handicap. Frank and Joe were
exhausted by their gruelling experience in the mine and they were
unable to make good progress. The man in the fur coat came
leaping after them, ploughing through the snow recklessly. He
gained rapidly on them.
"Stop or we'll shoot," he roared.
This was but a bluff, and the Hardy boys recognized it as such. They
raced madly on through the deep snow that clung to their limbs and
held them back. Joe was lagging behind, unable to keep up the
pace. The man in the fur coat was only a few feet back of him. The
fellow leaped ahead and sprang at Joe in a football tackle that
brought the boy down. The pair went rolling over and over in the
snow, kicking and scrambling.
Frank stopped and turned back. He could not desert his brother and
he was prepared to be captured with him at the expense of his own
freedom. He met the thin-faced man, who led the other pair of
pursuers, with a slashing blow in the face that knocked the man off
his balance so that he tumbled backward into the snow with a grunt
of pain and amazement. The short, stocky man came on with a
growl. Frank swung and missed; then his attacker closed with him
and they struggled to and fro in the snowbank.
His assailant twined one foot about Frank's leg and they toppled
over into the snow. By that time the thin man had scrambled to his
feet and again launched himself into the struggle. Frank Hardy was
completely overpowered.
He was dragged roughly to his feet, his arms gripped behind his
back. Joe had been no match for his more powerful antagonist and
he too had been forced to submit to capture.
The trio held the boys in their power.
"What'll we do with 'em?" asked the thin-faced man gruffly.
"Bring 'em back to the mine first," said the fellow in the fur coat. "I
guess the boss will want to see these birds."
Frank and Joe were roughly bundled up the hillside again by their
captors. All the time Frank's mind was in a whirl. Who were these
three men? Why had they attacked them? Why had they been
hunting for them in the first place? And who was "the boss" they
spoke of?
In due time they reached the shaft-head again and there the man in
the fur coat faced them.
"Who are you two boys?" he demanded.
"Who are you?" countered Frank.
"That doesn't matter. What's your names?"
"Tell us yours first."
"What were you doing in that mine?"
"What did you attack us for? Why are you keeping us here?"
The man in the fur coat became impatient at receiving questions
instead of answers.
"Are you the Hardy boys?" he asked. "Sons of that detective?"
"Try and find out."
"We'll find out, all right," declared the man in the fur coat
threateningly. "We'll take you to somebody that'll make you talk."
"You'd better let us go or the whole three of you will find yourselves
in jail," said Frank.
The man laughed shortly.
"No fear," he said. "Not in Lucky Bottom, at any rate." He turned to
the other two men. "Keep these boys here," he ordered. "I'll be back
in a while. Don't let them get away!"
"Where are you going, Jack?" asked the thin-faced man.
"I'm going to get Black Pepper. He'll make these birds talk."
With that the fellow stalked away through the snow. Frank and Joe
glanced quickly at one another. They knew now the explanation of
their capture. They were in the hands of three members of the gang
of the notorious Black Pepper, the outlaw.

CHAPTER XV
The Trap
The man of the thin features produced the revolver from its holster
and sat down on a snow-covered rock near the top of the shaft. He
held the weapon negligently, but there was no doubt that he could
level it at the Hardy boys in a second if they attempted to escape.
"You can sit down if you want," he said. His partner still retained a
tight grasp on Frank. "Let him go, Shorty. I've got this gun here and
I guess they won't try to get away. We may as well be comfortable."
The fellow addressed as "Shorty" moved away from Frank and sat
down by his companion. The Hardy boys found a heap of rocks near
by and seated themselves. They knew there was no use of
attempting to escape as long as that ugly-looking revolver was in the
hand of their captor.
"Say, Slim," remarked Shorty, "do you think Black Pepper is at the
camp?"
The other man nodded.
"Yeah! He came back this morning."
Slim looked up at the Hardy boys.
"What were you guys lookin' for in that mine, anyway?"
"Oysters," replied Frank, with a grin.
"None of your funny stuff," rapped out Slim. "We'll make you talk
soon enough. We know what you're after."
"What did you ask us for, then?" asked Joe.
The outlaws were silent. They saw that nothing was to be gained by
seeking information from the lads. They were content to await the
return of Black Pepper and their companion Jack.
Frank and Joe Hardy sat on the snow-covered rocks in silence.
Slowly Frank put his hand behind his back and began to grope about
among the rocks. He knew that they were loose and that they were
of various sizes. The idea had occurred to him that if he could but
use one of them as a weapon he might be able to disarm Slim and
perhaps effect his escape and that of his brother.
Bit by bit he groped about. One rock was too large for him to grasp.
Another was too small to be of any use. Finally his hands closed
about a good-sized stone that came from the rest of the pile without
much difficulty.
He calculated the distance and eyed the revolver warily. Frank had
been pitcher on the Bayport high school nine and the accuracy of his
aim had often been the despair of opposing batsmen. Now he called
on all his skill.
Without moving from his position he suddenly brought up the rock
and flung it with all his strength directly at the revolver in Slim's
hand. The outlaw's grip on the weapon had relaxed in his
indifference, and when the stone struck its mark, full and true, the
gun went flying into the deep snow.
"Come on, Joe!" shouted Frank scrambling to his feet. He had
noticed a path leading through the snow in the direction of the road
that went to Hank Shale's cabin and he ran toward this path with all
the speed at his command. Joe had not been slow to grasp the
situation, and he too came racing through the snow but a few paces
behind.
The outlaws were taken off their guard. Slim instinctively reached for
his revolver, but it had disappeared in the snow and he wasted many
precious seconds hunting for it. Shorty had leaped after the boys,
then, seeing that his companion did not follow, he hesitated, ran
back, and then turned around again. He did not know what to do.
"After them!" roared Slim, and Shorty took up the pursuit. But his
indecision had given the Hardy boys the opportunity they needed.
They had a good start on their pursuer and Shorty was but a clumsy
runner at best. Frank gained the path and there his progress was
swifter because he was not handicapped by the impeding snow. Slim
finally abandoned his search for the weapon and also took up the
chase, but by this time he was far behind.
The boys gained the main road, with Shorty ploughing along in
pursuit. Even yet they were not safe, but chance came to their aid in
the shape of a stage that ran from Lucky Bottom to one of the
neighboring camps. It rattled along, with sleighbells jingling, the
driver muffled to the ears, and when Shorty and Slim caught sight of
it they slowed up and abandoned the chase. The open road was a
dangerous place. They did not wish any interference from the stage
driver or his passengers.
When Frank and Joe saw that their pursuers had turned back they
slowed down to a walk. Hank Shale's cabin was already in sight.
"We gave them the slip, all right," declared Frank jubilantly.
"I'll tell the world we did. Black Pepper and the other fellow will be
hopping mad when they come back and find that we've escaped."
"We'll have to be on the lookout for them from now on. They won't
stop until they do lay their hands on us."
"Perhaps it's just as well. We can be on our guard. If we weren't
expecting anything wrong we'd be liable to walk right into their
arms."
When the boys reached the cabin they found their father and Hank
Shale greatly worried by their prolonged absence. They told of their
descent into the abandoned mine, of the cave-in, and of their
subsequent escape, of their capture by Black Pepper's men and of
their get-away. Mr. Hardy looked grave.
"I think we'd better drop the case," he said finally. "It's too big a risk
to take."
"Why?" asked the boys, in surprise.
"You might have been buried alive in that mine, in the first place. I
would never have forgiven myself. And now that you have run up
against Black Pepper's gang they'll be out to get you. I don't want to
be responsible for making you run those risks."
"We won't drop the case," laughed Frank. "It's just getting
interesting now. We'll find that gold for you, Dad."
"Don't worry about us," chimed in Joe. "We can look after ourselves.
We probably won't be up against any worse dangers than the ones
we faced to-day."
"Well," said Mr. Hardy, reluctantly, "you've come all the way out
here, and I suppose you'll be disappointed if I don't let you go
ahead; but I don't want you to take any unnecessary risks."
"I'm thinkin' they'll pull through all right," said Hank Shale solemnly.
"Let the lads be, Mr. Hardy."
So, with this encouragement, Mr. Hardy consented to let his sons
continue their activities on the case. Both Frank and Joe promised to
take all due precautions and next morning they resumed their search
for the missing gold.
During the days that followed they explored several abandoned
workings, but the hunt was fruitless. They succeeded only in getting
themselves well covered with dirt and grime and would return to the
cabin hungry and weary. There had been no sign of any members of
Black Pepper's gang. But finally Hank Shale, who had been down to
the general store at Lucky Bottom one day, had news for them.
"They be sayin' down town," declared the old miner, "that Black
Pepper and his gang have broke up camp."
"Have they left Lucky Bottom?" asked Mr. Hardy quickly.
Hank Shale shook his head. "Nobody knows. They had a camp
somewheres back in the mountain, but they've all cleared away from
it. Maybe the two lads here scared 'em."
"They've likely just moved to a new camping place," remarked
Frank.
"I hope so," said Mr. Hardy. "If they've gone away it means that the
gold has gone with them. If they're still around we have a chance
yet."
Frank and Joe said nothing, but when they went to bed that night
they talked in whispers in the darkness.
"What's the program for to-morrow?" asked Joe.
"We're going to find out if any of that gang are still around."
"Do you mean we'll go out looking for them?"
"Sure! It's just as dad says—if they've gone away the gold has gone
with them. If they're still hanging around we'll know there's still a
good chance of finding it ourselves."
"Where shall we look?"
"Up in the mountains. We can look around for trails in the snow."
"Suits me, as long as they don't catch us."
"That's a chance we have to take."
So next morning, without revealing their plans to any one, the boys
started out into the mountains. It was a gloomy day and the sky was
overcast. The lowering, snow-covered crags loomed high above
them as they headed toward a narrow defile not far from the
abandoned mine where they had been captured by Black Pepper's
men some days previous. It was toward this defile that the man
called Jack had gone on his way to summon Black Pepper, and the
boys judged that the outlaws' abandoned camp was probably
somewhere in that direction.
They discovered a narrow trail through the snow. It was a trail that
had evidently been much used, for the snow was packed hard by the
tramp of many feet.
"I think we're on the right track, all right," said Frank. "Even if we
only find the deserted camp we may get some clues that will help
us."
The boys went higher up into the mountain and at last they came to
a protected spot beneath an overhanging crag, where the snow had
not penetrated. Here the trail ended in a long platform of bare rock.
They went across it, but were unable to pick up the trail again,
although they searched about in every direction.
Suddenly Frank said to his brother in a low voice:
"Don't look around. Keep straight ahead."
"What's the matter?"
"There's some one following us. I just caught a glimpse of him out
of the corner of my eye. He's hiding behind the rocks back there."
"Let's tackle him."
"There may be others with him. Let him follow, and if he's alone
we'll grab him."
Without giving any indication that they had seen their pursuer, the
Hardy boys cut down into a narrow ravine where huge masses of
boulders made progress difficult. They came to a place where rocks
rose on either side so close together that there was room for only
one person to pass at a time. As soon as they had gone through the
opening Frank leaped to one side, motioning to his brother to take
the opposite side of the boulders. They were now completely hidden
from the man who followed.
"We'll get him when he comes through," whispered Frank.
They waited expectantly.
At last they heard the crunch of snow that indicated the
unsuspecting man was approaching. Cautiously he drew nearer, step
by step. The boys prepared themselves.
The man drew nearer. He was just entering the passage between
the boulders. Frank and Joe pressed themselves against the rocks.
They saw a head appear in view, then the shoulders of the man. He
stepped forward and, at the same moment, they sprang at him.
Frank launched himself full on the fellow's shoulders and he gave a
cry of surprise. At the same time Joe flung his arms about the man's
waist and all three came tumbling to the ground. There was a flurry
of snow as they struggled, but the fight was short-lived. Taken
completely by surprise, the man was quickly overcome. He had
reached for a revolver at his waist, but Frank had seen it in the nick
of time and had struck it from his grasp. He seized the weapon
himself and pressed the barrel of it to the fellow's temple.
"All right! All right!" he gasped. "I give in."
There was something familiar about the voice. The man turned his
head about and they saw that it was the man known as Slim, the
thin-faced fellow who had been among their captors several days
before.

CHAPTER XVI
Information

"So it's you!" said Frank.

"Just my luck," muttered the outlaw, in disgust. "I might have known
better!"
Still leveling the revolver at Slim, Frank relinquished his grasp and
stood back. Joe also withdrew. Slim, holding his hands above his
head and keeping a wary eye on the weapon, got to a sitting
position.
"This is luck," Frank remarked. "We hadn't expected to meet again
so soon."
"If I'd had any brains I wouldn't have let myself step into a trap like
this," growled Slim.
"What were you following us for?"
"What were you doing up here?"
"Trying to find you," said Joe cheerfully.
"Where's Shorty and Jack and Black Pepper?"
Something in the man's question made Frank think quickly. Was it
possible that Slim had become separated from the rest of the gang?
"I suppose you know the camp's broken up?" he remarked.
A look of surprise leaped into Slim's face.
"No," he said, hoarsely. "I've been away. What happened? You don't
mean to tell me——"
"We're telling you nothing."
"They caught the gang?" went on Slim.
"Wait until we take you down to Lucky Bottom. You'll find out all
about it then," said Frank, evasively. If Slim thought the rest of the
outlaws were captured he might be more disposed to talk.
"I might have known it," said Slim gloomily. "They were gettin' too
careless. I told 'em a hundred times they'd be tripped up, especially
after lettin' you two give us the slip."
"We might be able to make it easier for you," Frank suggested.
"How?"
"If you've got any information to give us we might be able to put in
a word for you."
Slim looked at them steadily for a moment. Then he asked:
"What kind of information do you want?"
"You know what we're hunting for."
"The gold?"
"Of course."
Slim was silent for a moment.
"That gang has been tryin' to double-cross me all along," he said at
last. "I don't owe 'em nothin'. They would have cleared out with the
gold and left me here if they could."
"Did they know where it was hidden?" asked Joe.
"Of course some one knew. They didn't dare make a get-away with
it as long as Fenton Hardy was watchin' them. I guess the game is
all up now, though. If they've got Black Pepper in jail they'll make
him come through and tell where it was hidden."
"Don't the others know?"
Slim shook his head. "He wouldn't tell any of us. He hid the gold
himself and we couldn't find out where. He said he was afraid we'd
be double-crossin' him and stealin' it on him. I think he planned to
take it himself and ditch the whole bunch of us."
"What do you know about it?"
"I know everythin' about it," said Slim boastfully. "Everythin' except
where it was hidden."
"Who owned it in the first place?"
"You ought to know that as well as me. Bart Dawson and one of the
Coulsons had it. Dawson blew into camp a while ago with Coulson
and they dug up this gold. Dawson had it hid away some place. It
must be about twenty years ago since he's been here. At least that's
what Black Pepper said. He was in Lucky Bottom when Dawson was
here before."
The Hardy boys exchanged glances of surprise. The names of Bart
Dawson and Coulson were familiar. These were Jadbury Wilson's
partners and the gold must be the gold that Wilson presumed
Dawson had stolen from them. There was a mystery here that they
could not fathom. If Dawson had stolen the gold, why did he bring
Coulson back with him? Why had he waited for twenty years before
returning to dig up the loot?
"And Black Pepper's gang stole it from Dawson?" persisted Frank.
The outlaw nodded.
"Haven't you an idea where he hid it?"
"It was in one of the old mines somewhere around here. That's how
we knew you fellows were after it when we found you were
searching through the workings."
"Where was your camp?"
Slim looked up at them. "Don't you know?"
"We know it's deserted. We were on our way to try to find it."
"Don't kid me," sneered the outlaw. "You know where it is all right.
You were headin' right for it when I began to follow you. You're not
any too far away from it now."
This was a stroke of luck that they had not expected. Unwittingly,
they had been on the right trail to the camp all the time.
"What are you going to do with me?" asked Slim.
"We're going to take you down to Lucky Bottom," said Frank.
"Aw, let me go," whined the outlaw. "I've told you all I know about
it."
Frank shook his head.
"I think you'll be safer in behind the bars."
"The sheriff's a good friend of our gang. He'll fix things for me."
"That's up to you and the sheriff. If he tries to fix anything this time
he'll get into trouble. We'll see to that. You'd better come with us."
Frank gestured with the revolver and Slim got unwillingly to his feet.
Then, making the outlaw lead the way, the boys started back down
the trail toward Lucky Bottom. Both Frank and Joe were anxious to
resume the search for the outlaw's camp, but they were confident
that they could find it now, from the fact that Slim had admitted
they were on the right trail.
They made the journey back to town without incident. Their arrival,
with Slim marching ahead and Frank keeping the outlaw covered
with the revolver, created a sensation. Word quickly sped about the
mining camp that one of the members of Black Pepper's notorious
gang had been captured and a crowd congregated about the jail as
the little procession disappeared into the sheriff's office.
The sheriff was a shifty-eyed man of middle age, obviously weak
and susceptible to public opinion. When he saw Slim led into the
office he scratched his head dubiously.
"We want this fellow locked up," said Frank.
"What fer?" asked the sheriff reluctantly.
"For being mixed up in the gold robbery, for one thing. If that isn't
enough you can hold him for carrying a revolver. If that isn't enough
we'll charge him with assault, pointing a weapon, and half a dozen
other things."
"I don't know," drawled the sheriff. "It ain't quite usual——"
Clearly he did not wish to put Slim in a cell. Frank became impatient.
"Look here," he said. "You're sheriff here and your duty is to lock up
lawbreakers. We'll give you all the evidence you need against this
chap, but we want him kept where he can't do any harm. If you're
afraid of Black Pepper——"
"I'm not afraid of nobody," said the sheriff hastily.
Just then the door opened and a bearded old prospector strode in.
He went right up to the desk and shook his fist beneath the sheriff's
nose.
"Lock him up," he roared. "We've stood for about enough from you,
and I don't care whether you're sheriff or not. If you're goin' to
encourage outlaws and thieves, me and the boys will mighty soon
see that there's a new sheriff in this here man's town."
Frank and Joe then saw that other miners were standing in the
doorway, crowding against one another, muttering truculently.
The sheriff blinked, wavered, and finally gave in.
"I just wanted to make sure it was all right," he muttered. "Don't
want to lock anybody up that don't deserve it."
"You know mighty well that Slim Briggs deserves it, if any one in this
camp ever did," retorted the old miner. "Lock him up."
The sheriff took a ponderous bunch of keys from his pocket and
unlocked a heavy door leading to the cells. "This way, Slim," he said
regretfully.
Slim Briggs followed him into the cell. He looked around, plainly
expecting to see the rest of the gang in jail as well. Suspicion
dawned on him.
"Where's the others?" he demanded wrathfully.
"What others?" asked the sheriff mildly.
"Black Pepper—the rest of the boys."
"They ain't here."
Slim gaped in astonishment.
"They ain't here?" he shouted finally. "Why, those boys told me
they'd all been rounded up! I spilled everything I knew, just so I'd
get let off easy!"
"You're the only one that's been pinched," said the sheriff.
"So far," added Frank pointedly.
Then, as Slim Briggs burst into a wild outbreak of bitter
recrimination against the way in which he had deceived himself, the
boys withdrew and the cell door clanged.
The old miner laughed and slapped Frank on the shoulder.
"I guess Bart Dawson come along just in time!" he declared. "Sheriff
would have let that bird go if I hadn't got the boys to back you up."
He turned to the sheriff. "We've seen that Slim is in jail," he said.
"You're responsible for keepin' him there. If he gets out—" he
snapped his fingers ominously—"it means a new sheriff in Lucky
Bottom."

CHAPTER XVII
The Outlaw's Notebook

"Are you Bart Dawson?" asked Frank.

"That's me," said the old man. "I'm the fellow they stole that there
gold from."
The Hardy boys looked curiously at the old miner. From what they
had heard of Bart Dawson from Jadbury Wilson they had been
prepared to dislike him. But he appeared so genial and friendly and
his grizzled old face was apparently so honest that they could not
help but feel drawn to him. He certainly did not look like the sort of
man who would desert his partners and rob them in the way
Jadbury Wilson had described. Still, the evidence seemed all against
him. He had betrayed his comrades and decamped with their gold,
according to Wilson's story.
But why, argued Frank, should he wait twenty years to return for the
wealth he had hidden? Why should he return with one of the
Coulsons? Could it be possible that the pair had been in league with
one another against Jadbury Wilson? The mystery defied
explanation, but the more Frank looked at the jovial, honest face of
the old man before him the more he was convinced that Bart
Dawson had none of the earmarks of either thief or traitor.
"We've got one of 'em behind the bars now," said Dawson, rubbing
his hands with satisfaction. "I only wish we had 'em all."
"Perhaps we will have them all before long," remarked Frank. "We've
run across a few clues that may lead to something."
"That's good! That's good!" declared the old man. "Do your best,
lads, and you may be sure Bart Dawson won't forget you."
Frank and Joe forbore any mention of the name of Jadbury Wilson.
It was best, they decided, to keep that information to themselves
until they should learn more about the affair of the stolen gold. They
had long since learned that one of the axioms of successful detective
work is to listen much and say little. Accordingly, they bade good-
bye to Bart Dawson and left the jail.
"Where to?" asked Joe.
"Back to where we caught Slim Briggs. We were on the right trail to
the camp."
"But if the outlaws have left there isn't much use going up there
now."
"We never know what we'll find."
The boys made their way up into the mountains again and, after
about an hour of steady traveling, found themselves on the trail that
led into the defile where they had trapped Slim so neatly. On the
way they discussed their meeting with Bart Dawson.
"I can't imagine that old fellow being the kind of man who would
desert his partners and steal their gold, the way Jadbury Wilson
described," said Frank, for the tenth time. "I just can't figure it out at
all! You can tell with half an eye that he isn't a crook."
"Yet Jadbury Wilson was absolutely convinced that he had left them
all in the lurch."
"And he had the gold in his possession. We know that. He came
back here to dig it up. That shows he must have hidden it, as Wilson
said he did. The whole story hangs together mighty well."
"Yet why should he bring Coulson with him?" objected Joe.
"That's another queer angle. I can't figure it out at all. I think we
should see Coulson and tell him what we know, tell him what
Jadbury Wilson told us, and ask him about it."
"That's the best idea. But isn't it strange how Jadbury Wilson, away
back in Bayport, should be connected with this case, away out here
in Montana?"
"It's a coincidence, all right. We just seem to have blundered into
the affair from both ends. Bart Dawson and Coulson know a lot that
we don't know, but then we know a lot that Bart Dawson and
Coulson don't know."
"I think we hold the advantage. To-morrow we'll try to find Coulson."
The boys were going down the defile now and they passed between
the overhanging rocks where they had captured the outlaw. The
marks of the struggle were still plainly evident in the snow.
"Poor Slim!" remarked Frank, with a laugh. "He'll be kicking himself
all around the cell for talking so much."
"He was nicely fooled. He was sure the rest of the gang were all in
jail."
"We didn't tell any lies about it. He took it for granted that the
outlaws were arrested. All we did was to look wise and let him keep
on thinking so." The boys chuckled at the recollection of the ease
with which the dull-witted Slim had been duped.
"If only the rest of them are that easy!" said Frank.
"No such luck. I'm thinking this Black Pepper will give us trouble
before we are through. He seems to have Lucky Bottom pretty well
under his thumb."
"He has the sheriff buffaloed, at any rate, by the looks of things. If
Bart Dawson hadn't shown up when he did I don't think Slim Briggs
would have been put in jail at all."
The trail now led toward a clump of trees, and here there were
evidences of recent habitation. Some of the trees had been chopped
down, presumably for firewood, and the stumps rose above the level
of the snow. There were numerous footprints about the little grove
and in some places the snow was closely packed down. As the boys
drew closer they caught a glimpse of a small cabin in the midst of
the grove.
"We'll go easy from now on," said Frank quietly. "Some of them may
have come back."
The boys went cautiously forward, keeping to the shelter of the
trees as much as possible. Every few moments they would stop and
listen.
But they heard not a sound. There was not a voice from the cabin.
The only noises were the rustling of the trees in the wind. Quietly,
the Hardy boys stole up toward the cabin. It stood in a little clearing
in the wood. At the edge of the clearing they waited, but still they
heard nothing, and finally Frank was satisfied that the place was, in
fact, deserted.
"No one here," he said, in a tone of relief. "We'll take a look around."
They advanced boldly across the clearing, directly toward the door of
the cabin. It was half open. Frank peered inside.
The place was deserted. The cabin was sparsely furnished, with a
rude table, two chairs, and bunks on either side. There was a small
iron stove at the far end of the building and the place was dimly
lighted by one window.
There was every evidence that the outlaws had left the place in a
hurry. Papers, articles of clothing and rubbish of all kinds lay about
the floor, scattered here and there in abandon. One of the chairs
was lying overturned on the floor. The place was in confusion.
The boys entered.
"Looks as if they didn't waste much time in getting out," remarked
Joe.
"I'll say they didn't. The cabin looks as if a cyclone had hit it."
"Wonder if there'd be any use looking through those papers." Joe
indicated a scattered heap of old envelopes, letters, tattered
magazines and torn sheets of paper lying on the floor.
"That's just what I was thinking." Frank scooped up a handful of the
papers and sat down on a bunk. He began to sort them over. The
magazines he flung to one side as worthless. Some of the sheets of
paper contained nothing but crude attempts at drawing or penciled
lists of figures presumably done by some of the outlaws while idling
away their time in the cabin.
One or two of the letters, Frank put to one side, as liable to give
some clue to the identity of members of the gang. When he had
looked through the first handful of papers he picked up some more.
Suddenly he gave an exclamation of satisfaction.
"Find something?" asked Joe.
"This may be valuable." Frank held up a small black notebook and
began flipping the pages. On the inside of the cover he read:
"Black Pepper—his book."
"This is the captain's own little record book. There should be some
information here."
Frank began studying the book carefully. The first few pages gave
him little satisfaction, the writing consisting largely of cryptic
abbreviations evidently in an improvised code known only to the
outlaw himself. There were the names of several men written on
another page, and among them he recognized the names of Slim,
Shorty and Jack, the trio who had captured them at the abandoned
mine working. Across from their names had been marked various
sums of money, evidently their shares of the gang's takings in some
robbery.
Then, on the next page, he found a crude map.
He studied it curiously. It looked something like the ground floor
plan of an extremely crude house. There was one large chamber
with two passages leading from it. One of these passages was
marked with an X, and each passage led to a small chamber. From
one of these led still another passage which branched into a tiny
room, in one corner of which was inscribed a small circle.
"That's the funniest plan of a house I ever saw!" said Joe, looking
over his brother's shoulder.
Frank studied the plan for a few moments and then looked up.
"Why, it isn't a house at all. It's a mine!" he declared. "This is the
plan of a mine. This big room is the main working at the bottom of
the shaft, and these passages are tunnels leading out of it."
"Perhaps it's the mine where the gold is hidden!" cried Joe, in
excitement.
"There may be something about it on another page." Frank turned
the leaf of the notebook. There he found what he was so eagerly
seeking.
At the top of the page was written, in a scrawling, unformed hand:
"Lone Tree Mine." Beneath that he found the following:
 "Follow passage X to second cave, then down tunnel
to blue room. Gold at circle."
Frank looked up at his brother.
"This is what we wanted," he said jubilantly. "They've had the gold
hidden there all the time. All we have to do now is find the Lone
Tree Mine and we'll recover the stuff in no time."
"Unless the outlaws have taken it away by now," pointed out Joe.
"That's right, too. I hadn't thought of that. They may have taken it
away right after they abandoned this camp. Well, we've just got to
take our chances on that. If they've left it in the mine this long they
may think it's safe enough there a while longer." Frank got up from
the bunk and stuffed the notebook into his pocket. His eyes were
sparkling with excitement. "Joe, I believe we're on the right track!
We know just where the stuff has been hidden and I've a hunch it's
there yet. We haven't any time to lose. Let's start right now, before
those rascals get ahead of us, and hunt for the Lone Tree Mine."
"Why, I'll bet I know where that is!" declared Joe. "Don't you
remember an old mine working near where they caught us the other
day? There was a big pine right by the top of the shaft, standing all
by itself."
"I'll bet that's the place! Come on! We'll try it, anyway!"
Hastily, they left the little cabin. They were sure now that they were
on the trail of the hidden gold. Frank remembered the lone pine tree
that Joe had mentioned; it seemed to identify the abandoned
working as the place they sought.
It was snowing heavily as they started down the trail but the boys
scarcely noticed it in their excitement. They even forgot that they
had not had their lunch.
"If the outlaws haven't beaten us to it," declared Frank, "we'll have
that gold before the day is out!"
 CHAPTER XVIII
The Blizzard
The Hardy boys set off down the trail at a good pace. The wind
howled down from the crags and whistled through the trees. The
entire mountain was veiled in a great mist of swirling snow and, as
the wind rose, the snow stung their faces and slashed against them.
"Storm coming up," said Frank, burying his chin deeper into his coat
collar.
"I hope it doesn't get any worse. We'll never find the place."
"We won't give up now. If we wait until to-morrow it may be too
late."
The storm grew rapidly worse. The snowfall was so heavy that it
obscured even the tops of the great masses of rock and it quickly
drifted over the trail so that the boys were forced to follow the path
by memory. This was difficult, as in some places the trail had wound
about through tumbled masses of boulders and when it was hidden
by snow they had to guess at its intricate windings. Several times
Frank lost it altogether, but he was always able to pick up the trail
again in some place that was sheltered from the storm.
The boys struggled on in silence. The wind was increasing in volume
and the snow was so heavy that Joe could scarcely see the dim form
of his brother but a few yards ahead. Suddenly he saw his brother
stop.
"I've lost the trail!" shouted Frank, turning back.
They were standing ankle deep in snow. There was not the slightest
vestige of a path. High above them they could discern the gloomy
mass of a steep rock cliff and before them loomed a sloping declivity
of rock that afforded not the slightest foothold.
"I lost the trail farther back, but I thought I was following it all right
and could pick it up farther on. We'll have to turn back."
They retraced their steps. So furiously was it snowing that their own
footprints were almost obliterated and they could scarcely find their
way back to the place where they had left the trail. They found it
again, however, and struck out in another direction.
It was growing bitterly cold, and although they were warmly clad
they began to feel the effect of the chill wind that swept down from
the icy mountain slopes. They pulled their caps down about their
ears and made their way slowly forward against the terrific wind that
buffeted them and flung sheets of snow against them.
Frank gave a shout of triumph when he finally picked up the trail
again in the shelter of some huge rocks where the snow had not yet
penetrated. They advanced with new courage.
At length they emerged through the defile where the trail to the
outlaw's deserted camp led off the main trail up the mountain, and
then they rested.
Far below them they could see the slope of the mountain, veiled in
sweeping banners of snow that shifted and swirled madly in the
blustering wind. The town was hidden from view, obscured by the
white blizzard.
"Do you think we should try to make it?" asked Frank.
"The mine?"
"Yes."
"You're leading this procession. Whatever you want to do."
"If you think the storm is too bad, we'll start for the cabin."
"What would you rather do?"
"I hate to give up now," replied Frank, after a moment of hesitation.
"I feel the same way about it," Joe said. "I vote we try to find the
mine. Once we get there we'll be able to get in out of the storm,
anyway."
"I thought you'd say that," laughed Frank. "We'll head for the Lone
Tree Mine then. As far as I can remember it is just below us, and
then over to the right."
"We'll find it, I guess."
They started down the slope. But once they left the shelter of the
rocks where they had rested they found that the fury of the storm
was increased tenfold on the mountainside. The full force of the
blizzard struck them.
The wind shrieked with a thousand voices. The snow came sweeping
down on them as though lashed by invisible whips. The roar of the
storm sounded in their ears and the fine snow almost blinded them.
"It's worse than I thought," muttered Frank.
The slope was steep and precipitous. They could not distinguish the
details of the trail other than as a vaguely winding path that led
steadily downward. Frank lost his footing on a slippery rock and
went tumbling down the declivity for several yards before he came
to a stop in a snowbank. He got to his feet slowly and limped on,
suffering from a bruised ankle.
The trail wound about a steep cliff and he skirted the base of it, then
disappeared between two high masses of rock. Joe could dimly see
the figure of his brother, and he hastened on so as not to lose sight
of him.
But when Joe came around the rocks he was confronted by an
opaque cloud of snow, like a huge white screen that had dropped
from the skies. He could not see Frank at all.
He followed the trail as well as he could, but in a few moments he
came to a stop. He was out on the open mountainside and the winds
at this point converged so that the snow seemed to be swirling
about him from all sides. The faint trail had been wholly obliterated.
He shouted.
"Frank! Frank!"
But the wind flung the words back into his teeth. A feeling of panic
seized him for a moment, but he quickly calmed himself, for he
realized that when Frank looked behind and saw they were
separated, he would retrace his steps.
He went on uncertainly a few paces, until it occurred to him that he
might be wandering in the wrong direction and that if Frank did turn
back he might not be able to find him. So he tried to return to the
trail again. But the snow was falling so heavily by now that he
seemed to be wandering in an enormous grey void, from which all
direction had been erased.
He was hopelessly lost, so he stood where he was and shouted
again and again. There was no answer. He could only hear the
constant howling of the wind, the sweep and swish of snow.
Once he thought he heard a faint cry from far ahead, but he could
not be sure, and although he listened intently he could hear it no
more.
As he stood there on the rocks, with the snow sweeping down on
him and with the wind howling about him, with only the gaunt,
gloomy shapes of the boulders looming out of the heavy mist of
storm, Joe felt the icy clutch of the cold and he began to beat his
arms against his chest so as to keep warm. He knew the danger of
inaction in such a blizzard.
Anything was better than remaining where he was. He struggled
forward, slipped and fell on the rocks, regained his feet, and moved
slowly on into the teeth of the wind. He did not know whether he
was following the trail or not but, to the best of his judgment, he
tried to descend the slope.
As for Frank, he had been plunging doggedly on through the storm,
confident that Joe was close behind, and it was not until he had
gone far down the trail that he became aware that his brother was
not following. He turned, and when he could no longer discern the
figure in the storm behind he retraced his steps, shouting at the top
of his lungs.
There was no answer.
He searched about, going to left and right of the trail. He did not
dare go far, being fearful of losing the trail himself. Frank was
alarmed lest Joe had slipped and fallen on the rocks and injured
himself. If he were unable to proceed he would freeze to death, lying
helpless on the mountainside.
With this thought in his mind, he searched frantically. He tried to
follow back up the trail, but the snow had swept over his footsteps
and he soon found himself knee-deep in a heavy drift and he knew
he had lost the path.
He tried to regain the trail, but the white screen of snow was like a
shroud over the rocks and he had lost all sense of direction.
He floundered about in the snow aimlessly, but the trail constantly
evaded him. Frank set his jaw grimly and went hither and thither,
stopping every little while to shout. He knew that the wind drowned
out his voice and he realized the futility of his cries, but still he
hoped that there was just a chance that Joe might hear him.
Frank Hardy felt an overpowering sense of loneliness as he
wandered about among the rocks and the deep drifts. He seemed to
be alone in a world of swirling, shrieking winds and flailing snow that
stormed down from a sky of leaden hue.
He shouted again and again, but to no avail.
It was mid-afternoon, but the sky was so dark that it seemed almost
dusk. If darkness fell and they were lost out on the mountain there
was little hope that they would survive until morning. They would
perish from exposure.
"I'd better go back to Hank Shale's place and get a searching party
to come up and look for Joe," he thought.
This seemed the only sensible solution. But when he turned and
tried to find the trail down the mountain again he found that it
eluded him. There was not the vestige of a trail, not the sign of a
path.
"And I'm lost too!" he muttered.
The wind shrieked down from the rocks. The snow swirled furiously
about him. The blizzard raged. The roaring of the storm drummed in
his ears as he stumbled and floundered about among the rocks and
snow.
The Hardy boys were lost, separated, in the storm.

CHAPTER XIX
The Lone Tree

Suddenly, Frank Hardy had an inspiration.

In the shelter of some rocks he cleared away the snow, then began
to search about for wood in order to build a fire. If he were lost the
best plan was to build a fire which would serve the double purpose
of keeping him warm and possibly guiding Joe toward him as well.
He found some small shrubs and stunted trees and managed to
break off enough branches to serve as the basis of a fair-sized blaze.
He had matches in a waterproof box in his pocket, and after several
unsuccessful attempts he finally managed to get a fire going. The
wood was damp, but the small twigs caught the blaze and within a
few minutes the flames were leaping higher and higher and casting
warmth and radiance.
Frank crouched beneath the rocks and warmed himself by the fire.
Once in a while he got up and went away to search for more wood
to cast on the blaze. Occasionally he peered through the screen of
snow in the hope of seeing some sign of Joe. At intervals, he
shouted until he was hoarse in the hope of attracting his brother's
attention.
The flames leaped up in the wind and as he piled more wood on the
blaze the fire grew brighter. It was in a sheltered spot where the
gusts of snow could not quench the flames.
At last he thought he heard a faint shout.
Frank sprang to his feet. He gazed through the shifting veil of snow
that swirled about his shelter, but he could see nothing. Then he
called out:
"Joe!"
The fire roared. The wind shrieked. Snow slashed against the rocks
above him.
Then, out of the inferno of wind and snow he heard the shout again,
and a moment later he caught sight of a dim figure plunging toward
him. He ran forward.
It was Joe. He was almost exhausted and he was blue with cold. He
staggered over toward the blaze and collapsed in a heap beside the
fire.
"Thank goodness I saw the flames!" he gasped. "I was almost all in.
I couldn't have gone another step."
"I thought I'd never find you. I hunted all over."
"I got lost. I couldn't find the trail."
"We're both lost now. I got off the trail myself when I was looking
for you."
"I don't much care where we are so long as we're together again
and we have a fire."
Joe extended his trembling hands to the blaze. In a short while he
ceased shivering, and as the warmth pervaded his chilled body his
spirits rose.